#asking kindly didn’t work it’s time to be fucking mean

[backwzzds]

ೃ⁀➷ first time, roronoa zoro

zoro being a sexy loser virgin that has no idea just how big he is.

this is unfinished & honestly y’all gone have to deal with it 😩

this was so embarrassing. he hated how he didn’t know what to do. you didn’t mean to make him feel this way; but you just couldn’t take it anymore. you wanted him so bad, it was almost hard to keep your composure in front your friends.

he wanted you twice as badly, and that was evident in the way he could barely present his front side to you any time you gazed at him. it was hard to hide the growing tent in his trousers every time he was with you. whether it was to drop you off to work in his truck or simply fix something for you because you kindly asked.

“s-shit,” he’d pant so large and heavy. his own heartbeat couldn’t keep up with his strokes. “like this? this feel good?”

he doesn’t even know how much he’s hitting into you. there’s only a limit to what you feel, but you feel everything. the way his tip kisses the spongy spot of your cervix, the way his fat dick causes such a small bulge in the fatty chub of your tummy—zoro doesn’t know what he’s doing, but you swear he’s been doing this shit for years.

“just like that,” you’d instruct, feeling yourself about to cum soon. “ngh, y’fucking me so good, papa,” the whine in your voice was strained as you felt a knot already tie in your stomach.

zoro doesn’t lie when he says that your words got to his head. it was like the sudden ego flow in his brain suddenly rushed to the blood of his dick inside you as he worked against you harder. he never thought being called something so…juvenile as daddy would send his hormones through the roof. he had to destroy you now, it was no way the testosterone flowing through his veins were gonna let you leave his grip unscathed.

“just like that, huh,” he hummed to himself. “you like when i touch you like this?” zoro swore he didn’t know what he was doing. but for some reason, his hands explored between your legs as if it had been its home for years each time he touched you.

“oh yes,” you dragged out, feeling a small tingle deep below. “more more, please!” the point of your acrylic nails do its job to scratch white streaks against your man’s breast muscle. now you’re trying your hardest to breathe deeply. “i’m gonna—“

zoro grunts out, feeling the hot beads of sweat trickle down the tan of his ethnic skin. “faster or harder, mama? tell me what you want ‘n i’ll do it for you.”

“harder, please!” you cried, feeling yourself almost get to your peak. “oh fuck, please, zoro.”

zoro can’t help but chuckle at your begging. “you always ask for more when you have tears soaking up your pretty face. not pretty degrading?”

you huff out, feeling your orgasism approach faster at his banter. you try your hardest to focus on the knot forming in your belly. “well you obviously make me like this.”

“tch. ‘m not even fucking you that hard, mama. think you’re jus’ sensitive ‘s all.” zoro kisses his teeth with an unbelievable roll of his eyes.

you have another comeback lined up in your mouth, but your mouth falls agape as your eyes roll to the back of your head in pleasure, finally forming a ring of cream all around his brown shaft. “not when you’re fucking me this good.”

[bosinclairsgff]

Slashers reacting to you biting them

Includes: The Grabber, Otis Driftwood, Bo Sinclair

Warnings: kidnap, cussing abuse, NSFW mentioned

Not full on drawing blood type biting but love nibbles yk? Also I hate this but idk.

- Depending on Alberts mood, he’d either giggle and find it cute or he’d slap the shit out of you.

- It’s so hard to tell what he’s truly feeling so your careful when you first do it. He had been spending more time in the basement with you, sometimes holding you. So one day while he’s holding you, you grab his arm and lightly bite him, and holding him in your mouth for a moment. Immediately he’s frozen in place, not knowing how to react at first. “Why’d you do that dove?” He’d ask while holding you closer to him. He wouldn’t mind after you explain it’s kinda your love language.

- You read the room so wrong. Al is holding you sure, but the room feels off and he breathing heavy. You make the decision to slightly bite his arm, in a loving way like you had explained last time. This time though, he pushed you off his lap, you hit the concrete floor hard letting out a small yelp. He towers over you and kicks you directly in your stomach. You cry out in pure pain. “Please, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make you mad, I’m so sorry!” You try to reason with him. “You dumb bunny. Such a dumb pathetic bunny.” He say’s delivering another blow to your stomach, knocking the breath out of you. Satisfied, he kneels down to look at you. Saying nothing he kindly pushes your hair out of your eyes. Albert then leaves without saying a word.

- Otis would take it as a kink or a way to kick of sexy time.

- Otis was working on one of his art projects, not paying much attention to you. “Otis?” You question standing by his chair and putting a hand on his shoulder. “What do you fucking want mama?” He says slightly annoyed. He turns around to look at you. “Can I sit on your lap while you work…please? I’ll sit still and be good I swear.” You say as you pout. Otis rolls his eyes but pats his lap. You happily take your stop on his lap. Straddling your legs over his thighs, facing him. After a second of looking in his eyes, you lay your head into the crook of his neck. You stay that way for a few minutes before you get the idea to slightly bite his neck. He lets out a deep sigh. “What the fuck are ya doing girl?” He questions. “I jus wanted to bite ya. I’m sorry.” You say feeling your cheeks heat up. Otis grips your ass and pulls you closer to him.

- You can only guess what happens next.

- Bo would also take it as a way to get in your pants.

- You were in the shop sitting on the counter watching Bo work. “I can feel ya staring at my ass y/n.” He chuckles, making your face turn red. Standing up and walking over to you, just to hold you in his arms for a moment. His arms wrap around your waist and his chins rest on the top of your head. You melt into his touch, closing your eyes and relaxing. After a few moments just resting with each other he lets go of you. You lightly grab his arm and kiss it before slightly biting it. He’s immediately turned on. “Woah I’m usually the one doin tha biting baby.” He jokes. “I don’t mind this though.” Bo closes the distance between you to and catches your lips with his.

- Pound town goes CRAZY, you do explain after though that it’s a love language. He doesn’t understand and will probably always take it as your down for a quick fuck.

[freedomfireflies]

The One Where 404 Harry Gets Jealous:

Harry is mad.

No, Harry is past mad. He’s furious. Irate. Enraged and incensed and staring a hole right through Levi’s head.

You work to bite back your smug smile as you nod along to your date's story. And you pretend to be fascinated, even though you’re more fascinated by the furious man a few feet away. 

He’s been watching you since the moment you and Levi walked through the door. And he’s been fighting his own urge to come over and interrupt, that much you’re sure of. But he doesn’t have any right. And he knows it.

And you can’t help but make things just a bit harder for him. You grin brightly at Levi’s comments. You laugh loudly at his attempts at jokes. You touch his arm and lean into him as you listen to the live band.

And it’s driving Harry up the wall.

He’s moments away from snapping. Subtly but angrily scooting closer with every passing minute. And you don’t need him to snap. Or cause a scene. But if he’s gonna act like a big fucking baby just because you’re on a date, well…

“Which was fine,” Levi is saying. “I didn’t really care for it anyway, but…I sent it back and we’ll see if they can do better this next time.”

“Sure, sure,” you agree half-heartedly, eyes drifting toward the tall, surly man in glasses now somehow even closer than before. “And, uh…you said you were hoping to stick around for a while before heading back east?”

“Yeah, that’s my plan,” he says. He points to the stage. “I like these guys. They’re good. It’s so funny, I’ve never really thought about—”

“What the fuck is this?”

You and Levi both turn as an unexpected voice loudly intrudes on your conversation.

You find Harry, unsurprisingly, looming over you as he glares down at your poor date.

“Uh, this…is Levi,” you introduce slowly, biting the inside of your cheek to suppress another smirk. “And this is also none of your business.”

Harry frowns. “Bullshit. You said you weren’t going out tonight.”

“No, I said I couldn’t go out tonight,” you correct. “Because I already had plans. With Levi.”

Levi blinks.

Harry snorts. “Right. And how the fuck did you even meet this Levi in the first place?”

“Okay, well, one...you don’t have to talk about him like he’s not here,” you scold. “Don’t be rude—”

“I’m not being rude. You’re being rude.”

“I—” You huff. “How am I being rude when you’re interrupting my date?”

“Because this isn’t a fucking date and you know it.”

You cross your arms. Stubborn. “And how would you know what a date looks like? Much less a date with me?”

“Because you’ve spent half the fucking night staring at me,” he says smugly and you feel your skin warm. “So, I’ll ask you again. What the fuck is this?”

You turn to Levi—poor, innocent Levi—and offer a sheepish smile. “I’m…so sorry. I just need to work this out with him for one second—”

“No, don’t worry about it,” he says kindly and you’ve never felt worse. “I get it. I’ll get us some drinks.”

“Thank you, really,” you sigh and he nods before disappearing into the bar. And once he’s gone, you turn back to the outrageously annoying man in question. “Okay, seriously, you need to leave.”

“Why?” Harry crosses his arms now, too, and nudges his glasses back up. “You don’t actually wanna be alone with him.”

“Says who? You?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t know what I want. Because I want nothing more than to be alone with him. In fact, I want to be anywhere you aren’t.”

“Bullshit, Princess. You knew I was gonna be here so you brought him just to piss me off.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Cause you’re fucking annoying.”

“Is that so?”

“It is.”

“And what would bringing him here accomplish, huh? It’s not like you’re jealous or anything, right?”

He leans back and you’ve got him. “Oh, real fucking mature, Tink. Very nice.”

“What? You’re not,” you argue, shrugging one shoulder up. “Why would you be? We’re not exclusive or anything. I mean, maybe if we were, I wouldn’t have to go home with him tonight, but…good thing we’re not.”

He scowls at you. “So that’s why you brought him here? Cause you wanted to play your little fucking game and try to make me jealous?”

“Of course not. That would never work.”

He snorts and looks away and you finally grin.

“Anyway, you should let me get back to it,” you say, beginning to slip past him. “But this was fun—”

He grabs your arm and yanks you back to your spot. “Where the fuck are you going?”

“Back to my date,” you repeat pointedly, slipping his fingers from your skin. “Do you mind?”

“Yes.” He dips down and he doesn’t let you go. “I don’t like games. And I don’t like tricks. You don’t get to fucking play me just cause you’re bored.”

“I’m not bored, I’m single,” you retort. “And I have every right to date him if I want—”

“No.”

You blink. “No?”

“No.” He holds you tighter and he’s resolute in the way he speaks. “I don’t want you going out with him.”

“Yeah? And why do you think I care what you want?”

“Because I know you,” he says calmly, and you can hear the devious undertone even beneath the loud music in the bar. “You brought him here because you don’t want to fuck him. You don’t want to waste your time on a man that talks about the fucking stock market and how much he spent at Erewhon. And you wanted me…to remind you of that.”

He’s right. You know he’s right. He knows he’s right. But you’ll be damned if you ever admit it. 

“The only thing you remind me of is disappointment,” you huff. You take your arm back. “Levi is everything you can never be. And maybe it’s time you realize that.”

You attempt to brush past him again but he stops you once more. He tugs you into his body until your chest is brought to his and everything grows quiet inside your head. Your only focus is him, and his mouth, and his familiar smell, and the way he holds you in his arms.

He’s leering at you—pissed beyond belief—and yet you feel so incredibly warm and safe. Pleased.

“Do not go back to him,” he says and a chill rushes down your spine.

“What?”

“Don’t go back to him,” he says again and you want to smile. “Because you aren’t leaving with him. You’re leaving with me. And tomorrow, you aren’t gonna fucking call him and apologize and set up the next date. You’re gonna lose his fucking number. Is that understood?”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re really fucking annoying—”

He yanks you closer until you can almost taste the lips hovering near yours. “I said, is that fucking understood, Princess?”

You’ve never felt this kind of need before. This kind of yearning for another person and this kind of pain radiating between your thighs. But you’re desperate to fix it—desperate to ride this wave of his anger until it washes you both away. 

"Why?" you whisper and you want to kiss him. God, you want to kiss him, but you resist.

"Because," he says. He breathes you in and then he reaches up to brush his thumb along your lip. "Because how can I let you leave when I know you'll be so unsatisfied?"

Your insides feel like they've been set on fire.

"How can I go home when I know he won't take care of you the way I do?" He brushes his nose against yours. "How can I let my pretty, little Tinkerbell spend the night faking her orgasms when I know how perfect she cums when she cums for me?"

Fuck.

"You can hate me all you want," he murmurs. "But I'm good to you. And you fucking know it."

You can't seem to find a response. Can't seem to make your feet work or your lungs work or any part of your brain actually work.

Instead, you simply exhale, "Okay."

And he smiles.

“Good girl,” he mumbles. He leans back and takes his kiss way. "Then let's go."

He leads you out of the bar and toward his bike in the parking lot and you go without question. He hands you the extra helmet—which he also has to help you put on—then pulls you onto the back and secures your arms around his middle. Just like last time.

“Where are we going?” you yell as the engine comes to life.

There’s something cunning in his eye. “Figured it was about time I took you home.”

“Oh…well, my apartment’s all the way on the other side of town,” you tell him. “It’s kind of a long drive.”

He shakes his head. “Not your home,” he says and your heart instantly lodges in your throat.

Shit, shit, shit.

He smiles. “I want to take you to my home.”

DEDICATED TO MY SWEET BIRTHDAY ANON!!! I HOPE IT'S SOMEWHAT OKAY AND WHAT YOU WERE EXPECTING! I KNOW THERE'S NO SMUT BUT........WE CAN WRITE THAT LATER HEHE

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[to-thelakes]

Heard. ( carmy berzatto x reader )

content warnings; depiction of panic attack and anxiety, mentions of suicide/death (mikey), reader gets a cut (but super minor)

summary; you've had a really overwhelming day and carmy has to calm you down from a panic attack he mostly caused

dropping this here and running, i'm in love with carmy berzatto, i'm so sorry

Working at the Beef was stressful. Usually, you didn’t mind. In fact, you loved it. The stress meant that you didn’t have time to overthink anything because you were being ordered to do a million things all at once. It was good. You loved it.

But not today. 

Carmy had given you a new recipe to learn and you were fucking up creating the pea puree. Somehow it always ended up too runny and no matter how you changed the temperature while you cooked or how long you left it to reduce, it turned out like shit. Runny, tasteless shit.

It was like the universe had decided to take a cosmic shit on your already fucked up day.

You had left the house at the ass crack of dawn and unintentionally woken up your roommate who had decided to call you and berate you for your entire journey on the L. It’s safe to say you were regretting your 12 month lease with the roommate from hell. But you tried your best to swallow down all the cruel words and carry on with your day.

Work had always been a good distraction but it was two hours till service started and you felt like you were already losing it. You were sure everyone could see how you were cracking under the pressure too.

As you tried to learn the new dish, Carmen would come over every five or so minutes to check on your progress, taste the dish and you could see him getting increasingly frustrated under the surface. 

He had been unusually calm since the start of the day but the cracks were beginning to show. Since everyone had come in, Marcus had been distracted by his desserts which meant he had ignored all his usual prepwork. Carmy had kindly tried to remind him that desserts was not his job yet. Then Sydney and Richie had been arguing all morning which Carmy, of course, found himself in the middle of that. 

On top of that, Richie had decided that today was the perfect day to bring up how Carmy shouldn’t have even owned this place. That it was Richie’s place and just because Mikey had left it to him didn’t mean shit.

That had riled Carmy up and the two had a screaming match in the front room before Carmy came stalking back through to the office. You knew that if you fucked up on more attempt at this sauce, he was gonna lose his shit at you. 

You had never been at the receiving end of his anger before so you knew that if he lost it, so would you.

So as you fired up the next attempt, you replayed every piece of advice that Carmy and Sydney had given you since the start of the day and tried your best. You really tried. Even if T had distracted you halfway through, you thought that the puree had come out perfect.

And you were relieved. Because in your attempt to create this dish, you had forgotten about the rest of your prep work. 

“Fuck,” You cursed under your breathe as you noticed Carmy heading your way. You knew that you were about to be shouted at, you could just tell, and you could feel the anxiety rising in your chest. You had just finished plating your latest attempt and the puree seemed to be at the right consistency. Hell, it even looked good. Your station was spotless and clean. There was nothing Carmen could be mad about.

Except for no prep work. 

You glared at the plastic tubs of veggies like they could have done anything to change your fate.

“How's it looking, Chef?” Carmy asked, a frustrated edge to his voice. You snapped your head towards him and forced a smile onto your face. The tension in the room seemed to increase ten fold at that action.

“Pretty sure I finally got it down, just need to finish prepping the veg and then I’m ready for service,” You responded, forcing a smile onto your face. Carmy nodded and you passed him a fork, slipping away to the box of veggies. This was probably going to take you until dinner service.

You really fucked up but you ignored the anxious feeling in your gut in favour of beginning your prepwork. With a knife in hand, you quickly began to chop. You were skilled with a knife. That had been the main thing you were good at, something that Carmen had praised you endlessly for in the few weeks he had been here.

So, you hoped that if you just got the prep done quickly and perfectly, it would alleviate some of the simmering anger.

But then you heard a fork clatter harshly against a plate and you whipped your head to look at him. There was no alleviating the anger now. He was a powder keg about to explode and you had just triggered it..

“It’s a simple fucking dish, Chef! How do you keep fucking this up?” He shouted as he stared at you. You were looking back down at your prepwork again, going back to chopping. He slammed his hand on the counter, “Hey!” The whole kitchen’s eyes were on you now, “Look at me when I’m talking to you,” He snapped. You stopped dead in your tracks, looked at him, wide-eyed. He had caught you off guard and that pissed him off even more, “It’s a fucking pea puree. I could make this when I was 12 and you still can’t get it fucking right! It’s so fucking simple. Do I need to fucking baby you through every step? Jesus fucking Christ! A toddler could do this better than you can and you’ve been at it for fucking four fucking hours. Stop wasting everyone’s time and if you can’t get it right then get the fuck out!” He snapped. You blinked at him, frozen to your spot, “Don’t just fucking stand there, get to work!” He slammed his hand on the side again.

You nodded, mumbled “Yes, Chef” and went back to prepping your veg as Carmy picked up your plate and threw the attempt at the dish in the bin. You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying not to feel the overwhelming anxiety that was making you dizzy. You couldn’t breathe.

Your whole body felt like it was on high alert, ready to give up at any given moment. You tried to suck in deep breaths but suddenly the kitchen felt too hot. You couldn’t do this. Sydney noticed.

“Go take a breather, I got this,” She came up beside you, hand on your shoulder. You shook your head, not wanting to disappoint Carmen even more. Prepwork was where you excelled, this is what you did best. You didn’t trust yourself to speak though, you could feel your chest restricting.

You continued chopping, it became more frenzy-like as Sydney glanced around. The whole kitchen had watched your interaction with Carmy, unsure how to react to it. Sydney didn’t know what to say.

But then you sliced your finger. You were moving too quickly, mind not being able to catch up with your hand quick enough to avoid the slice. You cried out as your knife clattered to the chopping board. You grabbed tissue and quickly wrapped it up as you stepped back.

“Go get a plaster, I’ll finish your prep,” Sydney reiterated as she gently pushed you away from your station. You shook your head, desperately trying to keep up. You couldn’t but then you felt the ground feel like it was tilting under your feet.

Maybe she was right. You needed to get out and so you went straight for the backdoor. You didn’t even bother to clean up your cut, just holding the tissue to it as you stumbled down the steps to the alley. 

Your back slammed against the wall as you sucked in breaths but it was like you couldn’t get enough oxygen. The tears started and you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t do it. You slowly slid down the wall, still squeezing the tissue over your cut. 

You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t do it. You were doomed to be a failure and you couldn’t fucking breathe and it was too hot.

Your arms wrapped over the top of your head, eyes squeezed shut as you desperately tried to take in deep breaths but you couldn’t. You just couldn’t. You were sure you were going to die like this. It would be the end of you.

In the fucking back alley of a shitty restauraunt with a shitty new owner and the last owner killed himself and you weren’t surprised. You couldn’t do this. You were choking on nothing.

Then a hand suddenly came to rest against your knee and your legs were being pushed down. You were trying to fight it, words of whoever it was coming through like they were trying to speak through water.

“You gotta breathe,” They said as they finally managed to break through your strength to straighten your legs out. You dropped your hands to your lap and when you looked up, Carmy was there. You felt the panic come back twice as hard and you turned your face away, bringing your knees back up. But he shoved them back down.

“Hey, hey,” His tone had softened. It didn’t seem as angry anymore and that terrified you. Angry men who pretended not to be were the worst kind of men. You still couldn’t breathe, the panic constricting your chest as you stared at your legs, “You gotta just breathe,” Carmy said as he reached out. He grabbed your hand, the bloody tissue still wrapped around your cut, “I know it’s hard,” He said as he glanced at your face. You were completely boneless, it was like your body had lost all its will to live.

Your world was tilting underneath you and you couldn’t think straight. Carmy’s touch was somewhat grounding though as he unwrapped the tissue and wiped the cut before putting a band-aid over it. It gave you something to focus on but you were terrified that he was going to scream at you.

“I’m sorry,” You managed through panicked breaths. He nodded, “I don’t know what’s wrong,” You choked out. The tears filling your eyes as you stared down at your bandaged hand. You still weren’t breathing right but the panic was slowly starting to fall away, “I keep trying but I can’t do anything right today,” You lifted your knees up again, wrapping your arms around your head again.

“You're constricting your throat,” He said as he nudged your knees again. He was sitting against the wall beside you, watching you. 

As frustrated as he was with you and as angry as he was that you couldn’t just make the fucking dish, he also didn’t like seeing you like this. He cared about everyone in his kitchen and the thought that he had given you a panic attack tore him up inside. He didn’t know how to express it. He had always been shit at apologies.

You straightened your knees out again, letting your arms rest against your thighs as you closed your eyes.

“I’m sorry, Chef,” You said after a beat, “I know I should have done my veg prep earlier and the recipe is easy. I’ve made pea puree before, ask Sydney, I just- I don’t know why I can’t get it right today,” You muttered. Carmy looked at you, the corners of his lips turned down a little and you looked so defeated, “I’ve been off my game and I have this roommate from Hell that makes me think I’m so goddamn selfish. I just,” You let out a ragged breathe, tears welling in your eyes, “I promise, I’ll be good for dinner service,” you muttered. Carmy looked at you, his eyebrows furrowed ever-so-slightly.

“You’re not selfish,” Carmy responded. 

“Heard,” You muttered. He nodded and then turned back to look up at the sky, as did you. It was so strange with Carmy. He never really said much. He’d been here for about a month now and he was desperately trying to claw the business out of the ground. He seemed to care so much but he had an odd way of showing it, I suppose.

“I’ll show you how to make it again,” He said after a minute or two of silence. You nodded.

“Thank you.” You let out a soft breath, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. You hadn’t fucked up that much, at least.

“You two fuckers just gonna sit there or help us?” The voice of Richie broke through the relative calm that had settled between you. It was probably the quickest you had come down from a panic attack, ever.

“Like you fucking help us anyway,” You bit back as you slowly pushed yourself to your feet. Carmy was quick to follow.

“Doing a lot more than you lazy fucks right now, sat there staring at the sky like God’s gonna answer your fucking prayers,” Richie continued to bitch as you walked inside with him. Carmy followed quickly after.

“I don’t pray," You stated as you rounded the corner back to your station. Sydney was mostly done with your prep now and you were beyond thankful, “I got it from here,” You said, slipping in next to her. Sydney smiled, glad to see you feeling a bit better.

