#beef jerky husband

[fosszilisdinoszauruszhanyas]

cold wasteland nights

[cubeshapedlemon]

i love the hc that cooper is the one whos going to be yapping constantly in s2 while they are on their way to new vegas because he totally fucking will be. literally like 90% of his dialog is him making references to stuff that no one has understood for 200+ years. of fucking course he will take the opportunity to talk with the one person who might actually understand his references.

[glostixdix]

New flavor of beef jerky husband just dropped and oh boy

[layerofthevampyres]

what i saw when the ghoul appeared on screen 🩷🍇

[oneguardian15]

hey guys so

i started watching the fallout tv show last night and

if you haven’t already noticed…

this is my personality now and for the foreseeable future. all is mr. ghoul man. there is nothing else.

forgive me for being this way. that is all

(i fuckin love him 💕)

[rogueshadeaux]

I am trying so hard not to fall for the multiple WIP thing because that always just leads to me not finishing any fics.

But the amount off effort going into NOT writing Fallout 4 works because of that silly little stream yesterday…

[fuzzyunicorn]

I got ur🖤 milk n beef jerky @ the ready babe 😊

[atohii]

anyway after the show my boyfriend's getting into fallout and I'm making him start with New Vegas

[cyberneticfallout]

Chapter Seven: The GoverMint

Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7 - Ch 8 - Ch 9 - Ch 10 - More Coming Soon

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Reader Summary: Two men bring you into custody and some new information comes to light. Tags: Slow burn (and I mean SLOWWW), angst, eventually more smut, language, canon-typical violence, chem/alcohol use, more tags will be added Posted on AO3: Smoothie and The Ghoul Word Count: 2.1k

"What? Never had mornin’ wood before, Smoothie?” The Ghoul snickers as you shake your head in confusion. While yes, it’s a fairly natural thing to occur, you weren’t exactly expecting to see his hard-on first thing.

"Alright, love birds,” the man starts, causing both of you to glare at him. “Destroying a legitimate business? That's illegal 'round these parts.”

You exchange a quick glance with The Ghoul, both of you clearly annoyed by the man calling you ‘love birds’. "First of all, we are not together. And - will you please adjust yourself, Beef Jerky - second of all, this... was a legitimate business? Says who?” you ask, gesturing vaguely around the room as The Ghoul rolls his eyes and slowly covers himself with his hat.

"The government," the man proudly declares before abruptly striking The Ghoul in the face with his rifle.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Let's not get crazy here," you interject, raising your hands in protest, realizing that two against one isn't a smart choice at the moment. Your head is throbbing from the alcohol you drank the night before, leaving you in no condition to fight back.

“Don’t worry, miss. Your husband is okay, but you two gotta face justice,” the man replies. You huff a frustrated sigh at the continued assumption that you two are a couple. Looking the man over, you notice a crudely made sheriff badge with the name Troy etched onto it.

“May I call you Troy?” you ask, pointing to his badge. He gives you a smile, indicating it’s okay. “Now, Troy, this man right here isn’t my husband. We are just traveling companions who happened to come across this already destroyed business.”

Troy sighs, “We ain’t stupid, ma’am. We gotta bring ya both in. Rex!” He shouts at the other man, “Tie ‘em up and we’ll move out once that one wakes back up.”

Shortly after, The Ghoul wakes up and the four of you are on the move towards the supposed government. You keep stealing glances at him, hoping for any sign of a plan, but he remains silent and focused on the path ahead. The restraints around your wrists chafe against your skin, causing irritation. These two men seem dumb as hell but the one sure knows how to use rope.

Finally, the four of you approached a building sporting a sign that proudly proclaims "The GoverMint”. The Ghoul shot you a glance, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes in exasperation. The sight of the misspelled sign only reinforced your growing realization that you were dealing with a bunch of idiots. The building itself appeared run-down and neglected, a stark contrast to the grandeur one might expect from an actual government facility. The paint was peeling, the windows were dirty, and the overall atmosphere exuded an air of disarray. As you were escorted inside by Troy and Rex, you couldn't shake the feeling that this whole situation was more absurd than dangerous.

"Well, shit!" a hefty man exclaims, sitting at a table with a plate of food. "I heard it was a ghoul that messed up that Super Duper Mart. Nobody told me it was the ghoul."

"Why, Sorrel Booker," The Ghoul smirks.

You silently mouth to The Ghoul, "You know this guy?"

"You boys know who you just brought in? This sumbitch right here used to be the best bounty hunter to ever shoot a man in the ass," Sorrel chuckles as the two men usher you to sit in front of him. "Kids these days don’t know their goddamn history."

"Say, you got a needle and thread?” The Ghoul casually asks. “I think I got some in my bag, actually. Would you mind?"

