#clay roach × you

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

May or may not have a bit of Clay Roach brain rot rn, and I'm thinking like.. hurt/comfort thing where reader knew Clay some years ago before the drugs and everything but lost contact, but they run into eachother again and reader is just.. heartbroken at the way he's ended up. So it leads to some old feelings coming up and some possible smut so they both can get away from their problems for a bit

My beloved nonnie, I knew I'd have a field day with this ask, but still, it somehow got rather out of hand 😅🫶🏻🖤

Old Habits Die Hard

Summary: It’s said that your pupils dilate when you look at someone you love, but is it really love or just the drugs this time?

Pairing: sub!Clay Roach x using!fem!Reader

Word Count: -4k (Y’all know I have a lot to say about Clay)

Content Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat!, Drugged-Up Smut 18+!, Biting, Bruising, Choking, Riding, Unprotected P In V, Slapping, Scratching, Degradation, Explicit Consumption of Drugs (Codeine & Paracetamol), Explicit Mentions Of Other Substances, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions Of Withdrawal, Talk About Track Marks, Clay Being A Tripsitter For Reader, Emotional Constipation And Rather Questionable Ways To Deal With That

A/N: Buckle up, friends, this will be….a trip.

Tagging the horny horde:

@crypticsewerslut @quicksilversg1rl @cc-luvr @icarus-star @milaeth @roryculkinsgf @spookyorchid @arch1viste @whoareyoi @angelsanarchy @blueberrypancakesworld @rocketqueen-world @lifelessvessel @doddernix @svgarcaine @amayalul @basementgrl222 @kristennero-wallacewellsver @iiheartsai @fan-goddess @shady-the-simp

No more alone or myself could I be

Lurched like a stray to the arms that were open

No shortage of sordid, no protest from me

With her sweetened breath, and her tongue so mean

She's the angel of small death and the codeine scene

- The Angel Of Small Death & The Codeine Scene By Hozier

With a cotton-dry mouth, your raspy tongue practically sticking to the roof, you cleared your throat, feeling clumps of nicotine-infused mucus rumbling in your lungs. Turning your lazy body from your back to your side, your thoroughly fogged-up mind started scrambling for a memory, a shard of something to hold on to. There was barely anything, but a comfortably perfume-doused pillow against your cheek and a warm blanket around your shoulders, both indicating that you found yourself at home at least.

The crusty residue around your weary eyes let you know that you must’ve slept like a log and upon slowly opening them up to the dimly lit bedroom you very well knew why. It should’ve sent a jostle of shock through your nerve endings but instead, a blubbered laugh trickled out of a sly grin as you studied the scene of the crime.

You knew you hated drugs, really, really despised and detested them…that was up to the point something, some not-so-minor inconvenience, rendered you desperate for something to escape yourself with for a little while. Ever since the first glass of sparkly sweet white wine at the tender age of 15 years or the first secretly smoked joint on a children's playground in the dead of night with your best friend during high school, you knew about the marvelous powers of substances and their quite excellent capability of shutting off your always-firing neurons.

Right now, as your thoughts scrambled around inside your skull, it felt as if thick tar clogged your mental gears from turning properly, and with your eyes counting at least half a dozen cough syrup bottles scattered between a blister pack of good ol’ paracetamol pills it made a whole lot of sense to you.

“Well, don’t mind if I do…” You chuckled to yourself before slipping your body from under the blanket, letting your legs dangle over the edge before searching for a somewhat still halfway-full bottle of cough syrup with one hand while the other was busy pressing two white, circular-shaped paracetamol pills out of their aluminum confines.

The decision to continue this little bender was already made but just to check in, you threw your little, digital alarm clock a brief glance.

“Yes, perfect!” You quipped in amusement upon the information that it was only Saturday afternoon, more than enough time to treat yourself to another buzz or maybe even two before winding down to be back on track and a part of the office desk machinery like every Monday.

After washing the pills down with a carefully curated overload of somewhat oily cough syrup, that stuck to the back of your throat, you moved to lean your back against the headboard to light yourself a cigarette, the sad rest of a halfway-smoked one still dangling on the brim of the stained glass ashtray on your nightstand. Just in the very moment in which you found yourself about to light the cigarette, pulling the lighter to your lips, you noticed something or much more someone out of the corner of your eye.

“What the fuck…” You muttered to yourself, discarding lighter and cigarette right back to where they came from as your eyes widened in a muffled-down sensation of surprise.

It wouldn’t have been the first time that you brought yourself a little something something back home from a bender, but it happened rather rarely still. However, something inside, down at the depths of your chest started whirring as your eyes wandered over a glossy brown mess of disheveled, curly hair. Something distinct about its color and the way the ends coiled up to bouncy curls had you feeling just too much for being intoxicated like this. For a moment, you pondered over simply evacuating your own apartment but that would’ve been nothing but ridiculous. In addition, you didn’t exactly feel like riding out your next high in broad sunlight with people nattering, chatting and buzzing all around you, nope. The surge of mellow euphoria was meant for a cold diet Coke and a Led Zeppelin record running on the player right opposite from you on the dusty TV stand.

“Hey there?”, You nudged the body to your left carefully with your elbow, “Wakey, wakey…”

“Huh?” The someone reciprocated in a slightly startled groan, the tone of his voice causing your brows to furrow because it was somehow terribly familiar to you.

This sort of raspy, sleep-drunk sigh had your mind reeling to remember the person it belonged to and as soon as the man next to you started turning himself onto his back, you nearly choked on your own breath.

“Hi…” You croaked out, your throat rendering dry and if it hadn’t been for the meticulously measured-out amount of paracetamol and codeine in your bloodstream, you would’ve plummeted into a pitch-black puddle of emotional hurt as your eyes just couldn’t get away from a pair of bright blue ones staring right back.

“Hi…” The man you knew since way before he had grown just the first stubble on his chin murmured back, a softly lopsided smile tugging at the corner of his lip to curl up.

For what seemed to be endless minutes, the both of you just stared at each other. Something led you to believe that Clay knew a bit more about how both of you had ended up at your place and you felt yourself being not completely indifferent to asking about it.

“You…huh?” You pointed your head towards him in a soft movement, resting your chin on your pulled-up knees afterward.

With a sigh, the smile on Clay’s face died away.

“I was afraid about you not remembering anything from last night, got you home.” Clay nodded whilst pulling himself up to lean against the headboard of your bed just as well, the blanket gliding down over his front and giving free sight to a severely malnourished body.

“You brought me home?” You arched your brows at him a little further, your thoughts still very busy with piecing just anything together until you eventually came to the conclusion that you’d blacked out at some point.

“Yeah, and I’m glad I did. You were there and at the same time you really really weren’t.” Whilst looking at him, the feeling of being berated by him of all people grew inside of you.

“Hmhm..judgy.” You sneered, feeling the discomfort rising in your chest.

“I’m not judging. I was worried.” Clay brushed vagrant strands of his now much longer hair out of his face.

The last time you had seen him, about two…maybe three years ago, his hair had hardly reached over his earlobes and now the curled-up ends cascaded over his skinny collarbones.

“Oh, I get it, Clay, okay. So you are allowed to be worried but I wasn’t, huh? Wasn’t allowed to maybe point out that a needle in your arm for breakfast is too far off, even for us, no, yeah fuck you!” Rolling your eyes and shaking your head at him, you got your buzzing body off the bed to waddle into the kitchen to grab yourself one of the cans of fizzy diet Coke you craved so much right now.

“I’ve gotten myself out of that if you do so much as care about it.” Clay called after you, trying to not set even more fire to the whole situation.

“ ‘S that all you have to say about that? Fucking hypocrite.” Metallic creaking and the sound of soda bubbling in an aluminum can followed right after, the noises not able to drown out the breaking and cracking inside of you in the slightest.

You hated talking down to him like that but your hurt ego and damaged pride just couldn’t handle it any differently right now, the pain of forcefully having to split ways with Clay was still much too prominent in your memory. You went to detox and he drowned himself out in the endless shadows of whatever shady alleyway or shooting gallery out there. For quite a while before his slip-ups eventually, had you questioning everything enough to get your own ass into rehab, you had watched him getting worse with every passing week. You most certainly weren’t a saint yourself, no, but you still knew how you had begged him to go to rehab with you, to get the help the both of you needed desperately at that point but it hadn’t been to any avail. Stubborn and head-strong Clay Roach had made his choice and that one had broken your heart so hard that you’d promised yourself to never ever entertain his company ever again. Nights had been spent with nothing but ugly crying and sobbing about his stupid ass in rehab, you worried sick with the countless what-ifs fuelled by detrimental withdrawal anxiety until you had gradually killed every little bit of sympathy for him inside of you. It had been tedious and endlessly painful work but you had managed it to a point where you felt like you could breathe again without your body longing for him like your lungs did for oxygen.

“This is not me belittling you, okay?”, Clay looked up at you with pleading eyes the second you stepped back out of the kitchen, the can of soda tightly in your grasp, “This is me being a self-righteous bastard that’s too proud to say sorry.”

“That’s more like it.”, You scoffed, brows knit together as your gaze wandered over his torso, “Somehow I don’t trust you, arm’s up.”

For a second, Clay frowned at your demand but acted upon it equally quickly.

“There, no track marks, happy? Haven’t touched that shit in over a year.” He waited for your approval but you didn’t really feel like trusting him still.

“What else are you on? You don’t just run into somebody on the scene because you got lost on the way…” With an almost irritating smile on his face, Clay shrugged his shoulders.

“Funny how we didn’t bump into one another on the scene but at the damned 7/11 down the road at around 3 A.M. I had a few drinks, yeah, and maybe I was a bit starstruck as you squeezed yourself out of the entrance right next to me without even so much as taking notice of me. And maybe, just maybe, I turned on my heels to run after you before you vanished off into the night again.”, With his eyes, Clay pointed down his front, “And about that…I’m on a Methadone prescription that massively fucks with my appetite, thank you for asking.”

“Methadone?” You asked quietly, trying to play right over the part where you felt like breaking down and crawling into his arms that practically called out to you.

“Yeah, I’m slowly getting off of that, too, but I’m not quite there just yet. Maybe 3 to 6 months longer and that’s also a done deal. How about you?” Clay’s eyes darted toward the mess of small brown bottles and confetti of aluminum foil on your nightstand.

“Rare weekend bender. Had a shitty week, y’know.” You answered before taking a swig from the can.

“Uh-huh.”, Clay nodded, “Guilty pleasure, hm?”

“Yeah, something like that.” The heavily carbonated drink bubbled in your stomach, pressing a tiny, choked-back burp out of you.

“Listen…”, Clay sighed and with that, your ears perked up, “ I know, I hurt you…a lot, to say the least, and not a single day went by where I didn’t regret being such a bastard, okay? I know I fucked it up, spectacularly.”

“I appreciate the apology but…” You mumbled reluctantly.

“But, what?” Clay allowed his arms to slump down onto the bed again, his form slowly relaxing.

“But… I don’t know, Clay. To be perfectly real with you here, I’m losing my train of thought right now.” You shrugged your shoulders, taking another mouthful of diet Coke before placing the can on the nightstand.

“It’s okay…maybe come’ere then?” He carefully invited you to ride your growing buzz out right next to him under the soft blankets.

“Uh-huh, yeah…” A soft yawn snaked out of your mouth as the increasing drowsiness washed through your muscles with every beat of your heart.

Exhaling an even longer yawn right after the first, you just gave in to the pull his presence had on you and snuck yourself under your duvet and into his careful embrace. His heartbeat thumbing in a slow and steady pace against your ear pulled all of your focus towards him and the comfortably warm rush spreading from your stomach throughout the rest of your body. Feeling his skin against your cheek took you right back to those times when something along the lines of this used to be the regular weekend activity but then quickly morphed into something more dangerous than just a weekend trip of numbed-out euphoria. You tried not to think about it but the memories plopped up inside your mind all by themselves, making you physically cringe.

"What's that now?" Clay murmured to you, his voice soft and breathing calm.

"It's…memories." You sighed, trying to relax and to simply let go of them.

"That's okay. Remind yourself that they can't hurt you, those times are over, I promise." You struggled a little with following his words as your brain started to come up with more or less random thoughts.