“Why’s he so calm?” Sydney asked as she watched Carmy walk past. He seemed in a better mood than he had been a moment ago.

“Fuck knows, thought he’d tell me to fuck off when he found me,” You admitted as you glanced back at him. His fucking arms drove you wild and the fact that he had his hands on you, forcing you to straighten your legs. Fuck. You didn’t want to think about it too much. And he had put that plaster on you, the warmth of his hands was something else. If you hadn’t been so fucked up with anxiety, you probably would have jumped his bones.

“You gonna fuck up another dish?” Sydney teased as she stepped away, passing you a glove for your plastered hand. 

“I’m getting a private lesson for it actually,” You retorted, a smile plastered on your face as you winked at Sydney.

“Less talking, more chopping,” Carmy said as he slipped past the two of you. You nodded.

“Yes, Chef,” You both parotted back to him. Sydney grinned and headed back to her station while you settled back into prep. You felt more like yourself now. Though, you did also really want a piece of Carmy.

[sugurusdiscordmoderator]

Halo bby! <3

Do u perhaps take request? I have been thinking about husband!gojo who feels offended after wife!reader told him about how men can only ejaculate 3 times a day after after she saw it on facebook :3 So Satoru had to cum in wifey more than what she believes because the truth is better than rumours, right? 🤔

hi anon! my inbox is always open for requests (it just might take me a little to finish them lol)

Sorry I’ve been working on this for like 3 weeks lol, I am going to take a break from writing Gojo for a little after this though (:

I didn’t proof read this my apologies

MDNI

cw: smut lmao, handjob, 69, riding, missionary, doggy, daddy kink (oops), shower sex, etc.

—

You scroll through your Facebook feed, when an article from Cosmopolitan magazine pops up called “How To Make Your Man Orgasm Better”. You read through some of it, not really absorbing much until you see an actual doctor’s name listed as research for the article. I mean of course if there’s a penis doctor listed in this article it must be legit!

‘Generally, a person with a penis can orgasm no more than 3 times a day. It can become painfully overstimulating the penis after that I’m afraid. In fact over 80% of this study shows that the person with the penis could not go longer than one orgasm, and 95% could not continue after the second one. That leaves just 5% of the population able to orgasm a third time in a day. There is the possibility for an asymptote - a line that never actually reaches zero although approaching it rapidly after the number 3.’

After reading through the article you decide to scroll through the comments, reading about middle aged women’s sex lives and how their husbands are rather bad at being intimate.

But oh, you could not relate.

After all, you are married to the Satoru Gojo. As a newer married couple with no kids, the two of you fuck at least once a day, usually after work or before bed. You like to get a little more creative on weekends, with morning sex, shower sex, kitchen counter, couch (and just about any surface in the house he can bend you over he’s already fucked you on). You guys can have sex for hours, pulling multiple orgasms from you, but the most he’s ever came in a day is three! So that doctor must have been right.

Just then, your lovely husband Satoru comes home to your beautiful little house, strolling in with a smile on his face like usual. He sits his bag down and takes off his blindfold before making his way over to you and kissing the top of your head where you sit on the couch.

“Hi baby, how was your day?” he asks

“Good, I was just reading a medical article!” You giggle mischievously, getting up to join him in the kitchen with your phone in hand.

“You can read?!” He sarcastically responds, pretending to be shocked before coming up behind you to hug you. This time he kisses the side of your head near your temple, smelling your freshly done hair and you can smell the remnants of his cologne that he sprayed before leaving this morning. “What were ya reading baby?” He kindly asks, not joking this time.

“Well this doctor says guys can cum at most three times a day! And I was thinking about it and even when we stay in bed all day on the weekends having sex the maximum you’ve hit is 3 so it must be true!”

Your husband breaks out laughing, a truly angelic sound, but you’re not quite sure what he’s laughing at. He breaks your hug turning you around to face him with his hands on your shoulders.

“Oh. You actually weren’t joking.” He says reading the expression on your face.

“No babe. Here read it!” You shove your phone towards him with the article pulled up. He reads the same paragraph as above and makes a mental note of the doctors name and credentials and thinks about how he’s going to contact him once he proves this theory wrong.

“Oh, interesting babe. Since you’re so into these ‘medical’ articles you find on cosmopolitan, why don’t we test this theory for ourselves?”

You giggle and blush at his sentiment, still getting shy when initiating sex even after being together for 5 years! You close the distance between your bodies, wrapping your arms around your husbands neck and pulls him down for a kiss.

“Yes please” you whisper against his lips. Satoru deepens the kiss, taking control over you like always. He continues kissing you and backing you up until your back reaches the refrigerator. He plants kisses all over your face before moving down to your neck.

“Y’know, I think we’ll have to make me orgasm all different ways for it to count. Something about a control variable.” Satoru mumbles against your neck.

You’d protest but your pretty little head is thinking about the way his mouth is on your sensitive spot, too horny to shut him up. He pats the back of your thighs for you to jump into his grasp, and you do wrapping your legs around him like a koala. The two of you continue your passionate make out before heading to the bedroom.

Leading you to the gorgeous master bedroom satoru closes the door behind you even though nobody else is there. He begins unbuttoning his jacket and throws it on the floor followed by his undershirt and black jeans. He lays back, his stiff member pulling his boxer briefs tight as he looks over to you expectantly. You waltz closer to the bed, only wearing your matching silk tank top and short set that satoru bought multiple of and loves so much.

He bought every pastel color and loves when he can see your somehow always hardened nipples through the silky fabric. Today’s outfit was baby blue, which happened to be his favorite. Being Satoru’s housewife really isn’t so bad, he makes good money and takes care of you in every way. You just can’t help but be submissive to him when he asks you to wear certain things or cook a certain food. For this man, you threw feminism out the window, and oh how he knew that.

Satoru pulls you onto his lap, looking up at you with those stupidly beautiful eyes as he gently squeezes your hip. “Cmon princess let’s start this experiment,” he winks at you before helping you take off your tank top.

While yes, you play a submissive role in your relationship, he doesn’t always dominate you in the bedroom.

That being said, you roll off satoru so you are laying beside him, leaning to him to resume your steamy make out session.

“Mmm.. I love making out with you, we need to do this more,” he mumbles against your lips. You “mhm” in agreement before proceeding to enter your tongue into his mouth. One hand grips into his white locks while the other reaches down to rub his erection through his boxer briefs. He moans at your touch, reaching his slender arm around you and firmly grabs ahold of your ass, as if you would run away. Satoru takes over the kiss a little more, but as you’re still trying to be in control you stick your hand inside his underwear, rubbing your thumb against his slit.

You break the kiss so he can lower the underwear, before spiting on your hand to lube his shaft as your soft hand runs up and down. He shudders and rolls his eyes back, putting both of his hands behind his head, showing off his sculpted physique completed by the tufts of white hair on his armpits.

You try your best to talk dirty to your lover, being shy in bed like usual is not going to work if you want to make him cum more than 3 times.

“Such a pretty cock belonging to my pretty man”

Satoru knows he’s in for a wild ride when you start to talk seductively. It doesn’t happen often because while you’re vocal in bed… it doesn’t usually include words or full sentences. 😉

You keep eye contact with your lover while you rub your thumb in circles against his sensitive spot, on the back side of the shaft where it meets the head. He lets out a mixture of a whimper and moan while closing his eyes. You add the dripping precum to the tip of his cock will you rub him up and down just like he had shown you previously. He likes when you start towards the middle and rotate up and down, not too fast and not too slow, but not too much pressure and not too light of a touch. He openly told you before that you weren’t very good with the whole handjob concept even though you’re basically professional at everything else, and so he went into great detail, and now you can really make the man quiver.

You sit up, moving so you can use both hands, because his balls look just a little too neglected. You straddle his left leg, allowing him to feel your bare soaking pussy against him. He grunts at the new feelings, getting to be too much for him to handle.

“Baby please make me cum,” he whines as you start to grind yourself on his leg, matching the rhythm that you’re stroking his length. Your other hand gently caresses his full sack, you know he will be cumming so much tonight and you cannot wait.

“Satoru, baby, please? Cum for me?” You let out a small moan as he rubs his leg against you for some extra friction, which simply sends him over the edge. Looking into your big sweetly innocent eyes he shoots his seed all over his abs. Neither of you even look at his cock when he cums, too mesmerized by the lust contained within the eye contact.

Finally, you let go of his penis as he catches his breath with his eyes closed. You want to give him some time to recover but not too much, because it will mess up the variable data!

“My sweet, are you ready for more?” You ask innocently already devising a plan for what you’ll do to him next.

���Whatever you want princess,” he breathes out finally opening his eyes when he has caught his breath.

You try to remain confident as you shift your weight off of his leg and swing your body around.

“Can I sit on your face please baby?” You ask again sounding way too innocent for the words coming out of your mouth. Satoru lets out a moan at the unexpected question, his cock growing hard again.

“Please, fuck yes, please let me make you feel good,” Satoru begs, grabbing your legs to help you get adjusted.

“No baby, I want to face the other way.”

“Oh,” Satoru breathes out, knowing what is coming next.

You get adjusted, your warm soaking cunt hovering over your husbands mouth, thinking about how long it has been since you’ve done this position, surely it won’t take him long to reach peak number 2.

Satoru wastes no time diving in like a starved man. That is the thing about your husband, is he loves pleasuring you almost more than he likes being pleasured himself. Seeing and hearing and feeling you feel good drives him crazy, being the reason he loves sixty-nine so much.

Pulling out all the stops tonight you lean down, licking a strip down Satoru’s abdomen, the exact line where all of his previous cum was. You lick from the bottom of his pecs down the whole way until you reach the base of his dick, proceeding to lick a stripe up and wrap your lips around his tip.

“Oh my fucking god baby that was the hottest thing ever”

Now he really starts eating you out with a passion, tongue circling your clit before plunging in your hole. You attempt to match the bobbing of your mouth on his cock but he simply goes too fast. You come off his cock to let out a guttural moan of his name, which only eggs him on further.

“I’m - I’m not going to last long - ahhha - if you keep that up S’toruuu”

“Mhmmm,” he hums against your clit, knowing how good the vibrations feel for you.

You close your eyes before going back down on his cock, feeling him twitch as you messily tongue his tip.

“-m sensitive hmm” a muffled Satoru says but you don’t care. Using your previously covered in cum hand, you run up and down his shaft while moving down to suck on his balls. This sends toe curling electricity through his body, and he reaches his arm around your thigh so he can access your tight hole with his thumb. Sucking and licking while you feel his thick thumb being sucked into you. Being as turned on as you were, a first orgasm is almost instantly ripped from you, catching both of you off guard but you moan against Satoru’s balls. The combination of feeling you convulse against his thumb plus the sensitive state of his dick in your hand sends Satoru over the edge, but he at least gets to give you a warning.

“Cummin for ya again baby please take it all,” he says barely coherent being so overtaken by pleasure. You attach your lips back to his tip and finish sucking him off until you feel cum stop coming out. You try to get off of him as gracefully as you can, moving to lay down for a minute to give you both some air. You look at the lower half of his face as he licks his lips, and you hold out your tongue showing him you swallowed all of it.

“Cmere pretty girl,” he murmurs, wrapping his right arm around your shoulders and pulling your sweaty bodies close.

“Don’t get too comfortable my baby were only half done, at least,” you smile up at him and watch as he realizes you really weren’t kidding earlier.

Once you’ve recovered from your orgasm, you crawl back on top of Satoru, but this time straddling his pelvis, his semi-hard cock under you. He still looks a little out of breath, but you’re going to do all the work so he doesn’t need to worry right?

You grind your soft wet folds against his growing erection, “can I have it in my sweet pussy this time baby?” You ask doing your best to give him puppy eyes. His eyes roll to the back of his head, humping his hips up a little to give more friction.

“You can have anything you want Princess, you’re being such a vocal good girl t’night,” he sounds out of breath, whiney, and desperate as he watches you reach your hand down to line him up with you. You smile as you playfully rub his tip on your clit.

His hands cover his face, “please. Please stop teasing me, please baby,”

Without further notice you slip him inside, slippery from the previous orgasm Satoru ripped from you.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck,” he whispers before a porn like moan courses through him, “y/n I’m so sensitive, I don’t think I can do it!”

You slowly ride and grind up and down his shaft, one hand on his chest to support you, the other rubbing at your clit. “Please, daddy… for me?” You emphasize that word, knowing being called that drives your husband crazy.

Satoru’s large skinny hands find the squishy sides of your hips and he squeezes hard. Not that he meant to, but there will definitely be 10 small oval bruises on your ass and hips tomorrow.

“Say it again…” he moans.

“Say what again?” You smile innocently, batting your eyelashes. With that he lifts one hand off your hip and lashes out a spank on your ass check, making your tight hole clench down on him more.

“You know what I meant.” God, something just slightly feral comes out of Gojo when you play so innocent but also act so seductive for him, especially when he hears that word from your lips.

“Daddy, I need two more orgasms from you, please?” You whine as you find a particularly good spot that his cock is rubbing inside you. It’s like your words revived Satoru’s stamina, firmly grabbing your hips again before helping you lift off and on him at almost inhuman speed. Each thrust goes so deep in you, you think you feel it in your stomach. A few more hard thrusts and he is pulling you off of him, and pushing you straight back so your back is on the bed now. He hovers above you, reclaiming his dominance, before pushing back into you with both legs dangling off his shoulders. You know he is holding out as long as he can, but he’s going to want you to cum first so he can feel you clench around his cock and push him over the edge. He leans down kissing your lips, forehead, and cheek before whispering seductively, “such a good girlll,” while emphasizing the last two words with two particularly rough thrusts. He continues his praises inbetween licks and sucks on your neck

“You looked so pretty on top princess but I just had to have my way with you,” before he leans down to suck which will surely leave a hickey. When he comes back up for air he breathlessly groans,

“And you just taste so good and your throat knows my cock so well!” You think he may be slightly going insane and wonder if orgasm numbers 3 and 4 are necessary. Moaning with him, he knows you love his dirty talk because he can feel you squeeze his cock without trying.

Satoru fucks into you with relentless speed, causing your chest to bounce up and down, and all you can do is grip onto his shoulders and let your toes curl from pleasure.

“Mmm, daddy, g’na cum for you,” you barely breathe out, getting closer to the edge as your back arches off the bed. At this he puts your legs together and pushes them back towards you, knowing exactly how to hit your favorite spot in this position.

“Come on princess, cum for daddy, that’s it,” he groans, temporarily forgetting about his overstimulated cock while being so focused on your eyes rolled back and mouth hanging open in pleasure. Just a few more thrusts and he has you squeezing his dick so tight, he knows he won’t last much longer. Your orgasm hits you, not even able to control the beautiful sounds coming out of your mouth, face red, tears threatening to spill from pure bliss. Satoru slowed his pace to let you finish your orgasm before pounding into you harder than before

“Sa-tor-u” his name comes out of your mouth broken up not being able to catch your breath.

“I-I’m gonna - toru!” Being fucking into overstimulation has made you squirt all over Satoru’s cock and lower abdomen, which puts him over the edge, two more hard thrusts before he pauses, spilling his third load of the evening into your throbbing cunt.

His breathing heavy, sweat making his usually fluffy white hair stick to his forehead and his whole body seems to be glowing from the shine of sweat covering him. God you feel so bad for him but also do you really? As he’s said before “your pussy is heaven” so like it’s not really bad that you’re giving it to him…

“Let’s get you in the shower hun,” you whisper next to his ear, having plans for how you can get at least one more orgasm out of him. Still huffing, he gets up and his glorious skinny body looks so beautiful you feel yourself getting horny again. At least you weren’t as tired as your husband!

You set out 3 fluffy clean towels from the linen closet and turn the shower on a good temperature. Satoru has his arms wrapped around you from behind as you both wait for the water to warm up. “I love you,” he says, kissing the top of your head.

“Love you too, Toru” you smile up at him, turning around in his grasp. You kiss him sensually slowly at first, on your tippy toes gently rubbing your fingers along his cheek and neck. You deepen the kiss, knowing exactly how your husband loves it. He reaches down, each hand grabbing each ass cheek and squeezing before giving you a light spank, causing you to giggle.

“Naughty girl, still haven’t had enough?” He asks down to you. Without responding you gently wrap your had around him and pull him into your beautiful giant shower. The water is perfectly hot , making your eyes roll back in relaxation. You pull Satoru under the water taking care of him first. He turns into your big baby, leaning down to let you shampoo his hair and wash his body. When you get to clean his pelvis area you gently lather his soft penis with soap. He whimpers just from you touching it, but you have to clean it! Next you fondle his balls, massaging the soap in. His erection slowly starts to grow again and you know orgasm number 4 won’t be too far away.

“My turn,” you say looking up at him and turning around so you ass rubs up against his hardening member.

Satoru pumps a generous amount of your fancy smelling body wash onto your pink loofa, his frontside still pressed up against your backside. His long arms maneuver around your smaller frame, using all his energy to make sure he washes you in every hard to reach spot, only detaching himself when he had to wash your back and ass. He ignores the boner that impossibly came back after cumming 3 times already, and thought you didn’t notice.

He opts to hang the loofa back up and uses his hands to sensually rub the soap in, starting with your tits, although they needed no extra attention. Your nipples have always been sensitive in the best way, so when he starts rubbing them you can’t help but feel your core heat up again.

“Spread your legs hun,” he whispers, barely able to hear it over the running water. You do as satoru tells you, and he runs his hands down from your chest to your folds, making sure the area is soapy and clean. Your eyes close, leaning your head back against his chest while he massages your slightly tender pussy.

You take this opportunity to reach behind you, grabbing your husbands hardened shaft, and lining it up with your slick cunt.

“Baby…” he groans, voice laced with concern.

“Shhh, it’s okay I’m going to take care of you,” you answer back and with that, push yourself back onto his cock. You both moan in unison at the connection, like a melody between the differences in your voices. You can tell Satoru is tired by his rather lazy thrusts, so you hold onto the shower wall in front of you, fucking yourself back onto him. He is back there whining and groaning uncontrollably, being such a trooper for letting you do this experiment on him.

He puts his hand over yours on the wall, while snaking his other around your waist and under you to rub at your swollen clit. Immediately when he touches it you gasp, not realizing just how sensitive it was from this evening’s fun.

“-hmygod, don’t squeeze me like that,” Satoru whimpers, you turn your head to the side to see his eyes squeezed shut, a blush covering his whole face and chest, and his abs flexing over and over.

Seeing your hot husband so worked up is just the ammunition you needed to finish this last round. You ask him to sit on the little stone bench you have in the shower, which the two of you don’t utilize enough. He sits and you turn around, reverse cowgirl, and bounce up and down with as much energy as you can.

You didn’t even realize how loud your own moans had gotten, his hands on your waist, with yours resting on his knees.

“Please Satoru, let go for me, cum for me please,” you babble and moan with your head empty. Satoru is completely pussy drunk and fucked out in a way you’ve never seen him before.

“Love you ‘Toru,” you moan out as you reach your last peak and the combination of words and friction send him over the edge. He nearly convulses, gripping your hips to the point it actually kind of hurts. No moans, whimpers, or grunts can even come out of his mouth at this point, his jaw is just slack and eyes pressed shut.

You still on his lap, he leans forward and presses his head against your shoulder, and you think you may have made him pass out.

“Babe, cmn, let’s get you out of the shower.” You stand up turning around to see your husband in all his glory, looking half dead on the shower bench with his cock softened and red. You give him and yourself one more rinse over to get the last rounds residue off and turn the water off. You help Satoru stand, although nearly a head above your height, he wraps his arms around your shoulders and lets you guide him out. You wrap his fluffy extra large towel around him and he slowly grabs the edges, just standing there letting water drip off and making no attempt to dry himself. You wrap your hair in a towel, and quickly dry your body off, tired yes, but not nearly as worn out as your husband.

You look over to him, head thrown back, holding onto the towel. You decide to pamper him for the rest of the evening, drying him off, putting his usual hair product in for him, helping him put on a clean pair of boxer briefs and crawl into bed. It’s not even 8 pm and the sun is just starting to set, you giggle but he hasn’t eaten dinner since being home from work. For christs sake he hasn’t had dessert either. He rolls onto his side scrolling through his phone as you get yourself dressed and brush through your hair.

You kiss his forehead and he tiredly smiles up at you. “Thank you babe,” you whisper, “you helped me prove that article wrong.”

His eyes roll jokingly, “well thanks to your damn article I don’t think my dick is going to work for a few days, so who’s loss is it really?”

You ignore his question, “do you want takeout babe? Are you hungry?”

“Can I just have ice cream..?” He squints up at you like a kid asking their parent to have dessert without finishing their vegetables.

“I guess..” it’s your turn to roll your eyes at him, “stay here I know how you like it.” That brings a smile to his face, snuggling into your cozy bed.

You leave the room to head to the kitchen and Satoru goes back on his phone. He googles the doctors name from the article that he noted to himself earlier and finds the email address.

Dear Doctor Yeager,

Please note that my partner and I experimented after reading your article, and I would like to inform you I am an outlier, and finished four times before nearly passing out. If you would like to do any tests on me please let me know.

- world famous Satoru Gojo

he pushes the send button as you walk back in with his ice cream.

[tomieafterdark]

hate fucking with Eren drabble..18+

want more? I got you<3 here’s my masterlist

pairing: Eren x fem!reader

cw: hate fucking, sex through the prison bars from that one season 4 scene, no prep but reader is wet enough by just seeing Erens drastic glow up, vaginal sex, ass slapping, choking, hair pulling.

a/n: I haven’t watched season 4 properly and that includes this scene so if something is missing you know why😭 anyways enjoy this drabble, I am having a writers block kinda so I am stuck on my requests and longer fics rip.

Hange just came back up from asking Eren some questions, it seems she didn’t have much of a breakthrough though.

“He kept babbling on about fighting…” she said and sat down with the others. She looks disappointed as she continues explaining what else had happened.

You wanted to go down and check on Eren knowing damn well Eren despises you. Ever since you first met, you’ve had this weird energy of constantly competing or tearing each other down. Deep down inside maybe you were just looking for a way to let out your pent up anger and sadness, to tease Eren or full on argue with him. You just needed an outlet for your feelings…

As you get closer to his cell, he is still mumbling to himself about fighting. What a weirdo. And he is shirtless with a freaking manbun, you take a minute to stare at him not knowing he is aware, his body looks like it was carved by the gods themselves. As much as you despised Eren, you couldn’t help but admit he was so attractive right now, he has changed a lot.

“How long are you going to stand there and not talk, you know I am not deaf. I heard you walk down.” He says, his voice is husky and sends chills down your spine. You hadn’t seen Eren for a while, last time you saw him he was annoying and whiny and just cried a lot…this time he is different. You bite your bottom lip. His face was hotter too, that hairstyle looks like it was invented just for him.

“Whatever.” You say in a bratty tone, and walk closer to him.

He doesn’t care, he is just sitting on the edge of the bed now. He looks annoyed, as if he was doing something important earlier and had been interrupted.

You start to bother him on purpose, hoping for a reply. He must be equally desperate to let out his pent up emotions because he argues back. Suddenly you and Eren are full on arguing about god knows what because it doesn’t make sense to anyone but you two. It goes from petty things to you bursting into tears, asking Eren why he has changed so much and why he is hurting everyone he once cared about. Eren doesn’t take kindly to that last part, you don’t know it but you hit a sore spot inside of him.