Sorrel hesitates for a moment, eyeing him, but ultimately nods his head. Troy hands over the needle and thread, and The Ghoul's restraints are untied. With a calm demeanor, he picks up a perfectly cut finger and begins sewing it onto his missing one. You can't help but watch in disbelief, your mouth agape, trying to make sense of the bizarre scene unfolding before you. What the fuck is happening right now?

"Whose finger is that?!" You blurt out unintentionally, causing silence to take over the room.

Sorrel takes a good look at you as he spits out a piece of meat and puts it in a bowl labeled 'cysts’, turning his attention to the man next to you. “200 years. I don’t know what keeps you going. Maybe you just like the feeling of that good old California sunshine on your wrinkly-ass face. Or maybe you’re still looking for her. Maybe not though... this your girlfriend or somethin’?"

"You really think I’d shack up with some smoothskin? She ain’t even that pretty.” The Ghoul retorts, ignoring your offended look as he scrunches his newly sewn finger to make sure it's functional. “And I sure as hell ain't still alive so that I can have unintelligent conversations with dipshits like yourself."

“Mind your fucking mouth. That’s the president of the government you’re talking to.” Troy speaks up.

“Oh, you’re president now?” He raises a brow, “In that case, I am hearing a whole lot of chatter about some woman. Name of Moldaver. They call her the Flame Mother.”

This new information about a woman catches you off guard, as it's the first time you've heard about her on this journey. While the two men continue their conversation, you find yourself racking your brain as the mention of Moldaver triggers a memory in your mind. You vaguely recall whispers in the air about a woman who leads a group of people up in the mountains. Tension begins to build in the room as you find yourself deep in thought, analyzing her possible connection to the bounty you were originally after. You notice a shift in the dynamics between the men after The Ghoul taunts Troy about killing his father in Filly. It seems to have struck a nerve and Rex is ordered to take away Troy's weapons.

“Take him out back and feed him to the hogs,” Sorrel's harsh order snaps you out of your thoughts. "And this one might be good for the local brothel."

"Oh, hell no," you mutter as Troy pulls you up to take you away. Determined to fight back, you struggle to release yourself from his grasp, refusing to be taken without a fight. Suddenly, a gunshot rings out, causing chaos in the room. The Ghoul, seizing an opportunity, managed to grab Rex’s pistol and shot him.

With the distraction, you act quickly. In a burst of adrenaline-fueled strength, you headbutt Troy, feeling the sharp pain of impact, and then tackle him to the ground. Overwhelmed by a surge of emotions and a fierce desire for survival, you unleash a flurry of tied fists striking his face repeatedly. Blood splatters across your face as you continue to pummel him. He’s surely dead by now but you can't stop - there is no way you are going to a brothel against your will.

Feeling a warm hand touch your shoulder, you are startled out of your frenzy. Looking up, you lock eyes with The Ghoul, who is standing over you with a small crooked smile playing on his lips. There is a glint of amusement in his gaze, as if he is savoring this violent side of you. His presence and subtle expression of approval offer a strange sense of validation for you.

“Goddamn it,” Sorrel exclaims in frustration, throwing his fork onto the table. As you slowly rise from the man you just bludgeoned to death, The Ghoul starts untying the rope around your wrists. Despite gloves covering his hands again, you find solace in his gentle touch as he works to release you from your bindings. Once finished, he strides over to the wall littered with wanted posters and tears off a sketch of a woman.

“I got one question for you, ol’ buddy. Why do you have this picture on your wall?” The Ghoul inquires, holding up the sketch.

“That’s Moldaver. Why?” Sorrel responds, a sense of curiosity evident in his voice.

“Well, that’s not how I remember her, is all,” He remarks cryptically.

“Yeah? Well, how do you remember her?”

The Ghoul doesn’t say a word and without further explanation he leads you both outside. The two of you stand facing each other in silence. He lets out a sigh and reaches for a dirty rag in his pocket, handing it to you without a word. You take it and begin to clean yourself up but it’s proves pointless as it’s just smearing the blood all over.

"Well, that didn't do shit," he remarks as he takes the rag back from you. His gaze scans the area until he spots a barrel of grimy water, prompting him to grab you by the base of your hair and drag you over to it. As he dunks your face into the water, you shout in protest, the shock of the cold liquid causing you to react instinctively. He lifts your head up and looks at you, his expression unreadable.

"What the fuck are you doing?! Do you just like waterboarding women in your free time?!" you yell angrily, spitting excess water onto his face.

"You're clean now," he states simply as he gestures to the now wet and cleansed skin on your face. “Come on, let’s get goin’.”

“Wait, you still want me around?” you question, surprised by his response.

“I saw you back there. Proved useful,” he acknowledges, wiping the spit off his face with a nonchalant expression. He starts walking away, and you instinctively follow his lead, the rhythm of his steps guiding you away from the ‘government’.