"Why…why didn't you just let me be last night? What gave you the audacity to sneak yourself back into not only my life but…but also my apartment, huh?" The words slipped from your tongue, halfway muzzled by his chest.

"I dunno.", It sounded like he almost laughed it out gently, "Maybe it was really just audacity and the stubborn hopes of an idiot like me."

"Hmhmm…" You mumbled away, eyes fluttering shut as you felt yourself gradually drifting into sensory oblivion, a far-off place where nothing really bothered you anymore.

With a barely even there grin, you had to admit to yourself that Clay's chest was a much more comfortable thing to fall into than just your pillow as the buzz eventually took over. Your mind and muscle memory went straight back to feeling safe with him, taken care of and protected because even though back then it had been the two of you knocked out of your socks, Clay had never failed to cradle you in his arms and keep you sheltered from everything and anything.

After your eyes had fallen shut and your pulse calmed down to a low beat, you lost track of just how long you had dozed off. It could've been just a few hours or half a day, regardless, it was dark outside and a nice, crisp breeze went through the halfway-open window of your bedroom. Now that the tiring numbness slowly wore off, a pampering flush of warm euphoria followed, the kind of feeling that encouraged you to prolong it by having a couple of drinks or tempted you to get teasingly touchy with either yourself or whoever was with you. An arguably treacherous slippery slope having Clay, whose fingers were busy playing through your hair, right next to you.

“What time is it?” You sighed, shamelessly nuzzling your face further into his shoulder until the tip of your nose stroked against his neck, inhaling his scent and allowing it to fill up your nostrils.

“Hey there, sunshine.”, He yawned in return, the smile on his face audible, “About half past 8. How are you feeling, hm?”

“Surprisingly rested…” You replied, your voice still a little drowsy whilst your lips were eagerly creeping up to brush over his pulse point, the faint taste of salty sweat seeping into your mouth upon contact.

“Oh…I wouldn’t mind you doing that again…” Clay breathed against the crown of your head, picking right up on your nonverbal invitation whilst his hand roamed underneath the blanket, searching for yours.

“You mean that?” You led your lips to plant a kiss on his neck, sucking the sensitive skin between your teeth to leave a small hickey.

“Uh-huh…”, It rolled over his tongue as his lean fingers closed down around your wrist to pull your hand up to his exposed throat, silently proposing to you to press your palm around it, “Wouldn’t mind you being a little mean to me either. I do believe I deserve that, no?”

“Bold of you to assume what you deserve in the first place.” You teasingly sneered back, hand carefully yet firmly closing down around his throat whilst your lips latched onto his earlobe.

Clay had played it smart and that drew a sly smile from you. Line, hook and sinker.

“I thought, I-” The imminent wash of pain emitting from his earlobe as you bit down on it had him gagging on his words.

“Yet another mistake.”, You hummed against the shell of his ear, clicking your tongue tauntingly after letting the warm flesh between your teeth scrape out of your mouth.

“What do you want me to do then?” Clay croaked, his voice gradually cut off by your carefully tightening grasp around his throat.

“Much better.”, You cooed in return whilst the buzzing warmth from your stomach gradually shot down amidst your thighs in increasingly needy jolts, “I want you to take your shorts off and then you shut the fuck up, got that?”

He nodded vigorously, his chin nearly meeting the back of your hand as you felt his Adam’s apple bobbing against your palm. Just like you told him to, Clay shimmied out of his shorts whilst your free hand was busy pulling your own panties down until you were able to smoothly slip out of them.

For a split second, your thoughts halted, the flood of countless, well-familiar memories rushing through overworked synapses leading you to question if this whole endeavor was the right road to take right now before the excitement and your own physical need to feel him took over again. Forcing any doubt into the nothingness at the very back of your mind, you threw your right leg over his hips to straddle his lap, Clay’s already eager hard-on pressing against your soaked cunt.

“Fuck..” He gasped out, his eyes beaming at you through a half-lidded gaze.

As soon as you let your crotch slide down a little, allowing his pulsing cock to push into you at once, you served his cheek a hefty slap.

“I told you to shut the fuck up, didn’t I?” Clay’s head lolled to the side upon impact, a deep grunt rippling through his chest as he nodded again.

“Not a single whine…” You stated, starting to rock your hips against his.

You barely allowed your own body to adjust to his full girth, resulting in a comfortably painful stretch to accommodate his size. For a blissful moment, your pulse throbbed through your walls as the tip of his cock thrusted against that particularly sensitive spot inside of you, sending pleasure buzzing like an electric current through your muscles.

With every sensation amplified by the cocktail of substances flooding your bloodstream, you released Clay’s throat from your grip, a single shred of reason reminding you not to choke him out in an unfortunate accident. Instead, both of your hands clawed down on his chest, nails digging into his pale skin, drilling until you left an array of angry, red streaks that made him twist and twitch under your fingertips as not one singular noise left his trembling lips.

“Look at you, hedonistic traitor, finally understanding the assignment, nuh?” It was undeniable that your words cut deep but in that very instance, you wanted them to, needed Clay to suffer just as much as you did and in the way his eyes got glossed over with a tell-tale watery sheen you know he did.

“Oh, you know you don’t deserve any of that right now, don’t you? Don’t deserve to be balls deep inside of me, no.” You pushed it further, borderline hurting yourself by spewing those vile words right at him, the malevolence oozing right out of every single one.

To somehow, haphazardly counteract the emotional dread, you picked up the pace, pounding his back into the mattress underneath over and over, repeatedly sending shots of physical pleasure through the both of you.

“Good god, fuck…” It left your mouth in a shaky moan, your body most certainly not used to so many bodily sensations since you very much opted right out of any sort of long-term dating after having to split from Clay.

The vast majority of orgasms that had rippled through you since then were your own doings and none of them could just barely reach the state of growing bliss you found yourself in right now. If it hadn’t been for your own needy desperation, you’d dragged it out longer, toyed with him a little more but as of now you just couldn’t be bothered with any of that. Rocking your waist against his lap again and again, you felt the rapidly tightening coil in your lower abdomen growing ready to snap, your walls clenching down around his cock and pulling him in impossibly deep with every further thrust.

The very thing that eventually pushed you right past your threshold was the dire expression on his face. Clay was biting down on his bottom lip so hard to remain silent that his teeth nearly dug deep enough to draw blood.

“Issok…” You huffed out, your own breath nearly getting stuck in your throat as you felt the first contractions rendering you cockdrunk, waves of trashing release washing through you like an uncontrollable tide.

With your permission given, Clay whined out in pleasure himself, his head pushing back into the pillow as he shoved himself into you as deep as possible, spilling his pent-up seed in heavy pumps.

“Fuck!” He cussed out, his hands reaching towards your waist to hold you right in place as his cock throbbed and twitched inside of you, shooting ropes of his release into your oozing cunt.

You felt the warmth of his cum pushing past, trickling out of you to pool between your slightly shaking, sweat-soaked thighs. Minutes appeared to pass in silence until both of you slowly came back from your orgasmic highs, breaths trying to be caught again.

“How do you feel about grabbing a drink?” Out of all things it was that what splattered out of your mouth.

“Sure as fuck wouldn’t say no to that…” Clay laughed back from underneath you.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hello Hal,

Congratulations on 5k followers <3 I’m so happy for you honey!!, for the request can we get a cute fluff short story with roach please ? You can do whatever you want w it !

Have fun and congrats again :)

—Raining Cats and Dogs

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Roach has a deep love of storms.] ❞

It was raining more in the last few hours than it had in the entire month, with a constant deluge of harsh winds and the occasional lightning strike; the rumble of dark-clouded thunder above the roof. Yet here, snuggling on the couch, you and Gary reveled in it. 

The curtains were open to watch the raindrops, your cheek to the man’s chest as the warmth of the fireplace made you sleepy. There was no vacancy of comfort in this living room, Gary’s fingertips traveling up and down the length of your spine as the minutes slid into hours. The air was heavy with sappy heat, the thin blanket long pushed down past your shoulder blades. 

His breath was puffing against your forehead, your nose situated in the junction of his chin. Gary was humming, too. A tiny little melody that neither of you could name—perhaps it wasn’t even a conscious symphony, just a mess of rough pitches and whatever he felt sounded good enough for your ears. You weren’t complaining, even if he was no lyricist. 

His arm at your waist tightens, pulling you closer as he nuzzles his nose into your head with a tiny grunt. 

Gary’s eyes are half-closed, the deep well of color soft and as malleable as clay. There was no need to speak to one another, no, in moments like these, the silence spoke for the both of you. The crackle of fire, the slam of rain; soft inhalations of your lungs. You press a warm kiss into his neck, and Gary’s lips pull into a tiny smile, his fingers digging into your flesh that yields to him as his gaze glints. 

His chest reverberates with a hum, purring like a cat while a smug expression litters the lax lines of his face. With a gentle shift of his body, the man settles your back to the cushions as he shimmies to loom above you, blanket tying the both of you together in its fabric arms. 

Gary’s hand is under your shirt, the wide hold of his grip cupping your opposite hip from behind as he suddenly collapses atop you with a sigh. You grunt, before a tiny fit of wheezed giggles escapes your lungs, the weight of his body no concern as his head shoves itself into your stomach, legs out behind him with one hanging off the edge. Head against the pillow, your warm hands rub through Gary’s hair, carding through the locks as he loses all focus and sags—eyes fluttering at the scrape of your nails. 

You both release a long breath as a slash of lightning slices the dark world outside; neither of you flinches, not even the Sergeant in your grip, when the thunder rolls through. There wasn’t anything to fear in this house, and there never would be. 

So, Gary gradually succumbs to the ministrations of your touch, his humming tapering off until nothing but his gentle snores give you their song. You continue to play with his hair, thumb rubbing circles. 

The fire burns on, the storm continues its rampage, and the lovers fall to sleep in each other’s arms.

[the-faceless-bride]

@xxshadowbabexx has inspired me! With this fic, I've decided to take it to the extreme. Because I love extreme and insane readers, it's my favorite. So this is gonna have a big warning for mean cheater 141 (most of them) and dark yandere like reader that will hurt people.

Warnings: AN ACTUAL INSANE READER! READER IS A YANDERE! FULL ON UNHEALTHY AND DANGEROUS YANDERE PERSON! A VERY BAD INDIVIDUAL! Cheating, gaslighting, making your partner listen/watch you have sex with someone else, blood, needles, violence, kidnapping?, blackmail, stalking, forcing to take medications implications of Murder, implications of necrophilia, manipulation, dubcon-Noncon affection, kissing, reader putting marks on themselves, hugging, im serious if you are sensitive to dark content then don't read this. There's a lot of uproar about dark content and im telling you please don't read it if you don't like it. Both The guy and reader are NOT good people. reader is insane. You've been warned.

Also, I wrote this while listening to Emotion repeatedly as I thought it was fitting in a psychotic way.

Characters (in order) - Soap, Konig, Ghost, Gaz, Price, Alejandro (no Graves or Roach, sadly I don't know enough about roach to write for him and I must inform you I am not a Graves Girlie. Maybe if you have some good Graves fic I can get into him but as of now Graves just doesn't do it for me, sorry.)

Whether you like it or not.

Soap - you were seeing signs everywhere. lipstick stains, perfume that wasn't yours, hickeys you didn't remember giving him. You were certain he was cheating, but with whom? You tried poking at him now and again but he would always say the same thing, "I don't know what you're talking about Bonnie.- Bonnie don't be so paranoid this cock is all yours. I promise.- Bonnie I don't know when you became a crazy jealous person but it hurts me you think I would do that."

All lies. You knew they were. You just never got any proof. At some point, you thought you were going crazy. but that was until you came home early one day after staying a night at your brother's new house. Johnny was home but there was another car... Your best friend. Johnny had her bent over as he sucked on her neck. You watched for a moment before hiding behind the wall, you had come just in time for them to finish and start re-dressing, you let the rage fester and infect you, feeling the anger and sorrow of the betrayal of not only the love of your life but your trusted friend.