He grabs you by the collar of your shirt through the bars, eyes full of hatred and rage with a hint of pain and regret if you look deeper. You don’t stop there, you’re so angry and upset you end up bringing his mom into it, and then the real hell breaks loose.

He yells at you to leave her out of it, you scream back about everything that’s wrong with his behaviour and plans and how she would never approve of this. You’re trying to reach the little humanity he had left in him but it’s not working, the tension between you becomes weirdly sexual at some point. He can’t deny the tension and neither can you, he may have neglected his humanity but that doesn’t mean it’s not there deep within him, screaming to be let out, to express its feelings. The very feelings he has been pushing down to work toward his goal, pushing everything else aside. With you being here, and the sexual tension already between you the grief and pain chooses to express itself sexually.

He turns you around, with little care for how it affects you or if it hurt. He is rough with you, even though there’s literal bars between you he doesn’t seem to care. He pulls you in close, you can feel his breath on your neck. You giggle in response to Eren’s rough manhandling. “Geez, I didn’t know you had this side to you. Last time we argued it just ended with you crying like a bitch!” You laugh.

He slaps your face really hard in return, causing you to moan a little. Something about his cold broken energy just made you so attracted to him, and the carelessness and manhandling only made you more weak in the legs. You had not planned for this sexual tension to arise with Eren. Sure, all your arguing earlier helped you release the anger you were wanting to express but the sexual side of you needed release too and Eren’s glow up alone had awakened it. You hadn’t had sex in so long, too much work and too little time for anything else left you neglecting your sexual needs a lot.

You arch your back and push your ass up against Eren, to your surprise you’re met with some hardness. “Arguing makes you hard? You really are a mess Eren Yeager” you say to him in a snarky tone and laugh.

“Shut the fuck up, aren’t you the one pushing your ass all up against me like a bitch in heat?” He says in a husky voice that sends shivers down your spine. You almost accidentally moan yes daddy in reply, this new Eren has your mind racing. You just smirk back at him. “I’ll fuck this sly smirk off your face bitch, when I’m done with your ass you’ll be crying begging me to stop.”

“Ooh I’m so scared. Face it Eren, you couldn’t last a minute.” You brag, hoping to get a rise out of him and get manhandled even more. Oh how you wish those stupid bars weren’t between you, so Eren could have his way with you.

He chokes you in return and pulls your pants and panties down, you’re so wet just from this alone. It’s good you are wet because Eren was so pissed off he would’ve bottomed out in you wether you were wet or not. Your eyes roll back as you’re gasping for air, he is choking a bit too hard. He gets closer to your ear as he continues choking and whispers “spread your legs more bitch.”

You’re so dizzy from being choked you accidentally reply back “yes daddy” out loud instead of in your head and spread them causing Eren to chuckle, he low-key likes it and even more when you said it in the state you were in. He shoves his entire length into you, it’s so big it hurts causing you to wake up from your dizzy state. He knows you’re struggling to take it, from the way your body tensed up to the way you’re almost pushing him out is telling but he keeps pushing it in making you take it all. Your moaning is starting to get a bit to loud, which has him hiss “quiet you whore. Do you really want them to find you like this? All wrapped up around my cock moaning like a slut?” He lets go of your throat and puts it over your mouth, your muffled moans are still loud but it’s better than before. He keeps thrusting at a merciless speed, your body finally stopped resisting his sheer force and you’re taking him. Limp legged, barely able to stand up and he just keeps going, you can feel it reach all the way up in your stomach. He grabs your hand and makes you feel it. “Feel it slut, that’s me re-arranging your tiny little guts.” You cry out in return, it’s making you lose it, it’s just too much. You just want to collapse here and now, but Eren pushes your hand down on the bulge his cock is making on your pretty stomach. Your reaction is gold to him. “What was it about me not lasting huh y/n?” He snarks and starts slapping your ass, not once or twice but so many times your cheeks turn red.

You squirt all over Eren’s cock, orgasming so hard your cunt is once again trying to push him out. Eren just buries himself deeper inside you, feeling every small movement your cunt makes in hopes of pushing him out. Your breathing is getting faster, with legs shaking. “Please Eren, pull out for a second it’s too much” you cry out with tears running down your pretty cheeks.

“Shut the fuck up and take this dick” is all he says and starts fucking you deeper. He puts you on all four, positioning you into a mean painful arch even though there’s bars between you. He somehow reaches deeper into you with the position you’re in and you’re leaking all over the cold cement floor from your eyes and cunt. Eren is brutal, you had enough ages ago but he keeps going. You are so overstimulated you try to crawl away but you’re met with more brutal manhandling, he pulls on your ponytail keeping you in place. “What’s wrong y/n? You can’t last longer?” He mocks.

You end up getting your absolute brains fucked out by Eren, at the same brutal pace for what feels like hours. When he is done, you’re a mess. He didn’t stop until your cunt was overstimulated, bruised and gaping. You hear the others come down to check on Eren, you quickly put your clothes on. You’re struggling to stand as they come over, you’re just standing against the wall with your legs threatening to collapse any minute.

thanks for reading I didn’t proof read so sorry for mistakes 😵‍💫

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[outlaw-apologist]

Saved By The Gang | RDR2 x Reader

In which your SO saves you from your kidnappers! This was a request from AO3 :) Characters: Arthur, Hosea, Dutch, Sean, Charles GN!Reader Warnings for each story: Arthur: Graphic depictions of violence, cannibalism, and dismemberment Hosea: Graphic depictions of violence and human trafficking Dutch: Graphic depictions of violence, Dutch being himself Sean: Depictions of violence, use of strong language Charles: Graphic depictions of violence. Implied SA Notes: I kinda ended up writing these more from the characters POVs, so I hope that’s okay. I apologize for any errors of if my writing is bad. I’ve been struggling with insomnia so I'm not thinking great rn. I looked at this so much I kinda hate it lmao so I’m just gonna raw dog my mistakes :’) AO3 Link Arthur: Arthur had been gone for awhile doing the craziest things. He didn’t mean to be away from camp for so long, it just kinda happens. He decided to stop in Van Horn to finish up some quick business when he noticed your horse. Was it really-? Arthur’s eyes narrowed as he studied the markings on the horse’s coat. That definitely was your horse but you weren’t the one in the saddle. “Hey there partner.” Arthur made quick work crossing the road with long purposeful strides. “Where’d you get that there horse?”