Trailing behind him for most of the day, you're left with nothing but the echo of your dream still etched in your mind. The surreal scene of a nuclear explosion as he touched you intimately felt oddly real, even in its absurdity. Your eyes study his form, his posture, the way he moves - every detail etching itself into your consciousness. He dunked you in cold, murky water, and yet here you are, daydreaming what it might actually feel like to have his body pressed against you.

Unknown to you, The Ghoul is wrestling with his own inner turmoil. The dream he experienced replays in his mind like a haunting loop, stirring up emotions he'd rather keep buried. He finds himself irrationally angry with you for making him feel so vulnerable, even though he knows it was just a dream. His mind is now filled with thoughts of you - the curves of your body, the softness of your lips, the gentle touch of your hands.

He feels the weight of your gaze on him, and it unnerves him more than he'd like to admit. His fingers clench tighter around the hunting knife hanging on his belt, a physical manifestation of the internal struggle he's experiencing. He doesn't dare glance back at you, afraid that the turmoil in his eyes might give away more than he intends.

"Will you stop starin'?" His abrupt words cut through the tension, causing you to freeze in your tracks. Embarrassment washes over you as you realize he's aware of your lingering gaze. Attempting to play it off nonchalantly, you open your mouth to respond, but only incoherent sputtering and mumbled words escape. He turns to face you, an intense gaze piercing you like a bullet.

“I am not staring,” you manage to assert, a hint of defensiveness in your tone. “I’m just focused on the path ahead.”

“Listen up, Smoothie. I ain't keepin' you 'round 'cause we're best buds. It's 'cause you're damn good at spillin' blood. So don't be gettin' any ideas about you and me sharin' heartfelt moments or takin' strolls in the wasteland." He snaps.

“What the fuck are you going on about?” You laugh, but then a realization dawns on you. "Oh, hang on.… Am I the reason your 'little friend' made an appearance this morning?"

“Now what do you mean litt-“ He cuts himself off abruptly, “Don’t flatter yourself, Smoothie. I ain’t one for sentimentality or... entanglements.”

A small smile begins to tug at the corners of your lips, a reaction that visibly irks him, his annoyance evident in the way his features tighten. You can’t tell if he's contemplating strangling you or something even worse. Either way, there's a subtle thrill in knowing that you're the reason he’s so worked up. You approach him with a spring in your step and pat his chest, earning a fierce glare in return.

"Don't fret, sweetheart," you grin, your tone dripping with sarcasm as you use the endearing term, "I'll just pretend this never happened. Now, how about we find a spot to camp for the night?"

Tag List: @fallout-girl219 @ellabellabunny123 @sunnexaltation @coolrobloxkid28 @cheshirecat484 @capan-deveraux2 @rebelmarylou

[tadpolesonalgae]

Azriel x reader: Peaches[*]

A/N: I have a request for some soft!dom Azriel in my inbox, so I’m kind of using this as a little bit of a practice run :)

Warnings: ass-eating and rimjob (m receiving), some light wing play, Az being a little mean in the beginning then softening out, slightly more sub!Az at the end

Word Count: 2,518

You can just imagine how good he would feel in your hands. And with the way he’s walking up the stairs, the plump and toned muscle of his ass wrapped up tight in leathers…

His wings twitch, shadows undulating and he stops at the top of the stairs, turning to look at you over his shoulder, two plates of food in his hands, leaving you to carry the drinks. “I can feel your eyes on me, you know,” he remarks with a raised brow. You flush, having been caught.

“Oops,” you say, grinning as you walk past him, “guess my gaze slipped.” He snorts, shadows pinching your ass as you strut by, making you yelp. You shoot him a glare over your shoulder, wishing you had a free hand to rub the sore skin. He gives you a panty-dropping grin, pissing you off just enough to have you kicking the door shut on him once you get in your bedroom.

He chuckles from the other side, shadows reopening the door while you set the glasses down. “Someone in a poor mood because she got caught eyeing me up?” He drawls, the smirk clear in his voice.

“I was not eyeing you up!” You snap, crossing your arms over your chest in a way that plumps your tits. His attention drops appreciatively, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. When his eyes return to yours, they’re a little darker, and you know he marks the roll of your throat.

“Please,” he purrs, setting the plates down on the bedside table. “You were looking at me like how Cassian looks at beef jerky.” His grin turns a little feral, “like you wanted to sink your teeth into me.” Heat blossoms across your lower body as he pin points the exact intent with which you had been staring at him.

Still, you raise your chin, looking down your nose at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

————

You know you’ve been staring at his ass all day.

How could you not? It’s so plump, and—and round, and…you’re actually salivating.

