#got me so bad the first time I heard this

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 16 + 17) tw: violence, injuries, and misogynistic language

first chapter >> last chapter

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Sinking into fear is the body’s natural response. You let it envelope you without putting up a struggle. It wouldn’t be one that you’d win anyway. Resistance already leaks out of you like tar, pooling around your quivering legs.  

It makes you feel lighter than air, almost buoyant; and conversely, heavier than lead. 

You can’t feel the cold metal of the gun through the layers of fabric separating it from the skin of your back, but you can feel its weight. And you can imagine it burning into you, burning a ring into the flesh, the muzzle leaving faint depressions behind, circular indents.

“Don’t feel so clever now, huh?”

Fear chokes as well as it binds. When the man you remember as Graves (appropriately named, you think, the gravity of the situation sinking into you as well) drawls the words into your ear, any moisture in your mouth dries. 

“Well?” he prompts, shoving the gun harder into your back, almost sending you toppling into the shelf still in front of you obscuring you from sight. “Got anythin’ to say?”

You open your mouth but nothing comes out.

“You a mute, girl? I know you ain’t deaf since you heard I’d been sniffin’ around lookin’ for ya. ‘Least I’m guessin’ you did, since you managed to give me the slip for the whole time I was in town.” He sniffs. “Took me a while to find out you were shacked up with the sheriff. Hiding in plain sight. Couldn’t believe I missed ya when Sheriff Price was damn near the first person I met in this two-bit town.”

You finally muster up the nerve to speak. “Y-you’re making a mistake.” 

The furled upper lip is audible in his voice. “I’d try not to piss me off too much, sugar. Lyin’ just rubs me the wrong way is all.”

“No, you—you really don’t—” 

He shoves the gun harder into your back, making you wince. “Now, I know you’re a slippery little bitch, so I’ll level with you, alright?” Graves murmurs, pitching his voice low to ensure that only you hear. “You make so much as a peep—so much as a fuckin’ whisper—and I’ll shoot. Wink and I’ll shoot. I am dyin’ for you to give me a reason to go with the better half of the dead or alive question.”

There’s no point in lying. It might’ve worked had it been anyone but the man holding you hostage; not a man as stubborn and mulish as him. You nod when he asks if you understand.

“Now get to steppin’.”

He doesn’t tarry long, leading you out of the shop with a hand on your shoulder and . You stare at Miles with mounting horror, wordlessly begging him to look up from the ledger open in front of him on the counter. Your prayers go unanswered though; he doesn’t so much as glance towards the door before it’s swinging shut behind you.

“Remember,” Graves says in a low voice as the two of you step out onto the porch, “not a word. I will shoot anyone that tries to interfere.” 

That kills the impulse to shout for help. 

The thought of letting Graves take you away without voicing so much as a single plea fills you with horror, but you can’t see any other way out. He walks you through the streets like an old friend, the pistol still wedged into your back obscured by his coat. No one seems to notice the wild look in your eyes or the strained edge of your smile. 

Your behavior infuriates you. Demural and soft and wretched. You’ve only allowed one man to put you under their thumb; only one has ever earned the right. 

The thought of your husband is an ache in your chest that doesn’t abate. It thumps with the terrified flutter of your heart. You half wonder if he’ll suddenly appear from around a bend and wrench you into his arms, gun already drawn and aimed at the man attempting to take you away from him. 

“My husband—” you start, tripping over your words. Almost tripping over a rock as well since your spine is too stiff to let you look down at the ground while you walk. “—He can—he can pay you.”

He laughs, a nasty, mocking sound. “I’m sure he’d like to, sugar. Jus' ain’t sure he’s got the cash to pay your price.”

“At least let me ask—”

At that, he jams the gun violently into the small of your back, making you wince agaun. Petrified. Sweat sluices off your brow and drips down your face. “What part of shut the fuck up don’t you get?”

That silences you. Hard to muster up the nerve to retaliate with a gun lodged against the base of your spine. Still there’s so much that bears asking. Why did he come back? Why here—why now? 

The town takes on a dull, listless quality as he steers you away from the more crowded areas. It’s almost like looking through muslin; a veil between you and the world. 

Your eyes dart from person to person as they pass by in the opposite direction, but even those that bother to meet your gaze only smile politely, a couple passing gentlemen chirping, “Morning, Mrs. Price” before sweeping by in a hurry. 

None question the wild, frantic glint in your eye, the look of a horse about to bolt. If they paid you more than a moment’s notice, they might, but even the lady who frowns curiously at Graves, his hand still resting gently on your arm as if he were an old, dear friend, abandons her momentary curiosity when her companion says something of interest, pulling her back into their conversation. The flicker of hope in your belly dies a soundless death. 

There’s something almost phantasmagorical about the entire ordeal. Almost like it isn’t quite happening, like you can’t quite make yourself believe that this is, in fact, real. Like you’re watching from outside of yourself. Though you can see the wooden facades of the nearby buildings and smell the scent of hay and manure from the livery stable, it doesn’t resonate within you as real. 

He meanders through town with you stationed in front of him. A meat shield. Collateral damage. Simply by the way he maneuvers you through the crowd, he reduces you to a body, stripping you of any semblance of personhood. You’re less than meat to him, less than human even—no more than a meal ticket. 

When you muster up the courage to open your mouth the next time someone passes you by, Graves’ hand slides up to your shoulder and he digs his fingers into the bone. A warning. 

“If you think I was kiddin’ before, just try me,” he sneers into your ear, thumb pressing into your shoulder blade until you wince. 

Again, his voice dispels any thought of getting someone’s attention. 

He doesn’t lead you towards the train station like you expect. Instead, he heads to an awning beneath the saloon on the periphery of town where a couple horses are leashed to a post, waiting for their riders to come untie them. The roof of the awning is strung with a dense cluster of overlapping cobwebs. A spider scuttles across the web and into the dark inner recesses of the canopy. 

This far from the center of town, there’s hardly anyone. When you give your surroundings a quick glance, you can’t find a single other soul within earshot, only a single man pushing open the batwing doors on his way into the saloon. Then you’re alone again. 

A tawny gelding chuffs when Graves approaches.  When he suddenly unhands you, it doesn’t click until he’s several paces away from you, running his hand down his horse’s neck and rifling through the saddlebags, emptying the contents of his coat pockets into them. You have to glance down at your shoulder just to be sure. He sheathes his gun as well, tucking it into the holster fixed to his belt. 

“Bought the horse off a drunk three towns back,” Graves explains while loading up the horse.

You don’t respond, still unsettled. It’s the first time since he led you out of the general store that his gun hasn’t been aimed at you. It wouldn’t be practical for him to dress and load the horse one handed. The sun beats down on you, burning the top of your head. This could be your moment—a moment to scream or run away.

But you don’t. You don’t scream and you don’t run because you are, above all else, a coward. Through and through. You’ve been running from your problems for months now, leaving someone else to take care of the mess you left behind. 

Fear paralyzes you; it makes you think too much or not at all. Even now, with Graves giving you the perfect opportunity to turn and run, you can’t stop thinking about the potential consequences. What if he were to shoot you? What if he were to haul you back into town and expose your sins to everyone who gathered around? What if the people in town that have come to see you as one of their own were to gather around your crumpled form and stare at you with vitriol and disgust? 

“How did you—” you start, then pause to breathe, the nausea building again. “I thought you’d left town.”

“You’d’ve liked that, huh?” 

You don’t answer that. You know better than to antagonize a man with a gun. 

He sighs when you don’t rise to the bait, almost pettish. “Wedding announcement. I saw it in the paper—by then, I’d moved on to Lexington, so it took me awhile to backtrack, but I just knew somethin’ about that bit in the paper about the sheriff’s wife hailing from the east coast didn’t sound right. Too big of a coincidence. Had to at least be sure—retrace my footsteps. Lotta money on the line, you know.”

You stare straight ahead at that. You ought to have known. 

(“In the paper. The county sheriff got hitched—of course it’d be a story.”)

“To be honest, that kinda cracked me up. Murderess marrying the county sheriff.” He snorts out a laugh, shaking his head. “Sorta thing you’d read about in a dime novel.”

A new emotion wells up within you. It simmers in your belly, hot and cold at once. Righteous fury. All this time, you’ve been betraying yourself with your silence, allowing men to read your fear as guilt. Complicit in your own ruin. 

“I’m not a murderer.”

The look he gives you is withering. “Sugar, I hate to break it to you, but you did kill a man.”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Nothing ever does, it seems.  But the more you hold it in, the uglier the thought seems, until it erupts from your chest like Vesuvius, lava and tephra shooting out. 

“He deserved it,” you finally spit out, the words coming from deep in your chest. 

Graves doesn’t even pause in his ministrations, back to tightening the saddle straps. 

“He deserved it,” you repeat, spittle flying out of your mouth and landing in the dirt between the two of you. 

“That’s not somethin’ I usually concern myself with,” he finally says, looking distinctly unimpressed when he meets your stare. Bored blue eyes. 

You’re struck by the sense that your life means so little to him that the circumstances surrounding your bounty hardly merit more than a passing thought. If he could spare less, he would. 

It’s the vilest thing in the world to be regarded with such bored contempt. 

“He would’ve—he would’ve raped me otherwise. I didn’t have a choice.” 

At that, Graves pauses. When he looks towards you, his eyes are curiously blank. 

“Better that than what’ll happen now,” he says, the words so perfunctory that it takes a moment for them to sink in.  When they do, you have to swallow back bile.

His glibness shatters whatever hope you’d had left. 

In that moment, you finally acknowledge that appealing to his sense of decency won’t lead you anywhere because it simply doesn’t exist within him. You’ve known men like him before—those more concerned with lining their own pockets than taking care of the vulnerable people around them. The archetype is not uncommon. You should’ve expected it even, especially from a bounty hunter. 

There won’t be any bribing him or talking your way out of the situation you’ve found yourself in. Whatever facinorous end awaits you back east, he’s happy to shepherd you there so long as it earns him his thirty coins. 

How many times do you have to ask yourself if you’re brave enough to do something before you answer? 

When Graves turns to face you again and takes a step towards you, likely to urge you up onto the saddle, you recoil, stumbling away from him. His eyes sharpen at your movement, fulvous wolf eyes narrowing on you. 

“And here I thought you’d stopped pissin’ me off,” he says lightly, a hard edge underlying his words. His hand lifts to rest against the handle of the revolver tucked back in its sheath, thumb flexing over it. 

“What’s the point?” you retort, nostrils flaring. “You either kill me here or I die there.”

You sound braver than you feel, fear making you shake so hard that your knees almost knock together. 

Graves’ smile is all lip, no crinkling around the eyes. “Oh, I won’t kill you, sugar. I’m a better shot than that.”

Your heart pounds against your ribcage, stomach turning over at the thought of him putting a bullet through your shoulder or leg. 

“I’m surprised you won’t just come quietly. You think the sheriff wouldn’t hand you over to me himself if he found out what kinda woman he married?”

That’s been your fear from the very beginning. The one thing that’s kept you awake at night, the nightmare shaking you out of a dead sleep. You’d convinced yourself that him calling the authorities or even escorting you back east himself was an inevitability. That John Price, paragon of virtue, wouldn’t bend the rules for anyone, much less you. 

But the more you think about it, the less sense it seems to make. Every tender word and touch rises to the forefront of your memory. If John has shown you anything, it’s love. He’s proven his devotion a thousand times over, shown you time and again that were you to leave, he’d come running. 