The rider looked a bit flustered. “Isn’t’e a beaut? I found it just due south of Roanoke Valley all alone. Rider abandoned it so I thought I outta take ‘em in and give ‘em some good old lovin’.” “Roanoke Valley you say?” He scoffed. What the hell would you be doing up there? “Well, I know the owner of this fine horse and they wouldn’t just go off and leave like that. Where exactly did you find it?” “Listen Mister, I don’t want any trouble.” Agitation arose in the rider causing Arthur to throw his hands up in surrender. “No trouble here. I couldn’t care less about the horse. I just wanna make sure my friend is okay.” After careful consideration the stranger finally shrugged. “I found it drinking at the Kamassa river Northwest of Annesburg.” “Thank ya kindly.” Arthur tipped his head graciously. He hadn’t been up in that area before but the stories he heard weren’t great. This undoubtedly meant trouble. Arthur hardly mounted his horse before a bit of gossip reached his ears. “Another wagon disappeared near the mines. This time three women went missing.” “It’s gotta be that Murfree Brood. I heard they eat anyone they capture. Incestuous cannibals the lot of ‘em. Doubt we’ll ever see those poor women again.” “Shit!” A growl ripped from Arthur’s throat. His heels dug into his horse’s sides and he slapped the reigns. What if that were you? Kidnapped with those women? He needed to find you and fast. “C’mon Y/N. You better not be dead.” His heart pounded in his chest, wind whipping past as he cut off other riders on the trail in haste. He didn’t mean to be gone for so long… Away from YOU for so long… He always thought you understood it. His need to be everywhere and anywhere. And you did… You do… Yet, somehow, regret was eating at him like a deranged wolf. Snapping at the back of his mind, replaying memories upon memories of him returning to your arms after being away for ages. Arthur took for granted that you’d always be there when he gets back. He shouldn’t have left you as much as he does. He should have asked you to come with him. If you had business up in this region he could have been there to protect you. That horse is your world, he knows that. Maybe that’s why his mind was racing with so many regrets and thoughts.  That horse is your everything, if you weren’t on that horse you were probably seriously injured… or worse. That realization put a lot into perspective. It was always ‘What if I never return to Y/N?’ and never ‘What if Y/N never returns to me?’ “C’mon Morgan. Keep it together.” He had to shake these stormy thoughts away. Was it possible that he’d find you alright? Maybe a mild injury? Absolutely. But fuck, if it didn’t give him so much anxiety. Upon reaching the approximate area Arthur slowed his horse using gentle praises. “Easy now.” He reached out to pet it appreciatively, allowing his body filled with tension to drop down. Blue green eyes squinted while searching for clues or any sign of his beloved. Luckily Arthur picked up a few things while bounty hunting and it only took him ten or so minutes to find footprints he thinks matches yours. While following them he started noting how far apart your steps were. You were running. ‘Running from what?’ “Christ.” Arthur’s nose wrinkled just as the wind carried over the scent of rotting flesh. Sure enough there was a dead fellow not far from your tracks. The bullet casings surrounding the corps were definitely from your gun. Was this one of the cannibals? Arthur moved the body, flipping it over using his foot. He looked malnourished and white as paper. Even his clothes were rags. Arthur wasn’t really sure exactly what a cannibal looked like but if he had to take a guess, a cannibal would look like this feller right here. “Fuck, Y/N. What’ave you gotten yourself into?” Those sinking thoughts were back, dragging him into a pit of despair. Would he find your half eaten corpse somewhere in the woods? Are you still alive? Were you scared? You’re a shit significant other, Morgan. That’s what he told himself over and over again, shifting trough the bramble. What kind of man doesn’t know what his lover is up to? If he wasn’t so far up the ass of being ‘Arthur Morgan the big bad Outlaw’ he would know. Regret. Regret for not holding you in his arms every night. For not returning to you more often. He should have had more time with you. Should’ve spent every waking moment with you. How could he be so dense? This life was dangerous! He always stressed that to everyone who would listen. So why didn’t he spend all of his free time with you? None of you knew when your last breath would be taken, how could he waste so much precious life away from you? That fear only grew when those scared eyes focused on the disturbing image of human arms sewn together into some kind of hanging tree ornament. A gloved hand covered his mouth to suppress a gag. Gore wasn’t something that usually affected Arthur, but the thought that this could be you made him feel ill. At least he knew he was going in the right direction. It wasn’t long before he stumbled upon a couple of the Brood. He couldn’t hear the exact words being said because his ears immediately attuned to your cries of pain. Creeping closer in the grass, hand on his holster, Arthur grit his teeth at the scene playing out before him. Never in his life had he felt so much white hot rage. One of the sick fucks held you by the hair while another tried to pin you down. “We’re just gonna cut yer leg off!” He laughed. “What’re ya cryin’ for?” “No!” You screamed, desperately trying to fight against them. For three nights you watched in horror as the others captured were slaughtered, tortured, and eaten. Carved like Thanksgiving turkeys. For three whole nights you couldn’t sleep, drink, or eat because you were so terrified of these monsters. They saw how scared you were and they loved it. Milking every second of it. Because of your exhausted state fighting against them was grueling. “You killed our brother, it’s only fair.” A scream ripped through you just as your flesh tore against the blunt blade of a rusty sickle. “Get away!” Everyone froze, heads snapping towards the all too familiar voice. “Arthur?” “Y/N.” Arthur caught your gaze, a look of relief washing over him. You’re alive! “Hey! Who do you think you are coming hea-” The Brood member pulling your hair didn’t have enough time to finish his sentence before his head was blown off with a crackling BANG! Silence rang out after the loud pop from Arthur’s gun, then the mans body dropped. “You shot my brother!” “And I’ll shoot you too if you don’t get the fuck outta here!” With a click of his cattleman revolver, the last man scrambled up to run. “Too slow.” A dirty finger squeezed the trigger and down he fell. You simply stared as everything unfolded before you, your cries not subsiding but becoming much quieter. After all your pain and torment… All those people gutted like human sacrifices… Arthur killed your captors so easily. “Y/N.” His voice was gentle as he knelt beside you. Finally you shattered. Sobbing violently as soon as his arms enveloped you securely. You wanted to say his name. To tell him everything that had happened but couldn’t manage anything past blubbering incoherently. Never had Arthur felt so much heartbreak. Not from any loss or any breakup he had experienced so far. You’re one of the strongest people he knew. Seeing you look so small and afraid was devastating. Especially because this should have never happened to begin with. “I know.” Was all he could say. “Shhh, I know. You’re okay.” While embracing you with one arm he peered over to inspect your thigh. “I know darlin’, I don’t wanna let you go but I need to stop the bleeding.” He quickly hushed the whimper that passed your lips upon feeling his body shift away. Arthur’s fingers trembled, fumbling with his bandanna. Christ, this affected him more than he ever could’ve imagine. It took a minute but finally he managed to tie it above your wound to limit your bloodflow before immediately picking you up. Arthur made sure you could hide your face in his chest so you didn’t have to look at any of the hanging dismemberments on your way out. “God Y/N.” His arms around you were tight. “It’s okay. I’ll protect you. It’s okay now.” He tried to console you. To console himself. Hell, if he were in your shoes this would be more traumatizing for him than the Colm O’Driscolle ordeal. He could only imagine how you feel. Arthur couldn’t even bring himself to sit you on his horse yet. The moment you were in fresh woods he dropped to his knees and held you. Rocking you, kissing your hair and breathing in your scent. Sweet nothings fell from his lips in soft shaky whispers. Pads of calloused thumbs wiping away every tear from your cheeks. All you could do was cry and cling to him. All he could do was hold you as if it were for the last time. And it almost was. The last time. “How’d you find me?” After what seemed like hours of you two embracing each other, Arthur finally helped you onto his horse and you were on your way back to camp. “Saw some feller in Van Horn ridin’ your horse. Complete coincidence.” Arthur could feel how tense that statement made you so he added quickly, “Don’t worry. I’ll get your horse back. I just wanted to make sure you were safe first.” “Thank you, Arthur. For everything.” “I know how much you love that horse, it’s nothin’.” “No, I mean… Thank you for always being there when I need you.” Silence washed over the both of you. Arthur didn’t know how to respond. “I’m sorry darlin’.” You could feel him arm gently tighten around you in a loose hug. “I could’ve lost you tonight. I got to thinkin’ and… I know I haven’t been the best to you. I always prioritize everyone else. It shouldn’t be like that.” “Oh Arthur-” “I’m serious. I’ve lost Mary and Eliza. Most of my friends are long cold in their graves. I don’t know nothin’ about gods or divine intervention. Don’t know if something led me to you or not this time around….. I guess I was always feelin’ sorry for you because you’re datin’ a walkin’ target. Thought some space between us might do us some good in case I die. Never did I once consider life without you.” Arthur let out a hollow laugh which lacked any mirth or warmth. “What a fool I’ve been. I ain’t never learn my lesson. Tonight showed me that, that’s for damn sure. I dunno what you were doin’ out here but for now on if I leave camp I’m not going anywhere without you.” An exhausted smile reached your lips. “Good. My handsome man, it’s always been you and me. You just had to ask.” “You and me, huh? I like the sound of that.” You fell asleep in Arthur’s arms long before you reached camp. Arthur held you when you arrived, petting your hair as Ms. Grimshaw stitched up your leg. Arthur was needy after your attack. He never let you out of his sight and would always insist on holding you. Especially during nightmares that plagued you for months after the accident. Arthur stayed up singing to you and rocking you for many many long nights. And, of course, he got your horse back! How he did it or by what means, you didn’t care to ask. Slowly life returned to normal and the incident was long behind you both. Arthur kept his promise to take you everywhere until the very end. ___ Hosea: Five minutes. He took his eyes off of you for FIVE minutes so he could speak to the owner of a fence in San Denis while you waited for him outside, and you were gone. “Y/N?” He called out in confusion, scanning the sidewalks and streets for any sign of you. At first he’s annoyed. Did you wander off without saying anything? Hosea waved over the nearest group of men lingering nearby. “Good day. You wouldn’t happen to have seen my associate hanging around out here, would you? They seemed to have disappeared.” One of the men nodded. “Oh yeah, some nasty business I tell ya.” Well shit. “Nasty?” Hosea cocked his head, resting his hand over his holstered gun. “How so?” “These crazies came and bonked them over the head, saying they owed money or somthin’. Decided to mind my own business because they’re all brandishing guns.” “Money, huh? What way did they go?” “That way.” He pointed Eastward. “Towards the docks.” Tipping his hat, Hosea made his way down the sidewalk. He looked both ways before crossing the road, grabbing onto the trolley as it passes, riding the step until he reached the docks. The sun was setting but he knew your form like the back of his hand. It wouldn’t be too hard to spot you against the fire of the sky. However, you nor the supposed men were anywhere in sight. “Excuse me.” He flagged down a sailor and asked him if he’s seen you. He had not. Neither had the other five people he asked. Hosea knew this wasn’t good. The trail ran cold, leaving him hopeless.  There was nothing he could do but return to Shady Belle with a heavy heart. As your husband he was always supposed to protect you. Never in a million years did he think you’d be snatched away right under his nose. Mounting Silver Dollar, Hosea struggled to hold his tears at bay. The city was starting to suffocate him and he needed to leave in order to breathe and think. The weight of the world was finally settling into his old bones on the ride back. The horror the gang had experienced the last few months was devastating. The Blackwater incident aside – Arthur’s escape from Colm, Sean’s death, little Jack’s kidnapping…. Dutch wasn’t listening to reason anymore. The gang was in shambles and now… He let out a defeated sob, hanging over his horse for privacy. What was he supposed to do without you? You’re all he has left. His entire world. What if he wouldn’t be able to find you? It all happened so quickly. To think only an hour ago you were fixing his shirt collar, hanging on his arm with a smile on your face and now POOF! Gone. This was the last drop in the bucket for Hosea. Suddenly he couldn’t stop his tears no matter how hard he tried. He was tired. So god damn tired. Silver Dollar slowed to a stop just off the road. If anyone who passed-by peered close enough through the darkness they could make out the silhouette of a broken man with his head in his hands. He kicked himself for stalling your rescue. Precious time finding you, wasted. By the time he made it back to camp it was late into the night. Dragging himself up the stairs of Shady Belle he knocked on the door to Dutch’s room. Candlelight could be seen flickering through the crack of the doorway leading to Hosea believe he must still be awake. Silence. He knocked again, this time Hosea could hear the bed squeak. “You better have a good reason to disturb me.” Those words flew sharply through the cold humid air. “Dutch…” Hosea would have cursed himself for sounding so… weak. Calling out his friend’s name with a wavering voice. It was noticeable enough to immediately draw Dutch’s attention. The bed squeaked under Dutch’s weight then heavy footsteps led to the door. Hosea kept his gaze down, watching Dutch’s shadow as he moved until the door creaked open and the faint candlelight illuminated Hosea in contrast against the inky hallway. “Hosea- What happened?” “Y/N… I don’t know, it all happened so fast.” Wrapping an arm around Hosea, Dutch led him inside, guiding him to sit. “What happened to Y/N?” “I was looking for a buyer for the bonds we have left, asked them to wait outside because I was just going to be a moment. I stepped out and Y/N was gone. Apparently a group of men took them towards the docks. I tried not to arouse suspicion, I-… Maybe I should’ve gotten there faster, I don’t know…” He shook his head as if to clear it. “Y/N wasn’t there. I may have been too late.” “Someone just took them? In broad daylight?” “Just like that.” Hosea snapped his fingers. “Somethin’ aint right.” Rubbing his chin quizzically, Dutch began pacing the room. “Y/N isn’t stupid, they would’ve screamed or something. You really didn’t hear anything?” He paused to watch Hosea shake his head. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Staring down at his hands, Hosea slowly uncurled his fingers, watching the light dance over his palms. “It was a setup.” “It was a setup.” His friend repeated. “But by who?” “Could be Milton.” “I don’t think so. He’s a thorn in our side. If it were Milton he would’ve showed up in our camp already. Waving Y/N around like a prize.” “That’s very true…” Hosea only looked up when he heard Dutch abruptly halt. “It can’t be….” “What?” “Perhaps… Bronte had a hand in this? I don’t think we’ve done anything to cross him but he’s the only man in the city who could kidnap anyone in broad daylight and not a soul would tell.” He could feel the relief wash through him, the possibility bringing him a weird sense of comfort. He hoped it was Bronte. That would mean you’re probably safe and sound somewhere just like Jack was. “We’ll get Y/N back, Hosea. Let me pull some strings. We’ll find them.” The strings were pulled quite quickly as Hosea found himself waiting outside yet another fabulous party for Arthur to return. “It wasn’t Bronte.” His heart sank. “It wasn’t? Are you sure?” “Pretty sure.” Arthur leaned against the residential fence while lighting a cigarette. He was gussied up to fit the mood. “Asked around ‘n’ nobody had a clue what I was sayin’. I did, however, get this.” Held out between two fingers was a business card. Interested, Hosea accepted it. “Exotic Imports and… Impurities?” “Human trafficking. They apparently have these masquerade parties where rich folk can bid on people anonymously. I think that’s where Y/N is.” God… Was Saint Denis truly such a shit hole? He knew this place was low, but a human trafficking ring? “Are you sure?” Arthur met Hosea’s gaze with the most sincere look he could muster. “Hosea-” “I know you wouldn’t lie to me dear boy.” “I heard someone mentioning there’ll be an auction there this Friday. They mentioned someone who sounds pretty darn close to Y/N’s description in the lineup. I’ll scope the place out, maybe we can rescue Y/N sooner than that. And if not…” Hosea tucked the card into his pocket. “I guess we’re attending the masquerade.” Arthur knows how much you and Hosea are sweet on each other. How hard it was for Hosea after Bessie’s passing and how you brought life back into him. Arthur would do anything for you. So when he had to scope out where the auction will take place he took the job very seriously. He wanted to get you out as soon as possible if you were really there. The place was heavily armed, much to his dismay. An open window was easy enough to sneak into but getting you out was near impossible. He couldn't even find you. However, in a back room Arthur discovered a pile of discarded clothing. A shoe caught his eye, one he knew you wore often. Before he was able to grab it Arthur had to leave as the area filled with guards. “Y/N is in there alright. Too busy for me to get ‘em.” He reported back upon his return to camp. That’s how Hosea, Dutch, Arthur, Bill, Micah, and Charles found themselves attending one of the most unnerving ‘parties’ in San Denis on a muggy Friday evening. They looked expensive, dressed down to the newest shoes on the market. Each donning their own masquerade mask. The building looked beautiful. Expensive. Guest flooded the entrance. “Guns aren’t allowed at this event.” A doorman held his hands out while the gang handed over their weapons. They weren’t worried. If everything was going according to plan John and Javier should already be inside posing as security. Upon entering the mansion, the gang mingled and sweet-talked everyone they could. Trying to get information, word of your safety, anything. One by one they slipped out of the room to John or Javier who gave their guns back to them before joining the guests in the auction room. The auction room was massive, theatrical even. Women in glorious gowns, men who’s suits cost more than a house, they all gathered with glasses filled with alcohol of their choosing. Chatting and laughing as if they’re about to watch a play. Hosea’s stomach churned. The curtains opened to reveal the first person to be auctioned. It was a young girl trembling and sobbing. He gripped the armrest of his seat, knuckles turning white. One by one these people were being bid on. “7,000 dollars. Do I hear 7,000 dollars? 7,500. 8,000 to the man in white!” All of this stress made him want to down glass after glass of alcohol. If he didn’t need to be clear headed he would’ve. “Next up, folks, is person number 9.” You were shoved onstage. Even though your face was covered he recognized you immediately. Almost a week ago you were idly waiting outside, gazing down at your clothing trying to fix a button when you were struck from behind. Blurry vision greeted you after, god only knows how long you were unconscious. Blinking it away you tried to move but to no avail. Hands and feet bound, you were left alone in a cold room. Little light trickled into your cell. You could hear the cries and pleas of other people who were presumably prisoners too. Every time you tried to snap at or fight against the guards they beat you. They fed you just enough food and water to keep you barely alive. It was hell. Every night you prayed someone would find you. Anyone! Hosea, Arthur- were they looking for you? It had been so long…. “Get up.” You snapped awake with a groan as you were kicked. The guard pulled you up, dragging you to get washed and dressed. Stumbling into a back room after being shoved, you blinked at all the faces staring back at you. These were the people you heard crying at night. “What’s happening?” You whispered. Only one woman was brave enough to speak up. Her low voice shook with emotion. “They’re selling us.” “What!?” “Be quiet or I’ll make you quiet!” A guard snarled at you, causing you to shy away. For hours you listened silently to the auction from backstage. Was this really happening? It felt so surreal. Fear filled you as the line moved forward until you were next. A bag was forced onto your head so you couldn’t see. Fingers dug into your arms, you could feel yourself being dragged onto the stage, causing you to stumble. “Next up, folks, is person number 9.” Your breath hitched painfully. Heart racing loudly. This is it. You were about to be sold as person number 9. Bracing yourself for the bidding a loud boom crackled beside you, so loud it made your ears ring. Your head snapped in the direction it came from. Not being able to see anything, panic arose within you as the screams and sounds of running reached you. The crowd was fleeing for their lives! Gunshots popped off in the surrounding area. You ducked down in case any bullets flew your way. “Y/N!” “H-Hosea?” The bag was lifted off your head, beaming lights above glared into your eyes causing you to squint. Hosea’s face slowly came into view. He wrapped his arms around you, throwing you over his shoulder. “I’d love to have a romantic reunion with you, my dove, but I’m afraid we’re in the midst of a shootout.” “I can see that.” You groaned, hanging onto him. For an older man he sure did carry you with ease while shooting his way out with the gang backing him up on either side. “Hosea, let’s go!” Dutch shot the guard who blocked off the door. Hosea had to pass you to Arthur, who barreled through a cloud of bullets with you safely tucked in his arms. He was able to reach the rendezvous carriage, placing you inside before anyone else could enter. Hosea slid in and gathered you in his arms. “Drive, damn it!” He called out, causing the carriage to lurch violently before moving. “Oh Y/N. Oh my little dove.” He carefully looked you over as tears filled your eyes. You were shaking, veins pumping with adrenaline. Your rescue happened so quickly it made your head dizzy. Hosea’s hands were gentle as he touched you in case anything hurt or scared you in your shaken state. He examined every inch. Face was pensive, while taking in every mark and bruise on your delicate skin. “Are you seriously hurt anywhere?” “No.” You whispered, pressing against your husband for comfort. He gladly held you, kissing your lips over and over again. “I’m sorry it took me so long my love. I shouldn’t have let you out of my sight.” Hosea rest his head atop yours and rubbed circles on your back soothingly. “Let’s get you back to camp and fed.” “Thank you.” You nuzzled him, breathing in his comforting scent. “I knew you’d come for me. I missed you.” “I missed you too.” The rest of the ride was quiet. When the carriage parked outside of Shady Belle, Hosea scooped you up immediately. You gasped as the whole gang rushed  over to greet you. “Y/N’s back!” Abigail announced. “Oh Y/N, I’m so glad you’re safe!” Mary-Beth gushed with relief. Even Pearson was there to see you. “Welcome home Y/N. Camp ain’t the same without ya.” “Thank you everyone.” You let out a watery laugh, heart filled with love. You were so appreciated amongst this group and it showed. Hosea brought you inside, cleaning you carefully. He asked if anything hurt or if anyone touched you and you responded with yes or no. He clothed you in his own clothes, hoping his scent would bring comfort. A warm bowl of stew was pushed into your hands. Hosea held you while you ate and snuggled you up until you went to bed. He played with your hair all night, unable to sleep after losing you. ___ Dutch: Dutch doesn’t notice you’re gone until the ransom note arrives. “$3,000 in exchange for your lover?” He scoffed. “Who does he think he is? We’ll light his ass up.” The page was quickly crumpled in his hand. Dutch felt a deadly fury rise in him so great his own blood ran colder than the Upper Montana river. Colm O'Driscoll won’t get away with it this time. Not after what he’s done to Dutch’s past lover and to Arthur. “Dutch, I think we should be cool about this one. He already captured me to draw you in for the Pinkertons. He’s probably not done try’nna cut his deal with ‘em. If we ride in hot-” “Not now, Arthur. A few Pinkertons we can handle. This is Y/N we’re talking about, for Christ’s sake.” He scoffed, face snarling up in anger. “Y/N would have come for you, dear boy, had we known you were taken. Y/N would have come for you.” Arthur heaved out a sigh. He still wasn’t fully well after the green gang shot him up. “I know, Dutch. I love Y/N just as much as anyone. We ain’t ever leave one of us behind. I just think… If they want to draw us in they’ll treat Y/N right. If it’s a trap it’ll make more sense for us to come in quiet and get Y/N outta there safely.” “We don’t have time!” Dutch grabbed his gun, much to Arthur and Hosea’s exasperation. “Dutch, I know you love Y/N, but I think Arthur may be right.” “Who’s side are you on, Hosea? If that were you we would already be on the road.” He waved his gun around before holstering it. The air in camp was tense. Dutch seemed… Unsettled. Unpredictable. His eyes were crazy. Love made him crazy. “Who’s with me? John, Micah, Bill?” John and Arthur exchanged looked while Bill jumped up eagerly. Micah seemed interested but didn’t bother grabbing anything extra like the others. “I’m comin’ with you.” Arthur’s shoulders fell. He followed Dutch through camp up to The Count which Dutch mounted with ease. “No, dear boy. You rest. Watch the camp with Hosea, we should be back before dawn.” “Alright, if you say so. Be careful out there Dutch. Things are getting nasty. Bring Y/N home.” “Oh, I intend to.” With the rescue party ready Dutch rode out with his boys. “If you see an O’Driscoll, shoot. If you see a Pinkerton, shoot. We leave no one alive. Not even the women. If Colm wants to play, we’ll play. By our rules.” John moved up beside Dutch, calling out over the whistling wind. “Are you sure about this Dutch? What if Y/N gets hurt?” “Y/N isn’t getting hurt.” The words were spoken as if John’s idea was ludicrous. “Now you boys know how I feel about Y/N. And I-… Well, call me foolish, but I’ll never let any man, beast, or tycoon lay a finger on the love of my life. The moment we slaughter his sons he’ll know we mean business. Colm is many things, but stupid he is not. He knows hurting Y/N would give us cause to burn his world down piece by piece and I don’t think he could take the heat.” “As is your right, Dutch.” Micah spoke up. “The O'Driscolls should know by now you’re a kind and just man. I’m sure they understand the reckoning hurting their assets would bring.” Feeding into Dutch’s anger pleased the gang leader. “That’s what I thought.” He agreed. The rest of the ride was tense with anticipation. John knew there was nothing he could say. He just hoped you’d survive all of this. Dutch was getting sloppy and with you involved… He would slaughter the whole world if he had to. “We’re here.” Dutch announced. Night had long fallen by the time they reached the O’Driscoll hideout. “Let’s make a little noise. Micah-” Riding closer to the compound, Micah lit a stick of dynamite, throwing it over the fence. Dutch watched with great pleasure as the O’Driscoll boys caught in the blast began to scream. “Let’s show them you don’t fuck with Dutch van der Linde.” The guns came out. Time slowed down, men began to rush at them. The Count reared, spooked by the sudden barrage of bullets. Dutch shot every single O’Driscoll effortlessly, one by one. You were beginning to think Dutch wasn’t coming. Why would he after Arthur outed Colm’s setup a week ago? They had kicked your face in until your mouth filled with blood and your nose cracked in three different places. Breathing was hard with your damaged ribs. The O’Driscoll’s wasted no time in beating you to a bloody pulp before tying you up. The way you were tied was ridiculous. Your hands and feet were tied separately then were tied together to ensure you wouldn’t be able to move an inch. You guessed Arthur’s escape was a sore spot. You struggled and fought until the ropes dug angry marks, rubbing the skin away. In all honestly you usually would have half a mind to spit at or curse any O’Driscoll out, however this seemed different. It was grim, very grim. You remember how scary it was watching Arthur collapse off his horse barely alive and wondered – would you make it? Surely they won’t let an escape happen again... Dutch would probably move camp, you thought. And if you could survive… I don’t know, a week longer, he’ll come and get you. These were the thoughts running through your head while you tried to plan your survival. ‘It’ll be torture, but I can last that long’, you reassured yourself. It didn’t work. Colm killed Dutch’s girl way back, what’s stopping him from doing it again? You knew the man had a nasty streak to him. And Dutch… well... killing you sure would make Dutch slip up enough to get caught. That bastard Colm just wanted to see him hang. Many many thoughts occupied your mind as you dozed off. Aches and pains were screaming at you so being unconscious was probably best. At the brink of sleep you were jolted wide awake by a loud explosion. You froze, halting your breath, straining your ears to listen. Silence. What’s going on? BANG BANG BANG! Dutch- It had to be him! Your face lit up with hope, eyes fixated on the door. Any minute now... The O’Driscoll’s screamed, cursed, and cried out. “Get ‘em!” “Don’t let them inside!” “We gotta hold this for Colm!” Despite anticipating its happening you still flinched back when the door was kicked in. “Y/N.” Dutch sighed out of relief. Kneeling down he cut you loose, brushing the hair from your face. You both were quiet. Just taking each other in. You because you had missed him, and him because he was stunned by how badly you were beaten. “Those animals. We’ll make ‘em pay.” Dutch’s words were said more to himself than to you. “I’m alright, I can walk, I think-” Helping you up, Dutch’s eyes filled with sadness when he noticed you wincing. He could hear your chest heave with pain and it was grading against his eardrums. “I’ll carry you. Just hang on, we haven’t cleared them all yet.” Scooping you into his chest, your arms were granted purchase around his neck. Dutch was stronger than he looked. He held onto you with one arm wrapped tightly to secure you while shooting any man who ran this way with the other. “Bastards! They’re everywhere! John, Micah, let’s go!” “You get Y/N?” John asked after shooting three more men. There were so many O’Driscolls they couldn’t even take their eyes off them to check on you. “Yeah. Let’s get outta here.” Micah covered Dutch’s right while John covered his left and back. They shot the best they could until finally they were free of the building. Dutch placed you on The Count, climbing behind you. The others quickly mounted seeing as there was no way they’d win this gun battle if they stayed. “Shit! Incoming!” Bill cried out, alerting everyone to the drove of Pinkerton galloping straight towards the gang’s direction. “God dammit!” Jerking the reigns, Dutch kicked his horse into action. “This way, c’mon! Let’s lose them through the trees. We gotta hope we can outrun them.” There you were, rocketing towards salvation on a white horse. Pinkertons and O’Driscolls crashing down around you like violent ocean waves. There was so much noise to the point where your ears rang in an effort to tune it all out. Breath didn’t leave your body. Time slowed. You watched in horror. Every bullet shot by John seemed to take ages before knocking down its opponent. Bill was screaming yet not a word of it reached you. You could feel Dutch’s arm wrap tighter and tighter around your waist. Suddenly you’re soaring through the air, hair flying back against the dusty breeze. This was it. The moment of truth. The Count’s feet touched down  after leaping over a fence and suddenly time returned to normal and everything sped up in your race for life. Your heart thuds erratically, clammy hands clinging to the saddle for dear life. “Duck!” Dutch ordered and you immediately lowered your head before a low hanging branch creamed you. You stayed low Dutch’s body now covering you protectively. You couldn’t see and had no idea what was going on. Your own breathing was so loud at this point it took you awhile to register – the shooting had stopped. There was no more screaming, no more calling out or angry orders being shouted. Only the sound of four horses huffing and puffing and your own shaky breaths filled the air. “My love… Are you alright?” Dutch lifted himself off of you, his horse slowing to rest. “I…. I think so.” You gazed down at your hands and arms before looking at Dutch with wide traumatized eyes. “Oh, my little bird. I’m so sorry they hurt you. I came as soon as I could. They’ll pay for this.” Something sinister swirled behind his eyes but his fingers were gentle against your skin while caressing your face. “Come now, let’s get you cleaned up and to bed. You need rest.” Dutch kissed your shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re here now. So glad.” ___ Sean: Sean thought you were mad at him. Avoiding him for some awful comment he made because he, yet again, went too far. It hurt his feelings but he decided you’d probably come back when you were ready to see him again. “Sean, have you seen Y/N?” Mary-Beth asked. “I haven’t seen Y/N since yesterday morning.” Sean’s heart fell to the pit of his stomach. You weren’t the type to leave camp often or without someone accompanying you. “Christ, I haven’t. Where’d you last see them?” “Over by Kieran. I already asked him and he said Y/N helped with the horses then wandered off.” “An’ no one saw them come back?” He began power walking through camp, searching the area for you. “Has anyone seen Y/N?” Tilly and Uncle shook their heads, John just gave a shrug. “That isn’t weird to any of yous?” His voice was raised enough to get the attention of Arthur who had just rode in. “What’s goin’ on now?” “Y/N is fucking missing and no one said a damn word about it.” “Alright, alright calm down. I’m sure we can find them, where were they last?” “Oh I don’t know English, lemme just take this crystal ball out of my ass-” Sean rolled his eyes while grabbing his gun. “We’re gonna have to track them down. Think you can do that?” “Well…” Arthur wipes the sweat from his brow. “Charles taught me a few things.” He paused, gently catching Sean’s shoulder. “I know you’re upset but I need you to keep your head. I’m sure wherever Y/N is they’re okay. We’ll get them back safe.” “Speak for yourself, I always keep my wits.” “That right there is what I’m worried about.” Arthur huffed while mounting his horse. Sean was silently grateful for Arthur’s words though he’d never admit it. There was a storm churning inside of him. An ocean of guilt rocking his consciousness. If only he respected your boundaries and didn’t make that joke maybe you wouldn’t have gone missing. “We’ll bring Y/N back safe.” He repeated to himself, climbing onto his saddle. Arthur gave him an affirmative nod. They rode around the outskirts of Clemens Point looking for any sign of you. Sean felt like throwing up the whole entire time. Suspense was killing him. “Over here!” Air left his lungs in relief as soon as Arthur’s voice broke through the thick air. Walking his horse over, that relief was short lived. “Fuck.” Sean hissed. Arthur held a ripped piece of fabric clearly bloodied. The fabric was from something you wore often making it was unmistakable. “Looks like three riders were here. ‘Dunno who they could be, but…” Morgan hesitated, knowing Sean probably shouldn’t hear the next part. “There was quite the struggle.” The Irishman cursed, kicking at a nearby stone, sending it throttling into the trees. “I’ll kill every last one of ‘em! I swear it.” The Van der Linde boys followed the hoof prints best they could, using other clues to figure out what way your kidnappers may have turned when the trail disappeared. With each passing minute Sean’s knuckles turned more and more white around his reigns. “I shouldn’t have said anything. This is my fault.” His feelings were so big inside of him they spilled out of his lips like a broken dam. “I’m a right bastard.” “You two have a fight?” “Sort of… We was fuckin’ around and Y/N got sick of me and asked me to stop teasing them but they look so cute when they’re angry I just- I don’t know.” He hung his head. Arthur studied him silently as they rode. “Well… Sounds about right for you two. I’m sure Y/N wouldn’t blame you.” “Maybe not, English, but I blame myself. I just hope they’re okay.” They didn’t talk any more after that unless to comment on the path changing. A few hours away from camp they came across smoke indicating a fire, right in the general direction of your kidnappers. “Must be them.” Sean was ready to charge in, but Arthur’s hand shot out across Sean’s chest, stopping him in his tracks. “We should get to higher ground first, see what we’re dealing with.” “Are you crazy? Y/N could be there!” “That’s exactly why we can’t rush in like fools! What happened to keepin’ your wits? Do you want Y/N getting shot?” Sean’s mouth opened and closed, words getting choked up in his throat. The thought of you getting shot was about to bring tears to his eyes. Shoulders slumping forward, he sucked in a shuddering breath. “Let’s go look up that hill.” “That’s better.” Arthur snapped his kicked his feet, leading his horse higher with Sean close behind. Sean wasn’t playing around now. Knowing you might be close and that you were probably hurt- It took everything in him to quench ranging fire burning within. He whipped out his binoculars, setting eyes on the men surrounding the campfire. “Stupid Lemoyne fucks.” “Do you see Y/N?” Arthur asked. Sean moved his binoculars with his turning head. “I’ve got eyes on them. They’re tied to a wagon just outside of where they’re sitting.” He bit his lip while taking in your sorry form. You were filthy, bloodied, and your face was swollen. They clearly didn’t treat you kindly. “Let’s kill those fucks, Morgan. My baby needs me.” Without another word Sean tucked the binoculars away, charging full force down the hill, cattleman revolver in hand. He managed to shoot one guy in the throat, ducking on his horse to avoid the flying bullets. His horse galloped straight for you, stopping just shy with the intention of creating a barrier between you and the shootout. Arthur did most of the shooting while Sean nearly flung himself off his horse to cut you free. “Oh my baby! What did those bastards do to you?” He gently cleaned your face with his handkerchief, ignoring all the gory sounds echoing from behind. Sean didn’t even notice when everything became silent. You had his full undivided attention. “Sean!” You wept, wrapping your arms around his neck to bury your face into his chest. “I’m sorry baby. I should’ve never let you out of my sight. I’ve got you, my rose. I’m here now.” He kissed your hair, rubbing your back. “Did they hurt you real bad?” Tears now stung his eyes when you nodded. It was difficult seeing you this way. He loves you more than anything else in the world, seeing his partner so beaten and broken- “Shhhh. We’ll make it better.” Sean attempted to calm his tears, crying silently while burying his face in your hair. His chest was warm and welcoming after what you’ve endured. Even though every bone in your body ached all you wanted to do was hug him and you were grateful he didn’t pull away immediately and put you on a horse. “I love you. So much. I was so scared.” You whimpered. “I know, I know I’m so sorry Y/N. About everything. I should’ve never pushed your buttons. I thought you ran away.” “What?” You pulled away in confusion, studying his face. “Sean… You think I’m upset about that?” It was cute seeing Sean feel guilty over a minor playful argument, something you both have often, and you couldn’t help but to giggle. “Don’t be silly.” You reached up, wiping away his tears. Confused, Sean gently caught your hand, pressing kisses to your palm while examining the bruising on your skin. “I guess that’s who I am when I’m with you, Y/N. A silly man. C’mon now.” Carefully you were scooped up into a loving embrace. Sean placed a peck on your lips. He was afraid of hurting you further so he treated you as though you were made of glass. Once you were in his saddle he pulled himself up behind you. “Let’s get you to camp, baby. I’ll make you feel better there.” “Thank you.” You pressed your back against him in relief. Exhaustion flooded your still trembling body. You never had any doubt Sean would come for you but the experience of the Lemoyne Raiders kicking your face in was rather traumatic. “Glad to see you’re okay L/N.” Arthur shot you a little smile. “Sean here was real riled up about your disappearance. Nearly bit my head off.” A faint smile crossed your lips. You winced as your skin pulled on a bruise. “Thank you for coming too, Arthur. If you weren’t here I don’t think he would have been able to rescue me.” “Oh not this again!” Sean groaned. His arm was wrapped loosely around you and he still pressed an odd kiss to your hair here or there. “I would've done just fine!” “You shot one bullet!” Arthur pointed out with a laugh. “Then you flung yourself over your lover like some actor in one of those dramas. If I weren’t here you and Y/N would be riddled with holes by now.” “I love you Arthur Morgan, but shut up. I killed that fellow with one shot! ONE!” “What was stopping you from killing the rest of ‘em?” “Y/N needed me!” “See if I didn’t come-” “Shut up Morgan!” Listening to their familiar arguments was the best welcome home you could’ve ever wished for. Your eyes fell shut as you listened and soon the pain shooting through you and the exhaustion of being awake and afraid all night  started catching up. Slowly your body fell limp against Sean’s chest. You were only faintly aware of his arm tightening around you, keeping you safely on the horse. It was pitch black when you came to. Fear shot you awake, your eyes scanning the darkness. “Sean?” You could hear an exhausted exhale to your right, a hand reached out from the black to gently pet your hair. “I’m here baby.” There was some fumbling then a match lit, illuminating your lover who had fallen asleep sitting next to you. Sean lit a lantern and that’s when you noticed you were laying in Arthur’s cot. “We thought it best to give you some privacy until you’re in tip top shape. Said I wasn’t allowed to sleep with you in it though.” Sean leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’m just glad to have you back. Get some rest, no one will hurt you now. I’m here.” Relaxing again your fingers laced with Sean’s as you settled back in to sleep. ____ Charles: Charles usually minded his own business whenever you fucked off outta camp for a few days. You had been running with the gang far longer than he has and everyone knew you to be quite capable. God only knows what you’re up to half the time. Similar to Arthur, you’d go off and do your own thing then return with money or a fresh kill and a story of your adventures. Charles likes that about you. He admires your independence and how you have so much strength. When you didn’t show up to camp for a week he didn’t think anything of it. You were probably off climbing waterfalls or helping strangers. The gang carried on as normal unless Dutch wanted to offload a job onto you, then he’d ask around. “Charles.” Dutch called him over with a waggle of his finger. He already heard him calling your name and asking the ladies if they’ve seen you so Charles had an inkling as to what this was about. “Can you go find Y/N? I don’t care what it takes, just get their ass over here. We have money to make.” Charles didn’t mind being asked. Any reason to get some peace and quiet and reunite with you was a good reason in his eyes. The problem was, you were flightly, and your tracks were old. It has rained twice since you left camp. Charles followed your prints the best he could. Up into Strawberry, then to Mt.Shann where he took a break to enjoy the view and watch the birds. Charles smiled a little when he saw you had set camp there at one point. It was a beautiful place to stay, he would have done the same. He then doubled back to Owanjila lake where you had your second camp. He wondered what you were doing in the area, having absolutely no clue. He did, however, chuckle to himself when he found one of your gloves that you must have dropped. “Oh, Y/N.” The words slipping from his lips were fond and warm. He scooped the glove up deciding to store it in Taima’s saddle bag then he carried on his way. Charles began to get confused when your trail led straight back to Valentine. So… you were close to camp and didn’t stop by to rest your horse or grab supplies? That’s very unlike you. These tracks were fresher, not more than a few days old if even. Your lover became frustrated when entering town as the hoof prints belonging to your horse became lost in the bustle of main street and Charles couldn’t pick them up again. “Excuse me. Have you seen-” He began stopping residence of Valentine, asking of your whereabouts. You had been seen at the arms store and according to the man at the front desk of the Saints Hotel you stopped by for a wash only a day before. Well… If you were here yesterday you’ll probably be back at camp soon. After thanking the clerk, Charles returned to Horseshoe Overlook to inform Dutch you’d be back soon. The next day Charles awoke early. “Mr. Smith, can you please go into town and get us some supplies? Normally L/N does it but they ain’t back yet. Ms. Grimshaw ain’t too pleased.” He was attempting to enjoy his early morning coffee when Karen approached him. “Sure.” He set his cup down, accepting the list. “Did Pearson add what he needed?” “He only asked for corn.” He raised a brow in amusement, sharing a knowing look with Karen. “I understand.” Tucking it away safely Charles finished his coffee, throwing the rest out, then made his way to Taima. Your whereabouts weighed heavily on his mind during his ride into Valentine. ‘I miss Y/N’, he thought to himself ‘I hope they return soon’. Camp just wasn’t the same without you. He liked the gang alright but he liked you more. Valentine was a breath of fresh air after Blackwater. Quite literally. Charles took deep breaths, breathing in the crisp mountain air before entering town. Taima was soon hitched outside the general store where Charles leisurely strolled in. He walked around, footsteps echoing in the empty room as he gazed at the shelves. The clerk wasn’t there. “Hello?” He called out. Soon, sound of a door being swung open and rushed footsteps up the stairs filled the silence from what he assumed must have been the store room. “I’ll be right with you.” You were bound painfully tight. Ropes dug into your skin until your wrists bled. Tied to a chair and gagged. It had all happened so fast. Days ago you were going about business as usual. You stocked your ammo; took a nice long bath; and followed a dog around you wanted to pet before returning to camp, and of course, to the arms of Charles. What can you say? You love dogs and this one was particularly funny. You had grinned to yourself, studying the animal as you followed it out back. You didn’t expect to look up and be met with the stares of men who were clearly in the middle of an illegal operation. “Shit!” Your hand flew to your holster then froze as you heard a click and felt the barrel of a gun pressed to the back of your head. Your hands slowly rose as you tried to eye whoever was behind you. “Well well well, look what we have here, fellers.” “Real unfortunate, ain’t it?” You narrowed your eyes but kept silent. O’Driscolls by the looks of ‘em. “Hey…” A tall one began circling you, looking you over as if you were bait. “I remember you. You run with the Van der Linde boys, don’tcha?” This wasn’t good. “I think you’ve mistaken, mister.” “No… No I recognize you alright.” He stopped in front of you, leaning so close you had to recoil when the stench of his foul breath hit your face. “This isn’t your lucky day-” Before you could react he drew his elbow back and punched you so hard you nearly flew to the ground. Quiet laughs rang out among the group. Pain overcame you when one grabbed you by the hair, literally dragging you into the basement of their operation where you were hastily tied up and beaten several times among other unsavory happenings. For days you starved. Your face swollen beyond recognition. Only did the grocer show you any compassion. Feeding you water while muttering little ‘I’m so sorry, I wish we could let you go’s. He was a nervous man… A sweaty man. Hell you’d be nervous too if a gaggle of insane Irishmen took over the basement of your shop. You appreciated his little kindness but the weight of the situation was never lost on you. You needed to get out and soon, or else they’ll kill you. You thought of Charles and your beloved friends Arthur, Mary-Beth, and Lenny. Were they looking for you? Did they ever realize you disappeared? Today repeated the last two. The second the O’Driscolls noticed you were conscious their abuse started again up until mid morning when they left to take care of some business. The clerk made his way into the basement, removing your gag so he could give you water. “I’m sorry but you have to understand. If I let you go they’ll kill me.” You were too tired to argue with your heavily bruised jaw, sipping at the cool liquid. Suddenly a sound met your ears. Old floorboards overhead creaked with heavy footsteps. “Oh goddammit.” Cloth was shoved into your mouth once more, immediately drying your tongue. “H-Hold on. Stray here..” You glared at the clerk. Where the hell were you gonna go all tied up like this? The sweaty man dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief, opening the door that divided you from the outside world. “Hello?” A voice called out, rushing the clerk who felt so overwhelmed and frenzied with stress that he accidentally left the door open. “I’ll be right with you.” Staying coherent is a struggle for you at this point. Listening to light footsteps run up the stairs you let your head hang limp against your shoulder. “What can I help you with?” “Just here to resupply. Do you happen to have… uh… a bushel of corn?” “Corn? Yeah, we got it.” Wait… was that? CHARLES! Energy rocketed through your veins with the hope of rescue. Charles was here! Gazing around frantically you searched for something, ANYTHING. The only thing close by was a broom. Hopping your chair over to it depleted you immediately, every bruise and broken rib screaming out. But you had to do this. You had to get Charles’ attention. It was so much work just to get close enough to tip the broom over. CLINK! Your head snapped towards the stairs with anticipation. Charles read the list over again. “Actually a bushel of apples too.” CLINK! He glanced down at the stairs then at the clerk who laughed nervously. “Haha don’t mind that. Just some junk.” Charles hummed, grabbing a few cans off the shelf. “I’ll take these as well.” “Is that all for you?” Your heart squeezed in your chest. It didn’t work. ‘Charles! Charles I’m right here!’ You so badly wanted to scream. No words left your muffled mouth beyond your hearing. There had to be a way to get his attention. Nothing else was close enough to you and you didn’t have the strength to move yourself and the chair any further. The only thing you could do was throw yourself to the ground as hard as you could and hope for the best. BANG! This time Charles froze. His eyes napped towards the basement then back at the grocer.  A terrified look flashed over the man’s face. That’s suspicious... Oh- “Just some junk, huh?” “Yes sir.” In once swift movement Charles pulled out his gun, cocking the hammer. “Then you wouldn’t mind showing me what’s down there, right?” “H-Hey listen! I don’t want any trouble.” “No trouble here. If there’s nothing down there then I’ll pay and leave.” “It’s just junk mister! Honest!” “Then it should be okay if I take a look at this ‘junk’.” The clerk folded under pressure. “They said they were gonna kill me if anyone found out!” “Then get out of here and hope they don’t find you.” Charles didn’t know who ‘they’ were but he had a pretty good idea about what was going on.  He watched as the grocer fled before cautiously making his way down the stairs, cattleman revolver still drawn. Charles was stunned. All breath left his body in disbelief the second you two made eye-contact. “Y/N!” He hurdled himself towards you, picking the chair up to sit you upright before removing the gag. “What did they do to you?” Swift work was made of your binds and soon you were pulled into the comfort of his chest. Giving a whimper of pain you couldn’t help but to cry tears of relief. “Charles!” Your voice cracked. You almost thought it wouldn’t work and he would leave without you. Charles rubbed your back, pulling away to assess your injuries. “Y/N…… I-.” He didn’t know what to say.  So many emotions hit him in waves, washing over him strongly which inevitably flashed across his face. Anger at the people who hurt his beloved. Guilt for not tracking you any further. Resentment towards himself for not considering you might be missing or in trouble. Sadness. So much sadness. He had never seen you this badly beaten and it disturbed him. Quickly he tried to hide his thoughts. You were so small and frail in his arms, crying uncontrollably now. Charles could imagine by your current state that it must have been a horrible ordeal. “I’ve got you. Can you walk?” All you could do was cling to Charles while shaking your head. You felt the weight of his coat drape around your shoulder before feeling yourself being scooped up. ���You found me.” Charles winced at how weak your voice sounded. Placing a gentle kiss on your forehead he shushes you. “Save your energy my love. You’ve been through a lot. Let me take care of you.” It’s the least he can do after failing you so badly. As he carried you up the stairs Charles make eye-contact with Sheriff Malloy who bowed his head slightly out of respect – serving as a silent apology. “We’ll hang whoever did this.” He promised.  Deputies flooded the store actively as he spoke. "When we find ‘em, you’ll be the first to know.” “Thank you.” Those words meant nothing to Charles. The Valentine law was useless and it showed. All he could do now was shield you from curious onlookers while mounting Taima with you securely in his arms. “Are you in any pain?” He whispered, making his horse walk so the ride wouldn’t jostle you too much. “Yeah.” Charles had to lean down to catch your quiet words. “Try to rest against me. I’ll get some morphine from the Reverend. Just hang in there. I’m sorry, I know it hurts.” He was trying desperately to find the right words to say. Anything that might help you or ease your suffering. Anything that might relieve his guilt. Grasping at words floating around his mind yet none could be combined into something coherent. They rode on in silence. “Mister Strauss, Reverend. We need medicine.” Most of the gang couldn’t see what was going on, Charles had you tucked protectively against him for privacy. He knew you probably didn’t want everyone ogling at you. The air of the situation was enough for everyone to gain understanding and many sprang into action. “How bad is it?” Strauss asked. “I think their ribs are broken, maybe sprained jaw. Definitely a sprained ankle.” “Bring Y/N over here.” Arthur called, leading Charles to his cot. “Probably better than the ground. Shouldn’t be movin’ much with cracked ribs.” Your eyes fluttered open the second you were placed in the comfort of Arthur’s bed. Charles immediately helped you take medicine to ease your suffering. “Do you need anything my love?” His voice was gentle as if speaking to a spooked animal. Large calloused fingers brushed the hair from your face. “Food… Water…” Arthur gently squeezed Charles’ shoulder, earning a grateful look from his friend. “Let me.” Your love settled into a chair beside you, still playing with locks of your hair. “You’re so brave Y/N. And so incredibly smart. I’m so happy you’re safe now. I-… I’ll never let this happen to you again.” He watched you struggle to stay conscious. Maybe the food will have to wait. Slumping forward, he places a feather light kiss upon your lips. “I’m coming with you everywhere for now on.” He knew you couldn’t hear him but it eased his soul just saying those words out loud.