He hasn’t been giving you a break, wearing those leathers first thing in the morning until the last thing at night. He has to know what it does to you. Which means, he’s teasing you. You grown inwardly, knowing how your mate can be when it comes to denying your wants for his own pleasure. He’s probably enjoying this opportunity to get back at you for that one time, and the objective side of your mind knows it’s well-deserved. Still.

“What’s going on in that dumb, little mind of yours, pet?”

Arousal slams into you, knees nearly buckling at the rough timbre of his voice. You manage to keep yourself strong, refusing to allow that whimper to slip from your lips. “Where did you sneak up from?” You ask, and even to your own ears, you sound a little hoarse. His lips twitch, pressing his front into your back as he tips your chin upward, so he can look down at you properly. His hand practically swallows your throat, just holding, lightly.

“I thought I’d check in on my wife,” he drawls, and you feel the male satisfaction as the title slips smoothly from his tongue. His wife. He’d been just as obnoxious when the two of you had accepted the mating bond, calling you nothing but his mate for months on end. “See how she’s faring with these miserable chores that her miserable husband is forcing her to do.” His eyes gleam as your spine arches almost imperceptibly, his hips pushing tighter into your rear.

“He is quite miserable, isn’t he?” You murmur back. “Always denying me my fun.”

Azriel’s hands settle at your waist, spinning you around so you’re attention is fully on him—not the cleaned laundry you were folding. “And what fun are you after, wife?” He asks, hands grazing up the sides of your body until he’s cupping your cheeks, squishing them ever so lightly.

Warmth flushes your skin, but you lean into him. Your eyes flutter shut, his heat seeping into you as you allow your fingers to brush his forearms, travelling to his biceps, settling on the muscled edge of his ribs before grazing down. Your hands move over his waist, snaking around his back, descending past his hips, and—

You yelp when shadows bat your hands away, so close to finally, finally feeling him. Your eyes fly open, immediately locking on his own heated gaze, colour dusting his cheeks, canines digging into his lower lip as he watches you with an intensity that makes your legs want to fall open.

“Has no one ever taught you manners, pet?” He asks, hand sliding down to your waist while the other tilts your jaw upwards. “Ask before you touch.”

“I need permission to touch what’s mine?” You retort quietly, hunger blazing in the pit of your belly. You can scent his own arousal grow in response, grip biting into your soft skin.

His grin turns feline as he drags you closer to him, mouth brushing over your own, forcing you up onto your tiptoes, “you want more than just to touch, though, don’t you?”

————

You’re so worn out. So tired, and so ready for bed.

Between Azriel’s teasing, your job, and your own damned mind, you think you might be going crazy. The few dreams you’ve managed to keep with waking from sleep have consisted mostly of fruits…phallic and…peachy. He would never let you live it down if he knew even your subconscious was goading you to him.

You think your knees might actually collapse when you make it to your shared bedroom.

He’s sprawled across the mattress, a thin sheet covering his lower half, wings splayed gorgeously over the bed. His hair’s slightly damp, curled at the ends from the shower, and his skin looks warm, and healthy, and delicious. Marvellously firm with muscle.

Azriel doesn’t look up from the book he’s reading as your bags drop to the floor and you make a soft sound of disbelief and hunger in the back of your throat. And then you’re clumsily stumbling forward, crawling onto the bed, easing yourself between his sheet-covered legs. Falling onto your front, pressing yourself onto his ass like it’s the comfiest pillow you’ve ever come across.

It’s only then he shifts, peering over his shoulder, and you can practically imagine the smug grin on his lovely mouth seeing you finally give in. You suppose it’s not like you made a secret of your desire, but still…

Arousal builds across your body, hunger finally breaking you as you lift, prowling up his figure. He looks like he’s about to get up, so you swing your legs over his hips, keeping him pinned to the mattress. You know he could easily lift you with him, but he settles back down, a sound like a purr rumbling from his chest.

“You’re being rather dominant, wife,” he drawls, shifting so he’s comfy. You snarl softly, fed up with his teasing, setting your hands between his shoulder blades, then running them lightly to the base of one of his wings. His muscles shift and contract beneath you, rippling as your fingers skate up lightly.

The tension seeps from him as you reach the dip beneath the first joint of the powerful limb. His skin heats and a quiet groan spills from his lips, needful and soft. It’s so rare something like this happens, but it seems he’s had a long day, too, and is ready to be taken care of. You couldn’t be more relieved. Dread to think how things would have gone if he’d had the energy or the will to deny you any longer. He seems to get off of refusing your pleasure, sometimes.

You shift closer, so you’re straddling his upper back, rolling your hips down languidly from time to time, basking in the slow build of warmth. Slow, because you both have the time to indulge. Slow, because you’re in no rush. Slow, because you have all the time in the world and right now, you want it with each other. To find pleasure in the other’s body.