When they both emerge from the bedroom and your friend locks eyes with you and her lips start trembling the rage finally boils over. Meanwhile, Johnny made his way to you. "Bonnie it's not what it-"

You shoved him from you storming your way to your once friend grabbing her by her hair and screaming in her face, you can barely remember what you said. You were in such a rage you had let spurs of names, insults, and threats all one after the other. Only stopping when you felt a strong hand pull you away. "Bonnie stop you're scaring her! It's not what you think!" you yank your arm from his grasp, "you're defending her?! You son of a bitch! You get her the fuck out of my house before I rip her fucking hair out!" you threaten and she scrambles out between the two of you. You follow her to the door, never reaching out to grab her but you yell at her the whole way out to her car, when she drives off you make your way back into the house to deal with Johnny.

"How dare you. HOW DARE YOU! YOU MADE ME FEEL LIKE I WAS CRAZY!-"

"YOU ARE FUCKING CRAZY BONNIE!- you're acting crazy right now!"

"CRAZY?! You were cheating on me! WITH MY FRIEND! I saw you!"

" You don't even know what you saw."

He begins to turn away from you... He thinks he can fuck you the night before. Tell you he loves you. FUCK. Your best friend. Then tell you you're crazy. AND GO BACK TO RELAX IN YOUR BEDROOM?!?!

You let out a cry of anger, betrayal, and disbelief as you pick up the big decorative clay vase before giving it a big swing and smashing it to pieces over his head.

Johnny slowly turned around "Bonnie..." blood trailed down the side of his head, trying to take a step towards you but lost his footing, sliding down the wall and slumping to the floor.

------

Johnny woke up, his head pounding and his body chained to the cold hard ground. His head was wrapped and disinfected. He tried to get up but he was stuck. The chains were thick, whoever did this knew normal cuffs wouldn't hold him.

"Hey, baby." Johnny looked to his side, you sat at the top of the stairs to your basement. "Bonnie- wha- what happened? ... What did you do?"

You smiled and walked down the stairs before standing in front of him. "Johnny. You know I love you.", he stares at you. Maybe he'd pushed you too far.

"Bonnie. I- im sorry, let's jus talk bout this and we can-" he tried to reason with you, maybe if he could talk to you he could talk you down. Reverse a little bit of the damage he'd done.

"oh no, Johnny. I thought you liked my friend. So I thought I could give you one last hurrah! Before you don't get to see anyone again!"

You started walking up the stairs and Johnny began to slightly panic, "c'mon bonnie, I am sorry. Plus! You can't keep me here, the team would come looking for me!" he tried to reason.

"no! You are off due to injury remember? You are here for a good three years! And if it takes longer than you to break... Well, im sure I can give a convincing enough lie that you never made it home. Send them on a while chase looking for you!" you called from the top of the stairs, before grunting, and a large thud was heard as it banged on each step down the stairs.

Oh God. It was her.

It was her. Your friend. Her eyes were glassy and drained. Skin pale and bruised. Bloodied. Dead.

"well, Johnny. Have the last bit of your fun."

"wha- what..."

"do it. You don't want to feel what she did do you?."

"What?"

"you don't want me to have to hurt you, Johnny. Don't you?" you threatened. And Johnny knew he didn't have a choice.

He took hold of her cold body, these three years would be hell for him... He prayed that he wouldn't break...

Konig - you couldn't believe him. You'd caught him in the middle of undressing another woman. She screamed when she saw you in the doorway which prompted Konig to turn around in horror as he made eye contact, he stood up and tried talking to you as the woman rushed out the door sloppily dressing herself.

The excuse he gave you made your eye twitch and your fingers itch to wrap around his neck and squeeze. The only thing stopping you was his size. You knew that if you tried he'd have you on the ground in a matter of seconds. "I just wanted to prove to myself I was good for you!" you took a long look into his eyes. Before laughing. You laughed at him. And you laugh good and hard for thirty seconds, of non-stop hysterical laughter. And every time you looked back at him and saw his hurt expression it made you laugh even harder.

After your laughing fit you went eerily calm, before telling him in a straight face, it's ok. I forgive you.

-------

But Konig quickly got the idea that it wasn't true. One night when he came home from a mission, he heard strange noises coming from your bedroom. Konig tried to tell himself it wasn't what he thought. Maybe you were taking care of yourself? Maybe you were watching a video, or maybe... But Konig couldn't deny it for long as he heard the sound of a man grunting and you saying his name, Konig made his way to the room and there you were.

You were on your back the man was hunched over you his face in between your neck and shoulder, you Could see Konig standing behind the Man as the man continued to push his cock in and out of you, unaware of the danger he was in. You moaned louder to taunt the large dangerous man standing behind your lover for the night. "yes! Oh fuck! That's it~" Your moans were fake. Konig knew the difference as he'd heard your real moans many many times. "oh baby~ you're so much better than him! You know how to please with that cock~" you tried not to cringe at your fake words; this guy had no rhythm, no drive to please, and his cock didn't even brush against the spots Konig's cock bullied inside you. But you didn't care. You just wanted to hurt Konig. To bruise his heart and his ego. And it worked.

Konig grabbed the man by the hair and pulled him off and out of you, the man screamed in shock but you remained silent. Watching with a spiteful grin, Konig was just gonna toss the guy out. But then he noticed something... He wasn't wearing a condom... This random man had fucked you raw and came inside you... Dead. This man was dead. Konig didn't stop slamming his fist into the man, his jaw, his head, his neck, his ribs. Anywhere Konig could reach.

The man lay still on the cold floor. Barley breathing. He had some time before he succumbed to his injuries but Konig wasn't in a rush to help the man who fucked his love.

"how could you do this? Why would you hurt me in this way!? You- you-"

"I just wanted to be good enough." you said bluntly

"What...?"

"I just wanted to prove to myself I was good enough for you... That's just what you wanted too... Right, Konig?"

Ghost - he did it again. Lied again. Fucked someone else in your bed again. Again. And again. And again. You didn't get it. Had you not been perfect? Had you not helped him through night terrors? Through panic attacks? Through tearful nights when he had a particular dream about his family life? You were tired of it. Coming home and hearing moans that weren't yours. Finding used condoms that you know he didn't use with you. Clothes that weren't even close to your size were found under the bed or stuffed somewhere in his car. You hated it. You hated him. But God... You loved him. You knew he wasn't good for you, but you wanted to love him and he loved you in return.

He was out again, with his team... You hid in a seat in the far back of the pub. So out of sight Ghost still hasn't noticed you. But you noticed him, chatting up with a pretty blonde at the from of the bar. You hated her. You didn't even know her. But she had something that you didn't. You don't know what it is, but it must be something good. If Simon was out looking for it from her instead of you.

She giggled and batted her lashes at him, you don't take your eyes off them the whole time. You told Simon you'd be gone for the weekend. So when you noticed they were about to leave, you rushed to your car speeding to your house. Parking somewhere Simon wouldn't see, rushing inside and lit some candles, and pulled out some wine. And fix your hair to make it look like you had a romantic evening planned.

------

When Simon walked in he was sloppily making out with the woman his hands running up and down her curves.

"Simon?" you asked quietly playing dumb. As if you hadn't been watching him, you'd been watching him for a few months now. Just out of sight. Plotting how you could go about your revenge. Ghost would be hard to break. He's emotionally dead and doesn't let much get to him. But everyone has a breaking point.

Everyone.

This caught Simon off guard. You weren't meant to be home. This caused a reaction from the woman he brought home, apologizing to you over and over begging forgiveness as she didn't know. Then turning to Simon and giving an earful of disgust at what he had done and was going to do with her all while having a loving and caring lover at home.

You played it up by crying, just like you'd done the first twenty times he'd done this before. This time it was fake, asking what you had done to drive him away. Making the woman chastise him further. Before shaping him and walking out.

After she left you stopped crying, which also caught Simon off guard. Normally you would go one of two ways when catching him in a lie or with lipstick stains on his shirt. You blame yourself and Simon reassures you that you are overthinking and not thinking straight (a lie) or you blame him and he says it hurts him that you a person he trusts let down his walls for (lie) and would accuse him of things he would never do (another lie)

But this time you did.

"You're just like your father." **SLAM**

Simon had instantly slammed you into the wall, his hand around your throat.

"don't. Don't you EVER say that again. I'm nothing like him. I protect and serve. Nothing like him." he looks at you with a hatred you'd never seen before, it made you smile on the inside.

"oh- really? You hurt me." You choke and Simon tightens his grip, warning you.

"you lie to me. You cheat on me. You tell me you love me and don't mean it-" **squeeze**

"you hurt me. Just like he hurt your mother-"

"SHUT UP." He slams you again,

"You're hurting me right now. Just like him." Simon takes a moment before dropping his hand from you as if you'd just burned him.

He stumbles away from you. But you follow, "It's ok Simon. I promise to forgive you. If you promise not to hurt me again."

You were fucking with him. You sounded like his mother, promising to not leave or tell as long as he promised to stop hurting you. Just like his mother pleaded with his father. So so many times.

You smile at him. He rushes away reaching for the door and opening it a crack, "Simon. Don't go. Don't hurt me. Not again. Be good. Promise me."

Simon's head was spinning, trauma and pain in the front of his mind.

"promise me, Simon."

Simon shut the door.

"I promise," he whispered.

Gaz - you didn't want to believe it. He was different. You knew he was! He was the one who made this place a beautiful world. He wouldn't. He couldn't! Your heart wouldn't be able to take it. But your world came crashing down on you, you had found panties that weren't yours and you had begun to panic, no. No, he wouldn't. This is a misunderstanding. You're gonna call him. He's gonna answer and be with his mates and clear all this confusion up. Yeah... Yeah, that was it!

You called Kyle and after three rings he answered, that's a good sign! And you were relieved. But that was quickly taken from you. A woman moaned into the phone as Kyle praised her in the back, "That's a good girl, let her hear you. She her your mine baby." your mind turned to static only a few words and phrases were heard,

"mine... Good girl... My girl. .. Perfect... Sweet... Pussy made for me..." your heart racing, pounding in your ears. It cries. It aches... How can this be fair? You stayed on the phone, on speaker as you hurried around the house. You had to fix this. Who was she? How dare she try and take your place.

You were made for Kyle. Not her. He said it to you so many times. He had to be lying to her. She- she must have forced him. That's it! That's the only thing that makes sense. Why would he cheat and answer the phone while doing so? That doesn't make sense! It was her you know it.

It hurts now. Knowing your darling was being taken advantage of. Don't worry Kyle darling. She'll learn to keep her damn hands off...

-------

Kyle came home around 11:50 PM, she truly kept him locked away. Your poor baby. Forced to do such disgusting things to her.

"Lovie? Are you in? I- I don't know what came over me I-" he gets interrupted. You're hugging him. Kyle stands still. Confused. He thought he was gonna have to convince you he was trashed, filled with alcohol, and didn't know what he was doing... But you're... Hugging him? "it's ok Kyle. I know it wasn't you. I know." Kyle for a moment, thinks things he's maybe gotten away with it. "don't worry, I won't let it happen again."

What?

Kyle jumps feeling a pin in his neck, he jolts shoving you to the ground causing you to hit your cheek hard on the floor, you whine as you sit up holding your hand to your cheek. You forgive him, you expected him to fight. That's why you didn't tell him your plan to keep him safe in the first place.

Kyle reaches behind him, pulling out the syringe that stuck out from his neck. His eyes quickly become blurry and his body slow and off-balanced. He tries to say your name but he can't his tongue is heavy and his throat is tight.

He falls to the floor with you.

When Kyle comes too; his head is pounding, his throat is dry, and his right cheek hurts. He tries to get up but he can't. He's strapped down to the bed. Kyle starts to panic, what happened last night? Where-

"good morning darling." Kyle whips his head to you, causing it to pound loudly in his ears. "what- what happened, where?-" You smile and sign as you set a tray of water and medications on the bedside table. "you're at home with me darling." you turn to him placing a damp cloth on his head. "why am I strapped to the bed?"

"well I couldn't trust you would stay put, would I?"

Huh?

"oh! Also, I made sure you won't ever be bothered again!"

"bothered?"

"yup! That woman from last night she won't hurt you anymore!" Kyle stared at you confused, she didn't do anything. He approached her and went back to her place, telling her that you were a crazy ex and that's why she agreed to let him answer.

"but- she didn't do anything." you frown at him, "She must have messed your brain up bad. It's ok! I'm gonna help and fix you!" you say as you reach for the tray.

A syringe and glass bottle at one end of the tray next to some pills as well as a bottle of water. He stared with wide eyes, "don't worry the pills are just to help with the pain from hitting your head."