[julesthequirky]

The Choice: Chapter Six

All my work is purely aimed at those 18+ so minors kindly, DNI.

Summary: You find three of your favourite characters in your home. It shouldn’t be possible, but there they are. In the flesh. How the hell did they get there? And surely there’s a way to get them back? But as you get close to each one, the thought of sending them back proves difficult to comprehend.

Characters/Pairings: Fem!Reader, Dean, Beau and Ben (Soldier Boy)

Warnings: Language, typical Soldier Boy behaviour.

W/C: 1,560

Ben sat sulking, staring out the window as you drove. A cover of a well-known song by a British girl group came on the radio. You nodded your head, fingers tapping against the wheel as you drove.

“Now, I won’t lie, I’m impartial to some Taylor Swift and some of them newer artists from time to time, but this…it’s hurtin’ my ears.”

Beau reached out to change the radio station, and without looking, you lightly smacked his hand.

“Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole.”

You said it automatically, not even thinking about it.

Beau quirked his brows, shaking his head lightly. From the mirror, you saw Dean smirk.

“House rules…” He said quietly with a slight smile on his lips.

Ever since Dean uttered those words in the first Supernatural episode, you’d taken the motto as your own. Your ex hated it whenever you’d reprimand him for wanting to change the radio station. He got so sick of the motto he almost banned Supernatural. He hated Dean, but most of all, he hated the motto coming from your mouth. Whenever he drove, he’d try to get a rise out of you, taunting you, using the motto to his own advantage, but he’d get more pissed off when it didn’t bother you.

“Why is it so…quiet?” Ben asked, with a distasteful expression on his face.

You frowned. It wasn’t quiet. The radio was on. Then it occurred to you that he didn’t mean the sound from within the car but rather the sound under the hood.

“It’s electric.”

“Electric?!” Came from all three.

From the rearview mirror, Ben’s distaste soured.

Dean leant towards the middle console, hand on the back of Beau’s headrest. Ben barged his way forward, shoulder to shoulder with Dean.

“The fuck you mean It’s electric?!” He barked.

You sighed and rubbed your temple.

“Oh, darlin’…don’t tell me this is one of those Musk contraptions.”

Beau sounded so disappointed.

“No. No, God, no. It’s just an electric car. Not everyone wants a gas guzzler, y’know. And it’s environmentally friendly.” You added pointedly.

It wasn’t aimed as a jibe, but that’s how both Dean and Beau felt about it.

“Baby gets me anywhere I gotta be. She’s gotten me across the States and back more than I can count. I tell ya, she’ll always be more reliable than this tin can, and there’ll always be gas stations.”

You rolled your eyes. Dean would protect Baby to the ends of the earth and through different dimensions. You loved Baby, too, but his love for her went above and beyond, rivalling anyone’s love for a car.

“If Pedro heard you talking that way ‘bout him, it sure would hurt his feelings.”

Pedro was a damn truck. An inanimate object.

You steeled yourself, gritting your teeth and tightening the grip a little on the steering wheel.

“Jesus Christ…” You muttered under your breath. Men and their cars.

You steered the car into the busy mall parking lot.

“I get it. You love your cars, and being in an electric vehicle is some type of violation against your manhood or whatever, but get over it. Henrietta’s got me through thick’n’thin, and I won’t have you trash-talking her.”

Dean and Ben retreated to their seats, and Beau looked out the window. You slowed as you drove through the lot, looking for a space.

“You called yours Pedro? You gay or something?” Ben asked right out of the blue.

Beau sighed, “No, I’m not gay. And I don’t know, the truck seemed masculine, so…. Pedro….”

Ben huffed but stayed silent.

You steered the car into a spot in the mall’s huge parking lot and cut the engine. You took a breath to collect yourself.

“What kinda name’s Henrietta anyway?”

You twisted around, shooting Ben a death glare.

“Don’t you besmirch the name of my car otherwise, you’ll be walkin’ back. Got it?”

Ben smirked. “Oh, please, sweetcheeks, you wouldn’t.”

You held his stare, deadpan.

“Wouldn’t I?”

You challenged him. Daring him to rise above you. He scoffed, huffed, rolled his eyes, and mumbled, “whatever”, only to stare back out the window.

You sighed, scrubbing a hand down your face.

“Alright, let’s do this.”

*

Ben made you the most nervous as he walked through the mall with you, Beau, and Ben in his Supe suit, minus his shield. This man needed clothes and stat. Your concern was that they would be recognised, and the secret would somehow be out. What secret? That somehow, three fictional men were out in the real world. And it scared you.

But Harmony wasn’t a big city, and you didn’t know many who were as mad about Jensen Ackles as you were. Still, you couldn’t shake the angry buzzing in your belly as you white-knuckled the shopping bags.

“You alright there?” Beau nudged your shoulder gently. “Ya seem to be gripping those bags like your life depended upon it.”

You looked up. He was so earnest, so caring. Your heart squeezed in your chest.

“Maybe I should’ve left you guys at home. What if someone sees you? What if Ben’s right and people don’t believe you’re triplets? What if—”

“Woah, woah, darlin’, it’s like you said, we look more like triplets than the set down the road. It’ll work. Trust it. Just relax a little. You’re more wound up than weasel about to pop.”

He squeezed your shoulder, and the buzzing inside eased. You released a breath, relaxed your jaw, and loosened your grip on the bags.

“There ya are. Now, what’s the plan?”

Ben scratched his chin, then folded his arms over his chest.

“Just to get a few clothes. Enough for, say, a week or a couple days. I got the money. It’s no big deal, so don’t worry about it. Then we’ll go get groceries.”

“Okay, dokay.”

You ignored all the clothing stores heading to the big Walmart superstore at the back of the mall, but something must have caught Beau’s eye as he veered off into a store. Boot Barn.

“Oh, ho. Looky here.”

You grabbed Ben’s arm and steered him into the store, pressing a light hand to Dean’s back. Ben grumbled about being manhandled like a child, but you knew he would have walked off.

You saw Dean perk up at the cowboy hats on display.

Oh boy.

Ben took control of himself and mumbled something about being in “Cowboy country.”

Beau picked up a boot on display.

“Now, these are a beaut.”

“So, get them.”

He looked at you and tilted his head with a bashful smile.

“Nah, I couldn’t…”

“Why not?”

“They’re upwards of three hundred bucks, darlin’. I couldn’t take advantage of you like that.”

“Nonsense. You like ‘em, so get ‘em.”

You grabbed a box and pushed it to his chest.

“Try them on.”

You then left Beau to his own devices and went to find Dean. On your way, Ben nudged your shoulder, lowering his head to your ear.

“Hillbillies and their moral codes, amiright?”

He sniggered, and you glared at him. “Don’t be mean. He’s got more decency in his pinky finger than you’ve got in your whole body.”

Ben huffed and wrapped a hand around your arm, tight, yanking you close. The air whoosed out from your chest, and you stared at the anger directed at you. It left you speechless, even more so when he gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, locking his intense green eyes with yours.

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but I don’t appreciate being treated like a fucking child. It’s degrading as fuck. I’m a goddamned Supe. I deserve some fucking respect, so treat me how I deserve.”

His words came out in such a vicious hiss tears stung the corners of your eyes.

He dropped his hand from your chin. But he was right. He deserved the same treatment you were giving Beau and Dean. He didn’t deserve to be treated like a child.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I just…I don’t know how to act around you. You’re a wild card, and it makes me nervous. But I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt from now on. I promise.”

Ben peered down, face so close to your own. You swore you could count the freckles smattering across his nose and cheekbones. His feet nudged yours as he shifted closer, his body brushing your chest.

His proximity had your heart thumping hard, banging against your ribcage. His lips spread into a sinful smirk. The air charged and fizzled.

“I do really make you nervous, don’t I?

Under your skin, your blood rushed, and your pulse quickened as he leaned closer, lips to your ear.

“If you wanna fuck me, all you gotta do is just say.”

Shock and lust slammed into you, taking the breath from you. White-hot heat bolted from your chest to your groin, sinking deep into your core, and last night’s images came flooding back. Your skin flushed, and heat rose from your neck to your cheeks.

He pulled away, chuckling lightly.

“Oh, darling, I’ll behave if you do.” He winked, with that cheeky smile on his face and walked away, leaving you stunned and horny in the middle of Boot Barn, wondering if you could get away with rushing to the restrooms for a quick skittle diddle.

Tags:

@yvonneeeee, @curlycarley, @angelbabyyy99, @sassy-pelican, @k-slla, @deans-spinster-witch, @ashdoctor, @eretsupremacy89, @fanfic-n-tabulous, @deans-number-one-fan.

[patroxlos]

home base . ch1

"friends who have dinner once a week" - 2.5k words

ultraman: rising (2024). kenji sato x reader

master post. ao3 link.

next: ch2. "friends who reconnected and who certainly don't want to be more"

where you're left sitting alone at a restaurant and your best friend thinks it's funny to use ultraman-caused traffic jams as a reason for why he's late.

---

30 minutes. You told yourself 30 minutes.

30 minutes and then you’ll stand and leave because you have the dignity not to wait around.

Because you know that if he doesn’t show up by then, he won’t show up at all.

You are seated at the corner of a neighborhood restaurant. It is family-owned, with recipes that boast three-generation longevity, yet it still maintains a calm and quiet atmosphere at this hour in the evening. Just enough for a celebrity to blend in without risk of being hounded by overeager fans. You have carefully taken this into consideration when you selected the spot. When you had proposed the time and place to him, you particularly noted that he may like their famous yakisoba.

You wonder whether he places as much thought about you as you do with him.

“Hello, are you ready to order?” You are asked. You have only had a water and a side of popcorn karaage.

It’s time. Half an hour of sitting all alone in a booth too big for you was getting a little humiliating. You should stand and go.

“Yeah, I’ll have a platter of the signature yakisoba?”

Oh what the hell.

You gave a smile to the waiter.

“The solo serving?”

“Oh no, I really do mean the platter.” Your smile aches a bit as the waiter kindly reminds you it is good for two to three people. “Yes, I have company.”

And if said company does not show, you will have the noodles packed up and sent to his house. How sweet.

You slump in your seat as the waiter leaves. You’re trying your best to be understanding— you really are, but this is getting too much for you. Your eyes flicker towards the TV above the restaurant bar, playing the news of a Kaiju attack in Roppongi.

Maybe he got stuck due to the traffic? You soothe yourself as the screen shows Ultraman getting struck by the tail of the raging monster.

You scoff. No way. It’s too far from the Dome.

Everyone uses Ultraman as an excuse to be late to work. You will not put it past the amazing Ken Sato to do the same.

He stumbles into the restaurant half a serving of yakisoba later.

You pause mid-chew to watch how his eyes dart all around the restaurant, frantic and panicked. You glare at him even if he can’t see you. You did pick a booth that would be easy to hide in. It is working well in your favor as you see him hopelessly look for you. At least he has the decency to feel bad about arriving an hour and a half late.

He talks to the waiter, who starts guiding him towards your booth. You sit up straighter, ready to give him the coldest shoulder you could muster. Ready to tell him off for his perpetual tardiness. For wasting your time.

His eyes finally meet yours, and his posture fills with relief. “Hey!” He leaves the waiter behind as he jogs towards your table. Fuck.

“Took you long enough.” You do not know why you greet him so warmly as you stand up, and he leans in to give you a side hug before sliding into the booth with you.

“I was so scared for a minute that you already left.”

Your smile stretches a little tighter. “I was just waiting for your usual text saying you can’t make it. I guess I got a little worried since you didn’t send me anything this time, Ken.” You try to keep your voice even and pleasant, wrestling down any inner goblin that threatens to spill out what you truly feel.

“I am so sorry, it was a little traffic with the KDF and the Kaiju business. Got really distracted trying to dodge the debris on my bike.” He sounds genuinely apologetic. He always does.

“Did you see Ultraman?” You ask.

“Huh? What about him?” He has a little jump at the start.

“He fought the Kaiju?” You tilt your head. “In the middle of the streets.”

“Oh yeah, he did. Quite heroic I must say, from what I saw.”

You wish you could call him out for lying like that to your face, but you notice the rigidity of his shoulders and the forming bruise on his face. You decide to let it go. Again.

“Rough practice?” You say, sympathetic. He looks like a wreck. Maybe he just lied so I wouldn’t have to worry.

Ken makes an exaggerated stretch, his cocky attitude seemingly unbruised. “You could say that again. But don’t worry, I’m on top of my game.”

You remember the news coverage of the past few weeks saying that he is at an all-time low in his career. Every poorly timed dive into the dirt and rough swing of his bat have been televised for the nation to see. He notices the concern etched in a growing frown you couldn’t control.

Even if it has been a few months since he arrived in Japan, he knows you well enough to brace himself for your eventual comments about his deep-set eye bags. You don’t say anything.

“Yakisoba?” You push the platter towards him. “The noodles aren’t that warm anymore though.”

“I’ll be fine. Haven’t eaten all day so I just need something in my gut.” He waves off your comment as he begins feasting like a man starved. He groans, delighted with the savory sauce and chewy noodles. “Man, you sure know how to pick ‘em.”

Your chest puffs a bit at the compliment. You were about to reply when his watch beeps red. You glance down at the watch face as it says ‘CHECK-UP NOW’ at the front. “Am I keeping you from an appointment?”

He inhales two more mouthfuls before saying “Nah. Wanted to get here as soon as possible. I’ll get to it after we call it a night.”

“You’re keeping your doctor waiting?”

He snorts, holding his chopsticks in one hand and reaching for his water with the other. “She’ll manage. I want to be here with you.”

On any other day that would have warmed you up, but this time it left a sour taste on your mouth. “Really? I wouldn’t have been able to tell.” You say before you could stop yourself.

He pauses, before setting down his glass. “Huh? What do you mean by that?”