Leaning forward, you attach your open mouth to the ridge of his wing and he shudders, a deep, drawn-out moan purring into the silence. The sound urges your hips to roll down a little harder, basking in the delicious and firm press of hot muscle beneath you. Teeth nip, and your fingers graze those spots you’ve had memorised since the first time he’d allowed you the pleasure of touching him like that. It’s rare enough he lets you look after him, rarer still he accepts direct comfort to his wings.

You’re not sure how comfortable he is with that vulnerability. You’re mated, married, and joined in every way that counts, but you’re not going to pretend that you share absolutely everything with one another. There are still times the two of you will just sit in silence, mentally recovering from whatever trials have gotten you down that day. Plenty of times where you’ll spend a few hours apart, just to get out of the house. And it’s wonderful that way. To be comfortable enough to trust and know someone will to come back to you even after you’ve put a line in the sand…

Your tongue flicks out, dragging up the dip of bone, grazing over the powerful muscle that flexes beneath your tongue. His breath catches softly, and you pull away. Groans roughly as he falls away from the edge, but doesn’t fight for it, content to enjoy the edge.

Pulling back, you brush your thumb once more over the sensitive skin of his wing, and a sharp breath exhales from his lips. You shuffle down his body, pushing away the sheets as you go, leaving him entirely bare for you. It takes every ounce of willpower he’s instilled in you over the years to keep from pushing his legs apart right then and there and moving your mouth to your pleasure—hopefully his, too.

Instead, you tap his hip twice, lightly, then grip his side, urging him to roll over. He sighs, but turns obediently, knowing it will benefit him in the long run, wings pulling in tight as he switches onto his back. Then your mouth is opening over him, tongue flicking over the bead of moisture nestled in the slit of his tip.

Azriel moans softly, back arching as colour dusts his cheeks, fingers gently threading through your hair, raising his hips. You press a kiss to his tip, licking up the underside of him, watching as his eyes flutter closed and those quiet sounds of pleasure start becoming more regular.

He tugs lightly on your hair, and you take him into your mouth, hand gripping his base as you pump what you can’t fit. He hisses with pleasure, brow furrowing then evening out as he rolls his hips upward, gasping softly when your throat contracts around him. Again, you pull up to his tip, hand stroking him firmly but not roughly—not this time. You flick your tongue once again over his slit, pressing another kiss down, before you’re urging his bent legs further apart.

A slightly startled moan slips from his lip as you press your mouth low on his inner thigh, working closer to where you want to please him from—giving him the chance to stop you if he doesn’t yet want to try it. But his skin is warm and clean, smelling distinctly of soap and himself, and your mouth is watering.

His spine arches as your tongue circles the tight ring of muscle, flicking over then pulling away to kiss the surrounding area. His hand has released your hair in favour of the bedsheets, fingers gripping hard as you continue pumping him. He twitches, and you pull up, giving more attention to his cock.

Azriel’s shadows have joined you, grazing over his inner wing with silky softness, helping you work him to the steadily budding orgasm that will leave him hot and trembling. The darkness flicks over his gleaming chest, swirling over his nipples, making him pant. His eyes are still closed, plush lower lip caught between his teeth and you again dip down, pleased with his reactions.

You circle the tight muscle again, pumping a little harder, moving in time with the gentle roll of his hips. Your tongue pushes inside, and you hear him inhale sharply, bucking into your hand. He’s close, and now that you’ve again gotten him to the edge, you can’t bring yourself to deny him.

How could you, knowing he’s receiving pleasure everywhere he can be? In all those intimate, sensitive areas?

Your tongue flicks over him again as you squeeze him deliciously, just the right side of painful. His shadows flick and swirl, and a deep, rich moan is pulled from between his lips, spine arching enough to tip his head back into the plush pillows. He twitches again before he releases, hips bucking in time with the waves of pleasure, hot cum spilling from his tip, spurting up onto the firm planes of his toned stomach. You keep pumping until his hips begin stuttering, and then you’re easing your pace, softening your grip as he becomes infinitely more sensitive.

When he’s done, thighs trembling, panting softly into the sex-tinted air, you raise from between his legs. Lick your lips when you see the mess he’s made of himself: hot, milky liquid gleaming on the sweat-slicked muscles of his stomach, shifting and glistening in the light with his breathing. The perfect dessert.

You crawl forward slowly, careful not to ruffle him too much, tongue lolling out as you begin lapping up the creamy liquid. His hand again finds your hair, stroking gently as you hum, drinking him up. It’s only when you’re certain you’ve licked up every drop of him that you prowl up his body, until you’re on top of him.

He’s still flushed, and offers you a lazy smile that sings songs of his satisfaction. “And here I had just gotten out of my shower,” he murmurs over your up-tilted lips. You smile gently, enjoying him being the one fully naked, for once, “I’ll change the covers tomorrow, husband.”