"and the needle..."

"just for safety, I don't want to use it but I can't have you straining yourself and leaving ugly wounds on your precious skin my love."

Kyle tried to remain calm, he didn't know how much of your words he could trust. You held the pill out to him waiting for him to open his mouth but he didn't... You sigh, you didn't want to have to do this. You pick up the needle dipping the end into the glass bottle, filling it with liquid.

Kyle began to struggle and you held him down trying to keep steady while injecting the clear liquid into his arm. Kyle felt his body weaken, not in a sleepy way but his body started to not respond right away. You opened his mouth and shoved the pill inside, your eyes getting teary. why was he making this so difficult?

After giving him some water after a struggle and him trying to spit the pill out, he finally gave in. He'd try and reason with you later, right now his head hurt and he was tired.

You climbed over him. Kissing his cheek and snuggling him, he'd see you love him. You're hear to help him. Protect him.

He'll come around. You know it.

Price - You'd been running around all day preparing for Price to come home, you'd been waiting for so so long to get your hands on him again. He's been gone for eight months, you were sure he'd be aching for you. Just as much as you were for him.

But when he came home he was... Off. He wouldn't tell you what, "later" he'd tell you over and over "later" you thought maybe something happened on the field. But all his mates were alive you know that. So what went wrong?

It's not until a month later that he breaks the news. "Darling. I'm so sorry, but- I just- a lady at the Bar..." and then everything went silent to you. Price... Your husband. Your John... Jonathan Price had cheated on you.

You hug him, mid-sentence. He starts crying, begging you for forgiveness. Crying to get you to stay. Crying to be given one last chance. And you give it...

"I'll stay. I love you. I need you. I will give you one last chance-"

"thank you- thank you, Darling, I- I promise-"

"but. I get to give you the same pain."

"w-what?"

"im going to have sex with someone. But you won't know when. Where. Or who."

"D-Darling,"

"it might be a stranger from a Bar. It might be one of your mates... You won't know, and I won't tell you. You'll have to figure it out."

----------

It's been months now, and John has been paranoid. You go out of your way to stay late after work hours, to go out with your friends and not come home till late in the night, you hide your phone, and you grab yourself harshly to leave bruises.

John questions you about everything. Why did you stay late? Who was with your friends, and who did you meet? Why are you hiding your phone, who are you texting?... Where are the marks coming from?... He's attached to you any time he can be, and never leaves your side. And goes out of his way to please you.

Showing you that he will make up for his flaws, his mistakes. Showing you, that you don't need anyone else. Showing you he's sorry.

You never slept with anyone, you contemplated it. But you couldn't. You loved him too much. But he didn't need to know that, he's never been more attached to you than he was now. He even put work aside.

Maybe if you keep him on his toes, he'll become dependent on you. You know you can do it. Make him crave you and need you as much as you do him. It's just gonna take time, lying, and patience. You'd break him. You know you can. Nobody in the military could break this captain. Nobody. But...

They didn't know Johnathan Price like you did.

Alejandro - Alejandro was out at a bar, he had just gotten back from a mission. A long, tedious, and dangerous mission. You wanted to surprise him! You'd missed him so much, that you planned to 'Coincidentally' run into him at the bar. you knew when he came home, what time, and with whom. You had a few trackers and bugs planted on him, namely his phone and the bracelets he got back on his way home.

It was the way you got to know him so well in the first place, you were a friend and a trusted one at that. You knew if you planted a bug or two he wouldn't suspect a thing.

Now and again you would do this he would mention or mumble about in his own time, it would amaze him how you had done what he asked, "just a hunch" you would tell him. You didn't do it all the time to not make him suspicious but you did it when you knew he needed it. Which made him fall you you that much more.

You had dolled yourself up just a bit and made your way to the bar he was at with Rudy and you quickly became on edge.

"im flattered, ha," Alejandro laughed as the busty brunette pushed herself into his personal space, she brushed her nails against his arm. You feel an itch, an itch deep inside as your face turns red.

Why? You thought he was different, and yet here he was. You were ready to return to your car and wait for him... But then you saw him push her away.

"get off. I'm not interested, I already told you I'm in a loving relationship, now leave me alone." he put his foot down. And she pouted and huffed before walking away. You smiled and ran over to him, putting your plan back into play.

---------

You laid in bed, skin-to-skin. Still a little sweaty from the rough session you and Ale had. You kiss him, "im gonna clean up," he hums in response. He's drifting off to sleep and you smile at how comfortable he is with you.

You turn the water on, letting it run warm before stepping in.

You let the hot water run down your body as you wash your hair, you think about earlier. Your heart flutters.

You were so thankful, thankful he rejected her. He honestly scared you for a moment.

You thought about what you would've done, you were silly. You then thought about the bag of rusted sharp tools that sat in the trunk of your car. You were so silly to think you were gonna have to get ugly with Him.

[p1nkprincess444]

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ - ʀᴏʀʏ ᴄᴜʟᴋɪɴ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀs ₊ ⊹ . ݁˖

honestly dunno how I feel about this one {lemme know if you guys liked it!}

word count: 783

contents: 18+

ᡣ𐭩 Clyde (Electrick Children)

ꔫ  Clyde shaves maybe twice a month just so maintenance doesn’t become too tedious. His cock has a few visible veins trailing up and down along his shaft but it’s practically a completely smooth surface. He has an astonishingly wide girth which helps to add to his size. Clyde is definitely a grower and I’d say he’s probably 5-6 inches, but he definitely knows how to make it feel like more.

{Clyde is circumcised}

ᡣ𐭩 Charlie Walker 

ꔫ Charlie shaves weekly, he just prefers the clean shaved look, what can he say? Charlie’s cock has veins running up and down his shaft, and he loves when you trace them with your fingers. His cock isn’t nearly as girthy as Clyde’s is but he makes up for it in his length. Charlie is partially a grower; he's about 5 inches when soft but grows to 7 when he’s hard.

{Charlie is circumcised}

ᡣ𐭩 Clay Roach

ꔫ Clay being an addict struggles with his hygiene, he shaves maybe once every couple months. Clay's cock is about 6 inches when hard and extremely girthy, almost painfully so. Even if you’ve had sex with him multiple times it still stretches you open. Clay’s cock has a slight curve to it as well which always effortlessly hits the perfect spot inside of you. He is definitely a grower just like Clyde.

{Clay is not circumcised}

ᡣ𐭩 Possum (Welcome to Willits)

ꔫ possum does not shave often, when he does shave he always ends up nicking his skin. Possum is on the smaller side of 4 inches. His cock is almost cute in a way, it’s smooth and has a slight thickness to it. Possum is definitely a grower even though he doesn’t have much to show. 

{Possum is not circumcised}

ᡣ𐭩 Euronymous (Lords of Chaos)

ꔫ Euro shaves once a month at the end of every month, he doesn’t mind when his hair grows out too much. He has a lot to show for himself, his cock is so girthy your hand can’t fully wrap around it. His cock is average length though about 6 inches 6.5 on a good day. His shaft is covered in long thick veins that almost visibly pulse when you stroke his cock. Euro is definitely a shower and he’s definitely proud of the fact.

{Euro is not circumcised}

ᡣ𐭩 Jack Thurlow

ꔫ Jack shaves every time he showers, he doesn’t like the feeling of growing out his hair. His cock is almost completely smooth except for a few thick veins that line the sides and under shaft. Jack’s cock is 7 almost 8 inches with a wide girth. He loved how you always let out a soft whimper as he pushed the last few inches of himself in. Jack is a grower who is maybe 4 inches when soft.

{Jack is circumcised}

ᡣ𐭩 Kappa (Black Mirror)

ꔫ Kappa has never shaved once in his life. He doesn’t care that he’s so unkept down there because he’s so confident about his size. Kappa is around 8 inches pushing 9, he has a sharp curve to his cock that makes his first time fucking you a bit painful. Kappa is a shower which can be annoying at times because of his massive size.

{Kappa is not circumcised}

ᡣ𐭩 Danny Cooper

ꔫ Dan shaves every time he showers just like jack, it just seems more tedious for him to not shave. Dan is slightly below average; he is around 5.5 inches when he’s hard with a small curve to his shaft. Dan is a little shy about his cock the first time you sleep with him but you quickly disprove all his insecurities later that night. 

{Dan is circumcised}

ᡣ𐭩 Tyler (The Expecting)

ꔫ Tyler’s cock is unique to say the least… He fortunately does not grow hair down there but if he did he would keep it clean shaven. His cock is almost tentacled shaped with a blue-ish green color to it. At the tip of his cock it's quite slender but it gets wider and thicker as you reach the base. His cock doesn’t have a specific length; it goes just as deep as you can take him. 

{Bro has nothing to circumcise}

ᡣ𐭩 Mike (5lbs of Pressure)

ꔫ Mike keeps himself trimmed, he doesn’t love the clean shaved look so he just trims himself up every couple weeks. His cock is nothing to be ashamed of; he's around 6- 7 inches and very girthy accompanied by a few thick veins that line his cock. Mike is definitely a shower as well, he starts out around 3 inches but is rock solid a few moments later.

{Mike is not circumcised}

[viking-raider]

A Witcher's Soul

Summary: When tragedy strikes, Geralt of Rivia seeks comfort in the arms of one woman.

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia/Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warning: PG - Abandonment Issues, Child Abandonment, Fluff Parental Loss, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Memories, Bathing, Love Confession, Soft!Geralt, Character's Death

Inspiration: This scene from Season Three of the Witcher! 😭

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!

Geralt rode Roach hard, only deviating from his path to guide the powerful black horse around a tree or rock. He gripped the worn brown reins tightly, feeling them cut into the top of his bare hands as he urged Roach to move faster, foam already starting to gather around his bit. The Witcher's mind raced, desperately trying to push down the power of the news he received from a good friend, while trying to help someone he'd found on the job. He struggled for a few days, trying to push it down, telling himself it didn't hurt.

She had left him almost a century ago, at this point.

Witchers had no emotions, he told himself, as a means to drive them back. It didn't work however, the emotions continued to smash into him.

So, he left in the dead of night, not a word to Anika, Otto, or even Jaskier, of where he was going or why. Though, he was sure Anika would know why. Geralt covered almost a whole league by the end of morning, cutting through the forest outside of Murivel, until he reached a modest clearing and an even more modest, three-room hut constructed in the middle of it, a stone and clay well on the left side, the bucket swaying softly in the breeze.

Roach came to a hard stop, hooves cutting deep grooves in the grassy earth, with Geralt wasting no time in dismounting the stallion and stomping across the yard to the front door. His sore and broken heart rose up with hope that it would swing open and the face of the one he was seeking would appear, to greet him. But, the door didn't open to him, instead he was greeted another way.

“Geralt!” A soft and confused voice called out.

He swung around on his boot heels, his golden eyes zeroing in on you as you stood just passed the tree-line, a basket of herbs and mushrooms balanced on your hip, as you regarded the Witcher. You hadn't seen Geralt in over a year, since he decided he needed to go to Cintra to make sure Ciri was safe from the sea of black and gold he'd seen on the Amell Pass. After the Dragon Hunt. You had heard the thunder of the new Roach's hooves coming up the path to your home, while you were gathering in the forest, and came to see who it was. You were surprised to see Geralt in general, but you were worried by how rushed he seemed.

“Geralt, what's amiss?” You asked, coming to close the gap between you. “Are you well?” You inquired, seeing the unusually deep crease between his brow and across his forehead, and how his complexion was paler, almost matching his hair.

Geralt took a deep breath through his nose, lips pressed together for a moment, working up the strength to speak. “I need you.” He finally rasped, his expression breaking into something soft and vulnerable.

“You rode all the way from wherever, just for time with me?” You smirked, tisking.

“Please.” Geralt replied, reaching out to grasp your free hand and squeezing it, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, his expression breaking even more.

You frowned at him, all jest dying inside of you, seeing his wall fall before you and the pain he was being crushed underneath. “Let's go inside.” You whispered softly, tilting your head towards your door.