Suddenly, the thought that your husband would let someone take you away from him seems preposterous. It doesn’t align at all with the man you know. He’d go to hell and back for you, would rip out a man’s tongue for speaking to you the way Graves speaks to you now. Hindsight makes that clear. 

You meet his eyes, intention set. “I’d rather just ask him.”

Blue eyes turn to flint, flat. Droll candor shed for ruthlessness. Silence before a storm. 

He’s on you before you even have a chance to whirl around and make a run for it, arm cutting into your windpipe when he wraps it around your neck. He drags you back into the shadows of the awning, out of sight from anyone on the street; your heels score lines in the dirt. You choke, wheezing on your next breath, but his arm tightens, trapping the scream in your throat. 

“Shoulda done this before,” Graves grunts, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out the pair of cuffs he had tucked away. 

When he unhooks his arm from around your neck, you gasp for breath, sucking in deep lungfuls of air. Panic swirls and rises in your chest. 

“Get your hands off—” you hiss, beating his arm with your fist to no avail. He yanks your arms in front of you until your wrists are pressed close together. Your blood curdles at the feeling of cold iron against your skin and the gut-wrenching sound of handcuffs being fixed around your wrists, tightened to the point of pain. You can hardly flex your hands with how tight they’re bound. “Let me go, let ME GO—”

He pulls you in close again. “Don’t think I won’t tape your fuckin’ mouth shut too,” Graves snarls in your ear. Nausea swells in your belly. 

“Please— please don’t do this—” you beg, a sob breaking from your chest now. 

He sighs, long suffering. “Lord knows I tried to warn you.”

Despite the threat, Graves doesn’t tape your mouth shut. Instead, he fastens a rough piece of rope around your head, fitting it between your teeth like a bit. You don’t have it in you to be thankful for small mercies this time. The hemp cord scratches the corners of your mouth when you try to move your lips around it. 

“There,” he says, giving you a rough shake, satisfied. “That’s better. Can finally hear myself think.”

The tears leak out of the corners of your eyes in big, fat droplets, clouding your vision. When he wipes your cheeks with a calloused hand, the nail of his thumb catches on the delicate skin under your eye, leaving a thin cut. The pain makes you flinch, staring daggers at the man in front of you, but he doesn’t apologize for his rough handling. 

Graves heaves himself up onto the saddle first, swinging a leg over with practiced ease. You yelp when he hauls you up after, setting you on the saddle in front of him. Heat crawls up your neck when your skirt billows around your waist, horrified. 

“Save your tears, sugar,” he tells you, gathering the reins in one hand. “You’ll need ‘em for later.”

The horse whinnies when Graves pulls upward and guides him towards the road leading out of town, hooves clopping against the dirt. Your heart shoots up into your throat. 

Galloping out of town, you chance a glance back, head spinning as the world blurs around you. A man stands under the awning you just left, his head cocked as if stupefied. He’s too far away for you to get a proper look at his face though, no way to tell if he’s someone that might recognize you and alert John. You try to scream or wave your hands—anything to get his attention, to let the stranger know that something is wrong. 

You watch until the figure melds into the surrounding town. 

You keep waiting for someone to appear from behind you. A tall figure to darken the horizon, blot it like the moon passing over the sun. 

The last bastion of your hope collapses into rubble the farther away you ride, no man nor horse following you in pursuit. And then a hand grabs a fistful of your hair and wrenches your head back around, cutting off your view.

The plan is to leave the horse in the next town you reach and take a train back east. Graves would’ve done that back in the town you just left, he tells you, but he wanted to put as much distance between you and the sheriff. 

“You never know with men who’ve gotten a taste of married life,” he says when he finally deigns to stop miles from town, sitting on a rock and having a drink while he leaves you tied to the horse by your wrists. You shift from foot to foot, a cramp winding up your legs. “They get themselves a little pussy and lose all sense of dignity or morality. Can’t be trusted to do the right thing.” 

Steam practically billows out of your ears. You have the good sense to keep your mouth shut though, cognizant of the fact that you’re alone out in the middle of nowhere with a man who’d be happy to bring you back dead or alive. Though he hasn’t been quite so explicit, it’s apparent in the way he doesn’t offer to untie you or let you rest as well. The skin under the cuffs on your wrists are rubbed raw from your attempts to free yourself, and from the journey itself, with all the jostling and the persistent cramp in your right shoulder. 

The animal awareness dawns on you during that first rest. He’d taken the rope out when you were far enough outside of town that it didn’t matter if you screamed or not. That’s what stays your tongue now—the creeping notion that you are far from anyone that would be remotely sympathetic to your plight. 

“How much was the bounty?” you ask, more out of morbid curiosity than anything. You balance on one foot to shake the cramp out of the other. 

“Now, I hate to be rude, sugar, but what does it matter to you? It ain’t you collecting the reward.”

Your lips flatten into a taut line, already regretting prying. It’s not like knowing would change anything. 

The break ends sooner than you’d hoped, Graves urging you back onto the horse before taking a seat behind you. It troubles you because you’re not far enough away from town that you couldn’t still be rescued. There’d be more of a chance of John or someone else—one of his deputies, perhaps—coming across you out here. But you don’t have much of a choice. 

Out here, the land stretches on without end. Only the faint blue of a mountain ridge paralleling your route breaks the horizon. The land is flat, sparse apart from the dense shrubbery and trees twisted and bent by the wind. Cottonwood and boxelder. Chokecherry. Dogwood and hawthorn. Lush blooming saltbrush. 

The clear blue sky overhead is almost mocking, the rain from earlier long since abated. There’s hardly a cloud in the sky now. It’d be scenic if you could abstract it from the circumstances. A perfect day for gardening or a brisk walk after being kept indoors because of the rain. You’re still damp from riding through the rain earlier. 

A few bison congregate in a small dip in the terrain, grazing on the wild grass. You stare at them wide-eyed as you gallop along the upper ridge, startled by the sight of so many in one place. 

Despite the sublime beauty of the land, you remain on edge, unable to take anything in or truly enjoy it. Panic and revulsion leave you as gnarled and knotted as the krummholz trees out in the middle of the open plains. Riding with Graves feels nothing like the few times you and John shared a horse. It’s impersonal; transactional. Entirely against your will. 

The sun has only just begun to descend under the horizon when you and Graves approach a ramshackle house situated by itself in the middle of the open plains. Barely more than a barn, and long since abandoned by the looks of it. Age has done the place no favors; wooden slats sag and separate from the exterior of the house, the gaps in between the boards letting in all manner of insects and rot. 

Graves dismounts his horse about a stone’s throw from the hovel. His brow furrows with dissatisfaction as he surveys the abandoned property. 

“Shit,” he remarks, sucking his teeth. “A local back in town swore a family still lived here. Don’t look like anyone’s lived here since Abraham.”

Part of you wishes the former tenants still resided here, on the off possibility that one might take pity on you, but a much larger part of you is grateful for the dwelling’s vacancy. You’ve heard stories before, of families living out in the middle of nowhere. Rumors. Not all bad, of course; it’s common enough for families migrating west sometimes to stop along the way for a generation or two, building more permanent dwellings than the caravans they began their journey in. Many such families were also known for putting up travelers passing through in exchange for goods or help with chores. 

But you’ve also heard other stories. Like the Riley family out near Cherryvale and their homestead just off the Great Osage Trail. They lived out there for more than two decades before the number of lone travelers vanishing off the trail within walking distance of their property pointed the finger of suspicion at them. When the authorities finally got around to procuring a warrant for their property, they found the house deserted apart from the furniture that couldn’t be loaded into the wagon and an infant boy, dehydrated and petrified. 

You shake the story from your head. “…Are we spending the night here?” you ask tentatively. 

He looks at you from the corner of his eye, nostrils flared. “Don’t go gettin’ any ideas in that head of yours. Jus’ because a man’s gotta rest his eyes, don’t mean I gotta give you a peaceful night’s rest. No, I’m leavin’ those hands of yours tied.”

Your hopes deflate at that.��

He helps you dismount before hobbling his horse with a pair of leather straps around its front legs to keep it from darting off in the middle of the night. You wince sympathetically; you have more in common with a horse now than any man. 

The inside of the cabin is just as derelict as the exterior. At the very least, he feeds you. A couple scoops of pemmican straight from the tin. The fact that he insists on feeding you instead of letting you feed yourself puts you on edge. Your spine is stiff as a board through it all, your mouth barely opening up to receive the spoonful of pemmican, the metal clanking against your teeth. You wince, the sound itself tasting of rust. 

At all times, you are aware of the precarity of your situation. You can’t imagine there were any stipulations in the bounty to bring you back unscathed. Though he hasn’t tried anything untoward so far—not so much as made a licentious remark—you don’t know how long your luck will last. You flinch every time he so much as twitches in your direction, sure at any moment his mood will flip and he’ll drag you across the floor and haul himself over you. 

It’s enough to make your stomach hurt, turning over itself. He doesn’t try anything though, and for that you exhale shakily, the tension running off you in rivulets. 

One hour drags into the next. Night blackens the sky, seeping in through the crumbling walls of the cabin. 

“Well,” Graves says, wiping his hands together to dust off any lingering crumbs. “I’m gonna hit the hay.”

“Do…do I get to sleep as well?”

He cocks a brow. “Not much I can do to stop you.”

“It’s just that…” You lift your hands as you trail off, silently pointing out the handcuffs still secured around your wrists, the implicit assertion being that you won’t be able to sleep with the metal digging into the bones of your wrists. 

Graves scoffs. “You can’t think I’ll just uncuff you ‘cause we ain’t in town no more. I got a little more sense than that, sugar.”

“You could use rope instead?” you suggest. 

The seconds he spends considering it are long. You hold your breath as you watch him weigh the pros and cons. 

Finally, he shrugs. “Alright.”

The relief that washes over you is almost palpable. 

He pulls a blanket out of one of the saddlebags to function as a makeshift pillow, setting it up on the floor in the center of the room. True to his word, Graves uncuffs you and loops a double knotted rope around your wrists instead, fastening the rope tying your hands together around his own wrist. Your stomach sinks as he pulls the knot taut. 

He levels a heavy stare on you after giving the rope one last tug. “I don’t usually repeat myself, sugar, but I will this one time. Don’t go tryin’ anythin’ stupid. I’m gettin’ a good night’s rest and so help me if you wake me up—” his eyes flash, gray going steely “—you won’t like the consequences.”

You nod. Swallow back the phlegm clogging your throat. 

True night plunges the old house into darkness, cricket songs slipping in through the cracks in the walls. The temperature also plunges with the setting sun. It gets cold at night, even in the summer months; the draft makes you shiver, the rotting exterior letting in the elements. 

You keep to the wall with the least amount of rotting boards, as far as the rope tethering you to Graves will allow you to go. It would probably be in your best interest to try and get some sleep, but you’re far too restless to calm down. The atmosphere in the house is far too eerie to settle your nerves either; you can’t help but wonder about the family that must have left this place to rot and fade away into memory. 

It’s all you can do to blink back the tears that spring to your eyes when you think about the memory of you that John will have to carry into the future now that you’re gone. It isn’t fair. After everything you’ve had to endure in this lifetime, you thought maybe that this might have been your reward. That John was your reward. 

Your hands drop from your chin to your knees, hopelessness plaguing you again. The thin, sharp whistle of defeat. High and reedy as a death rattle. 

Then your eyes drop to your wrists.