Azriel smiles up at you, lifting his head from the pillows as he brings your mouth down to his own, soft lips slanting over your own, tasting himself on you. He groans quietly, shadows and fingers already working deftly to remove your clothes. As soon as they’re gone, and you’re gloriously bare, he’s pulling you down on him, hot skin pressing flush together.

His shadows hook beneath the sheets, pulling them up and to cover once his wings have curled over you, keeping you tucked into his chest. The heat and warmth quickly lulls you to sleep, the two of you pulled under in a matter of minutes. Breathing deepening and evening out as you fall together, wrapped in each other’s scent and warmth.

Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming

[fosszilisdinoszauruszhanyas]

[lifea16]

Incorrect quotes, for the millionth time ig

Stolas: My husband (Blitz) [The extrovert] and I [The introvert] got separated on our flight. We're in middle seats in the same row. So far I have apologized to the people sitting next to me 7 times. My husband is currently sharing beef jerky with strangers and I think he's in someone's wedding. ----- Blitz: So I just learnt you can sue people for "loss of enjoyment of life" and oh boy I have a fucking list ----- Blitz: FIGHT ME, YOU NERD ASS SLUT! Moxxie: At least try to sound slightly more sophisticated when you threaten someone. Blitz: Oh, I'm sorry. I should ask; dost thou want to engage in a duel, my good bitch? Moxxie: Somehow that's worse. ----- Blitz: Life is like the circus, because my dad signed me up for it and expects me to do my best even though I fucking hate preforming! ----- Verosika: We can’t tell you because you’re not a member of the club. Blitz: What club? Verosika: The hating Blitzo club. Blitz: …The fuck? I should be the leader of that club! ----- Blitz: Asked my therapist who their therapist was and went to see them. Asked them the same thing until I got to the final boss therapist and defeated them with my trainwreck of a life ----- Moxxie *probably high*: Money… Is like president trading cards. ----- Millie: Why are you on fire? Blitz: This is just how my day is going.

[most-datable-datable-bracket]

ROUND 3 MATCH 9

John propaganda:

“Sad beef jerky of a man with a sexy voice. He stabs a guy for being rude to you. He's cosplaying actual John Hancock. He's the town mayor that wants to leave and get shot at because he thinks he's getting too full of himself. He's also so, so sad and I need to hug him so bad.”

“Idc that he looks like bacon, I think thats very sexy of him actually.”

Dimitri propaganda:

“He's chivalrous, he's blood thirsty, all rolled up into one package and calling you "his beloved". Get you a man who can do both.”

“My husband <3 He's schizophrenic just like me and I love him for that.”

[allsadnshit]

today I went out with my husband for fresh tulips, anchovies, parmesan, a pepper, and beef jerky and we just walked around and used a gift card our neighbor gave us for cat sitting and the day has felt fast and slow at the same time and I've never been more sure I don't know what I'm doing but I can also tell I'm where I'm supposed to be and that doesn't take away any of the stress or fear it just allows me to make a home with it

[dropsnectar]

Your Puppy Siren!: When a Siren becomes a House Husband

PART TWO

NSFW

Obviously, when Baby got his legs, you couldn't just abandon him. You weren't sure exactly what was next for the two of you,, so you took it one step of a time. Baby had an issue with that, as balance wasn't necessarily a skill he could magic up with his oceanic enchantments.

He leaned on you the whole way home, taking jerky steps through the grasses.

When you showed him around the house, and the first thing he did was ask where you slept. You had shown him your bedroom and he immediately made himself comfortable about the blankets and pillows. You set him up with a copy of ‘The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe”, before going to make him dinner: mild Japanese curry. 

It was mostly vegetables, as you had only had a few ounces of ground beef left, but you hoped his stomach was as human as his now legs. His whole body had changed, leaving him now almost albino pale, with large dark eyes that were still a bit too big for his human face.

When you went to walk him to the dining room table, you found him standing, holding the book to the ceiling as he read. He was leaning back and forth on each foot, as if the movement kept him upright. Perhaps he still had his sea legs under all that new skin. 

He still needed your help to get to the table but his steps were more sure now. He ate the food happily, making sure to compliment you whenever possible. On the way back to your room, Baby could now keep his balance as he went. The first thing he did was gather as many pillows and blankets as he could from the living room, before leading you by the hand to your room, and arranging them further on the bed.

“Do you like it?” He asked, eyes eager. It had never occurred to you that Sirens may nest, but you took it in stride.

“It looks very warm.” you apeased, tired. 

Sleeping on the nest didn't go as bad as you thought, but Baby had been a bit confused when you had tucked a blanket around the two of you

“It's to keep us warm.” 

He had responded by pulling you to his arms and wrapping his legs around you.