Nodding, Geralt reached out for your basket, but shaking your head and swatting it away gently, you pushed the front door open and put your hand on his arm, guiding him inside. You set your basket on a large table and turned towards the just as large fireplace, grabbing wood from the dog grate and tossed it in. Building it back up, sparks flying up the chimney. You moved to Geralt, who stood motionless beside the table, taking his hand and guided him over to the chair at the head of the table, gently coaxing him to sit down, then knelt before him. Grabbing the heel of his boot and his calf, you tugged the muddy, black leather off and set it underneath the table, followed by its twin. There was dust and mud covering his black clothing. You brushed your palm over his knee and thigh, casting some of it off, before standing up again and starting for the next room, only to have Geralt grasp your wrist and pull you into his lap. His arms wrapped around your shoulders as he buried his face into your chest, and breathed deep.

You frowned at him, sympathetically brushing your fingers through his hair and pulling it free of its usual tie, his white strands cascading over his shoulders. You nosed the top of his head, caressing the back of his hair and squeezing his bicep, still confused as to why he was there and what was ailing him so much.

“Geralt.” You whispered into his strands. “Tell me, what's happened?” You asked, your fingertips brushing the back of his neck. “Did you not make it to Ciri in time? Has something happened to her or Jaskier?” You inquired, licking your lips as your heart thundered against his forehead. “I noticed that isn't the Roach you had the last time you were here.” You pointed out, remembering the sweet Chestnut you used to feed and brush, when Geralt stayed with you, but now there was a sturdy black stallion standing in your dooryard.

He shook his head and cleared his throat. “No, they're both fine.” He rasped, turning his head to rest his temple against your collarbone. “As for the last Roach, she was killed by a Chernobog, a few months ago.” He added, softly.

“Oh, I'm so sorry.” You cooed, tucking his hair behind his ear. “Then, what's the matter with my Wolf?”

He was still and quiet again, for a long time, his fingers restlessly toying with the strings at the back of your bodice, before suddenly standing with you still in his arms, and turning to sit you on the chair in his place. He went out the door, rounding the house to the well and dropped the bucket to the bottom. You watched Geralt come back inside with each bucket, holding it in one hand, like it was the weight of one of his swords. Pausing in the open doorway and giving you a hard stare every time, as if he expected to find you moved off the chair or vanished completely. Only then, did he go to your large cauldron, dumping the full bucket in and returning back outside for another.

“Are you going to tell me, what's the matter, Geralt?” You asked, your concern only mounting with his bizarre behavior and irregular moodiness.

“Nothing.” He grunted harshly, setting the cauldron over the fire to boil.

“That's a lie.” You answered, just as sharply, being one of the few people on the Continent brave enough to talk back to the White Wolf in such a manner; other than Jaskier and Ciri. “You wouldn't have come from the bum fuck of Nilfgaard to see me, if something wasn't bothering you.” You insisted, glaring at his back.

Geralt ignored you, heading towards the back rooms of your home and leaving you more worried and annoyed at his behavior. He came back a few minutes later with no shirt on, and your suspicions on his task were answered. Despite what the people of the great Continent thought of Geralt of Rivia, he did not in fact like smelling of death, blood and horse. When he stopped for the winter at Kaer Morhen or with you, he bathed regularly. He just found it more a nuisance to do so while on the Trail, since the next Contract or sleeping rough would only dirty him up again.

Pulling the roiling cauldron off the fire, Geralt carried it to the large, soaking tub you boosted in your bathroom. He filled it almost to the brim, before adding in Lavender and Sage bath salts to the steaming water. A fragrant haze filled the room as he tugged his pants off and tossed them over a chair in the corner. He strode out of the bathroom, returning to you, still sitting where he'd left you. He took your hand and helped you stand, untying the strings of your bodice and tugging down your dress, so it pooled around your feet, before slipping his arm under your knees and an arm around your shoulders, scooping you up against his chest.

You sighed softly, wrapping your arms around his neck, while he carried you to the bathroom. “I missed you.” You whispered into his ear, as he stepped into the tub, lowering you both into it.

“And I, you.” Geralt replied, holding you in his lap and resting back. “Ciri and Jaskier are well, by the way.” He said, his fingertips stroking the skin of your side, beneath the water. “Ciri is being watched over by Yennefer, who's helping her try and control her magic and Jaskier was with Anika, last I left him.”

“Anika?” You frowned, tilting your head back against his shoulder. “Why is Julian with Anika? If he's well.”

Geralt's thick, scarred arms squeezed around you, almost painfully, making you squirm in his lap. “You remember my mother.” He mumbled, barely audible. “Visenna.” He said so quietly, you had to strain to hear it.

“Yes, I recall you telling me of her, a few years after we met.” You murmured, seeing the strained expression on his face. “And that you'd seen her at Sodden Hill. She healed you, after the ghoul bite.”

“I remember bits of my life with my Ma.” He rasped, his grasp on you loosening, but he still held you close to him. “She smelled like embers, from keeping our measly fires alive during the long nights.” He told you, the crease between his golden eyes slowly vanishing as he went back to that time, tapping into that abandoned little boy, he had never grown out of, but skillfully concealed from those he didn't cherish. “We were quite poor, even though she was skilled as a healer. So, she-” He paused, his voice thickening and his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

You looked up at him, seeing the redness in the whites of his eyes and the unshed tears threatening on his lashes. It frightened you to see the Witcher like this. In the fifteen years you'd known him, you'd seen him in many states, but you had never seen Geralt cry. Reaching up, you cupped his scruffy cheek in your hand and thumbed a droplet away, pressing your lips to his jawline.

“She would use her magic to create the most elaborate meals that we couldn't afford.” He continued, tilting his head into your hand. “There was—I would have done anything to make her smile. And yet,” He voice broke again, this time with more than just hurt and abandonment, but with resentment. “The day she left me, she was sick. She needed some water, so I went to get her some, and when I came back to the road...she was gone.” He croaked, pushing his jaw forward and shaking his head, trying to deny the burn of more tears.

His fingertips pressed into the skin of your side and back. “I called for her.” He said weakly, his golden eyes off in the distance. “But she was gone.” He whimpered, the tears finally winning out, dripping off his jaw and into your hair and the bath water.

You squeezed your eyes shut, pressing your forehead to his neck and hugging your arms around his torso. You had known Visenna had abandoned Geralt. He had told you that bluntly not long after you had met. The torture of her leaving him there, to be taken away to Kaer Morhen, where he'd suffered such agony in his transformation into a Witcher, at just five years old, coupled with the pain he never got over with his mother.

You wondered how Geralt had survived at all.

But no, Geralt was strong, even from a young age.

“She's dead.”

You pulled out of your thoughts, shocked. “She's dead?”

“She was giving aid to some villager and was mistaken as an Elf.” Geralt told you, bringing a hand out of the water to wipe it over his face. “They beat her severely and she later died, at the Temple of Mourning, where Anika was. Which is how I found out.”

“I'm so sorry, Geralt.” You cooed, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, connecting the dots to his arrival. “I hope the two of you were able to make some sort of easement between you, when you last met.”

Geralt pressed his lips together and buried his face into your hair, his throat too tight to speak in the moment. He considered how he and Visenna last met, in the forest outside of Sodden Hill, as he laid feverish and hallucinating from a Ghoul bite to the leg. After saving a poor Merchant, who was trying to bury the dead from a camp Nilfgaard had attacked. At first, she had tried to conceal her identity from him, pretending to be Renfri, Yennefer and finally, you, before he managed to discover who it really was. Triggered by her belief that, People linked by Destiny, will always find each other.

He asked her what she thought of his eyes. Demanding to know, if she knew what they did to improve a Witcher's eyes. Telling her that it didn't always work. She had begged him to stop. Calling him by his name, only for Geralt to reject her right to do so, like she had rejected him. He had begged to know if she knew how many boys actually made it through the Trials. Tears filled both of their eyes as they stared at each other in the darkness.

In the end, his Ma had left him, again, fading into the night, trying to convince him she was just a dream and he would never get the answer he wanted.

So, had he made peace with his mother abandoning him, forcing him on the Path of the Witcher?

No. Geralt decided in the end, he had not.

The only thing Geralt did know was he wanted you. You were the first person he had thought of, upon finding out about his mother's death. Wanting to feel you against him and needing the comfort only you were able to provide. You shifted out of Geralt's lap, moving around him, while reaching over the side of the tub, grabbing the small cup that sat on the foot board there. Dipping it into the water and gently pouring it over Geralt's silvery-white strands, you set aside and took up a round, solid bar of honey and chamomile scented soap, using it to work his hair into a rich lather. Geralt moaned, feeling your fingers massage his scalp, resting forward to prop his elbows on his bent knees, eyes falling shut.

“I love you.” He murmured, quietly.

You stopped, resting your hands on his broad shoulders. “You've never said that before.” You said, looking around at him, mouth softly agape.

“No?” Geralt rasped, cocking a brow over his shoulder at you.

“Not once, in all these years.” You assured him, your hand gently massaging the scarred muscle of his neck.

He turned to you, causing the cooling water to slosh over the edge. “Then, I have a great deal of making up to do.” He cooed, reaching out to cup your face in his rough palm. “Because I do. I love you. Out of everyone, besides perhaps Jaskier and Vesemir, you know me better than anyone, and no one has ever taken better care of me than you have.” He told you, his face betraying the emotions a Witcher truly had, but guarded for their most treasured person, and not those of an abandoned child, rather those of a man in love.

“I love you too, Geralt.” You assured him, turning your head to kiss his hand. “And I will always care for you, me bleidd.” You whispered, picking up the cup to continue washing his hair.

[ethical-cain-vinnel]

okay yall this is my first post so i apologize for the wonky formatting anywho this is what i think each Rory Culkin character would smell like inspired by a post from @icarus-star . (some characters do have x reader because thats all i read sorry not sorry🤭)

CHARLIE WALKER

okay so this dude is a loser (in the best way)

and losers love axe body spray

i think he always smells like he used an entire bottle of axe body spray each morning with a hint of old spice deodorant if hes feelin good

the real reason he uses so much i think though, is cause hes killed so much that he smells like blood no matter how many showers he takes

so his friends will tease him for it but he'll never stop using it

CHRIS KENTON

i think hes pretty aware of smells and is worried that he smells bad but he doesnt have a ton of money to spend

SO his solution is cheap cologne

dont get me wrong though, it smells nice. even comforting at times

sometimes he also smells like coffee (no reason as to why i think this, its just the vibe)

CLAY ROACH

ooooofff i love him but he STINKS

he smells like body odor, sweat, and sometimes other bodily fluids (ifykyk)

i think if/when he gets clean from all the drugs he does, he more so just smells like whatever deodorant he uses but its a very small hint of it

CLYDE

RAHHHHH I LOVE HIM

he uses sandalwood bodywash and matching shampoo and conditioner

but he also smells like weed

he smells heavenlyyyyyy

his deodorant is lavender old spice i take no criticism on this

DANNY COOPER

yall this man is a housewife

i dont think he really cared much about smelling good until he met you

now me PERSONALLY, i hate the smell of a lot of vanilla perfumes and stuff but he does smell like vanilla

but instead of vanilla perfumes, he smells like vanilla extract

or if he knows you guys will have a date that night, he ups his game and goes in with coconut coffee smelling stuff

EURONYMOUS

HE SMELLS SO BAD OMFG

this man smells like shit, piss, greasy hair, weed, alcohol, cigarettes, and every other BAD THING IN THIS WORLD

dont get me wrong babes i love rory's portrayal of him but LOOK AT HIM AND TELL ME IM WRONG!!! YOU FUCKING CANT

bro does NOT wash his ass😭😭😭

GABRIEL

i think he doesnt really smell like anything honestly

sometimes hell put on cologne but usually he just smells like soap

if you have a signature perfume or cologne though, hell douse his clothes in it because it brings him comfort (AHHHH I LOVE HIM SM)

JACK THURLOW

this man right here🤭🤭🤭 i love this man

he is so stuck up and prissy i love it

he smells sophisticated

he smells like a mixture of cigarettes, bergamot, patchouli, and sweet amber

and then he pretends its what he naturally smells like and gets mad when other people dont smell as good as him

KAPPA

at first i was going to say he smells pretty similar to euro but i started thinking about it more and i have come to the conclusion that this is not correct and heres why

hes a cult leader. charming, handsome, manipulative, and welcoming

he has to show that hes the best of the best and one way he does that is by smelling good

he smells comforting. like a warm, home cooked meal that you havent had since you were a kid

and this makes people feel more relaxed and comfortable around him which he uses to his advantage

thats it for now i hope yall liked it!