The cord is fastened in a bowline knot around your wrists, difficult to undo without considerable effort, but the material is softer than the cuffs Graves had you in before, and it gives when you pull one hand down while pushing the other up. Your skin bunches around the cord, but it doesn’t cut into you the way the metal did. 

Graves is still fast asleep when you glance over at him. He doesn’t snore, but the rise and fall of his chest under the blanket is steady. Stable. 

The fatigue dissipates from your body the second you put it together. That there’s a sliver of a possibility of slipping your hands out of the rope tying you to Graves. The exhilaration is almost overwhelming. You have to sit with it a beat before acting, wary of letting your guard down too fast.

Time passes slowly as you fiddle with the knot, reaching your fingers as far as they’ll go and gritting your teeth through the ensuing cramp in your wrist. You nearly groan in frustration when your hand twitches and you accidentally retighten the knot. A near crushing blow. 

Please, you mouth more than whisper, frustrated tears clumped in your lashes. Teeth sinking into the flesh of your bottom lip, pinching off the wail rising up your throat. 

Your heart skips a beat when the rope loosens around one of your wrists, enough for you to wiggle a pinkie underneath and slowly shimmy it up the length of your hand. A cramp makes your pinkie spasm, almost causing you to lose your grip. Sweat pools in the cup of your palm. 

When your wrists are finally free, the rope clutched in trembling hands and the basal joint of your thumb scrapped raw from the fibrous rope, you can only sit there, heart beating wildly in your chest. You have to force yourself to remain calm, wary of waking Graves up after all that effort. His eyelids quiver only with his dreams though. 

You glance towards the door on the other side of the cabin. It seems either farther away now that you know it’s within reach. You know better than to just run straight for it though. Weeks of being on the run before finding John have taught you to pace yourself, to push down the fluttering evocation in your chest to make a mad dash for the closest way out. 

Instead, you take a deep breath out, closing your eyes until you’ve calmed down. Then you rise slowly to your feet. 

Your eyes, having long since adjusted to the darkness, scan the room for any loose floorboards. Aside from one obvious corner of the house which has begun to rot away and collapse, it’s hard for you to discern at a glance which boards will groan under the weight of your feet. You have no choice but to guess.

Each step has you on edge, heart in your throat. Your focus shifts quicksilver between the floor and Graves. Waiting for any sudden movement. 

Halfway to the door, you take another cautious step forward and the floorboard creaks under your foot. Your heart stops, eyes flitting instantly over to Graves’ sleeping form. He doesn’t so much as shift. It’s another beat before you’re able to move again, confidence shaken by the noise. You keep imagining him suddenly shooting up from the floor, pistol in hand, the hammer striking the primer, the hiss of gas escaping the barrel. 

The door gives a faint creak when you push it open, so you open it only enough for your body to slip through, wincing when you twitch and accidentally push it open another inch, dragging out the creak. Still, he doesn't wake. You slip past the door, shutting it quietly behind you.  

The moon glows cornsilk gold in the sky. A vast, uncharted land stretches out around you, untouched by human hands, or so changed over the years that any human presence has long since been buried beneath the loam. But when you stare out into the distance, you realize that you have no idea where you came from. Everything looks the same in each direction, no landmark familiar enough for you to orient yourself. You’re out in the middle of nowhere and nothing looks right. 

If you had less strength, you’d fall to your knees. The despair is so immense that you hardly have the strength to hold it all at once. 

The silence lulls you into a false sense of security. You linger for too long, stuck contemplating your options. Coyotes yip in distant packs, their barks carrying across the plains. You shiver at the sound. It reminds you again that you’re on your own now. No husband to come chasing after you if things get sticky. 

Your first few steps away from the cabin are tentative, gliding your legs through the grass and staring up at the cornsilk moon. A combination of indulgence and bewilderment. If you knew the right way home, you wouldn’t waver, but these days, you have no faith in your instincts. They’ve only ever led you off course. 

The gelding that Graves rode in on sits in the grass with its hind legs folded underneath it. With its legs still hobbled, you know removing the leather will take more time than you'd like, but you figure it'll be easier to make your way across the plains on horseback, with the added bonus of leaving Graves stranded. If God were just, he’d starve out here and leave his corpse for the coyotes to feast on. 

You approach the horse cautiously, conscious not to make any sudden movements. Its ears angle towards you as you draw near. Attentive to your presence. 

“Hey there, honey,” you whisper, reaching out a hand and trying to show that you aren’t a threat. Its nose twitches.

Another step forward. Easy does it. One leg in front of the other.

“I won’t hurt you. I promise.” You try to mirror your memory of John in your voice, honeysuckle soft words. 

You aren’t John though. Not even close. You take another step towards it.

It brays when you get too close, skittish. The sound pierces through the night, louder than the coyotes in the distance. Louder even than the creaking door.  

The hair on the back of your neck raises, lips numb. Then the prickling awareness of movement in the house, like an itch on a phantom limb. 

Behind you, the door to the cabin bursts open with a bang, slamming off the wall and ricocheting back. You whip your head around to look only to find Graves’ towering form under the shadow of the doorway, his hair mused and clothes askew. And he looks enraged. 

“Hey!” Graves bellows from the doorway, breaking into a run towards you. “Get back here!”

There’s no time to sit with the regret, no time to bemoan the fact that you didn’t exercise enough caution, that for some reason without a gun leveled at your head, you allowed yourself to forget the very real danger this man posed to you. 

All you can do is run.

The grass whistles around you. You run so hard that your lungs burn, your arms pumping furiously beside you, dress swishing between your legs. You don’t have to look behind you to know that Graves is gaining on you. His body is built for pursuit. Still, you push yourself past your breaking point, not stopping even when you taste blood in your mouth. Mindless; directionless. No idea where you’re going—just away from him. You’d jump off a cliff if you came across one. 

He’s close enough for you to hear now, heavy breathing right behind you. But by then it’s too late. A heavy body rams into you, sending you careening towards the earth, the ground rushing up to meet you halfway. The dirt hardly cushions the blow. 

You hit the ground hard. Head knocked loose of thought, agony ripping across your face. The double blow of a body heavier than yours forcing you into the dirt, so solid that it crushes the breath from your lungs. 

Blood leaks from your lip, most likely split. When you breathe in to fill your lungs, you taste dirt and rust and earth. 

“Insufferable bitch,” Graves snarls, putrid breath wafting under your nose and making your eyes water. He grabs a handful of your hair and wrenches your head up before slamming it back down. Something crunches. Distantly, you wonder if your nose is broken. 

Your ears ring, the rest of his words drowned out by the blood rushing to your face. 

“Please—” you beg, blood dripping from your split lip. 

“Knew I shouldn’ta trusted you—conniving little cunt—c’mere now, get up—”

He rises to his feet over your body, big hand curling around your wrist. You hear your shoulder pop when he yanks your arm behind your back. A rush of cold. A sweat breaks on the nape of your neck. Shock sets in the moment after, adrenaline flooding your body. 

Then a sharp, focused surge of pain. It radiates from your shoulder outward, so intense that you can’t believe it at first. Your whole world reduces down to it. Feathering out down your back; irradiating waves of it. Thoughts scattering and then coming back together around the pain. If you scream, it comes out unbidden. 

“Ah, hell, I didn’t mean to do that,” he grumbles from behind you, likely staring at the unnatural jut of your shoulder. “Alright, sugar, one second—I’ll pop that back in.”

“Nononono—” you gasp, panic lancing through you, but he pays no attention to your words. 

The pain of popping your shoulder back in is excruciating. Relief follows shortly after, but the time between dislocating and relocating your shoulder is so short that it hardly comes as a balm to the pain.

“You…bastard…” you gasp. 

“Wouldn’ta had to do that if you hadn’t run,” he sighs, the sight of your pain subduing his rage. 

It doesn’t stop him from grabbing you roughly by the arm he just dislocated when he finally gets you on your feet though, steering you back towards the house. The pain that radiates up your arm is almost blinding. 

He drags you back to the cabin with a punishing grip. There’s no sympathy when you stumble. Moonlight illuminates the path back to the cabin and shows you the trenches in the wild grass made by your feet. Hardly more than a couple rods. 

The defeat that courses through you upon being dragged through the ramshackle front door is ten times that of earlier. When he lets go of your arm, you collapse in a heap on the floor, aching and sweating. A bag of bones and blood. You’d rattle if someone shook you. 

“I hate you,” you mumble from your spot on the floor, shaking through the pain. “Rot in hell.”

Graves doesn’t respond, but you can almost hear the way he grins.  

No rest for the wicked or the good this time. Graves wakes intermittently throughout the night to check up on you, wary now that you’ve tried to run. Your regret is palpable. You should’ve waited. Bided your time. There won't be another chance now, not after you played your hand so soon. 

The ache in your shoulder keeps you from finding sleep. Every time you get close to it, the pain radiates down your arm and it slips from your grasp, your hand closing around the empty space it leaves behind. Teeth grit, breathing through the pain. Loosening your jaw and panting because the pain overwhelms you when you so much as shift onto your side, the hard floor digging into your elbow. 

Right on the edge of sleep, just as you're about to latch on, a boot catches you in the ribs, jostling you back into the realm of pain. You wheeze, breaking into a coughing fit. 

“Get up,” a hoarse voice grunts above you, empty of sympathy. “We got places to be.”

He has the two of you back on the horse as soon as dawn breaks. Your escape attempt the night before must have spooked him, and you regret it now in the light of day because you know he won’t let you out of his sight again. The metal handcuffs digging into your wrists assures you of that. 

There’s no time for breakfast or time to wash up. Graves makes it a point to be back on the road as fast as possible, repacking his bedroll and stuffing it back in the saddlebag before dragging you up with him. 

The pain is a dull throb after sleeping most of the agony away. It comes back when you move too quickly though, which is hard to avoid on horseback when each gallop echoes through your sore bones and joints. 

The arching sun immixes with the heavens above, rising higher as the hours pass. You ache for a hat; something to keep the heat of the sun off your head. On the horizon, the mountain ridge sits like a spine bursting out from the earth. It’s all wastelands and portents. Evil omens. 

Your heart feels swollen and bruised, like something trampled under elk hooves. 

“Cheer up,” Graves says, tipping your chin up when the sun reaches its peak around midday, the gesture making you so uncomfortable that you almost shudder out of your skin. Your face still throbs with pain. “You should be glad I didn’t jus’ shoot you.”

Your lips pull back, baring your teeth to nothing. 

A shot rips through the air at that, his words commanding it into being. Your head instinctively ducks and even the horse under you staggers, spooked by the sound. Graves curses, tensing up behind you.

"What in the hell—"

You whip your head around to stare behind you, looking for the source of the gunfire. When you find it, your eyes widen.

[milla-frenchy]

In the cold night

3k1 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 | Masterlist

Summary: being on patrol, Joel and you spend the cold winter night together in a small house

Warnings: 18+ mdni. mention of a past SA attempt (not by Joel), protective!joel, feral!joel saving reader, friends to lovers, one bed, soft!joel, praise kink, masturbation (f), thighs rubbing, oral (f), piv. No age specified

a/n: this is written for @justagalwhowrites 's “Joel Miller birthday celebration”. I chose Jackson!Joel/one bed- Thank you for this event 🙏 Thank you @arcanefox207 for the gif in the mood board ❤️ Please, check out the full gif here and some others, they are stunning 😍 Thank you, Ally 🙏❤️ @aurorawritestoescape thank you as always for beta-ing, baby 💕🫶 dividers @saradika-graphics 🙏

The crunch of your footsteps in the snow echoes in your head. Two rabbits are hanging from Joel’s back, clinging to his shoulder. His brown jacket has lost its shine long, long time ago, and the leather is frayed at the elbows and sleeves. Every time you pass him, the smell of old leather rushes into your nostrils. A reassuring, familiar scent.