“I can do that just fine.” He beamed. You laughed and let him hold you as you fell asleep. You could figure out Baby's fate tommorrow.

You had always pushed off the deciding of Baby's fate to tommorrow. You couldn't face it. Going to your part time job, then nursing school had been difficult for you. You were exhausted everyday you came back home.

Baby made himself as useful as he could. You had taught him some of the basics of cleaning the house. He had seemed somewhat confused by the idea of cleaning, but he took it upon himself to make sure the place was gleaming when you got home. You had taken him to the library a day after his legs sprung up, and he had carried home a pile of books, one of them being “Martha Stawarts Complete Guide to Housekeeping”.

 You hadn't resided in the place long, but places you hadn't even realized were dirty were suddenly sparkling and smelling lightly of lavender and orange peels. 

He had also brought home a whole pile of fish. It seemed that he could now shift his form back and forth at will. You remember coming home, sweat covered and in need of ibuprofen, when you found a pile of fish on the kitchen table. He had looked so proud if himself.

“We can keep them all in the freezer! What a useful device!”

You had gently taken his arms in hand and explained that humans weren't able to eat fish whole like sirens could. They had to be stripped of their scales and deboned. He seemed a bit tired by this, yet another a strange human quirk, but had taken it in stride. Per his request you had set him up with an instructional video on the subject. 

He seemed to catch on pretty quickly, the only difference was that rather than using a sharp knife, he had preferred to use his talon like nails. They were retractable, he clarified later, and arguing they were cleaner than any knife when you had demanded he washed his hands before working.

“They will only get dirty again anyway!” He had argued, one of the few times he had ever done anything but smile at you. The concept of germs was met with raised eyebrows and apprehension. 

For the first time in your life, you gave him “the look”. As this seemed to be a communication move that spanned species, he gave in, washing his talons? Claws? Before going back to his work.

A silent system had begun to flesh itself out. You brought home the money and groceries, and did most of the cooking, he did everything else. And anything you asked of him. Which wasn't much, but he became more and more useful by the day. 

You couldn't help but feel a bit proud for Baby. The more you learned about him and Siren Life the more different the two of you seemed. But he had been adjusting so well, you almost didn't have to worry about him. Plus, it was hard to be mad at someone who made a point of taking care of you, like he did. 

He gave you shoulder messages, microwaved old dinners when you didn't feel like eating. Hed shush you, and sometimes carry you to bed, petting your hair and singing you to sleep everytime everything felt like too much. And that was often. 

It had been a week since he had taken up shop in your bedroom, and reality reared its big fat head like a snake. You had been whisked away to bed, and instead of cooing at you and humming that impossibly sweet voice of his, he had started to nibble on the side of your neck, hands reaching towards your pajama shorts. His tongue felt so incredibly good, and his touch was like silk, but you knew where this would leave.

“Stop. We don't have any protection.”

He had frozen and blinked at you, expression changing to the barely concealed mask of an adult trying to not laugh at a child's sudden declaration.

“If I sense any danger, I will deal with it immediately. Now come here…” His voice grew husky. You trailed back.

“I know we haven't talked about this before but what if… well you're a human so im not sure if it'll be the same but… I can't get pregnant. I don't know if it works the old fashion way or you might lay eggs in me or something but… we need to be careful.”

He was still smiling but he was biting his lip. “While I DO lay eggs, that part of me hasn't changed, I don't understand why it would be an issue. I am your husband, after all, shouldn't it be normal to have children at some point?”

“H-husband? Why do you think you're my husband?”

Babys face changed, the closest you had ever seen him get to upset. “We mated, we share a nest, how am I NOT your husband?”

“We had sex, yeah, but we didn't get married. Do Sirens mate for life? Is that why you think this?” 

His expression grew animated and confused.

“Sirens do not mate for life, we have breeding seasons. But Humans mate for life, do they not? Why do you think I have been doing all this? I mean, I even made you a nest and you slept with me in it! How much more is their to a human marriage ritual?” 

You stared at him, the realization dawning. You slowly put your hand over his and arranged your expression to one of patience.

“Humans used to mate for life. But ita a bit different now. We can have sex, even spend years courting before we agree to marry.”

Baby just stared at you, his confusion and anger turning to one of hurt.

“B-but what does that mean? I told you, I love you. I want to be with you.” He leaned forward tears starting to glisten at the corner of his eyes.

“I wanted a life with you. I threw my old life away the moment I got these legs. I have no idea where my pod is now, I can not return to them. I do not wish to return. I want to stay here, with you and be your mate.” He nuzzled his nose against yours and then took your cheeks in his hand. He gazed into your eyes, filled with longing.

“I may be new to being your partner; at being Human too. But I will do whatever you ask of me. Please. Be mine?” 