[icarus-star]

★𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭★

𝐤𝐞𝐲: ✧=𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, ♡=𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, ◇= 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 ☆=𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐬!

𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐚𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐬

charlie walker (scream 4)

✧smutty little headcanons

✧pervert charlie

◇it's you?

✧together

✧impatience

✧no touching

✧stop staring

✧hoodie

✧stalker!charlie

✧stalker!charlie pt.2

✧stalker!charlie pt.3

✧literal legend

✧literal legend pt.2

✧a little while longer

✧mask

♡fluffy relationship headcanons

✧doll

♡/✧/☆mlm relationship hc's

✧male!ghostface!reader

✧stabathon

♡to be alone with you

◇/✧cherry waves

✧masturbation blurb

♡/✧charlie with an ftm!boyfriend

clyde (electrick children)

✧smutty little headcanons

✧early morning

✧you get me so high

✧marigold

danny cooper (intruders)

✧smutty little headcanons

✧good boy

♡lover boy

✧tease

✧pretty please?

✧pegging danny

✧filled up

✧satisfaction

✧thoughts on bunny!danny pt.1

✧thoughts on bunny!danny pt.2

✧caught

✧touch

✧/☆camboy!danny

✧/☆seeing stars

✧kitty!danny

✧/☆love buzz (halloween special!)

✧cotton tail

✧bunny!dan & his puppy partner

possum (welcome to willits)

✧/☆smutty little headcanons

✧spaced 'n stoned

✧in the woods

♡night & love

♡bonfire

✧ugly boy

chris kenton (twelve)

♡introductions

✧lesson

✧art deco

♡/✧random headcanons

♡/✧k.

✧play doctor

✧champagne & sunshine

jack thurlow (jack goes home)

✧smutty little headcanons

✧yes ma'am

♡/✧aftercare headcanons

✧caught

✧gentle

✧anal training

✧male!reader blurb

kappa (black mirror s6)

✧/☆catching you with a vibrator

✧kappa & his good boy

gabriel (gabriel 2014)

♡/☆fluffy relationship headcanons

✧/☆reward

♡clay pigeons

tyler (the expecting)

none yet!

clay roach (city on a hill)

✧obedient

clement (hick)

♡bf! blurb thing

✧smutty blurb

willie (castle rock)

✧sugar

ollie sway (the song of sway lake)

♡/✧adoration (valentines day special!!)

✧iris

mike (5 lbs of pressure)

✧virgin reader giving him a bj

gage (bullet head)

✧/♡afterglow

gavin (sneaky pete)

♡/✧headcanons

multiple characters

s3x/makeout playlists

✧no nut november (collab with @ethical-cain-vinnel)

✧nnn pt.2

✧/☆hybrid moments (danny x kappa)

✧slut4evr (danny x kappa x tyler)

✧ur so creepy (charlie walker x reader x kirby reed)

✧rosemary (kappa x reader x dan cooper)

♡nicknames

[starry-eyed-wild-child]

🌾 clay roach heacanons 🌾

a/n: this is based a little on THIS post i made about clay being the rory character that would have the sweetest girl

. first, and foremost, I absolutely love this little wet cat - I live him, I breathe him, I want to gnaw and chew at him

. but we move

. the only way i could imagine you meeting clay was definitely like a childhood sweetheart type thing going on, y'know? - like you met when you were like seventeen, and you just kinda... got stuck with him?

. he's cocky - no doubt about it. this man is the most snarky, sarcastic asshole you'll ever meet

. HOWEVER, he's so sweet on you because he just doesn't wanna break you. but will never say this to your face

. I don't see clay as a very cuddly person, it's just not his thing, even before all the heroin

. however, this man is a sucker for the small things. hell yeah, forehead kisses. absolutely hold my hand. definitely, c'mere, baby, nuzzle your nose against mine

. he's not a big fan of nicknames that much, but his favourite will always be 'babydoll' and I stand by this. clay legit forgets your name because he never uses it

. it's probably not the most healthy relationship, let's be honest, but that's the sad reality of drugs, babe - clay will lie to you, keep secrets from you, and you probably wouldn't even know

. however, that doesn't mean he doesn't love you to pieces, he absolutely 100% does

. clay's very forgetful, he's strung out most of the time, so don't expect him to remember anything important lmao

. is a dog man, and this will be controversial but it's so true - get this man a little fucking golden retriever, I BEG

. he just loves the warmth of a dog - i imagine that clay's always cold, and so always needs to be holding something warm

. again, nsfw under the cut cause I'm sensible like that

. you thought kappa was dirty? let me tell you right now, this man is the filthiest man on the planet

. not even necessarily kinky, he just knows how to talk to you just right. clay is the king of dirty talk, and this is a hill I will die on

. no joke, clay could make you cum in about a minute just from talking. it's the accent bro 😭

. loves, loves, loves using his hands - everything else is great, don't get me wrong, but this man loves nothing more than having you sat with your back against his chest as he fingers the life outta you

. hair pulling kink - this goes both ways. he loves tangling his hand in your hair, and he's always gentle. you're his precious little baby, he doesn't wanna hurt you

. but on him?! oh lord, he's practically begging you to pull harder

. clay loves thighs. kissing them, biting them, laying his head on them, holding them, he loves it all

. clay is a rough and deep kinda guy, slow and sensual are not words in his vocabulary

. THIS MAN IS HELLA LOUD - and he doesn't give two fucks who hears him. he will moan, groan, grunt, growl, whimper and whine and he's not ashamed at all

. I personally can't really see clay as the submissive type, he'll let you ride him and it's his favourite thing in the world, but he still has all the power

. give this man a blowjob and he's getting on his knees with a ring

. I don't see him much to give you head, he'll do it every now and then when he's in the mood, but he much prefers using his fingers

. getting his girl to grind against his pillow 🤭

. but when he does give you head, kiss your ability to walk goodbye 😚

. a tiny bit of a daddy kink me thinks?! 🤭

. just ride him, man, he's a lazy fuck - he's not, he just loves watching you on top, PLUS it's less effort

. overall, is he morally good? no, absolutely not - he'd probably realistically be like a 4/10, but I love him so much I'm just gonna boost him up to an 8.5/10 cause who's gonna tell me I can't?

[roryzlittles1ut]

CLAY MOTHER FUCKING ROACH HEAD CANONS! (I’m sorry..I need him so bad. I love my little junkie)

SFW:

Smokes weed with you. Because Clay is a junkie and a stoner, he has a lot of weed. When I say a lot, I mean a LOT. He’ll have a whole bucket of bags of weed. Usually he doesn’t want you smoking too much, just enough to get you a little stoned.

He loves wearing oversized sweaters. (Idk I just thought this was relatable-)

A huge snuggle boy. Yall could just lay in bed all day, smoke some weed, and cuddle. Thats it.

ADULT CARTOONS. Clay loves watching adult cartoons with you, he’ll even chuckle a bit if something funny happens.

“Hm, he got stabbed in the dick. Ha, loser.”

Randomly talks about things. You and Clay could be talking about something random, and he’ll just say something out of the blue. He mostly does this when he’s stoned.

“I wonder if weed can be turned into paper.” (IDFK ITS RANDOM OKAY?)

I feel like he would be that type of boyfriend to have a random picture of you in his pocket every day.

NSFW:

Clay loves watching you ride his cock, listening to your moans as his cock disappears in and out of you. He thinks it’s so hot when you do that.

“Oh god..yes! Fucking ride my cock like a slut!”

High sex. Like I said, Clay doesn’t like you getting too out of there, so he mostly gets the most high. He’ll fuck you the longest when he’s high, he won’t stop after a few orgasms.

He would grunt. There.

9 inches. I’m telling you when you would be shocked, you will be shocked. He might be a stoner, but he’s definitely packing.

Fem! Let this man eat you out. Lemme tell you, you’re gonna be in heaven if you do. He’s an expert at it.

Male! Clay might have a bit of a problem sucking your cock, but he’ll get the hang of it in no time. He’s a fast learner.

When he’s about to cum, he’ll groan and grunt. He won’t even let out any moans, trust me.

“F-fuck..I’m gonna cum. Let me cum inside of you, please.”

[roryrealm]

Master list

-Smuts-

Do you trust me?-Charlie Walker

Confess to your sins-Samuel Lafferty

-Fanfics-

Behind the velvet ropes pt.1

-Headcanons-

Charlie Walker

What each Rory character likes getting called in bed

-Edits-

David Waco

David Waco

David Waco

Chris Kenton

Chris Kenton

R!Euronymous

Clyde

Clay Roach

ClayXSamXPossum

Tyler

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

Track Marks And Dial Tones V

Summary: Agent Rohr keeps pushing, are you going to cave? Meanwhile, Clay is fighting his very own demons.

Pairing: Clay Roach x afab!cop!Reader

Word Count: ~1.5k (short but dense!)

Content Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat 18+!, Drug Paraphernalia, Agent Rohr, Emotional Distress, Explicit Withdrawal Descriptions

A/N: Genuinely can’t believe this is actually happening rn. I’m back in the fucking building.

Find The Other Parts Here!

Tagging the horde: (Y’all….it’s been a hot minute. I don’t know who’s still active)

@crypticsewerslut @quicksilversg1rl @icarus-star @milaeth @roryculkinsgf @spookyorchid @arch1viste @whoareyoi @angelsanarchy @blueberrypancakesworld @rocketqueen-world @lifelessvessel @doddernix @svgarcaine @amayalul @basementgrl222 @kristennero-wallacewellsver @iiheartsai @fan-goddess @shady-the-simp @starry-eyed-wild-child

All we are is entertainment

Caught up in our own derangement

Tell us what to say and what to do

- Entertainment By Rise Against

You gagged; a myriad of rotten cardboard boxes wearing a now brown-tinted strawberry print rumbled into the blackened trash bag as you jerked the overflowing bin upside down, various stages of decomposition on full display. In your means to clean this place, you had quickly learned to be grateful if the task at hand was only about picking up brightly orange needle caps or tossed and scattered Fent strips.

“We gonna get you a chore planner, Clay.”, The words trickled into the dusty and thoroughly musty air as if he was right there with you and not miles away, pushing himself through an unmedicated living nightmare, “I swear, I’ll bust your balls if it ever gets that bad again!”

The deadpan statement coaxed a shallow, quick laugh to roll over your tongue chased by a heavy pang of anxiety cutting right through your stomach as you remembered just how fucking bad it had gotten on your end now, too. 

It’s been days since Rohr has had the audacity to show up at your own house to shove his nose into business that wasn’t his in no way shape or form. However, he’d made a point; HR wouldn’t like your little stunt at all, no matter how hard you were to push the harm reduction agenda, pleading for humility and understanding in front of people who’d be more than pissed about the financial hassle of hundreds of missing test kits.

Just the thought of this shit-eating grin beaming right at you from the opposite end of your kitchen table whilst he’d drawn out photograph after photograph to punch his point down your throat a little harder with each picture rendered you sick to the bone and had your insides twitching in every possible direction. There wouldn’t be an easy way out of this, that much you knew, yet, risking Clay’s already fragile chance of actual sobriety was no point of discussion to be had for it being blatantly out of question. It had to happen, had to work out, and then… then it would all be good again; calming little white lies you told yourself to keep that last shred of sanity alive and fed somehow. 

You forced your attention to return to the now plump trashbag, once hollow edges rounding with the sheer amount of strawberry milk boxes, if they’d let you, you’d bring some full ones to the facility soon in the hopes that the little things might make it more bearable for him. 

During the past nights, you’d spent hours upon hours staring at your ceiling wondering, your thoughts conjuring images of pain levels you hadn’t felt yourself, not even when inflicting it upon yourself. Simply the mere train of thought about Clay going through days of crippling withdrawal shook you, made you flinch without any physical incentive to do so around you, wishing that you could help him carry the weight and pain in whatever ways possible.

The mobile device in your pocket buzzed, announcing a text that was waiting to be read. The sudden bzz-bzz humming through the fabric of your pants nearly had you crawling out of your own skin for a second, your ribcage exploding from the sudden jolt of adrenaline.

“Jesus, fuck!” You huffed out in a raggedy breath, dragging your phone from its confines, display lighting up with the touch of your thumb.