You’re heading to an outpost, as you have done so many times before. You know each other's reflexes by heart, the way your bodies tense in case of danger, the glances that make speech useless. You no longer count the number of infected you have killed during patrols.

You look around a small wooden house. Searching for footprints, anything that might put you on alert. You scan the area, whether for infected, or worse- hunters or raiders.

You feel safe with Joel, ever since the day he snatched you from the hands of raiders. Two dirty, skinny men. They surprised you, during one of your first long patrols. They knocked Joel out, and dragged you on an old mattress of the shelter you just arrived at. They did not even pay attention to the dead duck that you planned to eat that evening. In this world, with some men, food is not the first thing they crave. 

You punched one of them, then tried to grab your knife, but two men were too much to handle. When they threw you onto the mattress, you struggled, screaming, biting, then one held your arms while the other removed your pants. Tears obstructed your view. You would have preferred to be bitten by an infected, rather than that. 

Just as the first man was about to lie down between your thighs while you were crying with rage, you heard a dull, cold, unexpected noise. A knife thrown from the opposite side of the room, just stuck in the skull of the man, holding your arms. As soon Joel threw the knife, he rushed to rip the man off your body, and then punched him so many times that his face got swollen from the blows and turned unrecognizable.

“Piece o’shit!” Joel growled from the depths of his chest. You looked at him, still half in shock at what had almost happened to you, feeling relieved. The man was lying on the ground, barely breathing. Joel let go of his collar and retrieved the knife from the second man’s skull. He pressed the tip of the blade against his heart and slowly pushed it in, his dark gaze fixed on the man’s. The raider’s feet twitched for a few moments, before they froze for eternity.

Then Joel rushed over to you and covered you with an old blanket pulled from the foot of the bed. As soon as he sat down on the mattress, his worried eyes fixed on you, you wrapped your arms around his waist. Wanting to forget your fear, to curl up against his reassuring presence. He took you in his arms, rocking you slowly, holding you close to him.

“ ‘m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. I didn’t hear them coming, because of my damn bad ear.”

“It’s ok, Joel, it’s ok. They didn’t do anything to me,” you muffled in his chest.

“No it’s not. They did way too much. But I got you, now. I got you. Won’t happen again. Not on my watch.”

He held you against him for several minutes, patiently, one hand caressing your back, the other resting on the nape of your neck, until you stopped crying. He then asked if you were feeling a little better, if he could get the bodies out of the outpost. He didn’t want you to see them anymore. You nodded, watched him as he dragged the bodies out into the surrounding woods. 

He was sitting next to you until you fell asleep. He stood guard all night, staring at the shadows of the trees through the window, letting you rest.

From that day on, you knew that nothing would happen to you as long as you were with Joel. He was the type of man who, when he said something, stuck to it. He was reliable, loyal, and serious. He was your patrol partner, and you couldn't have asked for a better one.

Once you reach the shelter, you prepare the fire in the hearth of the old fireplace, while Joel goes around this old house, half buried under the snow. It is the first time that you patrol here in the middle of winter, and the walls and the ground are icy. You eat one of the rabbits, trying in vain to warm yourself by the fire. As you get ready to go to bed, Joel puts a blanket on the floor.

“What are you doing, Joel? You can't sleep there. You're gonna freeze and die, it’s too cold!”

“There's only one bed, sweetheart. Ain't gonna sleep with you.”

“Of course you're gonna sleep with me. Come on, Joel, don't be silly. We can share the bed, we have to keep each other warm or the next patrol will find our two skeletons in this damn house.”

“Jesus, you’re so stubborn! Alright then.”

You smile, thinking that you had never met someone as stubborn as him, and if he hadn't noticed your slightly blue lips, he probably wouldn't have changed his mind.

You undress and slip under the thin blankets, wearing your t-shirt and panties. Grimacing at the contact with the cold and damp covers. He joins you in the small bed, and even though warmth radiates from his body, your teeth still chatter.

“Christ, you're freezing. C’mere, I’ll keep you warm,” he says, as you take off your t-shirt and he discards his too, leaving only his boxers.

“Told you we had to sleep in the same damn bed… and I'm the stubborn one?”

He chuckles, and takes you in his arms, his chest pressed against your back.

“Better, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, you’re as warm as a boiler. How is that possible? Icicles are practically falling off these blankets.”

“Alright, you’re exaggerating a bit, don’t you think?”

You scoff and muffle a laugh, then fall asleep.

You wake up during the night, Joel's light snoring in your ear. His arms are still around you and you're much less cold. His scent surrounds you. You shift slightly, putting the blanket that had slipped back on both of you. The movement makes him mumble in his sleep and you smile, getting ready to fall back asleep, until you feel him twitch against you. His cock, asleep until then, has just woken up in his boxers when your ass brushed against it.

You open your eyes suddenly. It’s been a long time since you felt a body- a hard cock - against you. You try to move away from him a little, to not wake him up, to not create awkwardness between you. But he holds you tighter against him, letting out a sigh of contentment when his cock finds its place against your ass again.

You get a rush of arousal and you're not sure if you'll be able to fall back asleep. Your walls are contracting painfully, calling for a release of the pressure from your crotch. You close your eyes, placing your hand under the pillow. Trying to think of something else, until his cock jerks again. Once, twice. There’s no way you’re gonna be able to fall back asleep. 

So you think that maybe, if you do it discreetly, you can make yourself come. Even though he's lying against you, his chest against your back.

You slide your hand south, slowly, so as not to wake him, and start brushing your swollen folds through your panties. But it's not enough. You slide your hand under the hem, finally whirling your clit under your finger. Joel growls against your ear and you freeze for a few moments, until his breathing becomes calm, steady. Gently, you stroke yourself, finally starting to feel the fire in your crotch calm down a little.

You vaguely feel his nose brush your hair, not paying much attention to it, thinking he does it in his sleep. Then you feel his hand slowly slide down your arm, and you jerk, hastily removing your fingers from your panties, realizing that Joel is awake and that he has caught you.

“It’s ok, sweetheart,” he whispers softly in your ear in his sleepy voice, taking your hand and gently bringing it back to your pussy.

You feel the heat reach your cheeks and think about getting up, but you're too ashamed to face him. There had never been any sexual tension between the two of you. You're what you could call friends, in this lost world. You trust each other, he told you about Sarah, you told him about your late husband and son. You trust each other, and honestly, you never thought about him as more than a friend. And you don't want to ruin your friendship.

“I just want you to feel good.”

You stay silent for a few moments. Thinking about what he's telling you. You know he's sincere. 

You feel your clit pulsing and you bite your lip.

“Ok, Joel,” you breathe out. 

You're unsure of what will happen between the two of you after, but you let him lead your hand and slide your fingers under your soaked panties. You're already moaning at the first touch and you feel your nipples hardening. 

Delicately, the tips of his fingers pressed against yours, you let him lead the dance and travel through your folds. Then he slides both your hands into your panties, and makes you touch yourself so delicately, as if you were the most fragile thing in the world, that new moans escape you.

“Keep going, Joel, please…”

He hums, grazing your ear with his nose. You hear his breathing deepen, then he presses his forehead against your shoulder blade, still using your finger to brush your clit. You feel your pussy dripping. The fact that he is using your fingers, so perfectly, is perhaps the most sensual thing you have ever done.

You feel his cock stuck in his boxers harden even more as he keeps touching you. You crave to feel him against you, without any fabric between your bodies. You forget your shyness, your reserve, your worries.

“Would you… pull down your boxers? So I can feel you?*

“Of course, sweetheart.” He lets go of your hand to pull down his underwear. His hard cock springs out and this time you feel it fully against you. Big, hard.

“Between my thighs, please…”

He kisses your back and grabs his cock, slides it into this tight space, then comes to rest against your fingers again, in your panties. You slowly move your pelvis back and forth, rubbing yourself against his shaft.

“Christ, sweetheart… Feeling you against me, like that…”

“I know, Joel. It’s… good, really good.”

You no longer remember your fear that this will change things between you. The feeling is too good, too powerful, to think about anything else.

His shaft slides easily between your thighs, your pussy soaking him continuously.

“You’re so wet for me, baby”, he whispers in your ear, and a new flow trickles from your walls. His free hand caresses your shoulder, then he kisses it. You feel his mustache brush your skin, and your moans fill the room.

“You’re gonna come for me, sweetheart?”

“Fuck… fuck yeah, I'm gonna come, Joel.”

He keeps playing with your fingers with the same rhythm, feeling that you are close. Your mind goes blank. You only think about the pressure growing inside you, ready to explode.

“Come on baby, be a good girl for me,” he murmurs.

The orgasm washes over you, and you arch your back under its power, your ass pressed against Joel’s crotch. “Always such a good girl for me,” he praises, holding you against him, your hand in his, until your jerks stop.

Your breathing slowly goes down. “Damn”, you say. “That was so hot.”

“It was,” he smiles, kissing your shoulder. He doesn't ask for more, doesn't put any pressure on you, but you need more. You need your bodies to be one. You don't think too much about it, then add quickly, “Joel… I need to…” before shyness overwhelms you again, and he asks softly “tell me, baby. What do you need?”

The soft tone of his voice reassures you, and you add “I need to feel you… I need to feel you inside me.”

“Turn around, sweetheart. Lemme look at you.”

You do as he says, and face him. You barely see his face in the darkness of the night. Just enough to perceive the intensity in his gaze, behind his usual sweetness with you, as he strokes your cheek gently with his thumb.

“Can I kiss you?”

You nod, of course. Ready to take whatever he wants to give you. His warm lips land on yours and press against them. You hear him take a deep breath, then his nose rubs yours. He kisses you again, with more intensity, and sensations you thought forgotten forever jostle throughout your whole being. His tongue tastes your lips, then slides between them and finds yours. He moans as your hand grabs his shaft softly, wet with his precum and your desire. You jerk him off slowly as you continue to make out. He's big. So big. But you don't wonder if your body can accept it, after all this time. You know it will. And you know Joel will be soft. You nestle his cock at your entrance after pushing your panties aside, murmuring “I wanna feel you,” your forehead against his.

You tilt your pelvis forward and his tip slides inside you, making you hold your breath for a few moments.

“You’re ok?”

“Yeah. I just have to… get used to it.” 

He doesn’t move and lets you handle the rhythm. You kiss him again, and you feel your pussy dripping, eager to be filled. You put your hand on the back of his neck and squeeze his bicep with the other, sliding further down his shaft. Your walls spread as you glide on his tip and again, you feel that forgotten feeling. Your breasts are pressed against his chest, nipples tense. Your hand runs through his neck, and you feel his prominent veins under your fingers. 

“Oh my god,” you whine, when he is fully inside you. You pull back then push forward again, to reassure his worried eyes on you. You are so wet that the sounds echo in your ears and the whole room. Joel holds you against him, gently, sensually. One hand on your hip, the other on your back.

“Joel?” you ask.

“Tell me, sweetheart.”

“Can you lie down on me? I'd like to feel you deeper.”

He caresses your cheek and tells you yes, of course.

You lie on your back and he removes your panties, kneeling between your thighs.

And he looks at you, from your face to your cunt. "You're beautiful," he says. His stare stops there, then he glances at you. As if he was asking you silently if he could taste you. You nod and he settles between your thighs, spreading your folds with his fingers.