You panic. You do not want it to come out like this. Avoiding eye contact, you fumble to find the right words. “I-It’s just…you’ve been leaving me hanging lately that it…yeah.” You finish lamely.

“Ah…” He looks like he got slapped across the face, cringing from the guilt. “I’m so sorry— I don’t mean to. You know how much you mean to me. You’ve been my only friend since I’ve moved back here.”

“Only?” You cannot believe it. It has been more than two decades since the two of you were sneaking around his father’s laboratory, trading baseball cards underneath a steel table as your parents discussed science and business. More than two decades of him in the States, where the only contact with each other is limited to video calls and your occasional family trips to Los Angeles (you do not count your impulsive flights).

He sucks in air through his teeth. “Hurts to admit it but yeah. I haven’t…vibed with anyone else lately. I’ve just been swamped with all this work and—“ he took a deep breath. “—At least I didn’t leave you hanging tonight?”

You bite your tongue. Not now. Don’t say anything now. He obviously has so much on his plate.

But can’t he understand that you are busy too?

“Yay…?” Fuck. Why do you sound like that?

He fully put down his chopsticks now. “You’re kind of off tonight.”

“Oh, I’m off?” You feigned ignorance.

“Yeah…you have a problem?” He raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

“I should be asking you,” You try to be sincere, because you are. You are worried about how hard he has been pushing himself lately. Instead, your words are stilted, defensive. “Well…You…”

“Me…?”

“I— I mean how has adjusting back home been?”

He seems uncomfortable when you say the word home . Ah. You slump back into your seat, cursing yourself for making this awkward.

“You don’t have to answer that I just…”

“Is this about my stats?” His words are sudden, cutting.

You blink, lost at the direction this conversation is suddenly going. “I’m sorry?”

“Because I’m well aware this is my weakest season and I don’t need a lecture from you right now about how it’s been going.” The yakisoba was growing cold on the table.

“Kenji you know I hate talking about business when it’s just the two of us. This isn’t about your play.”

“Oh so this meeting wasn’t about pulling my player sponsorship?” He barked sarcastically. “Because that’s just what I needed! On top of the threat from Coach to trade me to the Tigers. Me, Ken Sato. Traded!”

You throw your hand up, signaling a pause. “Woah slow down, I don’t know anything about that. You’re going to the Tigers?”

“No!” He snaps. “My coach just threatened me.”

“Why would he threaten you?”

“Because of my stats this season! God I thought you were paying attention.”

“I am! I have to because I have to monitor your progress.”

“So this is about your sponsorship.”

“It’s not about the sponsorship! I only wanted to see you!” Your heart is pounding. You forgot he can get mean. Really mean. You know he was like this but he was never like this with you. “Fuck, man, can’t we just be friends who meet up for dinner once a week?”

He senses his mistake, and tries to reel himself back in even if he already got himself worked up and overheated. “I just don’t need another thing on my plate right now. Hell, I didn’t feel like going tonight but I dragged myself out here for you.”

If he can be short-tempered, so can you. “Do you want a fucking medal?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“If you don’t want to see me then I think we’re done here.” You grab your bag and stand up. “I paid for the meal already. Get it packed. It’s still good microwaved.”

“Where are you going? Sit down.” He begins standing up himself. “I didn’t mean it.”

The waiter stands awkwardly nearby, unsure about whether he should intervene. Both of them are drawing attention. Some other dining customers surreptitiously pull out their phones. That’s the baseball player right? Ken Sato. And that’s the scion of the—

He follows closely behind as you leave the restaurant. You see your bodyguards already preparing the car to leave, but before you can approach them he quickly grabs your wrist. “Wait. Please.”

Sighing, you turn around to face him.

“Can we talk?” He was careful with his words this time. “My bike is parked there. Can you at least hear me out before you go?”

“Kenji–”

“ Please .”

Something is different about him tonight. Or maybe it didn’t start tonight, but it has been like this ever since the season started. For a moment, you can place yourself in his shoes. You feel his constricted breaths, his fatigue. Something is wrong.

“Okay.” You signal to your guards to wait, before following him towards his bike.

The gravel crunches beneath you both. He leans against his bike as you stand in front of him, arms crossed.

He takes a breath, before saying a concise “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For talking to you like that.”

“I didn’t realize the famous Ken Sato apologized.”

He scowls. “Can you make this anymore difficult?”

“Okay, okay. I’ll ease up. Now what’s going on with you?”

He wrings his hands in the air before letting them fall to his sides. “I … A lot has been going on. I can’t explain everything but. I know that I’ve been messing up a lot lately and I really don’t want to mess this up too.”

“Kenji,” you say softly, taking a step forward. “You’re an ass but we’re still friends.”

He groaned. “God thank you—”

“Wait,” you cut him off. “I’m still…hurt.”

He stood up straight at your words.

You shrug. “I have also been really busy. It isn’t easy following in my dad’s shoes, running the family business. I’ve only been doing this for a few months and already I feel like I’m ready to quit.”

Ken laughs. “I understand that way more than you realize.” There is a hidden meaning behind his words that you’re not sure you can pinpoint at the moment.

“Despite all that, I also know that I want to reconnect with you. It’s been so long since we’ve been in the same location, and I knew it would be hard for you to adjust back to living here. I want you to feel like you can rely on me but now it feels like I’m only a second thought when I constantly put in the effort to put you as a priority.”

“You’re my oldest friend,” he admits. “I didn’t mean for you to feel like that.”

“I know you didn’t and that’s the worst part.” You are somber.

“I can’t— I can’t put in the time to fix this now.” He is resigned, yet realistic about what he can offer at the moment. “But please give me time.”

You nod, bringing up a hand to rest on his arm. “Kenji, I’m not the type of person to abandon a friend when he’s obviously going through something. It hurts but I understand.”

The relief seems too much on his body that he takes a step forward and engulfs you. You hear your guards at a distance start to shuffle forward, but your hand signals for them to stand down before you return Ken’s shaky embrace. He is hunched over to rest his forehead on your shoulder.

“If you need me, all you have to do is say so…” You murmur close to his ear. “I’ll give you the space you need, just don’t forget that I’m here for you.”

He seems to shake a bit more in your hold, almost as if he’s struggling not to cry. He doesn’t though, and he releases you from his arms. “I’ll call you?” His voice much smaller than normal.

“The famous Ken Sato? Calling me?”

He cracks a smile, rolling his eyes. “Shut up. I’ll email your secretary for your availability so that the next time we meet, I will be the one adjusting to you.”

Huh. “That’s…oddly considerate of you.”

“You act like I’m normally not.”

“...So you’ll send an email?” You quickly change the subject, which doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“I am considerate!” He defends himself.

Both of you stand in the parking lot well longer than a few minutes. You have said your goodbyes at least three times by then, but it is natural after the tense moment in the restaurant to just take in each other’s presence. You wave him off as he finally got onto his bike, exchanging promises that you will give each other time to figure out whatever you both needed to figure out. You trace the red of his rearlight through the streets until it no longer could be seen.

[earth4angels]

so i want to talk about some few things that hurt my feelings a lot and i can be over dramatic or what not. but this is my blog and i want to be able to log in and feel good. this is a long post im sorry.

; when i made this blog i made it with an intention to just be a regular fan blog, i didn’t want to write, ive been a writer when i was in high school and i loved it and i loved making stories about edward cullen bc he was my first character to write about. but anyways i began writing again bc i wanted to get back in it again — i wrote about jacaerys in secret until i grew guts to publicly post.

now with that out the way, my writing won’t be for everyone and i accept that, that’s the life of a writer. however, to tell me and flood my box with “i thought you were different,” “you’re changing” i’m a girl who simply loves writing silly imaginative stories on my free time and i don’t get paid for it. i work full time, have a gallery im preparing for and with one or two hours i have of free time i get to writing. please stop flooding my box with mean msgs of “you lie, you take too much time. stop saying you’ll post and then don’t” guys i have a life, and stuff happens, i do this MYSELF. i edit, i come up with inspiration, i decorate my borders, dividers to match the vibe of the story, i beta read, i write — this is all me. i’m sorry i take forever to upload, i only want to provide the best stories and show my good writing skills.

the group chat, the anons: the group chat i made it FOR A SAFE SPACE. everyone on there is my moot and i add people who asked me to join kindly, and yes majority of us are writers but some aren’t, and frankly speaking— we became a friend group, with now 20 members, i can run to them and gossip and they do the same. whoever the anon is spreading negativity on my box or my moots i do not know who it is, i simply said i knew who it was to SPOOK them, to call them out their shit. please stop asking whose in it or if i know whose anon etc.. if you want to join just ask — i have to know you however.

in box terms, i’ve turned it off again.

what is it with you guys harassing me? calling me a rapist apologist? what the fuck? calling me a bitch too? where and why is the reason? if you want to say something to me and if i’ve done something wrong MSG ME. say your shit to me off anon. i’m so sick of the negativity.. this is my blog, and i won’t allow you guys to offend me or talk bad about my moots.

i am not leaving writing bc i want to post all my stuff i have planned, god there’s so many things i want to share with you all. jacaerys vanilla smut, to love, cosmic dancer, benji.. cregan who ive been secretly writing about… there’s so much i want to show you but how do i post and be happy coming on here when all i get is “i feel disappointed in you, im unfollowing, i thought you were different?”

treat others with kindness, i don’t know when ill be back on again but, i hope you guys have a beautiful day.

xxx nattie.

[herofics]

One and Only, Always

A/N: I’m not having the best time right now and I wanted to vent so here’s some comfort with Geto. I’m in uni currently and it’s causing me a lot of stress right now, also depression spiral and shit like that basically

“What do I keep doing wrong?” you muttered as you laid on the floor of the bedroom.

You didn’t understand. Everyone else could do it. All your other classmates could go to school, work and take care of their family at the same time. You couldn’t even manage school, and to take care of yourself at the same time. Geto being so busy all the time was kind of a relief, honestly. You were so tired all the time, and managing the relationship was hard, so it was easier when he wasn’t there. You hated that you felt this way. You loved him so much, but being around him, around anyone really, was just extremely tiring.

“What are you doing down there, love?” Geto asked from the doorway.

You hadn’t even heard him come in.

“Thinking… I guess” you answered reluctantly.

“What about?” he asked as he sat down on the floor at the end of the bed.

“Nothing in particular, I’m tired so it’s kinda hard to keep my thoughts in order, so I’m not really sure either” you sighed.

You crawled to Geto and rested your head on his thigh. He was wearing sweatpants and a long sleeved shirt. You were so used to seeing him in his monk robes that it was a bit odd to see him looking so casual.

“Why are you home so early anyway? I thought you had meetings the whole day?”

“I wrapped them up quickly, besides it’s not really early, it’s seven in the evening” he chuckled.

“Oh… I knew that”

“What’s going on with you? You’ve been a bit distant as of late” Geto noted.

You sighed, he never missed anything. He didn’t always say something right away, he sometimes observed the situation for days, weeks even, before saying anything.

You pushed yourself up to a sitting position and sat next to him. Geto wrapped his arm around you and caressed your shoulder with the tips of his fingers.

“I don’t know, honestly. I don’t have any good reason to be depressed again. Like fuck, I’ve been in uni for a year, and I’m already on the verge of burning out. I don’t understand what I keep doing wrong, because there has to be something.” you said.

“Oh love” Geto sighed sympathetically.

“I can’t just be this-this broken piece of shit! I can’t just be this useless!” you exclaimed in frustration, banging your head against the end of the bed.

Geto placed his hand between your head and the end of the bed, so you wouldn’t hurt yourself.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself, stop” he said kindly but sternly as he forced you to lean your head against his shoulder.

“I don’t know what-what to-to do Suguru. I don’t want to be here if I can’t be useful to someone” you started sobbing.

Geto pulled you into his lap and you buried your face into his chest. You didn’t mean to break down like this. You didn’t want to be a burden.

“You’re not useless love, you’re not. You saved me back when we were in Jujutsu High, if it wasn’t for you, I probably wouldn’t be here right now. You’re my rock, and my light, the love of my life” Geto said as he peppered kisses on top of your head and embraced you tightly.

He hated seeing you like this and maybe even more than that, he hated that he wasn’t sure how to help. Geto let you cry it out. He held you until your tears ran out and you got your bearings again.

“I’m just so tired of this, I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I want to be able to do things like everyone else can, and not just be left behind every fucking time. If I can’t even do that, then what’s the point?” you said quietly, fiddling with his shirt.

“Honestly, that’s something you’re going to have to discover for yourself. I don’t think any of us get a straight answer anyway, we all have to find our own meaning” he said, looking at you softly.

You met his eyes, those beautiful amber eyes that always looked at you with such love. You searched his expression for any signs of dishonesty, but you never found any, not now, not ever before. His honesty towards you was one of the big reasons you loved him.

“I can tell you this though, you’re a big part of my meaning. I don’t know what I would do without you, I feel like my life would be lacking if you weren’t here” he smiled.

“I love you Suguru, I think the only reason I’ve been able to keep going for this long is because of you” you said and placed your hand on his cheek.

“I don’t think I deserve the credit for that. You’re the one that’s kept fighting and pushing through all the obstacles” he said, moving your hand that was on his cheek so he could kiss your palm.

“But you’re my reason for fighting, you’re a part of my meaning too” you smiled tiredly.

Geto pressed his forehead against yours and whispered: “You’re my one and only, and I love you, don’t ever forget that” before kissing you softly on the lips.

His one and only, always.

[alexawynters]

Scarlet Whispers - pt 2

Gif not mine

A/N: Not sure about the formatting, copy and paste didn't quite work out as planned. Title subject to change, not sure how I feel about it. This is my first published fic here so pls be gentle. Also I'm terrible at summaries.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female!Reader

Trigger warnings (let me know if I forgot to tag anything): Mentions of past child abuse, ongoing adult child abuse, stalking, horror, dubcon, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, gaslighting, angst, smut. There will be bits of fluff tho.

Rating: M. Minors DNI

Master list here

You miss your stop.

Not only do you miss your stop, but you end up all the way at the bus depot before the driver notices you passed out in one of the seats. The driver, a kindly older gentleman, offers to give you a lift home since it is the end of his shift anyway. He takes pity on you, perhaps due to your tired and sad appearance. Interestingly, no one seems to notice the red wisps behind his eyes.

You appreciate his kindness, but you are anxious about returning home. A quick look at your phone reveals that it is well past 6 PM and you have missed multiple calls and texts from both of your parents. This is not going to end well. In simple terms, you are fucked. Fortunately, the man doesn't seem to notice your restlessness as your leg bounces nervously as he gets closer to your home.

As you exit the vehicle, you politely thank him and offer to pay for the gas, but the man refuses. His accent changes slightly as he says, "anything to help." You shrug it off, as it is not your concern where people are from. Your focus is on more pressing matters. After closing the door, you square your shoulders and mentally prepare for the absolute shit show awaiting you as soon as you step through the front door.

It shouldn’t surprise you that your father’s booming voice is the first to be heard. “Where were you?”

You start with the truth. “Dad I’m sorry, I was on the bus after my exam, I fell asleep with my headphones-”

”I don’t want your excuses! While you live here under our roof, you will show us some respect, you will follow our rules! You had chores to do today, why didn’t you do them?”

A bead of sweat trails down the back of your neck. You hate being interrupted, and you hate being asked questions when they clearly don’t want the answers. Besides, you are in your twenties, not a child. “As I was saying, I-”

This time your mother interrupts. “Don’t speak to your father like that. He asked you a question, we expect you to answer it!.”

You grit your teeth. “I fell asleep on the bus, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Always with the excuses this one.” Your father laments. “Do you think your future employer is going to care about any of that? No. He’s just going to want to know why you weren’t there.”

It takes every ounce of your sanity to not snap that your answer is the reason WHY you weren’t there, and not simply an excuse. Instead you hold your tongue. They aren’t here to listen, they don’t care. They just want to yell at you, and for you to be sorry.

“I tell you, with behavior like that it’s any wonder at all you’d even be able to keep a job. They would probably fire you on the spot, and then you would be right back on our doorstep, our problem once again to pick up the pieces.”

It’s all hypothetical of course - you’ve never been late to any of your classes, but you have not yet had a job, you weren’t allowed to. You are sure you wouldn’t be late to it though if you were to treat it like your classes. You know you can’t tell your parents this however. Might as well bite the bullet and get it over with.

“Yes Dad, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Saying sorry simply doesn't cut it! Sorry doesn’t fix the problem that you caused, so tell me, how are you going to make the problem right?” he demands. A vein throbs in his forehead. Absently you think about how he knows he should watch his blood pressure, but that would require him to watch his temper. Y/D/N could never.

You know what he is looking for, he wants you to do your chores now, but it’s after 8PM and your exam is at 8AM. If you do your chores now, that leaves you little time for last minute studying, eating, bathing, sleeping, and then catching the bus back to the university. Helplessly, you look to your mother for help.

“Don’t look at me, this is your mess you’ve created. If you had just done what you were supposed to, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. If you had just been good, you could be doing whatever it is you do with your free time right now.”

It had always annoyed you greatly that your parents were unaware of your academic achievements. While it's true that you didn't have the best grades as a child, once you entered university and chose a major, you became a straight-A student, even going so far as to make the President’s list the last three years in a row. However, in their eyes, you would always be the little underachiever they had to take care of.

Tears well up in your eyes. This situation wasn't fair. It was an accident. You had fully intended to come home and do your chores, but you couldn’t have known you would sleep through your alarm on the bus. You had been so incredibly exhausted that you experienced a vivid nightmare whilst awake. You were aware that you needed more sleep, but your degree was your only way out of this miserable place. You couldn't risk losing it all just because you missed a few hours of sleep now and then.

“Please?” You beg. You didn’t have anything else to argue in your defense. “I’ll leave my headphones in my bag this time, I’ll set multiple alarms, I won’t sleep, just please let me go study!”

Your parents look at each other, having silent communication. Seeming to come to an agreement, your mother speaks first. “Y/N we’re sorry it has to be this way, but you have already proven on multiple occasions that we can’t trust you to do the right thing. Tonight, you are going to do your chores even if it takes you all night to do it. Besides, we all know you’re not studying up there. For all we know you’re just up there masturbating in the window or something.”

Being stabbed in the chest would have been less painful. You don't understand why you're caught off guard; it's not like your mother hasn't said off the wall shit like this in the past. It's almost as if she thrives on finding the most hurtful and outrageous statements to throw in your face, as if you deserved them. As if you had ever done any of the things she accused you of. Like you were some sort of deviant, when all you wanted was simply the right to exist.

“What the actual fuck, Mom?!” you scream, having finally had enough. Both of your parents look taken aback. Rare is it for you to raise your voice at them, even more so to curse at them. “I know you’ve been pretty checked out of my life for a while now, but I’ve had a 4.0 GPA for the last three years. I don’t know where you got that… comment… from, but I can assure you that all I want to do is go to my room and study.”

“Now listen here young lady,” begins your father.

"No, YOU listen, Father," your voice dripping with sarcasm. “You were right about one thing, and that is I am a gods damned adult. I take my studies seriously, and while it may come as a surprise to you since neither of you have paid any actual attention to my life since I turned 18, though it could be argued you really stopped paying attention earlier except for when I was being an inconvenience, but I am actually a great student. This is my last semester before graduating with honors and again, a 4.0 GPA, and I will have my choice of job opportunities. I will leave this place, and you miserable old bats will have no one to be your punching bag anymore. Then maybe just maybe you can finally take a look at the flaws and fix what's wrong with your own marriage, instead of trying to break ME!”

Your chest heaved. It felt good to speak your truth, but as the silence grew, you began to realize that you might have made a mistake.

Your father has finally gotten out of his chair, looming over you. A resounding slap echoes across the room as your father backhanded you, knocking you to the floor. “You ungrateful, miserable little bitch! I don’t know what lies those ‘professors’ at the university have been filling your head with, but you have no future, and you are lucky your mother and I care enough to let you live under our roof! And so long as you do, you will obey our rules, and show us the respect we deserve!”

Fearful, you scramble back to the wall and attempt to push yourself to your feet. “If that’s the price of living here, then I will happily live in the University’s library. One week, that’s all I need!” You step forward to make your escape from this house, but this time your mother shoves you, and once again you find yourself on your knees.

You raise your hands in self-defense, but your mother sneers, "Do it, Y/N, hit me, and you'll be out on your ass faster than you can blink!" Crying, you lower your hands and prepare to allow her to strike you.

The lights went out all at once, and everyone froze. Has the power gone out? It couldn’t have, you could still hear the hum of the AC unit. So what was wrong with the lights?

The lights turn back on as suddenly as they had gone out, and all three of you look around in confusion. However, despite the lights returning, the room appears darker, creating an almost eerie atmosphere. The shadows cast a looming presence over all of you, sending a shiver up your spine. Your home, which you have lived in for around twenty ish years, suddenly feels foreboding, and you wonder if it's too late to flee. It almost resembles one of the nightmares you have been experiencing recently.

Red mist fills the room, a dreadfully sinister voice speaks. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

All three of you turn to the source of the sound - the corner of the room, as a red and black leather-clad boot, attached to black leather pants, steps through a portal and into the room. The Scarlet Witch follows, radiating her full glory. She warns, "If you wish to keep your body parts intact, you will never lay a finger on Y/N ever again."

You’re pretty sure your eyebrows have never been closer to meeting your hairline before and yet here we are. You don’t know who this unfamiliar lady is, nor how she seems to know you but God damned if that outfit doesn’t look as if it has been painted onto her. You blush at your sinful thoughts. Now is not the time, and you’re pretty sure you’re having a stroke of some sort. If nothing else, however, you are grateful for the reprieve from your beating.

Meanwhile, your parents had never taken well to being told what to do, by anyone, they certainly weren’t going to now by this costumed stranger. Your mother bristles. “Who is this Y/N? Another one of your little whores?” Completely disregarding the fact that you have never in fact had a partner in your entire life, and you don’t know whether to be pleased that she seems to think you’re capable of having a sex life or affronted that she thinks you’re some type of floozy. Your mother’s words, not yours.

“What? No, I-” You look helplessly from the floor between your parents and this woman you now recognize as the one from your visions, and the same one from your hallucination this morning. Is she here to help, or to hurt you? She has been your savior and aggressor in both; there’s no telling which she has chosen for now. Glancing between them, you are unsure how to de-escalate this situation. There is no way to convince your parents, for their own safety, that this woman is powerful and not to be trifled with. Nothing you could say, they would believe, and you were pretty sure this woman would kill your parents without a second thought if they didn’t tread carefully.

Seeming to sense your struggle, the woman speaks up in your stead. “As I’ve said, you would do well to keep your hands to yourself. I am here to take Y/N with me, and you will not stand in my way. This is your only warning, which I am giving to you out of consideration for Y/N.”

She reaches down for your hand to help you back up. Hesitantly, you take it, ignoring the shock that runs throughout your body, and begin questioning your entire reality. Take you with her? Who even is she? Where exactly is she going to be taking you? You had questions, and you would like some answers, but if you didn’t get your parents to stand down, you were pretty sure she would follow through on her threat. Sure, your parents were trash, but they were all you had. You loved them, and you were certain that, in their own warped way, they loved you, too.

She helps you up and proceeds to give you a thorough once-over, carefully inspecting your injuries. Her intense scrutiny makes you blush. Meanwhile, your parents remain silent, their thinly veiled anger evident as they observe your interaction. How dare this woman speak to them in such a manner? Thankfully, they wisely choose to keep quiet. Perhaps they also sense the dangerous aura emanating from this woman, perceiving her as a true threat. Then again, it could be due to the fact that she just stepped through a literal portal conjured out of thin air moments ago. Maybe they had been paying attention, but even you are unsure of what is real anymore.