He started to kiss your forehead. Then your eyes. Then your cheeks. His gaze strayed to your lips and he whined out, full blown tears now streaming from his eyes. 

“I'll be so good. So good for you.” 

Your heart went out to him. You had to admit, life had gotten so much easier to bear since he had entered it. No one could make you laugh like he could, could make you as curious as he could, could kiss you like he could. 

You thought about it. Genuinely thought about it. You had a job, and nursing would pay you enough to pay for both of your lives once you started. You'd have to teach him how to properly navigate human society but he was so smart and charming, you were sure he would do so well. You came up with so many reasons why it could be doable, but the most important one was you didn't want to let him go.

“It'll be really hard for you. Are you sure you want this?” You whispered. “Want… me? You could spend the rest of your life sharing your season with mate after mate. Are you sure you would want to spend the rest of your days with me?”

He looked at you with intensity, the light finally dawning across his features. 

“It will always be you.” And then he was on you. Was kissing you.

He was quick to take off your clothes, and did the same. His mouth was hot and needy, the feeling of his tongue in your mouth being everything you could ever want. That was except for one or two other places. 

As if he could read your mind, he grinned, pulling himself down to stare at your groin, fingers grasping, teasing and exploring every sensitive curve and crevice. Then he got to work with his mouth and you groaned, your core turning molten. You could hear the noises of his mouth on your flesh, and it made your cheeks overheat. 

His tongue glided around you as he sucked with his full mouth, making you shake and jerk under him. He made sure to pin you down with his hands now, before he started to trill and sing around you.

You chocked, pushing your hips up against his big string hands, which were now a mix of grey and white. It seems he had been riled up to, as his form was caught halfway between human and Siren. It was a new sight and he was absolutely gorgeous and one long note made you crash over the edge, toes and fingers curling. 

The whole time his eyes were on you, gauging your reaction. He continued to auck you through the high but now started clawing at your entrance, circling slick little shapes. He seemed to take great joy in this, teasing your ache, before he plunged his fingers in making you choke and sigh all at once. When he was certain the area was worked enough, he gave you big puppy dog eyes. 

“Can I be yours again?” He whispered huskies slowing the rate of his fingers. You nodded and he pulled himself up, pumping his own cock a few times making sure it was properly slick. His cock was half transformed too. It was extremely veins and the ridges weren't as pronounced, but he was thicker. You licked your lips as you remembered how he felt inside you.

Aware that you were watching him he keened in pride. He then slowly inserted himself, pushing further and further until you took every inch of him. You gasped out and clawed at the sheets in pleasure as he pumped you, his own eyes glazing over as he unleashed low, pornagraphic moans. He was louder than he had ever been, snapping his hips into yours, fingers clutching deep into skin. He looked completely blissed out as he rocked himself into you, huffing and moaning.

“Sound. So. Beautiful.” You breathed, knowing he was getting close. You could feel a heaviness now in the air. He wouldn't be able to help it. He'd be so drunk he'd use that song of his and you'd cum and cum for him until he was too far in exctasy to make any noise. And you were right.

You could tell he was holding it in. But he couldn't help but hum out, a song that seemed to cup and penatrate your very soul, making your entire mind stuffy and silly. You didn't want him to stop, going over the edge as another one of his moans turned into a full blown note. He kept bucking into you, skin slapping skin, as he keened and hummed and sang out for you. He wanted you to feel good. Wanted you to cum and feel good only for him. Because you were his.

When you felt his cum splash inside you it was warm, and more sludge like. It took a while to seep put of you. A comedic point in the back of your mind noted, “No eggs”. 

He pulled himself to your side, pulling you tight to him. “Can… can I stay in you for a while?” He said it in a light begging tone. You nodded, a pulse of faraway pleasure as he pushed his soft dick inside you again. It felt nice, being one with him in this sweet comfortable moment.

You wanted to ask him about the magic, about the song and how for just a moment, it was like you could read his mind. But their was something so special about the moment, you didn't want to push him too far. Maybe next time, you could egg him on to use that power on you, to be completely encompassed by his pleasure and song. 

“I know your tired, and we can wait but… can we do it again?” He pushed his nose to yours and traced it up and down, his eyes watery and begging. You could feel his dick twitch inside you. 

“Please just let me spoil you. It is our wedding night after all…”

You had to stop yourself from correcting him. Tomorrow you would explain vows and wedding ceremony, but for now you'd just give in. But you had to admit, now a big piece of you belonged only to him.. So, in a way he had been right.

[madmanwonder]

Prompt: Someone stole Jaune’s beef jerky

Jaune: *Calm but Angry* Someone stool my beef jerky and someone is going to die in a very brutal and violet death

Jaune to a Grimm:

Everyone: *Scared Out of their Mind*

Pyrrha: *Fawning* That is my future husband and father to my children there~