“You're so wet for me, baby,” he adds, before licking your pussy in a long stroke. Pointing his tongue at your clit, then running over your folds again. Your knees are bent, legs spread as wide as possible. His head moves between your offered thighs, your hands lost in his curls, while his tongue laps at your dripping pussy. He pushes two fingers in your core, and places his lips around your clit, sucking it. Then swirls it under his tongue, while his fingers thrust in at a perfect, regular pace.

“Joel,” you whimper. “I'm gonna come again.”

Your nails tighten on his scalp as you come on his tongue, your walls squeezing uncontrollably around his two fingers. He pulls them out and replaces them with his tongue, drinking in everything that flows from you. The feeling is so strong, forgotten for so long, that you feel like you're going to burst into tears. But he stops, careful not to overwhelm you, and lies down between your thighs. He places his hand on your cheek and searches for your eyes before pushing his tip into you with his other hand, eyes lowered to you.

“Damn sweetheart,” he breathes. “You feel so good around me.”

His words envelop you and lull you. His voice is low, calm, as slow and sweet as the rhythm in which he sinks into you.

All his weight is on you and you have never felt so safe in your entire life. His arms surround you as you kiss. Your hands roam the top of his body. His arms, his shoulders, his back, his cheeks, his neck. His cock slides inside you, pushing your walls in the most perfect way with each thrust. Your knees are spread wide to welcome him between your thighs. He straightens up, leaning on one hand, and looks at you. Looks into your eyes filled with desire.

He watches your neck throbbing. Your chest heaving.

He watches where his cock is digging into you.

“I'm not gonna last. Can you give me one more, baby?”

“Yeah, it's... yes.”

He lies back on you, eyes locked on yours, and slides his arms under your shoulders. Your hot, sweaty chests rub against each other. He doesn't take his eyes off you as he thrusts into you, his shaft rubbing exactly where you need it. Your fingers dig into his flesh as you come on his shaft and he stops moving. Eager to keep watching you twitch beneath him, but trying not to come too. Not yet, not inside you. He wants to let you come until the shaking stops. 

He looks at you, and focuses on a mole, chosen at random. To focus on something else, than your pussy perfectly squeezing him. When your trembling finally stops, he grabs his cock hastily, just in time before his cum coats the inside of your thighs and your lower stomach, then his heavy body rests against yours.

“Christ, sweetheart… that was amazing,” he says, smiling at you. You kiss and then nestle against his chest. You feel his heart beat hard, then gradually calm down. You fall asleep without even realizing it.

When you wake up, it’s daylight. The smell of coffee rushes into your nostrils. For a moment, it’s like life is almost normal.

You sit up in bed, holding the blanket against you.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he says. Smiling, warm. Joel.

You smile back at him, thinking that you would like to wake up next to him every single day, from now on. 

Thank you for reading 🙏

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[the-goo-goo-muck]

NOW PLAYING

BREAKFAST, LUNCH, & DINNER

Starring: Choso Kamo, Kento Nanami, Kiyotaka Ijichi, Sukuna Ryomen, Toji Fushiguro

The JJK men tend to have a healthy appetite when it comes to you

Warnings! oral (f receiving), overstimulation, praise, face-sitting, fingering, male masturbation, ass-play, degradation

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Choso Kamo: Determined <3

Choso maybe does a little bit too much research. He’s heard that some women don’t necessarily like getting head as much as other things. He can’t fathom this because you sucking his dick is about the most pleasurable thing he can think of besides being stuffed inside your cunt. Regardless, he wants to do his very best to make sure this is as pleasurable for you as it is for him; he’s just so concerned he’ll do a bad job. & it makes no difference how much you assure him that “you don’t have to if you don’t want to, sweetie,” & that even if he does do a bad job, you won’t be upset. No, that only encourages him that he needs to make this as good as possible. So when he finally makes up his mind, he’ll let you know as straightforward as usual, probably a text that has you choking on your coffee at 10:00am: “I want to eat you out tonight Y/N.” Straight to the point, as usual. & of course you’re excited, but a swirl of nervousness begins coiling in your stomach. Last time he had his head between your thighs, he was there for hours. 

He doesn’t like it when you talk, especially coherently, that means he’s not doing his job. “Faster? But when I go faster with my cock you cry. . .” “It feels good right, baby? Am I doing good?” “Shhh, s’okay, know you can cum for me again, pretty girl, don’t you wanna cum? I love it when you cum on my tongue, just for me.”

He tries to praise you, mimic the sweet things you say to him when you’re jerking him off or riding his cock, but he’s almost as fucked out as you are, & the praise never seems to sound as good spilling from his lips as it does from yours—at least, that’s what he thinks. But his soft spoken, sweet words cause your cunt to pulse against his tongue, so he tries for you anyways; tries anything, because if it gets you off, makes you feel even a fraction as good as you make him feel, he’s more than willing to do it!

He’s the type to eat you out until he loses track of time, cumming in his own pants once or twice, he doesn’t even need to put his cock in you. & it isn’t until you’re cross-eyed, sweaty, voice hoarse, & crying for him that he even considers stopping. “Did it feel good?” If you had any energy, you’d smack him upside the head. 

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Kento Nanami: Generous <3

If you were to ask Nanami what his favorite thing to do in bed was, it would be–hands-down, without a doubt, easily—eating you out. Of course, he’s a service top until the day he dies, but it’s more than that; he genuinely derives pleasure from making you feel good. After a long day of work, he comes home exhausted, bags under his eyes, muscles sore, & you’re thinking what you could do to make him feel better: a nice shower, a massage, & maybe—if he’d let you—sucking his dick. You’re pretty pleased with yourself about this little plan until you’ve got him in the bedroom, heading to the bathroom to turn on the shower & he’s tugging on your arm, pulling you down on the bed & wordlessly working off your pants. 

“Kento? Don’t you wanna shower first?” 

He shakes his head, “need to taste you, sweetheart, need it.” 

He hooks his arms under your knees, pulling your legs up & over his broad shoulders, making himself comfortable, in for the long haul.

His favorite is when you’ve sat down on him, hands gripping the headboard, mindlessly grinding against his face, chasing your own pleasure, head empty.  You feel bad sometimes, sitting on his face, or grinding your cunt against him, squeezing your thighs around his head, pulling his hair, but if anything, this adds to his enjoyment of it. He could sit with his head between your legs for as long as you’ll let him, & you always let him because he’s just so damn good at it; you don’t have to tell him what you want, what you need, because he already knows. 

He sticks his tongue into your tight hole, relishing, moaning at the way it spasms around it, working a finger in alongside it, curling it up to that special spot that has you throwing your head back & whining his name. Sucking on your clit, almost meanly because he knows, he knows, how overstimulated you are, how it hurts so good. 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Kiyotaka Ijichi: Desperate <3

“You-you taste so good, pretty girl, s’good, please, n-no, don’t gotta run from it,” he whines as you attempt to rock your hips up off the bed, obviously grinding his hips onto the bed, hoping you won’t notice. He’s just so eager, he needs you to cum against his face just one more time. He’s whining like a poor puppy when you pull on his hair. Pathetic moans fill the air, & you’re losing it because there’s no technique, no method to the madness, just pure, sheer, utter desperation. & he’s apologizing into your soaking cunt as he ruts into the bed through his orgasm, potentially gaining more pleasure from this than you. It was always so easy to make Kiyotaka feel good, just your moans of “more, more, so good, Kiyo” had him whining into your pussy, palming his sore dick through his boxers. 

What he lacks in skill, he makes up for in eagerness; eager is the perfect word for the way Kiyotaka eats you, tongue lying flat over & over on your slit, tongue slipping in & out of your puckering hole, thumb circling your clit constantly, overwhelming your poor cunt. 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Sukuna Ryomen: Aloof <3

It was rare that Sukuna ate you out, not because he doesn’t like it, don’t get it twisted, but it’s so vulnerable of him, & he can’t fully control himself when he’s between your legs. He’s contrastingly gently, savoring every inch of you, alternating between sucking on your thighs, teasing you to no end, & assaulting your clit with his tongue & his fingers. He loves to have your hips in his hands, manhandling you how he wants, fingertips leaving bruises on your waist, growling when you whine out, “w-wait ‘Kuna, s’too much,” because “Isn’t this what you wanted in the first place?” 

Maybe you had wanted this, but you hadn’t expected him to go on for so long. You couldn’t remember a time when you’d seen Sukuna have any form of patience, barely even prepping you before bullying his cocks into you, but here he was, taking his time with you, not even worried about his own pleasure, too enchanted by your honeyed pussy, just begging for him. 

He’ll never tell you this, but his favorite time to eat you out is when you’re on your period; he’ll disguise it by saying that it makes your scent stronger, but really he just wants to ease your pain & make you feel better.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Toji Fushiguro: Rug Muncher <3

God, he’s an asshole. Don’t get it wrong, he loves eating that sweet cunt of yours, but he also loves nothing more than teasing you. He’s got you on your knees, upper body resting on the sheets, pressing the chastest of kisses on your thighs, your folds, hands slowly gripping your ass, spreading it open for him, swirling his tongue around your puckered hole just above your pussy, pushing a finger in even though he knows you’re cunt is aching for him. He’ll get there. . .eventually. 

“Nghh—n-no, Toji, n-not there,” you whine, trying to pull away from his finger, but he just pushes it in deeper. 

“Not there? Where d’ya want in then, princess?” & fuck it, he knows where you want it, but he just can’t get over how perfect you are like this: needy, desperate, unabashed. You’re not afraid to beg for what you want. But he doesn’t give you time to ask. “You sure you aren’t just pretending not to like it? ‘Cause your pussy clenches every time I put my finger in here.” He laughs meanly, but then he’s sticking his tongue in your pussy, licking fat stripes front to back, spitting on it, shaking his head all up in it. Toji likes it when you give him messy head, & so of course he likes to return the favor.

You’re reaching down to rub your clit while he’s taking his sweet time getting you off & then he’s swatting your hand away because you’re gonna take what he gives you or get nothing at all.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

no, your honor, i don't believe in writing ooc headcanons. . .

LOOKING FOR SOME MORE? MASTERLIST <3

LOOKING FOR SOMETHING SPECIFIC? ASK <3

[thinkinonsense]

DESIRE ୨୧

logan howlett x mutant!reader

cw: flirty, slightly nsfw

a/n: this was heavily inspired by that scene in the first suicide squad movie where they introduce harley quinn.

"we should all split up before someone finds us." storm tells her team mates as the break into the building.

inside were mutants of all kinds, being hidden and tested on. it was charles plan for the team to get as many as possible and bring them back to the mansion before they can cause any damage.

on the surface, it seemed simple enough. they have done this mission a million times. little did they know that an unspeakable danger awaited them in the basement of the old building.

everyone split up, storm went to the west wing while scott and jean went to the east. logan found his way downstairs, assuming that maybe he could find whoever was running the show here.

beyond the high security metal doors, he can hear the faint sound of an old record playing. the closer he got, the clearer it sounded. nancy sinatra? maybe? logan wasn't quite sure but he figured it was a trap so, he prepared himself for whatever was on the other side.

Way down along the stream

How sweet it will seem

Once more just to dream

In the moonlight

My honey, I know (I know) with the dawn

That you will be gone

But tonight

You belong to me

revealed on the other side is a large metal cage fit for a wild animal. inside was a girl swinging upside down from a line of tied material with her body in an obscene position.