Still holding your hand, the Scarlet Witch leads you back towards the portal she arrived through. "Come, Y/N, we have much to discuss." At this point, all you could do was helplessly trail after, hoping you weren't going from bad to worse. At least by leaving, your parents would be out of danger. As for yourself, well... It was clear that the Scarlet Witch wanted something from you. Hopefully, whatever that was would be sufficient to ensure your survival. Perhaps even enough to negotiate with.

At the last possible moment, your mother chooses, whether out of genuine love and concern for your well-being, or fear at the loss of her control over you, to reach out to take you from this bizarre woman. “Mother, no!”

Y/M/N finds herself promptly flung onto the wall behind her, and stuck there, unable to move. You aren’t sure who exactly screamed but you’re pretty sure it was every member of your family. The Scarlet Witch hadn’t even turned to look, the only indication she had even been involved is the raised hand, opposite the one holding yours, with dark, ink-stained fingertips, bent at slightly odd angles.

“Stop, please! Let her go, she won’t do it again, please! I'm sorry, please!”

Unsure of why you are begging for this woman’s life when she has spent the entirety of yours making sure you were miserable. Still, your heart lurched at the thought of anything happening to your mother. You didn’t like her, and if you never saw her again, that was probably for the best, but you certainly didn’t want anything bad to happen to her.

The Witch took a deep breath, seemingly to calm herself, before turning to face you.

In the softest voice you had ever heard she whispers “Detka, I-.” She opens and closes her mouth a few times, deciding what to say. To your absolute mortification and delight, she leans down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead, and promises “I will let them live, but I must say my piece.”

You nod, completely dumbstruck at everything happening in this moment. What. The. Fuck.

Y/M/N, still pinned to the wall, whimpers and struggles to move but is clearly unable to. The Scarlet Witch turns from you to face your parents. Another wave of her hand, and your mother slumps to the floor, alarmed, but otherwise unharmed. It is clear whatever the witch did, both she and your father are now restrained.

Footsteps approach the pair, and the lights in the house flickered ominously. Despite your mother being nearly 40 years older than her (or so you assumed, as you had no idea of this woman's age), the power emanating from her exuded confident malevolence. She showed no fear towards them, and for once, although ashamed to admit it, you were glad to see that they were afraid of someone else.

Though she was only about 5'6", the woman knelt before your parents, her voice filled with menacing intent. "I know everything you have ever done, everything you ever could do, and everything you ever will do. I know what you are guilty of. I know what you deserve, and I can assure you that it is not mercy. I will spare your lives and leave you unharmed due to the kindness of your daughter, the daughter you’ve abused for decades." As her head tilts, you can't help but feel that she becomes even more dangerous. "But if you ever try to take her from me again, I will seek retribution on her behalf, and I promise you it will be the most excruciating agony you have ever experienced. Do we understand each other?"

You squirm uncomfortably. This should not be doing things to you, but then again, no one had ever stood up for you. Ever. Gods you needed therapy. It’s fine. Little boxes, and this was for a little box for later.

The witch stood up and once again took your hand, leading you through the portal and leaving your parents behind. Perhaps for good, you weren’t entirely sure, and you suddenly realized you didn’t care. Anywhere was better than here; even if this woman was dangerous, at least for the moment, she seemed to care about you, and that was enough for you to follow her to the ends of the earth.

Again, therapy…

The pair arrive at a massive stone temple, which you would later learn is called Mount Wundagore, the Scarlet Witch's temple. It is built into a massive, rugged mountain with steep cliffs, situated above dense forests and enveloped in mist. The mountain exudes an air of mystique and possesses an eerie atmosphere. Scattered across its walls are depictions of the woman in front of you, accompanied by various runes whose significance you suppose hint at a potentially supernatural importance.

The Scarlet Witch does not make much of an effort for introductions, nor explanations, simply heads towards the entrance to her temple.

“What is this place?” you ask, hints of awe and fear in your voice

“Our home.” 

Your brain stutters. “I’m sorry, what now?” 

“Detka, do not pretend you did not hear me, I don’t enjoy repeating myself. This is our home.” Her accent sounds vaguely Eastern European, and becomes more pronounced the more irritated she is. You wonder when she started trying to hide it.

Your mind balks at the idea of this being your new home, it couldn’t be less foreboding. “Uhhh… this.. is a giant stone temple in BFE nowhere, with ice, snow, and-”

Movement startles you out of your reverie. Beings made entirely out of stone shift from foot to foot, as if adjusting their stance. Their eyes have the same red glow as the woman who leads you now.  

 “Are those rock trolls??” The stone guardians loom threatening, but make no move to engage, they await their Queen’s orders. “Right. Rock trolls. Why is this our home? WHERE is our home? And,” you spin, taking the aesthetic of the temple in, trying not to have an anxiety attack. “What do you mean -our- home? Who are you, and what do you want with me?”

You can’t tell if the faint twitch of the other woman’s lips is in amusement or annoyance at your ramblings, but in your defense, she had let you speak uninterrupted. You were known for getting entire paragraphs out if left unsupervised - it was a talent and a curse. Personally you felt she should be grateful you weren’t jumping down her throat, you didn’t know anyone else who would be taking this half as calmly as you were. Then again, you were still waiting on your Hogwarts acceptance letter at 25. 

“My name is..” she hesitated. “Wanda. I am.. I was an Avenger.”

You looked on blankly, hoping she would elaborate. The fuck was an “Avenger”?

"In my universe," (you filed away the fact that she implied the existence of a multiverse for later, as it was a problem for another time) "the Avengers are superheroes. Well, that's what we called ourselves - Earth's Mightiest Heroes. A bit arrogant, if you ask me. We dealt with threats that the military and ordinary people couldn't handle. We were the last line of defense. We saved the world countless times, but at a great cost of lives. We were vain, thinking we were above it all because we believed we were acting for the greater good. But try explaining that to those who were lost as collateral damage.

I digress. We.. were considered to be heroes. There were several of us, we were a team. A family. We lived together, fought together. Died together. Until we didn’t.”

Wanda explains the dynamics of the Avengers team, including how she and her brother Pietro joined. She mentions Pietro's death in the battle against Ultron, as well as the events leading up to and the battle against Thanos. She also covers the events of the “Blip”, and what happened afterward. However, she conveniently chooses to omit the events of Westview, as she didn't want you to know about that just yet.

“That’s.. wow. Wanda, that's a lot. Honestly, if I hadn’t seen your powers myself, I wouldn’t believe you. But all of that still doesn’t explain why you’re here. You mentioned your universe as being so fantastical, why would you come here? And what do you want with me? If you’re a hero, why are you here in what totally looks like a villain’s lair and not with your other superhero buddies?” You neglect to mention the unease creeping up your spine.

This is fine. Everything is fine. Right? Right. 

A look of utter despair crosses the witches face as she locks eyes with you before glancing away.

“I mentioned my team before, but I didn’t mention you.”

“…” You slow blink. This was not how you thought your day was going to go, and honestly, you were already getting a bit of a headache. Could she be less cryptic because that would be great. More details, fewer questions. Maybe another nap.

"Y/N, where I am from, you were also an Avenger. You had joined the team before Pietro and I, and were one of the few who made us feel welcome. Despite the fact that we had previously been enemies, you didn't treat us as ticking time bombs. Instead, you welcomed us with open arms. Your go-to tactics were kindness and understanding, which made it hard not to want to get to know you. When Pietro died, you were the only one who checked on me and cared. You taught me that grief is just love persevering. You became my closest friend, and over time, I couldn't help when those feelings began growing into something more.”

You swallow uncomfortably. It sounds like Wanda is telling you that in this other universe you both were an item. It’s not that you wouldn’t be honored to be with such an attractive woman, but it feels weird knowing that that was a different version of you. Someone with superpowers, someone likely more confident by the sounds of it. This feels almost as if you are intruding on something you shouldn’t, yet Wanda is the one telling you this; if it weren’t okay for you to know, she surely wouldn’t be sharing. You don’t really know what to make of this; if she has feelings for this other you, why is she here with this version of you?

“In the battle against Thanos, we learned that the source of your powers was an infinity stone embedded in your skull courtesy of H.Y.D.R.A. experiments, which altered your genetic DNA. Thanos had also learned you possessed this Mind Stone and sought to take it from you by force.”

Anguish on her features, the witch turns to you. “You were going to die, Y/N. We tried, I tried, so hard to protect you, to keep you away from him but at every turn he found you. If he had gotten the Mind Stone, he would have been able to enact his plan to rid the universe of half of all life. You told me.” She hiccups.

“Y-you told me it was okay, that you forgive me. That I needed to.. that I needed to destroy the stone to save the universe. I didn’t want to. I would have given anything else but that. But you held my hand and told me you forgave me, that you only felt me. Then Thanos came, and we were out of time. I was the only one with the power to do it because its magic was so similar to my own. I placed my hand to your head and I-.” She is unable to continue, breaking off into sobs.

Oh. So she had to sacrifice you to save the universe. Well. You agree with the alternate you, you didn’t blame her, and you would definitely forgive her. Awkwardly you try to find some way to comfort her. While obviously you were not the same person she had loved and lost, and you knew from your own experiences with loss that sometimes words just couldn’t cut it. Instead, you shuffle forward, making sure you were heard in case she wanted to refuse you, and pullher  in for a hug.

Wanda tenses in your embrace, as if she can’t decide if she wants to sink into it or send you flying. “The worst part,” she continues, “was that it meant nothing.”

If you were a dog your head tilt might have been cute.

“In the end, Thanos was still able to get the Mind Stone, and you were still dead, by MY hand, and it all meant NOTHING!” Wanda wrenches herself from your grasp, looking positively unhinged. You probably should have been scared. You weren’t. Her wrath did… things… to you. Therapy…

“All because Strange saw supposedly every possible future and CHOSE to let you die to save everyone else. As if there was no other possible outcome!”

Oh, that... that makes more sense. The other you was still dead, and Wanda was definitely suffering from PTSD from her involvement in it. Her little stunt with your parents was probably her way of trying to save you or bring you back to life. But in your universe, there weren't any superheroes, magic, or Thanos to protect you from (that you were aware of at any rate). So what was Wanda doing? This wouldn't bring her version of you back to life. You may have looked and sounded alike, and you might have made similar decisions, but you simply weren't the same person. The lack of the same life experiences meant that you had different personalities, despite having a similar genetic build.

“So we saved the world, and I left to live in exile. After the funeral, Clint handed me your belongings, and in them was a letter. A deed to a plot of land you had purchased in our names where we were going to build a house. I think it was supposed to be a surprise after we defeated Thanos. We had never lost before, not since Pietro - I don’t think it occurred to us that we could. So I drove out to see and.. Y/N I was still so new to my powers. They were still mostly subconscious. I was grieving and... it would be easier if I show you. May I?”

“May you.. what?”

A subtle smile appears on the witches' face at your ignorance. You are tempted to mention how beautiful she looks with that smile. Shaking off the thought, you ponder if she can read your mind, as her smile becomes knowing and a slight blush colors her cheeks. Ink-stained fingers reach towards your temple, but she hesitates, waiting for your consent, and your heart fills with warmth. You nod once, despite not really understanding.

Her charcoal-colored fingers, cold to the touch, make contact with your temple. Just as you're about to complain about the lack of warning, you're abruptly transported into a completely different world, surpassing the immersive experience of any 3D movie you've ever seen. You not only hear and see everything in every direction, but you can also feel and smell it all. It feels as if you are truly present in that moment. It takes a few minutes for you to realize that you are witnessing someone else's memories, to be precise, Wanda's memories.

She starts her memory with the unexploded bomb created by Tony Stark, which sat in the middle of the rubble of the Maximoff residence. In that chaotic scene, there were two children, the twins, hiding in fear under a bed. However, before you could offer any comfort, the scene shifted. The twins had been taken to HYDRA, where they were subjected to brutal experiments. Witnessing their suffering broke your heart, and despite your best efforts, you were unable to interact with your surroundings, although you desperately tried. Repeatedly you threw yourself against the walls of the cells in which the twins were held, hoping to free them from their hellish situation. You observed the twins' powers first emergence: Pietro's as he attempted to reach his sister's side, and Wanda's as she tried to defend Pietro from the scientists.

Scene after scene, each one as traumatic, if not more so, than the last, depicting all the events from Ultron and beyond. And then there's you. Except, it's not really you. You've certainly never possessed the power of teleportation, nor have you ever been so self-assured. This must be Wanda's universe's version of you. With bright eyes and a warm demeanor, you appear as a beacon of light in Wanda's otherwise bleak life. You observe as the version of you in this universe warmly welcomes the twins to the team, a stark contrast as to how the rest of the team treats the newcomers ranging from suspicious to openly hostile.

It’s surreal, watching yourself from outside your own body, knowing this version isn’t really you, but still no less real of a person. Wanda’s memories begin focusing less on missions and more on interpersonal relationships. Specifically, the one developing between yourself and Wanda. It’s intimate and you feel like an intruder watching this unfold. Sadly, as you grow closer, Wanda loses the only other connection she has - Pietro is hit by stray bullets while saving children. A true hero, and there was nothing anyone on the team could do to prevent it. You watch in horror both for the loss of Pietro as a friend, as well as knowing the absolute devastation this will cause your beloved Witch.

You can tell at this point that that’s what she was to you. It hasn't been long, but that bond has clearly already been sealed; you can see the signs in both your alternate self and Wanda. You would have to be blind not to. The loss of her brother does terrible things to Wanda and it’s all your other self can do to try to keep her afloat. “What is grief but love persevering?”

The scene shifts again. Time has clearly passed, and Wanda appears to have healed to some extent. She and the team have become much more cohesive, which delights both versions of you. Your relationship has definitely progressed, if the blush currently gracing your face, extending to your ears, is any indication. You feel the remnants of the emotions from your alternate self. They are not yours, but neither are they entirely unfamiliar. It makes for a disconcerting sensation to say the least. You don’t know Wanda like that, even though this version of you does. You wish you could view these memories dispassionately, free from your alternate self’s emotions that are bleeding through, but you suspect that’s not possible. Once again you try to reassure yourself that you are not the same person, no matter the genetic makeup.

Jarring you from your reverie, next you find yourself in another battle, and this one is massive. There are more superheroes here than you have ever seen before, either in Wanda's memories or in films. This must be the fight against Thanos she had told you about. Dread settles in your stomach like a stone, and for a moment, you contemplate what it will be like to witness your own death.

Traumatizing, for sure, though not for the reasons you had expected. While you are unable to interact with your environment, you are able to freely move about. Instead of looking at the memory entirely from Wanda’s perspective, you move to stand beside yourself. Wanda stands before you, ethereal, magnificent, yet utterly devastated. She knows what she has to do and pleads with you not to make her. It is unjust for a woman so powerful to suffer such loss, and still you implore her to sacrifice your life, her happiness, for the sake of the rest of the universe. It is unfair. It is cruel. You know it, but you ask anyway.

She never could tell you “no.”

You know the moment this universe's version of you had died when you witness the sheer devastation on Wanda's face. Most people would probably look away, but you couldn't. For some unknown reason, you feel compelled to witness this moment in all its horrifying detail, if only to gain a true understanding of the witch and the immense pain she has endured. There were surely few things more intimate than allowing someone to share their own memories, and here Wanda was, granting you unrestricted access to hers. The least you could do was accept this gift she was offering, no matter how painful it might be.

The images that follow blur together, evoking your personal experiences with grief and a sense of detachment from the world. The funeral is somber, one and all everyone dressed in black and grey. Wanda is present only in body, and you can’t blame her. Clint, the archer, hands her your belongings, including the letter she had mentioned. It unnerves you how detached Wanda appears to be at this moment, despite being surrounded by friends and colleagues. You worry about what lies ahead for her. So much loss in such a short time, it didn’t take a psychiatrist to know this would surely take a toll on her. You prayed that her friends came to check on her, but you had a feeling either they didn’t, or in her grief, she refused them entry.

Colors blend into one another and fade out. You find yourself standing on a plot of land in a town called Eastview, crouching next to Wanda as she collapses to her knees. Her body is wracked with anguished sobs as she finally allows herself to grieve. You wish you could interact with this memory, to hold her and alleviate some of her pain, even if only for a moment. Instead, you sit with her, sharing in her pain as she releases it all into the world. Wanda allows herself to experience her grief in its entirety, no longer burying her feelings beneath a veneer of numbness. Colors leech from the world around her, turning it greyscale. You're pretty certain that even at their strongest, the average person's manifestation of grief isn't supposed to do that, but then again, the average person isn't the Scarlet Witch. Briefly, you wonder what consequences this will have on her world. Your head feels fuzzy, and as your vision fades to black, you suppose you are about to find out.

You regain consciousness and find yourself in a world entirely devoid of color. Disoriented, you blink as the details of your surroundings slowly come into focus. In front of you stands... well... yourself. Or rather, an alternate version of you who appears to be from the 1950s, slightly older but still alive. Seated beside 1950’s you is Wanda, also monochrome and dressed in 1950s attire. Blearily, you rub your eyes. It has been a long day, and you are extremely tired, unsure if this is just an incredibly vivid hallucination or if you have actually passed out somewhere.

Alternate you asks Wanda a question, to which you aren’t listening, and she replies with a quip - you still aren’t listening, wondering where you are and why everything is in greyscale. What catches you off-guard though, is the surround sound laugh track that‘s garnered in response. It’s galling to admit but you jump, startled, and look around. There’s no one else in the house besides yourself, the alternate version of you, and Wanda. Where did that come from?

Alternate you replies to Wanda, and again with the laugh track. This time you are not as startled, but no less unsettled. What fresh hell is this? Could this be Wanda’s doing? It doesn’t seem like you can ask her though, as you’re just a passive observer in this strange situation. The last thing you remember, Wanda was grieving in Eastview at the plot of land which alternate you had purchased to start your life together after retiring from being superheroes. Strange grey wiggly woos (as you were starting to refer to her magic) were emanating from the witch, quite different from the familiar scarlet color you had grown accustomed to.

Perhaps this was her doing, if only subconsciously. You tried to recall, didn’t Wanda mention something about her powers being new to her and mostly unintentional? This could be what she had been referring to. Apprehension made a home in your chest as you found yourself dreading whatever was about to unfold before you. Oh no, Wanda, what did you do?

It doesn’t take long after observing the hijinks and mishaps, for you to realize that Wanda's grief had manifested through her powers. She had transformed the town of Eastview into Westview, resembling a 1950s-style sitcom town. Wanda, along with an alternate version of yourself (if you were truly still alive - that part you hadn't figured out yet), and the entire town were trapped. While it may have started unintentionally, Wanda became aware of it and began actively using her powers to maintain her idyllic town, keeping it isolated from the outside world and preventing the townspeople from leaving. In her grief, Wanda was essentially playing house, holding everyone hostage. However, despite her powers growing stronger, it was clear that the people living there were suffering. If you could even consider their existence as living.

There were even two boys - twins, just like Wanda was a twin. Your heart broke, knowing this could not possibly end well. While technically not "real" and not even "yours" at that, watching these boys be born, live, and grow caused you to cultivate a love for them almost as if they were your own. Your heart thumps uncomfortably in your chest; you didn't want to see how this plays out, but you didn't have a choice.

Despite the dysfunction in your parents, you had always wanted a family of your own. An attempt to break the cycle and bring new life - happy and healthy - into this world. You wanted to raise your kids with the love and care you had never experienced yourself.

You understood the motivations of the witch, but that didn't justify her morally questionable choices. Once again, you are condemned to remain on the sidelines, unable to take any action to resolve the situation. You are forced to witness this charade unfold, hoping and praying that it would end well for everyone involved, yet knowing that it would not. How could it possibly?

Despite your bias, after witnessing everything Wanda had endured, you found yourself wishing for the best outcome for her, in particular. Among all the people you could think of, she deserved a break from the misery that had plagued her life until now.

Eventually, it all came to a head when another witch named Agatha Harkness had infiltrated the town with a book called the Darkhold, attempting to convince Wanda to join her and increase their powers. If Wanda refused, the witch planned to take Wanda's powers for herself. Something about a prophecy regarding a Scarlet Witch.

Meanwhile, the alternate version of you had become self-aware of the true nature of Westview. This version of you pleaded with Wanda to prioritize the wellbeing of others over her own happiness, once again. They urged Wanda to defeat Agatha and free the townspeople, even if it meant losing her spouse and children. It was an impossible choice, and you questioned whether you could have mustered the courage to make the same decision in Wanda’s position.

Wanda defeated Agatha, not that you ever doubted her for a moment. She said goodbye to you, again, and then to her boys, and released her spell. The town was free, but her family.. was gone. Wanda was once again on her own.

A startled gasp leaves your lips as you awaken from the memories. It feels like it’s been ages, but from what you can tell, it must only have been minutes since Wanda first began sharing her memories with you. “Oh.”

Cringe. You wish you could have said something, anything more eloquent. Unfortunately, you feel as though you've just been hit by a Mack truck and could nap for a week. It doesn’t help that you were still feeling the effects of lack of sleep for the last couple of weeks. 

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t feel so good, is it okay if I lay down somewhere…?” A quick glance around the temple makes you second guess the question you were about to ask. Stone floors did not make a good bed.

With a tone much softer than she had been using, she replied. "Of course, Detka, you only need to ask." 

An elegant wave of her slender fingers and gone is the stone temple, replaced by a cozy bedroom. At a cursory glance, you can tell it is a sanctuary of comfort and tranquility, featuring a plush, inviting bed. The room is adorned with personal touches, such as framed photographs of you and Wanda, and artwork that is somehow absolutely your aesthetic. Shelves display a carefully chosen selection of your favorite books, each waiting to be explored. These items add character and give the space a feeling that is unique to you, even though you have never set foot in this place before.

“Come,” A glimpse of Wanda and you are surprised to discover instead of her red and black uniform, she is now garbed in an oversized sweater and some cotton sweatpants.

“You have been holding space for others for so long, it is time you took some well-deserved rest. You work much too hard.”

“Uh s-sure.” About to make a comment that perhaps you should also change, but looking down to find that you are wearing your favorite worn Legolas shirt and some pajama shorts.

“Right. Rest.” Part of you wants to ask when you can return to your home so you can finish studying for your exams, but based on previous conversation, context clues tell you that’s the least of your concerns right now, and Wanda probably wouldn’t be too pleased with that topic of discussion right now.

Wanda takes your hand, leading you to the bed and it takes your overworked brain far longer than you care to admit to realize that she means for you both to share it. Your brain short-circuits at all the factors at play here: Knowing that you yourself are touch-starved; this absolute enchantress of a woman dated an alternate universe’s version of you, even going so far as basically playing housewife and mother of your children, and here she was asking you to share a bed. Sure, she wasn’t asking you to sleep with her, but she was still asking you to share a bed next to her and what if you accidentally spooned her in your sleep, and what if-

”You’re thinking too loudly, malysh.”

“What? You can- you’re a mind reader?!” you panic, backpedaling mentally, praying to every deity that existed that you hadn’t had any unsavory thoughts in her presence, and nearly fainting as you recalled that you in fact, had some rather explicit thoughts from the moment you first saw her.. The mortification alone was enough to put you into an early grave. You weren’t sure how you had missed that during everything she had shown you, but you reasoned you were probably more focused on the physical manifestations of her powers. 