- Hey, sweets, I’m free tonight, just saying. Are you going to be? -

“Motherfucker!” The need to throw your phone at the next best wall rippled through your arm but you kept your composure, trashing your mobile over a text from that asshole wasn’t exactly on your to-do list, not today and not in the near future either.

His entire ribcage cramped, shrunk together as his stomach pumped a new wave of bile upward his esophagus to wash around the root of his tongue and eventually gush free from parted lips, the acidic amalgamation of mucus and foodless vomit slumping down into the pristinely white toilet bowl, the scent of harsh chlorine cleaning solution burning it’s way into his overstimulated nostrils.

Clay felt sick like a dog, sick to a degree the term “dope sick” didn’t even fully convey the level of misery his body and mind were going through as the wash of throat-burning barf left his trembling statue. The lump thumbed down in a dull thud as he reached for the button to flush it all down just like everything that had left his body beforehand already; trembling fingers barely able to push against the mechanics with enough vigor.

After he’d wiped quivering lips with a bunched-up fistful of cheap and coarse toilet paper, Clay slumped back down onto his heels, lungs burning with the attempts to gasp for air after it had felt like the mucus and puke damn near choked him out. His eyes burned and his entire vision was blurred with the intense amounts of pressure throbbing through his skull every time his stomach contracted with the means to violently eject the few crumbs Clay had managed to shove down for breakfast.

“Peak between 48 and 72 hours, my fucking ass.”, Dry lips smacked against each other, the sensitive skin brittle and chapped, “It’s been 5 days, you fuckers.”

Clay’s already sore voice broke off almost immediately, turned into a pathetic, whimpery croak as a surge of violent tears oozed from his lashline. He knew he could push through it, it wasn’t exactly his first rodeo, however, the helplessness of it all that had his body trembling, muscles aching and joints feeling like they were about to break apart got to him. He couldn’t help it and the trivial, set-in-stone-fact drove him to the edge of crumbling.

Unless inevitably medically necessary, this facility had a strict no-medication policy. No helping hand, no little pick-me-up besides vegetable snack plates and smoothies, fucking smoothies. Clay could’ve sworn to still taste the biting hint of celery that ruined damn near everything in larger quantities, especially now that the deep green liquid had found its path all the way back since ingesting it in a faint moment of hope along the afternoon hours. 

With a long groan rolling over his tongue, Clay let his head loll back against the uncomfortably bright white tiles of his adjoined bathroom, thinking about a cheeseburger and fries. For a little while, his thoughts stayed there as he slid down from his heels onto his ass, pulling his knees underneath his chin to rest his head upon. Greasy, salty goodness with an extra large diet coke for that nice crisp and tingly feeling dancing amongst his ketchup and mustard battered tastebuds. Fucking smoothies.

He closed his eyes, wiping the wetness from his cheeks on gray hoodie sleeves. The piece of clothing felt like a warm, comforting hug, all cozy and fuzzy on the inside. Clay pushed his face into the fabric, the thick cloth blacking out the harsh bright light from above, and he sighed in relief, a faint smile ghosting around his mouth. He was thankful; thankful for you packing that duffle bag for him, thankful for the sploppily put together grilled cheese that had tasted like heaven, and grateful for that black and purple polka-dotted cup filled with hot chocolate.

Clay knew that he didn’t owe you anything, you weren’t that type of person to push your thumb onto all the good that you’d done until someone gave you a badge of honor for it, no, nonetheless, almost all of his motivations to go through with this led back to you, back to you crouching in front of him whilst he had sluggishly come to, back to how you’d held him, dragged him to your car and took matters into your own hands because everything had eventually slipped from his that night. 

[marabarl-and-marlbara]

yo mara, got a new year’s resolution?

hey informal-anonymous;

not really -- although, i:d really like to finish my warhammer 40k fanfiction by the end of the year (this is looking unlikely); this coming year is meant to be when doomsday is observed, so, personally: i:ve viewed it (since the patterning) that i didn:t really need to be concerned with the future any-more (which has been these ongoing past ~3 years?) -- in the back of my head, though: i:ve been trying to figure out my feelings about possibly surviving, and what that 'doubt' means in lieu of doomsday: what it means for my personal faith, and my conviction, and what it means to keep living against a divine message, and what it means if the divine message would want you to 'keep going' (and: if this is conjecture, or communication; is my doubt pure? is it polluted with conjecture? was the doubt gifted to me by malicious actors? is it part of the game? the doubt by the game: doubts gifted by finding increasing place in the world-server, through church and repairing relationship with mom, with finding small successes through substack and writing, through cherishing few connections i have with the world, with practicing my cooking, with becoming a competent housekeeper, with working as a night janitor, with loving my pastor, with wanting to read more books, with wanting to write more, with wanting to pray more: these many malicious kindnesses of connection all made up tightly like roach honey to bait its kind and caught indiscriminate traveler: enemy of the world lured in-to the hotel, and drowned; and so-and-so);

so i have no goals or resolutions except to finish that story; i:d been thinking of seeing-about getting medication for this dopamine thing so i can take steps to address a problem (and, a new problem: have a life that i cherish more as side-effect: problem because of aforementioned malicious connection; brought-in and dug in-to mine server; connection, and connection: drawn, and wrought: kindness, and connection; server: and kindness; maliciousness, and kindness, qlippeurteuritotatical, dispeurauragonateuratical; and so-and-so);

i:d like to guarantee the future of the faith by creating clean blueprint for foundation of church as word engraved to clay through hand underground, marked dug-in and Word found, cleanly communicated and adhered to, cleanly; and so-and-so;

that:s mostly it, anonymous: just a bunch of nonsense, and so-and-so; take care, happy new years; do you have any new years resolutions? suggestion: take care of your body! treat it like a temple, and so-and-so;

bonus: i got another message from late-christmas-boxing-day anonymous: thank you! have a nice christmas, too

[detectivemaker]

Another dump of ideas I've been having recently

Warning some  NSFW topics are mentioned in this post 

I really like the idea of jervis getting a taste of his own medicine especially Gotham tetch being put under using the old mirror trick, I can imagine it now he's cornered by the Batman in the Hall of Mirrors, he pulls out his pocket watch but the Crepes Crusader steps out of the way and lets his own reflection do the rest, the police find him  his pupils blown and muttering Alice in Wonderland quotes  in a hush whisper,  and he is quite embarrassed when he wakes in prison, and that he was incredibly hard doing in the entire experience

Philip(with an F) as you know like the air of time where Pirates existed, but he also likes rock music, more specifically stuff by Papa Roach and shinedown,  when he's not sailing the high seas drinking copious amounts of alcohol on a ship with muscular man, he can usually be found doing song covers in a cheap gay bar surrounded by  adoring fans

A bit more info on his particular mind screwy power, the  Aura I was talking about is more a natural sense to him that invades people's brains and makes them believe he's whatever they want them to believe he is, and believe whatever he wants them to believe they are,  his powers can be temporarily neutralized by bathing him,  he doesn't take baths to keep his powers potent,  his scent can best be described as a mix between sea salt and several varieties of cheap beer, with a tiniest teenage little flicker of cinnamon

He's ignotic smell also extends to his breath, that smells like Cuban cigars and  a cacophony of dead animals,   his breath naturally comes out in a thick Smoky texture,  he only uses this breath variety of his hypnotic scent on people smaller than him, usually grabbing them by the car or whatever clothing they're wearing and blowing his breath into their faces until they're begging him to let them pleasure him sexually

Usually prefers to be sexually tended to by muscular studs, he does occasionally like to find a nerd and absolutely dominate them

I probably haven't mentioned this before but Michael and his siblings are Dimension hoppers, so they've encountered all sorts of incarnations of Batman   and his Rogues gallery, this is to say that Philip(with an F) usually goes hunting down a riddler when he feels the urge to  subjugate a nerd,  watching that green smartass be turned into a simple sex toy is a real turn on for him

Chimera genitalia is a fusion of the two animal halves, there so Michael has double spiked dongs, and  Phillip(with an F) has double knots, Peter has a regular bear  dong but also a butthole that he pees through

Peter can see the future but only in a metaphorical visions, he also   a skilled necromancer, he can twist the forms of spirits and specters like an artist with clay

the Sensation of being  marked into a chimera's harem feels like a branding iron on whatever part of the body the mark shows up on,  it hurts a lot

Chimera's have a stronger mental defense against the abilities of others of their bloodline,  so unless a reptile bloodline Chimera is trying really hard they can't really affect another, and the amount of hard usually induces nosebleeds so psychic battles for Dominion of the throne usually get  bloody

Michael is immune to the mirror trick because the usual amount of effort he puts into mind  doming a person is the minimal amount, so he barely feels it and usually ends up with the person who tried it being their pants and barking like a dog for the rest of the week

Michael is either killed or  severely mind screwed every Hugo he's coming to contact with, the ones he's mine screwed have been rendered into shells of themselves who can only bark and act like dogs, and he's eating every last one of the ones he's killed

So here's some voice head cannons I have for the  poison siblings

Michael Speaks in a crisp British accent, something you'd hear from a spy movie, or special guest star from England in a  old sitcom

Peter speaks in a  Irish accent,  he doesn't do a lot of swearing,  it's more akin to an Irish Winnie the Pooh than anything

Philip(with an F) either speaks in a very stereotypical pirate voice, like a surfer, or New York gym rat

Elizabeth either speaks like those memes about spray tan English girls or like a valley girl

They were two people the poison siblings can all agree they like to screw if the most, the music master and mad mod

Peter likes both of them because one of them is good at singing and the other has a vintage flare he likes, not the sort of vintage he usually clings on to, too modern for his tastes, but he's good enough

Michael likes them both because they're  mind screws, and he likes to screw his mind screws, also he likes Meister singing voice

Elizabeth likes   them both because they're both theatrical

Peter likes them both because the redheads, and anyone who's redhead like him is someone worth his time, in addition he also likes meister for his singing voice,  guy really helps in winning crowds

They all refer to Meister as Songbird, and each of them refer to mod as either something relating to his real name or his villain name, like mody, Mr dick(his last name is Richard) or   Just Neil

[p1nkprincess444]

˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽˚౨ৎ⋆｡˚

{Contains 18+ content!!}

୨୧ Rory Culkin Characters ୨୧

ꔫ Down there

ᡣ𐭩 Clyde (Electrick Children)

ꔫ Pt 1. Skater Boy

ꔫ  Pt. 2 Skater Boy

ꔫ Sick days

ꔫ Late Night Calls

ꔫ Truth or Dare

ꔫ Louder

ᡣ𐭩 Charlie Walker 

ꔫ Peeping tom

ꔫ and if you die, I wanna die with you

ꔫ Anything?

ꔫ I still love you

ꔫ NSFW Alphabet

ꔫ Place Between My Thighs

ᡣ𐭩 Clay Roach

ꔫ The Three of Us

ꔫ Sunshine

ꔫ I did it all for love 1-5

ꔫ Drunk

ᡣ𐭩 Danny Cooper

ꔫ Sweet Boy

ᡣ𐭩 Jack Thurlow

ꔫ Tutor

ᡣ𐭩 Kappa (Black Mirror) 

ꔫ  NSFW Alphabet

ᡣ𐭩 Euronymous (Lords of Chaos)

ꔫ Cheater

ꔫ Friday the Thirteenth

ꔫ Boyfriend Headcanons

୨୧ Kaulitz Twins ୨୧

ᡣ𐭩 Bill Kaulitz

ꔫ Revenge

ꔫ Caught

ᡣ𐭩 Tom Kaulitz

ꔫ When it rains It pours

ꔫ Addicted to You

ꔫ Addicted to You pt. 2

ꔫ Motel Six

ꔫ Cry me a river

୨୧ Hannibal Characters ୨୧

ᡣ𐭩 Hannibal Lecter

ꔫ The Woods

ꔫ Was it Just a Dream?

ᡣ𐭩 Will Graham

ꔫ Staying Late

୨୧ Skins Characters ୨୧

ᡣ𐭩 Cassie Ainsworth

ꔫ Fool

ᡣ𐭩 Tony Stonem

ꔫ Problem

ꔫ Secret

୨୧ Extra Characters ୨୧

ꔫ First Aid - Harvey Specter

ꔫ First Time - König

ꔫ Frosting - Peeta Mellark

ꔫ Improvement - König

[ccacoo]

Am I the only one who is really feeling "meh" about season 2?