"i've told you before, david..." your voice was angelic to logan's ears. light as a feather. "i don't like to be disturbed after 7."

"i'm not david, princess." logan said, stepping out of the shadows right as your eyes open.

logan's eyes scan over your scandalous appearance. tiny dirty white shorts and matching tight tank top, apparently whoever runs this prison doesn't allow bras either. you twirl down from near the top of the cage until your face to face with the man on the other side.

"who are you, then?" you ask, looking up at him as you hold onto the bars.

"i'm here to get you out of this cage." he says, unleashing his claws, ready to cut through the bars.

"hold it, baby." you purr, reaching out to touch his sharp claws. "don't you wanna play with me?"

"no, we need to leave."

"why should i leave with you? how do i know that you won't put me in another cage?"

even with a slightly dirty face, rings of lavender circles under your eyes, and dried blood on the corner of your bottom lip, logan still thought you were gorgeous. slightly intimidated by your fearlessness to reach out and touch his claws. he imagines that you had seen worse than this.

"tryin' to save you" he grunts.

"i wouldn't picture you as the prince charming type." you giggle, running your fingers up his hairy, veiny, strong arm over the black latex suit.

"i'm not."

logan glares down at you in a way that makes you want to jump his bones. what? it gets lonely being trapped in a cage all by yourself. plus it's not everyday that a handsome stranger wants to help you escape.

suddenly, you grab logan's palm, circling it as your eyes roll back to a dark green shade.

"tell me what you want to do with me." you demand.

this was the moment logan understood why you were held in a cage down in the basement. suddenly, logan's mind feels as if it's being bended and twisting, forcing every ounce of truth out of him.

"we are here to take the mutants to charles xavier's school for gifted youngsters." his voice sounded robotic under your spell.

"charles xavier?"

in a rush of excitement, you release logan from your threshold. he wants to bark at you for invading his mind but seeing you smile made him reconsider.

"so, you've heard of him?" logan raises a brow at you, watching as you hold his hand sweetly.

"of course i have." you answer tracing shapes on the back of his palm. "i've seen him in my visions. been waitin' on him."

visions? what kind of mutant are you? logan asked himself as you spoke.

"too bad i didn't see you in them, though." you sigh, batting your long lashes at him. "wish i had. could've bought us some time to... well, you know."

the teasing flirty tone made logan's cock stir under the tight latex. he felt this overwhelming desire for you fill his head.

"hm... we should focus on getting you out of here first, huh, princess?" he tilts his head to the side, amused by you. "step back."

you obey, walking backwards near your rope. in the blink of an eye, logan cuts through the bars and bends them out enough for him to help you get out. loud flashing sirens go off, slightly startling the two of you.

"guards." you warn him. "they're coming."

logan turns around, claws bare to anyone coming towards the two of you. he steps in front of you, ready to protect like a guard dog. it was quite cute of him, you think. the moment the guards burst in, logan starts attacking, stabbing them ruthlessly.

you allow him to take out a few one by one but as more poured in, you stepped in. your eyes roll back into the same shade of green as a hand raises, some of them fall to their hand and knees, shifting into dogs others were being strangled until they looked blue in the face.

logan couldn't believe it. the only mutant that he thought could rivaled your powers was jean. the room fell quiet except for the record echoing as it replayed.

"it's my favorite song, you know?" you grin as if nothing happened.

"old soul, huh?" logan asked with an eyebrow raised.

"witches are timeless, sugar." you wink, extending your hand for him to take.

logan hesitates but knows he has to get the two of you out of here alive. one look into your starry eyes and he's a goner. logan takes your hand and leads you to the jet, knowing he will never hear the end of it from his teammates.

[carringtonsgirl]

BETTER

M.STURNIOLO

in which chris accuses his girlfriend of wanting to fuck his brother so she does just that.

warnings: cheating,matt with the belt,p in v,sextape,creampie.

nothing more that matt hated then his brother stealing the girl he was first interested in just to be a total dick to her.

matts brother chris was dating y/n. they have been together for five months now. matt was interested in the girl first but then his brother had to go and snatch her from him. she was never his in the first place but still.

the two brothers had met the girl from their triplet brother nick. the two had been friends since they moved to la. they met at a influencer party and have been inseparable ever since.

matt instantly started feeling something for the girl when she started to come around more often. her and him were somewhat close but not as close as her and nick.

chris knew that matt felt something for the girl and yet he still went after her just to end up treating her bad.

the first month or two chris and y/n were dating it was perfect,he treated her good and the sex was good but for the past two months now chris completely changed. he would constantly blow her off when she tried to make plans with him and he would constantly argue with her and accuse her of cheating(he was the one who was cheating.)the only time they weren’t arguing is when they were fucking which wasnt often.

right now the girl was hanging out with nick chris and matt. they were all in the car currently on their way back to the triplets house from going out to dinner.

the car ride back to their house was strangely quiet and all that could be heard was the music that chris was playing.

dinner went good until chris opened his mouth and went on a rampage about something the girl did that pissed him off. matts jaw was clenched the whole ride back to their house.

he didn’t understand why chris was dating her if he was gonna be mean to her all the time. she deserved better, and matt was better.

as soon as they got home matt pulled into the garage parking the car and chris instantly got out and stormed inside the house slamming the door behind him.

“im gonna go talk to him.” the girl said softly.

matt sighed as she got out going inside after chris. he wishes she would just leave him.

nick noticed that matt seemed like something was bothering him so he spoke up. “you okay?”nick asked.

“i just don’t understand chris.” matt said as he was clenching his jaw.

“i know i dont understand it either, i know hes our brother but he shouldnt be treating y/n like that.” nick said.

“its so fucking stupid.” matt said as he got out of the car walking inside.

all that could be heard when walking into the house was chris yelling along with a slam of a door.

“i dont understand why you act so fucking perfect y/n! you piss me the fuck off so much and you wonder why i treat you the way i fucking do!” chris yelled.

the girl stood there not saying a word to him because she knew if she did he would be getting a reaction out of her and she didnt want him to think he has that control over her but she decided to end up speaking up for herself.

“chris i dont understand what your problem is” she said calmly.

“you dont understand what MY PROBLEM is? have you seen yourself have you seen the fucking way you look at matt!?” chris said rolling his eyes.

“what way do i look at him chris? hes a FRIEND”she said.

“no y/n clearly hes more than that!” chris yelled.

“what the fuck ever im not gonna sit here and argue with you all because your jealous of your own brother.” she said as she started to walk out the room.

“whatever you’re probably just gonna go fuck matt or something.” chris said.

“maybe i fucking will.” she said as she walked out of his room.

‧˚♡彡

matt was sitting on the living room when he saw the girl walking up the steps from chris’ room.

“hey. you okay?” he asked.

she nodded as she came over and sat down on the couch a inch or two apart from him.

“chris is just going on a big rampage on how apparently i wanna fuck you.” the girl said.

matts face lit up with amusement as he heard the words that came out of her mouth but suddenly a small smirk came onto his face.

“well do you?” he asked as he made eye contact with her.

“matt..im with your brother.” she said looking at him.

“i know baby but i promise i could fuck you so much better then he can.” matt said as he scooted closer to her.

as much as the girl denied it she often found herself thinking how it would be like to fuck matt. she would get herself off sometimes while thinking about his head inbetween her thighs or him pounding into her from behind.

“but only if you let me.” matt said as he was now inches away from her face.

the girl thought about it for a second she knew it was wrong to do chris that way but she couldnt help but want matt to be deep inside of her.

“please.”she said as she smashed her lips onto his kissing him softly.

matt kissed her back as he pulled her onto his lap wrapping his hands around her waist.

“thats all you had to say baby.” matt said as he held her as he stood up walking to his room.

matt carefully shut the door behind him making sure to lock it before placing her down on the bed.

he slid off her shirt then matt took his shirt off and hovered back over the girl kissing her softly.

the kiss instantly grew heated as matt was grinding his bulge against the girls aching core causing her to whimper into his mouth as her hands were tangled in his hair.

matt reached his hand down sliding it underneath her skirt dipping his hand into her panties feeling her aching wet cunt.

matt pulled away from the kiss and whispered into the girls ear. “so wet just f’me huh?” matt said causing her to whimper as he started to rub her clit.

“gonna make you feel so good baby.” he said as he started to kiss on her neck.

she whimpered as he slipped two of his fingers into her wet cunt and thrusting them into her at a fast pace.

he grabbed her throat with his freehand kissing her roughly as he was fingering her as she was moaning into his mouth.

he suddenly pulled out his fingers and bent her over the bed slipping her panties and skirt off of her.

he unbuckles his pants sliding off the belt and grabbing her wrists and tying them together with his belt.

he slid off his pants and grabbed her pulling her to the edge of the bed and slamming into her.

he thrusted into her at a fast pace as she was moaning loudly. he chuckled at how quick she became a mess.

“yeah? you like going dumb on your boyfriends brothers cock huh?” he groaned as he slapped her ass.

“mhmmmmm” she moaned out not being able to form sentences because all she could think about was his cock fucking her dumb.

“such a fucking whore, might have to call chris so he can hear how much of a whore his girlfriend is for my cock.” matt said as he reached to grab his phone.

he smirked as he clicked on his brothers name calling him.

[PHONE CALL]

“what matt”

“your girlfriend is such a good fuck”

“matt dont fucking play with me.”

“im not dont you hear how dumb she is right now?”

“you wouldn’t fucking do me like that”

“what? you mad i can dick her down better then you can.”

“oh fuck matt right there”

“you’re just fucking some random y/n went back to her house because we argued”

“whatever you say buddy”

matt ended the call with a satisfied smirk.his thrusts never faltering as he continued to pound into her. the girl was moaning uncontrollably, her body responding to every move he made.

“see, baby? even chris heard how i can fuck you better.” matt whispered against her ear, his voice dripping with arrogance and lust.

she could only nod, her mind too clouded with pleasure to form any coherent words. matts pace quickened, his grip on her hips tightening as he brought them both closer to the edge.

“gonna cum for me baby? cum all over my cock?” matt growled his own release approaching fast as he took the belt off of her wrists.

the girl could only moan in response.her body trembling as she felt the intense pleasure build up inside her. matts pace became relentless driving her closer and closer to the edge.

"thats it baby. cum all over my dick youve been such a good girl.”matt said as he grabbed the belt spanking her with it a few times.

with one final thrust, the girl cried out, her body convulsing as she reached her peak. the sensation was overwhelming, waves of pleasure crashing over her.

matt followed soon after groaning deeply as he released inside her. his grip on her hips tightening momentarily.

he felt himself cumming deep inside of her as he grabbed his phone recording him slowly pulling out of her with the mixture of their cum oozing out.

he leaned against her as he put his phone in her face, showing how fucked out she was. swollen lips, hair stuck to her face from sweating looking all fucked out.

“i fuck you better then chris huh baby?” he smirked as she nodded in response.

“words baby.” he said.

“you fuck me so much better then chris” she said all fucked out.

with that he ended the video clicking on his brothers contact name.

matt: *one attachment sent*

matt: all fucked out by me.

chris: fuck you matt.

matt: maybe if you treated her right she wouldnt of done this but clearly im better.

he smirked as he laid beside the girl pulling her into his arms. he started rubbing on her body as he kissed her forehead.

he cuddled her til they both fell asleep, not knowing that chris was about to come and rudely awake them.

[mattsturnioloz]

Then I lost you: Pt 4.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3.