"Relax, Y/N. I don't intentionally read minds, at least not anymore. Sometimes, surface thoughts are so loud that I can't help but hear them. Like right now, you're practically yelling them at me," she said, trying to offer a reassuring smile.

Unfortunately, while you were no longer freaking out about having accidentally offended the witch, you were now spiraling down a different path. You were agonizing over the pain you had, and likely were still causing her by thinking so loudly. If you remembered any media involving mind reading, the person with the ability usually suffered greatly at the hands of others unintentionally. Naturally, the average person didn't know how to shield their thoughts, and you were afraid that you might be giving her a migraine. To the woman who had only tried to bring you to a safe place and offer you shelter. 

You began to hyperventilate.

Wanda could see that you were spiraling, even without being a mind reader. It was written clearly on your face. However, being able to hear your thoughts helped her identify the source of your anxiety, and she berated herself for not considering that earlier. This version of you lacked confidence, and it was now Wanda's responsibility to help rebuild it. At least, according to her.

"Your parents really did a number on you, didn't they, detka?"

Cool hands gently held your cheeks, pulling you out of your thoughts. Suddenly, Wanda invades your personal space, and the scent of vanilla fills your nostrils, momentarily distracting you from what was happening.

"We're just going to take a nap, okay Y/N? You don't have to worry about anything. I'm not bothered by any of those thoughts you have." A leering grin unfurls across her face.

“If anything I’m quite flattered by them.” She winks.

Heat flashes across your body, and you can’t tell if you were embarrassed, aroused, or both. Unfortunately, you knew your thoughts were likely betraying you. Gods, if only the floor could just open up right now and swallow you into the abyss. Yes, that would be fantastic.

"However, there is time enough for such things later. It's been years, Y/N, and I've just got you back. Nap with me, please?" The witch's eyes gaze longingly into yours, and well, when she looks at you like that, how could you say "no"?

She leads you to the bed and, with the practiced ease of her time in Westview, pulls you into her embrace as the little spoon. Earlier, you had been worried about accidentally touching her inappropriately or having a dirty dream. Now though, with her arms wrapped so protectively around you, sleep claims you almost instantaneously.

[mykneeshurt]

Daddy

Arthur Morgan x F!reader

Warnings - 18+, minors DNI, explicit smut

Not overly proof read because I cba x

——

Sitting in your chair by the fire you concentrated on your needle work. Your father was away for the night on business, he reared and sold thoroughbred horses. In turn you looked after the house, helped to clean the stables and helped to break in the horses when they were old enough.

While you loved the horses you hated your father. He was mean, abusive and cruel. Your mother died when you were young and you were an only child, it felt like a punishment for something you’d done in your past life.

As you focused on a particular stitch there was a knock at the door. Not expecting anyone you pulled out the shotgun from a chest, it felt heavy, the cold trigger kissed the warm skin of your fingers.

Opening the door you kept it hidden at your side, peeking through the crack you saw a tall broad man. A cigarette hung from his lips as he rested his hands on his belt. ‘Can I help you?’ You asked meekly, trying to portray the helpless damsel.

‘You got the money?’ He asked, inhaling the cigarette, the orange glow only slightly illuminating his face.

‘Money? You’ll have to speak to my daddy. Ain’t no money here sir.’ Flashing your doe like eyes up at the man praying he’d leave you alone. ‘Your daddy?’ He asked, a sinister smirk spreading across his lips. ‘Yeah. He don’t take too kindly to strangers knocking on the door this time of night.’ Your voice more stern and forceful than before. ‘So I suggest you leave.’

He moved closer to the door leaning on the frame as he rested his hand on him gun holster. ‘Your daddy ain’t here. Now. You got the money?’ He growled.

Shit.

The German man you’d borrowed money off in town, you thought you’d have more time. You only needed it to top up money you’d been saving to leave your fathers home. Chewing on your jaw you tried to push the door shut, but he was quicker than you.

Bursting through the door his body slammed into yours causing you to drop the gun. It fell to the floor with an almighty clatter, noticing the gun he stifled a chuckle. He pushed you up against the wall, boxing you in between his huge arms. ‘What’s a pretty lil thing like you doing with a gun like that?’

‘Protection.’ You snapped, he was stood so close to you, he smelt of sage and gunpowder. ‘Protection from what?’ He asked as he took a step closer to your body, so close you were almost touching. The breath in your chest seized, your thighs clenched as you got lost in his musk.

‘From people like you’ you sneered, desperately trying to prove you weren’t intimidated by him. Smirking from under the brim of his hat he grasped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting your gaze to his. ‘Now that ain’t very nice sweetheart’ he drawled ‘I’m thinkin’ you don’t have the money do you?’

You squirmed under his grip, he was beautiful and you berated yourself for thinking so. Eyes as blue as the ocean with flecks of green, sandy blonde hair with stubble to match. A sharp jaw line, broad stature with a small waist and he was tall. So tall.

With his grasp still firm on your chin you finally managed to find an answer, ‘no.’

‘I didn’t think so. Mr Strauss wants his money.’ He lowered his head to your neck, his breath fanning ever to gently over it ‘how do you propose we fix this hm?’ You practically felt your pupils blow wide, your cunt clenched in your bloomers as you swallowed hard. Fucking an outlaw would certainly be payback for how your father treated you. Even more so if you fucked him in his bed.

Resting your hand on his wrist you whispered ‘follow me.’

Leading the outlaw up the creaky wooden stairs he held your hand, it was gentle. You entered your fathers room and instantly he clocked it, ‘this ain’t your room is it?’ Throwing him a devilish grin you shook your head as you pulled him into you by his belt buckle. His body collided with yours, you bit your lip as you looked up at him. Placing your arms around his neck you pulled him into a kiss. His lips were so soft, he snaked his hand to the back of your head, twisting his hand in your hair.

Moaning into his mouth you swiped your tongue along his lip, begging for entry. Allowing you this he deepened the kiss as he walked you backwards towards the bed. Once the backs of your knees hit the bed he guided you to sit down, as you did he helped you onto your back, never once breaking the kiss. Slowly he crawled on top of you as he slid his knee between your thighs, pulling a moan from the back of your throat.

His knee grazed your clit as he settled between them, sighing into you. As you pulled back you nipped his lip smiling as you did so. ‘Well darlin, I wasn’t expecting this when I knocked on your door this evenin’ he said with a crooked smirk. ‘Mmm, I’m full of surprises’ you purred while kissing his neck.

Pulling him back in, your lips met, the kiss was deeper and sloppier this time. Wet. Tongues tangled around each other, lips moved in tandem, breath intertwined as you swallowed each others moans. Slowly he trailed his hand down your torso, grabbing your breast he massaged it gently. You sighed softly into him causing him to break the kiss. ‘You want this?’ He asked, concern suddenly evident in his eyes.

Eyebrows raised you smiled ‘oh so now you’re a gentleman. Didn’t ask permission to burst into my house did you?’ Dropping his head he let out a hearty laugh before moving a stray piece of hair from your face. ‘Oh darlin. I always ask permission before makin a lady scream my name.’ Your jaw dropped as a delighted giggle burst from you.

Pushing your hip up you forced him onto his back so you were straddling his hips. Tilting your chin you looked down at him whilst drumming your fingers on his broad chest. ‘Oh you’re gonna make me scream your name huh?’ He nodded. ‘Well Mr outlaw, you’re gonna have to tell me it first.’ Gripping your hips he began to move you, forcing you to grind your hips on his hard cock. ‘Arthur.’

‘You best take these close off then Arthur’ you grinned. He sat up and slowly removed each layer of your clothing delicately, his hands were soft despite the calluses which littered them. His fingertips kissed each part of your skin as he mapped it beneath him. His arms were defined, strong and muscular.

You made fast work of his buttons, peeling his shirt off him as you made your way down to his trousers. Soon enough you were both naked, led next to one another, gazing into each others eyes. ‘Beautiful’ he sighed. Feeling a sudden heat in your cheeks you buried your head into his neck, but he pushed you back ‘naw, I wanna see that smile.’

‘Mmm Arthur, you gonna keep kissin my ass or you gonna fuck me?’ Your confidence caught him off guard, trailing his fingers down your back he pulled your leg over his hip. He then trailed it along your slit ‘oh darlin, you’re so wet. That all for me?’ You hummed at his touch, it had been so long since a man had touched you. ‘Don’t tease me Arthur … please.’

With that he plunged a finger into you, stretching your pussy open with a smooth motion. Biting your lip you nodded as you gripped into his shoulder, digging your nails in. As he moved and worked you open he slid in another, coughing you to his between clenched teeth. ‘You ok sweetheart?’

You nodded furiously ‘yes … yes … shhh don’t stop.’

He moved his fingers inside you, rubbing your spot exactly the way you needed. Your face contorted with each movement, with each thrust of his fingers. You whined and moaned into him, your chest heaved with each breath. Then suddenly he removed them, causing you to groan in anger. ‘Fuck!’ You yelled, not knowing whether to cry or laugh.

Instead he started kissing your neck, nipping your collarbone, before moving down to your abdomen. He spread your thighs and kissed the nest of hair that decorated your pussy. His breath tickled. His tongue however felt heavenly, with small languid licks he worked his way over your clit. His blue eyes peeked up at you as he worked his jaw, you felt him smile against you. No one had ever done this to you before.

You rolled your hips, gripping the bed sheets with one hand, the other buried in his sandy blonde hair. He held you down with one arm, inhaling your scent, devouring your moans as you writhed beneath him. You were getting close. So very close.

And he knew it.

‘That’s it pretty girl, lemme hear you. Sound so good’ he drawled, his voice thick and husky. ‘Feels so good’ you whined. With one final lick he moved himself back on top of you, lowering his lips to yours. You could taste yourself as he kissed you. Just as he slipped his tongue into your mouth he pushed his cock into you. Both gasping as he did. You felt so full. So so full.

The stretch was agonisingly beautiful, he slowly worked his cock into you. Grazing that sweet spot. He started slow at first, allowing you to get used to him. When you relaxed into him he upped his pace, whispering sweet praises in your ear. His pubic bone hit your clit with every thrust, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Lifting your legs he placed them on his shoulders, kissing and caressing your calf muscles, your ankles. This new position allowed him to go deeper, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix, a dull but not painful feeling. Sweat began to gather on your bodies, gasps and moans mingling in the dull light of the fire. ‘Play with it darlin’ he gasped at he looked towards your glistening pussy.

Dropping a hand you rubbed your sensitive bundle of nerves. Arthur’s eyes widened, he chewed his jaw as he watched. You felt yourself begin to tighten. So did he. ‘That’s it, just like that sweetheart, lemme feel yah.’ Screwing your eyes shut, back arched, toes pointed you came, pleasure rushed through your soul as you rode your high. ‘Oh fuck Arthur!’

‘Where you want it?’ He asked breathlessly, strands of sweat soaked hair framing his face. ‘Fuck, anywhere, I don’t care’ you panted. With that he pulled out, letting his cum decorate your soft skin, it felt warm as it hit your breasts, abdomen, chest. Using a finger you gathered some before licking it off, a wicked grin on your lips.

‘Oh darlin.’ He smirked ‘I ain’t ever lettin you go.’

[just-a-ghost00]

Surprise reading to celebrate my new oracle deck

I was kindly gifted an oracle deck by a French reader that goes by the name of Soul shadow, whom I admire a lot. It’s a 90s anime themed oracle deck. So to celebrate this new baby, I decided to do a reading on the following theme :

a message from someone you love ❤️

No picture to pick from today, just use your intuition and pick a number between 1 and 3.

Group 1

I had to take a break to sort things through. There were so many things I wanted to tell you but it would have been difficult for me to express them in the state I was in. I don’t want you to think that I’m mad at you or that I hate you because that isn’t true. I sincerely think that meeting you was the best thing that could happen to me. I met you at the perfect timing and there is nothing I would change about that. With you I really feel like I can tackle the world and overcome anything. I need time to understand what this means to me, to figure out how I can better fit you into my life, to solve my own issues and find my footing. I know that asking you to be patient is a bit unfair. But I really need the space right now. I can only hope that you understand this decision and that all ends well in the end. I know this is going to be difficult but I have hope that we can overcome this together. Will you wait for me?

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕 Group 2

I really thought that I had it all figured out. But that was until you came into my life. At first, I will be honest, I didn’t like your energy. I thought you were too carefree. But the more I got to know you the more I understood the importance of going with the flow with you. Know that I am open to whatever may happen, now that I stopped overthinking, I can really appreciate the journey and I really feel hyped up. Though I don’t need it, I really like to be reassured by you. Every time that you encourage me or celebrate me, it’s just one more sign for me that I’m doing the right thing and I’m grateful for that. There’s a lot that I wish to say and I plan on taking the time to express them when I get the chance. I have now found a new goal, a new purpose in life and I intend on showing everyone, including you, what I am made of. I know that I can be better and do better. And though a part of me is scared, I know deep down it’s worth fighting for. It’s time for me to put some order into my life and work toward my desired reality. Thank you for showing me the way to my destiny. You really are amazing!

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕 Group 3

I hate that I love you because I can’t have you. You were the one thing that I could not control and I believe you will be the death of me. I keep telling myself that tomorrow will be better, that I just should keep living and enjoying life. I try to forget you but I can’t. I tell myself that I don’t care. That I don’t like you. That all I need is my family who always supported me but honestly that’s just bullshit. You are family as well. You have always supported me and the least I can do is be there for you too. I’m haunted by my memories of you. I want to talk to you so bad and a part of me is that close to giving in to temptation. But another just isn’t ready to face it. Those memories are too painful. Behind my cold exterior lies a ton of repressed feelings that I can’t seem to control. Whenever I’m with the people I love I can’t help but to think of you and wish you were there. Whenever I’m having fun and celebrating life, I can’t help but to think of you who always stood for me and cheered for me and feel grateful because this victory is also yours. In these moments, when I am the happiest, the first thing I want to do is come rushing to you to share that happiness with you. Ah you make me go crazy. I just want to leave it all behind and come back to you asap. Fuck it.

[fuckyesfeysand]

Creator Highlight #6 - @thesistersarcheron

Welcome back to Feysand Creator Highlights!! We want to take a moment to recognize the amazing individuals in our fandom who kindly use up so much of their freetime and creative energy to share their work with us!

Today we'd like to highlight @thesistersarcheron. A multi-shipping phenom, her feysand fics are some of the best writing we've come across in any fandom anywhere. With one simple turn of phrase or one piece of imagery, @thesistersarcheron has us all laughing, crying, or unspeakably horny depending on what emotions she'd like to elicit from us

Besides her immense talent, @thesistersarcheron is also incredibly fun to interact with. Have you ever sent her message? Do it! You won't be sorry- any chance to experience her quick wit and easy sense of humor is time well spent.

Check out some of our favorites from her:

Bejeweled:

Every court has their own Great Rite with unique, ancient traditions. The Night Court’s priestesses have played coy with Rhysand since he inherited the throne last year about what imbuing the land with his power really means; all they tell him is that he is meant to spend the night in the Night Court’s mines dripping in ceremonial jewels while everyone else gets to attend the orgy without him.

He doesn’t expect to find Feyre, a faerie made of crystal who leads him on a chase deeper and deeper into the mines as the Rite’s magic overcomes him.

Poltergeist, Darling:

Feyre swallowed her horror and raised her tattooed hand. “The bargain was only for the rest of my life.”

Rhysand's grip on her tightened as he rested his chin on her shoulder. “Tamlin and I didn’t shuffle your corpse around for a week every month, if that’s what you’re thinking. I had to do some good old-fashioned graverobbing to get you, Feyre.”

Her spine stiffened. Prick!

--------

What would have happened if Feyre wasn’t resurrected Under the Mountain?

The Alchemy:

“Are you the High Lord?”

Rhys bit back a laugh and raised a brow. “If you have to ask, you don’t get to know.”

“My sister says the High Lord is an arrogant, preening prick who surrounds himself with bastards and sycophants.” Insult after insult rolled off the little girl’s tongue, stilted and rote in a way that spoke to memorization instead of understanding, and Rhys grinned.

Cauldron fucking fry him, she was charming.

—————

When the High Lord of the Night Court meets a neglected but promising young artist, he decides to take her under his wing and move her to Velaris to sponsor her education at the best art school the Night Court has to offer.

(Or, the fic in which Rhys decides he can raise his young mate better than the Archerons can and actually does it.)

Check out the rest of her masterlist HERE

Want to nominate someone? Fill out the form HERE

[thewritingofamadwoman]

Hot Buns

A random snippet into the lives of Annalise & Mark Sloan. Technically a part 2.5? Let me know what you think & thank you for reading 🤗

Pairing: Mark Sloan x Fem!Reader

Warnings: allusions to smut but no actual smut, sickeningly sweet fluff

To anyone who didn’t know Mark Sloan or Annalise Grey-Sloan, life at Seattle Grace was the same as it had been for the past few months. The ex-couple decided to give their relationship a try once more, with Annalise having gone so far as forgiving Mark and allowing him to take her out on a few dates.

No one picked up on the innocent flirting between the two; the looks and giggles shared, the secret touches whenever they stood in the same vicinity. No one had ANY idea of their little rendezvous in the on call rooms. Or at least, that’s what Mark and Annalise thought.

“So are they going to eye fuck each other the entire time or are we going to actually learn something today?” Alex Karev grunted, standing off to the side as Mark and Annalise “discussed” the case they were working on together. Cristina and Meredith rolled their eyes at him.

“Well I for one think it’s great that they’re speaking again. Little Jolie deserves to have both of her parents happy,” Meredith shrugged, smiling to herself at the sound of her sister’s giggle at whatever the “plastics God” said to her.

“I agree with Mer. A less angry Annalise means more surgeries for me to scrub in on. So if McSteamy wants to McGet-It-On with her, I’m all for it. I’ll even buy her condoms if she wants,” Cristina said cheerfully, not noticing the power couple creeping up behind her. Annalise cleared her throat.

“Well thank you for that, Dr Yang. I’ll keep that in mind. Are we good to start rounds or would you prefer I gave you details on which condoms I prefer for your future reference?” The brunette asked, an eyebrow raised playfully at Cristina and her sister. Annalise didn’t care about what was said about her when it came from friends, and she loved to torment interns as much as she could. Cristina had enough sense to blush and look away while Alex snickered before Mark called out to him.

“Oi, Karev! Let’s get a move on, these patients won’t heal themselves!” He barked, making his way down the hall but not before winking at Annalise.

Anna smiled, and rolled her eyes playfully at the intern who immediately followed after Mark. Her smile lingered a little too long on his retreating form, and when she turned back to Meredith and Christina, she couldn’t escape their teasing smirks.

“Wipe those grins off your faces,” Annalise scoffed, walking around them and doing her best to ignore the heat trying to creep up her face.

“Well you two look close,” Meredith teased, her signature smile on her face. Christina snorted in agreement.

“Close is an understatement. Sloan’s one step away from sticking his tongue down her throat with every passing longing glance,” she said dramatically as they stopped outside the patient’s room. Anna genuinely laughed at that, resulting in the patient, Mark and Alex to look over at the three doctors who stood by the door.

“Sorry Mrs Sheffield, I’m Doctor Grey-Sloan. These are my interns, Doctor Grey and Doctor Yang. I’ll be assisting Doctor Sloan with your procedure. I’ll be in charge of making sure your heart doesn’t give out while Doctor Sloan works on the external repairs on your abdomen while removing that superficial tumor and patching you up as good as new. I promise you, you’re in great hands,” Annalise reassured the patient gently, reaching over and giving her hand a squeeze. The older woman smiled back kindly and looked between Annalise and Mark, the latter already standing off to the side and prepping a game plan with Karev.

“You said your name was Grey-Sloan? Any relation to the stud?” Mrs Sheffield nodded towards Mark unabashedly, her voice hushed. Anna’s smile widened.

“Mhmm, he’s my husband.”

“Oh you’re one lucky girl. If I were 30 years younger I’d be climbing him like a tree. Do you see the buns on him? Oh the way I’d like to give’em a quick squeeze,” Mrs Sheffield went on, her voice not as hushed as she thought. Annalise chucked and noticed the tips of Mark’s ears slowly turning a light shade of red.

“Alright Mrs Sheffield, let’s keep that heart rate down,” Annalise teased. “We’ll be back later to get you prepped for surgery. In the meantime, Grey, please make sure we have an OR booked and Yang, please get Mrs Sheffield ready with the pre-surgical team. Karev, please follow up with pathology one final time about Mrs Sheffield’s most recent blood tests so we can confirm we’re good to start on time. ”

Christina, Meredith and Alex nodded and stepped out of the room to get started on their tasks immediately. Before Anna could make it out the door however, she heard Mark yelp. She turned around and found Mark rubbing his backside as he scurried out of the room, Mrs Sheffield winking at her and smirking to herself while rubbing her hands together. “I’ve still got it!” She cheered, and Mark pulled a tittering Annalise out the door with him.

“That was not funny, I feel violated and objectified,” Mark whined, his grip gentle on Annalise’s elbow, pulling her with him down the hall and around the corner. Anna’s chuckles broke into a full on belly laugh at Mark’s flushed face. They stopped walking, and Anna used the wall behind her as support while she laughed.

“You should have seen your face!” She giggled. Mark, who was thoroughly embarrassed, found his gaze softening at the sight of his wife laughing wholeheartedly. And yes while it was at his expense, he wouldn’t change it for anything in the world. He rolled his eyes, playfully annoyed, a smile playing on his lips as her own giggles were infectious.

“Are you done?” He asked, crossing his arms as he looked down at her.

Anna did her best to stop laughing, biting her lip and looking up at Mark with a somewhat innocent expression. Mark felt his heart flutter at the sight of her.

“I’m good, I’m good. God it’s been so long since I laughed like that,” she sighed, smiling brightly. Mark smiled back and shook his head.

“Yeah, and it took me being assaulted by an elderly woman squeezing my ass for you to laugh that hard. You’re welcome,” Mark sassed. Annalise quirked an eyebrow teasingly at him.

“You weren’t complaining when I was the one squeezing your ass in the on call room earlier…” she said, lowering her voice as she looked up at him coyly, daring him to play along.

Mark’s eyebrows shot up in surprise before he immediately collected himself and reacted accordingly, smirking while bringing his right arm up and above Anna, bracing it on the wall behind her. His other arm reached towards her, his hand engulfing her waist as he stepped closer to her, caging her between the wall and himself. What Mark didn’t do, however, was check to see if the coast was clear before speaking; his voice taking on a more deep and gravelly tone.

“Well, I am a gentleman. Who am I to deny my woman from grabbing my ass when she’s down on her knees for me with her mouth wrapped around my—“

“AH-DONT YOU FINISH THAT SENTENCE MARK SLOAN,” an incredulous voice spoke up and both doctors jumped apart at the sound of Miranda Bailey.

“This is a god damn hospital, not a whore house, keep that kind of talk OUT of the halls! What is wrong with people today, talking nasty while I’m trying to my damn job,” Miranda muttered to herself as she continued her way down the hall, glaring at the couple.

Mark and Annalise took one look at each other and cracked up at the hilarity of it all.

“I can see why the interns call her the Nazi,” he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest again. Annalise nodded and continued to watch Doctor Bailey make her way down the hall, before she turned back to glare at them once more before she turned the corner.

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