I hope this doesn't come across as ungrateful and by no means do I want to take away from anyone's enjoyment of the show. But with everyone celebrating the hell out of s2 I just feel like I'm going insane and I would love to hear from some other people for whom it didn't really land?

I think overall it just feels messily written to me, like the writers didn't have enough time to really develop a clear vision. I'm going to list some points that really stuck out to me and I'd be interested to hear whether it was like that for anyone else. If you love season 2, simply move on, be happy, this post is for the reluctant haters.

no cohesive story arch: This was done very well in s1. s1 is about Stede and Ed, two very different people who each have what the other lacks and wants, teaching each other how to be that. I'd argue it's also about Ed and Izzy drifting apart and the conflict that arises from that, and the conflict (and humour!) that arises from Stede consistently being at odds with his environment (his prior life, the crew). Season 2 has no clear arch like this. It's all over the place.

squandering characters' potential: Izzy. I know people are going batshit for Izzy singing and exploring his queer side, and I don't *hate* it, but as everything else, it feels too rushed to me to be satisfying. This was the guy who roped Ed back into his Blackbeard persona, who said "I serve Blackbeard, not some nampy-pampy in a silk dressing gown pining for his boyfriend." We are shown nothing in between this and him crying in front of the crew because Ed is just too toxic. For me, this transformation would have needed at least 1 season of buildup and could have been intensely funny, especially if Stede and Izzy had to spent a serious amount of time working together. Contrast is what makes the fun. Who else is there? Buttons! Holy hell! The stories they could have spun from that character, the mystery, the suspense. And then they just turned him into a bird and he flew away??? And then there's Lucius, who's so incredibly pale compared to s1. I thought a PTSD Lucius was an interesting development, but his "recovery" was also way too rushed to feel satisfying. In s1 we had side characters get entire stories of their own, like Jim's whole revenge plot. We met Jim's Nana, we got a developing romance between Jim and Olu, we had Jim and Jackie dance around each other continuously. Give me that with other characters! Give us some background on Lucius' past as a pickpocket. Where did he learn to read and write? Is there someone from his past that he has a bone to pick with? Is there someone he would like to reunite or make amends with? I feel like this should have been his season as a side character, the way s1 was Jim's. Instead, background characters firmly stay in the background. The Swede gets parked (or narratively killed off) at Jackie's. Buttons flies off. Frenchie, Roach, Wee John remain sidelined and stagnant. Jim and Olu are incomprehensible to me. Are they still a couple? Are they not? Who can tell.

The humour: This is also what irks me. If contrast makes the fun, why make everything and everyone sort of the same now? Stede is now just as badass as everyone else, Izzy is now just as queer and wholesome as everyone else, everyone is throwing around weird mental health language, Roach's go-to relaxation isn't torture anymore but clay face masks. As a result, stuff just isn't as funny to me anymore.

The tone: Oh, the tone :( I don't get the tone. Instead of the light-hearted and heartfelt silliness of s1 we now have actual torture, sawed off bloody legs, a serial killer like from Hannibal, toxic lesbians who poison and stab each other, ... this is looking like it wants to become a pirate show that is traditionally a culture of abuse and my thought is: why? And also: What if it weren't like that?

No cohesive villain: In s1, the main villain's motive is established with the murder of Nigel Badminton and the tension is kept up throughout the show by having little clips detailing Chauncey's quest of revenge – season 2 fails to do this. There is no main villain, unless you count nose guy. His introduction in ep 1 is messy, rushed and sort of forced in there, opposite to the Badmintons, who are given ample time and are really being horrible to Stede (complete with back story and everything). They are interesting because they personify some of the reasons why Stede was unhappy in his previous life - people bullied him for his softness. This ties in nicely with Stede's arch of learning to stand up for himself, to accept his softness and turn it into his brand of "gentleman pirate". Compare this to the nose guy who is "like Stede" in the way of being upper class. Could be interesting, but this is all we know about him. Stede and him barely interact. Maybe they wanted to set him up as a fan turned hater like Mr. Incredible and Syndrome? In that case I would have needed Stede to really be shitty to nose guy, which he wasn't. Moreover, by the time nose guy pops up again, I'd already forgotten all about him. The tension was simply not developed.

Forgetting to set up plot points properly: Two things. Firstly, how often does it happen that something they want to bring up in the episode only gets introduced in that same episode? When Jim says Olu has been pining for Zheng for weeks I was like: Ok? This is the first time I've heard of this. Secondly, whenever they bring something up, the also resolve it in the very same episode. Guys! Why do you need to introduce this stupid torture pirate as this ridiculous uber villain if you're gonna kill him off in the same episode? If the whole point was just to get Stede famous, why not bring back Calico Jack, someone we all *already* hate, who doesn't need to physically torture anyone in order for us to feel satisfied when he gets his ass kicked?

Mixed messages: Is this a show about how traumatic experiences have consequences? As illustrated by Lucius or the fact that everyone uses mental health language now, and is getting triggered by Blackbeard? But then why does everyone go right back to partying after having been tortured? Why does Stede want to have sex after just having murdered a man? Does almost getting murdered or murdering have consequences or not?

Bonus – What I liked: Ed in the nether realm – this was done well, it was funny, it was heartfelt, it was profound. I felt like I was watching s1. Stede and Ed interactions – when they didn't just callback to scenes we've already seen in s1 (*cough* moonlight *cough*), the dynamic was entertaining, enjoyable and endearing.

Feel free to add stuff, that you thought sucked or that was done well!

I really hope they give the writers more time to write s3! Cause, at least for David, it's clear that he can be brilliant, or s1 wouldn't be as great as it is. But it is. I haven't entirely lost hope yet.

[winters-mistress]

even in the dark, you will not be my light

"Quickly, get in." Yennefer grits her teeth, finishing the spell with the last of her physical energy. The hut she has created, the invisibility and anti-tracking shells taking much more out of her than anything she'd done before sodden. It's a little shack, not much of note, but what can you expect out of a mage of stuttering magic and a frantic spell to get a child with a fever get out of a cold rainstorm?

Geralt doesn't even spare a moment to consider Yennefer's possible ulterior motive, doesn't consider that it could be a trap. But thankfully, both he and his child end up secure in a small, raggedy cottage, out of the rain, out of the storm.

The witcher places the child on the settee, sparing a glance at the movement in the corner of his eye. It's Yennefer, because of course it is, but she's not doing anything nefarious this time. All she's doing is leading Roach, Astoria and Thanau into a barn she's made up for them, and his attention is quickly caught by a stuttering breath from the girl laying in his hands.

She breathes in, raggedy and unkempt, as Geralt makes work of removing her sodden clothes and boots, leaving her only in her chest band and undershorts. Her skin is so hot, it almost rivals his own witcher warmth, and he quickly bands her hair up from her face and lays her in the bed he sees in the corner of the room.

There's only one, he realises in passing, but it's hardly the mist important thing when he realises Cirilla's skin is damp with sweat and her cheeks are flushed. She's always so confident and strong that seeing her shuddering and flushed and feverish is greatly concerning.

Yennefer comes in by the time Geralt has filled a clay bowl with water and is running a rag over her forehead after covering her up in the blankets.

"How-how is she?" Yennefer gasps out. Geralt spares her a glance, biting back a harsh response to her hypocrites. She's raggedy, her hair is unbrushed and wild, her eyes are big, and she's hunched over with her hands on her knees, looking small as she looks up at him.

"Alright. As much as she can be. She needs medication. Willowbark and salix willow. Mint, basil and ginger." Geralt lists from the top of his head, still wiping down the girl. "Need to get the sputum out as soon as we can. Keep her warm but cool, get water into her."

"Do you have any herbs in your sacks?"

"Not anything that wouldn't melt her insides." His eyes lock on the vulnerable child once more. "And the storm would take away any scents of herbs growing in the forests."

Yennefer takes a shuddering breath, walking over towards the water bucket Geralt had filled the clay pot from, and ducks her head inside, drinking greedily until her stomach aches and she belches in a way that make Tissaia bend her over and tan her hide.

"Let me see what I can conjure." Yennefer gasps out, wiping the water from her face. "I need to find somewhere to draw from afterwards. I can't give too much of myself in case she needs anything bigger, it'll hurt me."

Geralt's jaw flexes, and she knows he struggles to hold back words that she knows will hurt just as much as if they had struck her around the face.

She looks down. "Tomorrow, hopefully." She says, her voice quiet. Only he can make her feel so small with just a look. "After she's awake."

"Yennefer, she suffers. She needs the herbs." Is his way of telling her to shut the fuck up and get on with it. She nods slowly, slinking down to her knees as her eyes close, reaching inside herself.

Yennefer has to lay down next to Ciri after she has conjured a handful of several herbs. Blood drips from her eyes and she faints briefly, sending Geralt into a panicked anger. He doesn't like Yennefer so close to Cirilla at the best of times, after all that bullshit with the demon, and her role in his brothers deaths so strong she may as well have dug the knife in their hearts herself. So to have her laying next to the girl when she's so sick, it unnerved him. He doesn't even want to blink for fear of her being taken from him.

Ciri's breathing easier now, after he managed to get a teapot full of herbs and leaves down her. She's less flushed, and he keeps cold cloths all over her body to break the fever. It's all he can do for now, just brew more tea and change her cloths and get water down her in her moments of lucidity. The girl is now clothed in a long tunic with sleeves stopping just past her shoulders, it looks more like a sleep gown than a shirt.

When Yennefer sits up an hour later, Ciri's sleep is peaceful and her tanned skin is clean of blood. Geralt is at their bedside, watching them both with equal intensity. It makes guilt sit tight on her chest, to see a man who would have lay his life for her and fall to his knees in her worship so tense and untrusting and paranoid, watching every move she made. It's her own fault, her selfishness, and her entitlement, but the fact and her attempts of atonement don't go far with this man.

"Are you feeling better?" Geralt asks her.

"Yes. I-I can't draw from myself too much, not after the fire. I'll need to find a riverbank or draw from stones in the coming days." her voice is quiet as she looks to Ciri. Geralt tenses. "She's breathing easier." Yennefer comments.

"She will need another dose of her tea soon, can't have her sleeping too long without it. We'll need some lemons and honey when she wakes up, clear out the thickness in her chest."

Yennefer nods. She gets up from the bed, slow. She drinks more water and flexes her fingers.

"The rain is slowing a little." she says. "Can't imagine we'll find any lemon trees or honeycomb in the middle of winter. I'll see what I can conjure after the storm breaks." she's rambling and she knows it, but she's so desperate for Geralt to see that she's sorry that it hurts.

He looks exhausted when she looks at him. Yennefer doesn't know if it would help if she pulled back all together, at least for a while. He's so worried, for Ciri, for her health and her physical safety from those who want to hunt her and use her, of the hunt who's invasion is imminent and his paranoia that she would all of a sudden snap her from his grasp and make away with the elder blood princess.

"You need to sleep, Geralt." She says.

He snorts. "No rest to be had these days."

"Be that as it may, lay down with her, she's not awake and you cannot make her drink when she is asleep. Her fever is down and she breathes easier, you've done all you can for now."

Geralt breathes and looks at the girl. In her assessment of the girl, Yennefer is correct. The princess sleeps soundly, and his arms ache to hold her, to assure himself that she's still okay.

He silently toes his boots off and removes the armour, keeping the steel sword in arms reach as he gets on the bed, hearing it creek in protest of his considerable mass. Geralts arms wrap around her, and he pulls her to his chest, laying on his back with the young girl laying on his torso. He can feel her heartbeat, listen to her pulse, his hair moves with her breath.

Yennefer stumbles when she comes back, holding another handful of mint leaves in her hand.

"Stop, Yennefer." He orders. "You'll only hurt yourself if you keep going with no source." He huffs.

"I just-I just need to sit." But she ends up collapsing against the bedframe, and is caught on instinct, pulled back onto the sheets as her body lays down again.

"Geralt, what-"

"We both need to rest, we'll be no good to her collapsing on our feet tomorrow."

"You don't trust-"

"I do not. But lay there and collect yourself, now is not the time to speak of such matters."

"I'm sorry, Geralt."

"You've said. We can't talk about this now, Ciri is what's important now. So rest, you can't help me get her better if you run yourself ragged."