Summary: Matt's career as a youtuber takes a toll on his 4 year relationship with his girlfriend, putting it on hold. Will it ever be the same again?

Warnings: angst, unresolved angst, crying, talk about intercourse, make out, fluff!!

Pairings: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

A/N: (Felt like writing chapter 4 cause I need to know what happens😭 also I recommend listening to the song while reading🙂)

“You know deep down it’s for the best y/n.” Matt says to me, gently taking my hands in his, a few tears rolling down his cheeks. I feel a deep pang in my heart but I wipe my tears. I nod, hugging him. We share a long heartfelt hug, and it only gets tighter each second.

“I love you.” I silently cry. “I love you more baby..” Matt says, softly hugging me closer, his arms around my torso. This very same night we cuddle eachother close, not knowing if it’s gonna be the last time.

———- ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ———-

The next morning I wake up still cuddled up with Matt, my heart heavy. It’s soon, but I know I should house hunt right now. Because if I don’t leave soon, I don’t think I ever will. I sit up taking myself out of matt’s arms gently, not wanting to wake up, but he stirs awake anyway and yanks me down pulling me closer. It hurts so bad but this feels so good.

I spend the next week house hunting, not finding anything that feels like home yet. No where is home if Matt isn’t with me. Matt is my home.

Matt and I still act like a couple, because we know this won’t be for much longer, and it felt like how it used to be, when we first got together. Innocent and sweet. It hurts to know we’re letting this go. I feel like we just gave up on what we have too soon. I don’t want to let it all go.

Matt comes with me to check out a house and when we walk in, we instantly feel like this is the one for me. It was small and cozy, which I love since it’s only gonna be me. Only me.

I sign the papers and buy the house, with a smile on my face, but it fades once I remember the circumstances. My things are still at my old Matt’s place, already all packed up.

We walk into Matt’s room which once was mine too, after loading all my boxes of belongings into the u-haul. It feels empty and I take a look at his face and all I see is dread and tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Matt..” I almost whisper. I grab his hand pulling him closer to bring him into a hug, and he breaks into sobs. I’ve never heard matt cry, not like this. Tears roll down my cheeks as we hug again.

“P-please- Please don’t go yet.. i just want- need one more night with you..please-” He chokes out, stuttering and sobbing. “Okay.. I would love that..” I say softly, sniffing while cupping his face, lifting it so that I can look at him with a smile and I kiss his salty teary lips.

It was time for bed and I decide to shower. I go to the bathroom and I get undressed before getting in and letting the water run over my body. I hear the bathroom door open and I open the curtain, finding Matt undressing himself to join me.

Before I could even say anything he opens the curtain wider and gets in, kissing me sweetly and softly. We shower together while showering eachother with love.

When we finish, Matt turns the shower faucet off then helps me out the shower. Once we’re out he dries my hair and naked body with the towel before doing the same to himself.

We brush our teeth, still just in towels and when we finish Matt gently grabs my chin, turning my head to face him and he kisses me. It gets deeper by the second but no faster. It was lust-filled but in the sweetest way.

He lifts me up by my thighs gripping them and takes me to the room, closing the door and gently putting me on the bed before crawling on top of me and slowly removing the towel, kissing me passionately once again. He makes his way to my neck slowly, taking his time, being gentle.

We make slow but sweet passionate love all night, and tears were shed during it, but after we cuddled eachother close and held on tight because now we knew for sure that this was our last night together. We fall asleep in eachother’s arms, not ready to let go.

———- ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ———-

Matt’s Pov:

I wake up in the morning with y/n’s arms and legs tied around me and it hits me that this is our last day together, which also happens to mark our 5 year anniversary..

I want to take back what I said. What I said about us not working. I regret it. But I know it’s too late and the damage is already done.

I don’t know what i’m gonna do without her. She’s my light, and I can’t believe I’m this stupid enough to be letting someone like her go. I love her and I can’t imagine my life without her.

She was supposed to be my wife. The mother of my children. The one who I was supposed to grow old with. The one who I would be telling stories with to our kids about how we met and fell in love. I messed it up, and now I can’t take it back, but i’ve hurt her enough.

I feel y/n start to stir awake and I brush her hair out of her face, looking down at her with a loose genuine smile. “Good morning baby..” I say leaning down towards her face to give her a sweet kiss on the tip of her nose then on the corner of her lips.

“Good morning..” She smiles with grogginess in her eyes. Her smile pulling at my heartstrings. “Happy 5 year anniversary, my love.” I say kissing her lips this time. Her smile fades and her face is in a frown. Her eyes well up which makes mine too. “I know.. I know..” I hold her close as we cry together as I occasionally kiss her forehead. I wipe her tears before kissing her forehead one last time and we get up and get dressed up for the day.

We make breakfast while messing around and laughing together, and I couldn’t help but hang onto our love that’s still here and after breakfast I feel so much affection towards her.

“Hey, why don’t I take you out for dinner tonight?” I ask her pulling her closer by the waist. “Why not?” She agrees with a big smile on her face. I lean down to peck her lips softly. “Perfect, i’ll take you home so that you can get ready then i’ll be back to pick you up” I say enthusiastically. She nods and leans up, standing up on her tip toes to give me a kiss.

I grab my keys and I lead her to the car to take her home. We get in and on the drive there we listen to music and talk about whatever we felt like talking about.

Once we get there, she grabs her purse from between her legs and she give me a kiss. “See you later..” She says with a small but sweet smile. “See you later baby..” I say, giving her a warm smile. She walks off to her front door and she opens it, going inside and shutting the door behind her, I start the car and I drive back home. I was determined to make this the best last date. Just for her.

1,250 words.

A/N: (thought this was gonna be the last part but I got exhausted and didn’t wanna wait to post it so part 5 is coming out tomorrow and is gonna be the last part!! I got so emotional making this part omgggg, writing angst is not for the weakkkk😭)

Taglist: @watercolorskyy @starzinasblog @imwetforyourmom @urfavstromboli @sturniqloo @star-yawnznn @h3arts4harry

[dark-frosted-heart]

Choose Your True Love - Keith Howell (part 1/4)

This is the from the 4th anniversary event

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. 

The twittering of birds stirred me from my slumber.

(Mmm…I ended up falling asleep)

(Huh, but I was waiting for Keith in his room, so how did I wind up in his secret room…)

When I sat up and rubbed my sleepy eyes, I felt something hit my hand.

It was Prince Keith’s diary, with its neat script unfinished.

(It’s an old diary. Was I reading this before I fell asleep…)

I stared up as I tried to remember—the sight that greeted me had me jump to my feet.

(No way…Half of Prince Keith’s diaries are missing…What in the…)

The shelves looked so empty, but I couldn’t find the missing diaries anywhere.

While I tried to wrap my head around what happened, I heard the door open.

Alter!Keith: …

Emma: Prince Keith! The diaries—

Alter!Keith: …

(Huh…?)

I suddenly felt a painful tug on my arm and found myself pinned against a bookshelf.

He held my wrists above my head and glared down at me with cold eyes. 

It’s the first time anyone's been this hostile toward me.

Alter!Keith: Who’re you? Why’re you here?

Emma: Huh, who…I’m Emma.

Alter!Keith: Emma? Sorry, but I don’t remember anyone with that name.

(It doesn’t sound like he’s joking. Does he really not know me…?)

(...Calm down. Panicking won’t change things)

I was trembling in confusion and fear, but I took some breaths to calm myself down.

~~ Flashback ~~

(It’s an old diary. Was I reading this before I fell asleep…)

(No way…Half of Prince Keith’s diaries are missing…What in the…)

~~ Flashback end ~~

(If the diaries never existed in the first place rather than just suddenly disappearing front he bookshelves…then Prince Keith’s reaction is “justifiable”)

(Am I…in the past?)

Emma: …

A large hand touched my neck and a chill went down my spine at the feeling of my life being in his hands.

Alter!Keith: You thinking about something? You’re underestimating me just ‘cause you’re dealing with a failure. Some damn noble told me I shouldn’t be nice to trespassers just ‘cause they’re female.

The grip around my neck tightened slightly.

(I don’t know if he’ll believe me. But at this rate, he won’t be just threatening me)

The wicked Prince Keith in front of me was way more like a beast than the one I knew.

Emma: …I have no idea why I’m here.

But one thing I know is that I’m not from this time, rather, I’m from the future.

Alter!Keith: Haha, your skills at deception suck so bad that it almost sounds true. You got proof?

Emma: …I know who “you” are. You’re a Prince Keith with an alternate personality…I know why you were born.

Alter!Keith: …

Emma: Please, believe me.

His golden eyes wavered, as if doubting reality.

As he opened his mouth to speak, a knock sounded on the door in the other room.

Liam: ……Excuse me?

It was Liam, Prince Keith’s butler.

He stared at me in surprise and raised a brow.

Liam: Prince Keith…What is the meaning of this?

This pressure he’s exuding…He must think that wicked Prince Keith snuck a woman in.

Prince Keith gave an irritatingly wicked smile.

Alter!Keith: Found her in the study. Our guest says she’s from the future.

Liam: ……Huh?

(He furrowed his brows…That’s a valid reaction)

(But even I’m surprised)

Emma: You believe me, Prince Keith?

Alter!Keith: It’s not that. But “my” existence is also improbable. So someone coming from the future isn’t impossible either. You said your name’s Emma? Tell me the reason why I was born.

Emma: Well…

(Though it’s something that happened to the nice Prince Keith, it’s still a painful past for the wicked Prince Keith)

I stuttered as I recalled the pained look on Prince Keith’s face when he told me.

Alter!Keith: …You actually know. Liam, you believe it a little more now, don’t you?

Emma: Did you just ask him to verify?

Alter!Keith: I said I didn’t believe you. 

Liam: The reason is as absurd as ever. …However, I don’t believe you’re lying. Besides, you’re the first to not freak out about Prince Keith acting differently from usual. But even I…didn’t believe you in the beginning.

(Liam and Prince Keith have known each other since they were children)

(Maybe it took him a moment to come to terms with reality because he was too confused)

Those furrowed brows and look of regret broke my heart.

Alter!Keith: We can throw her into a cell and torture her if she acts suspicious. You don’t look like you’re good at running away.

Emma: I won’t. Rather, I won’t leave your side no matter what. Because I personally don’t want to.

Alter!Keith: Oh? You care a lot about this failure. A guy without any merit.

Emma: What, yes he does. He has a lot.

Alter!Keith: Fine, he has a lot. Pardon me.

(...He just brushed me off)

(At least I can stick around as long as I don’t act suspicious…That’s a relief)

Suddenly, what happened in the study came to mind.

(Now that I think about it, I wonder what Prince Keith was going to say)

Alter!Keith: …So, did you bring it Liam?

Liam: Yes. Please be careful with it.

Alter!Keith: It’d be better to spread them out. That way, they can wreck each other and resolve this immediately.

He snickered, took the documents, and looked over them.

He was smiling, but his eyes were surprisingly cold.

Alter!Keith: Reliable as ever. Good boy. For now, I’ll go pay the guys here a visit. Prepare a carriage.

Liam: On it.

After bowing, Liam left the room.

My eyes drifted to the documents and some of the names on it caught my attention.

(If I recall correctly, they’re all nobles that support the king’s brother)

I remember coming across them while I was reading books to prepare myself for my official duties.

Emma: Um, what exactly are these documents?

Alter!Keith: …Wanna come along?

[spideyhexx]

have you considered singer billy also lives on a ranch best of both worlds

BUT i’ve had this thought brewing that you’re new in town and your car breaks down and literally the only person you know to call is billy :( and you’re stressed out probably crying because like. your car. broken. and he comes to try and fix it and lets you sit in his truck where it’s nice and warm

YES I imagine he still owns a ranch and all, he just also sings :(

new in town and you know Billy within a week of moving there. Not cause you even sought him out but because the people in town have mentioned him. How he’s the best guy to go to if you need something fixed. If one of your animals got loose, Billy’s the one to call.

And just on good faith, one of the old ladies that mentioned him, gives you his phone number, despite the fact you weren’t planning on reaching out to a total stranger any time soon.

Then you happen to run into him randomly. Maybe at a grocery store where you comment on his hat and once he says his name is Billy you kinda make a face that has him blushing and going, “heard about me already? By god, ‘ve got a reputation.”

And you tell him it’s not a bad one. He’s much more handsome than you expected but completely and utterly the gentleman he was described as.

then it’s only another week later that your car breaks down. You’re too far out from your home or the main center of town but what you do know is what you’ve heard about Billy. And you’ve met him at least, so it wouldn’t be weird to call him, right? You do it anyways and he barely hesitates to come help.

He’s there in under five minutes with his pickup. It’s night, and he can tell how stressed you are, so Billy’s first priority is making sure you’re okay. Part of him worries you got hurt somehow but once you say you’re physically fine, he gets you to sit in his car, shows you how his radio works in there so you can play music if you want.

He goes to try and fix your car in the meantime and you can’t help but snoop a little. His car isn’t completely clean but it’s him, even if you don’t know him well.

he’s got a half empty thing of cigarettes, a lighter, water bottle, some crumpled up pieces of paper that you don’t look into. Loose change, of course. He’s got a picture of his family, a small, wallet sized one. He may or may not have a condom or two in his glovebox which you try to forget about immediately.

There’s a blanket over the driver’s seat, looks like it was knitted by someone.

When he comes back, it almost spooks you.

he fixed whatever it was with your car and he sends you off on your way, saying awkwardly to let him know you got home safe while you tell him you owe him.

[madomkasak]

It's a vignette of something bigger I guess. Daniel's farm is about to see all the action. Just comfort. Implied retirement for Max and Daniel. ~500 words

“Ask you what? What you wanna do now? You got what, a couple of weeks before-”

“Ask me, Daniel.” Dan-iel — not da-niel. It makes the other man smile. A half turn of his lips. Max wants to kiss it. Maybe he can now, even. Maybe Daniel would let him.

“What’re you going to do next year, Maxy?”

“I was thinking of chilling on your farm, Daniel.” he replies. Sure. Sharp. It’s like they’re back there, and Max wants to have a group of pressers following him so he can say it again. Maybe he can say fuck the FIA too. Thinks strongly: I’m thinking of staying, Daniel. You asked.

“Yeah Max.” he says “Yeah, nah - ok.” Max waits. Watches Daniel swallow air rather than coffee. See, he wants to say, I have learnt to be patient. I waited. I was good, see? “You want to see how cold it gets on the farm in June? Wanna overcome your fear of sharks?”

“No.” he drags out the sound as he steps away. Daniel looks at him, half turned smile again. Flushed pink against tan. Max’s tongue is too big in his mouth, he tests soft fricatives against his teeth. Swallows them for a plosive, forms Daniel’s name in his heart. It never left.   “I’ll teach you to overcome your fear of the sea, of course. There is nothing else for me to do.”

It’s a lie. Max will have hours of meetings to go through. Will need to call his mother, Victoria — GP. They'll of course understand. It is Daniel. And it is Max. Maybe he’ll change his phone number. Maybe Daniel’s farm doesn’t have a signal deep into the sparse land. Maybe he can get him to talk to Christian and Helmut so Max doesn’t have to. Max will ask GP first.

Max doesn’t even own a boat. Yet. Would Daniel laugh when he shows up with a tinny?  Thoughts he left half formed spill into his mind as he waits. Like time slows and Max lets Daniel catch up to him again. It's fine, Max has been doing this since he was seventeen. Since he was young but not, and Daniel was free - but not.

“Yeah? Heard Melbourne isn’t bad in March, Maxy.” Daniel half laughs, but Max knows better. Remembers the strained laugh and the tears and the way Daniel hesitates, always. “There’s something big happening over there this Spring.” “No.” again, drawn out. A shared smile. Max steps into Daniel’s personal space.The stop sound of Daniel’s name fits in his mouth “You asked me to stay, Daniel. And it is autumn Daniel.” Max doesn’t have to be conscious of repeating names now.

He presses in, kisses dark hair on a jaw, bumps his nose against Daniel’s. Kisses him. Finally.

Daniel lets him. He doesn't call Max a cunt when he knocks the pitcher off the countertop. It doesn’t break, but Max’s socks are wet. Daniel's foot nudges his. Kisses Max back, a peck between sounds. Laughs against his lips and Max can feel the laughter sleep into his own bones. Vibrates against the hand he lodges beneath Daniel’s ribs. He digs into the too tight skin there, feels the bumps of Daniel’s rib cage. Feels the flutter of too quick heartbeat and Max tastes Daniel’s tongue, shares a breath with him, drinks how Daniel sighs a half aborted nasal sound that speaks Max's name. He'll stay.

[yuseirra]

Ch 161~

Can't draw so much during the week..!

More commentary about 161..

I'm actually convinced Fatal and Mephisto should be Kamiki's song?? I think some things hint of it.

and that he DOES really care about Aqua.

and that he does have to do with Sarutahiko, Amenouzume's husband(although this part is a speculation)

More stuff in the read more:

(first written in another language and chatGPT helped me translate it... I can't write things like this twice ;v; it's a great world here. so convenient~)

Honestly, it's frustrating and a bit agonizing; what is this even about? The plot is stressful, but...

Still, being able to focus like this... I guess it’s a good thing to find a work that hooks you and makes you think deeply in some way.

LOL, it also means I’m living a life where I have enough time to care about a manga, even though I’m currently in a pretty tough spot.

This manga, whether it's in a good or bad direction, seems to be driving me crazy in its own way.

If I’m disappointed, I can always go read something else, (I even got permission from someone to draw a Persona fanfic fanart, but I’ve been too hooked on this manga to do it.. that fanfic was so good.. I need to do it sooner or later..).

But I was so confident about my analyses. Like, really... I’m usually good at picking up on these kinds of things? This manga is great at psychological portrayal, and it was amusing to analyze that, There are just too many things sticking out for me, and things feel uneasy.

It’s not about the pairing... It just keeps bothering me... Am I really missing the mark on this? I’m usually good at sensing these things...

Without the movie arc, this development would be fine, but that arc is sandwiched in there, and I interpreted the character based on that too...

Honestly, every time I listen to the songs, I get this strong feeling like, "This isn’t Aqua." The kind of emotions in these songs, it's not him that's singing them. It's the dad. I immediately posted about it when I first heard it in July. As soon as I heard it, I thought, "This is it," and got a gut feeling.

I really want to feel that emotion again.

Even if Kamiki does turn out to be a serial killer, I still think these songs could describe his inner state.

I think we’ll get some explanation in the next five chapters or so, even if it takes a bit longer.

Also, the expression Kamiki makes when Aqua stabs him is so genuine. Until that moment, he had been smiling, but...

If that expression was because he suddenly felt threatened with his life, it’s a bit pathetic. But... I don’t think that’s the case. What I really pay attention to are the emotional flow and expressions.

When Aqua says he wants to watch Ruby perform, the smile on Kamiki’s face... it’s soft. That’s... definitely a look of affection. It’s not like, “Oh, I've won him over!” or, “Yes, I’ve convinced him!” I interpreted it as Kamiki having paternal love, and there was a scene that backed up that idea earlier. I’m sure he really likes Aqua.

That’s not a bad expression. It’s more like, "Yeah, you wish to see Ruby, don't you. Go ahead, watch her. Keep living" (Which makes me wonder, is he really planning to harm Ruby? If he harms her, maybe he plans to do it after the Dome performance? But even that doesn’t make sense. Does that mean Aqua would have to come back to stab him AGAIN after that takes place?? Does it really add up to his logic for telling him to go watch her?)

Aqua says Kamiki will destroy Ruby’s future, but...

How exactly is he going to do that? Hasn't this guy literally done nothing? If they're talking about the Dome performance, at least that should go off without a hitch, right? So at least until then, Ruby would be safe?? So, Kamiki isn't planning to harm Ruby now at least, right? Even with that weird.. logic that he proposes (I hope he's lying about that tbh)

Then when Aqua smiles and says something like, "Haha, but I’ll just kill you and die with you," while pointing the knife at him again...

Kamiki’s expression at that moment really stands out, and it’s not like a twisted look of being frustrated about things not going his way. It’s not anger or annoyance he's feeling. It’s the same shocked and despairing expression we saw in chapters 146 and 153.

Aqua seems to have no clue what kind of person his father really is, huh? He can’t read him at all.

Honestly, from the way Kamiki speaks, I get the impression that he’s actually quite kind. He’s not saying anything too wrong.

Remember the scene where Ruby gets angry because people were talking carelessly about Ai’s death? Kamiki probably knows about that too. I think Aqua and Ai, and Ruby and Kamiki, are quite alike in nature. Kamiki might’ve felt a lot of grief over Ai at that time. I do believe he loved Ai.

The phrase, "People don’t want the truth," is pretty painful, especially if you think about Ai. That’s why Ai lived telling lies. Isn't Kamiki thinking about what's happened to her, then? By bringing that up? He should have felt it, loving/watching a person like her and what unfolded.. Ai died because of the truth that she had kids with him. Ugly fans like Ryosuke and Nino couldn't take her being less than perfect. Wouldn't this have hurt Kamiki too? The fact that they loved each other(At least Ai did genuinely, we know that) was unwanted. People could not accept that, and that's one of the reasons why they had to break up.

From the way Kamiki talks, it feels like he genuinely doesn’t want his son or daughter to go through that kind of pain.

I think Kamiki has a pretty good nature. When you look at how he speaks, it’s gentle, and he seems to genuinely care about Aqua and knows a lot about him. Maybe he’s been watching over him from afar for a long time? He probably even knows who his son has feelings for.

It really feels like Kamiki is trying to persuade him: "I’m fine with dying. But you, you have so many reasons to live, right? Shouldn’t you return to the people you care about?"

And, the way Kamiki reacts after Aqua stabs him also shows it. He’s visibly agitated afterward. His expression noticeably shifts to panic and darkness.

Wait... stop it, don’t do this! That’s what he says.

The way he’s talking to Aqua in that moment.

It’s not like, “How dare you?” but more like, “Aqua, please don’t do this.”

It really seems like he doesn’t want Aqua to die.

He’s really shocked by it.

From his expressions, he seems more shocked by Aqua getting stabbed than by his own fall, like he didn’t even know how to react properly. He's being grabbed onto but he isn't looking at the hands that are grabbing him, his line of sight is on Aqua there

The final expression he makes can seem really pathetic, but...

Oh man, I think that’s the truth of that situation.

And it makes sense because Ai dreamed of raising her kids with this guy. I think he could’ve been a really great father who adored his kids... at least until the point they separated. He was just really young back then.

Doesn’t this guy really love his kids? Even without the movie arc, there have been hints of his concern for them.

I’m not trying to interpret him kindly just because I particularly like or find this character attractive.

If he’s a serial killer psychopath, then yeah, he should die here. When I first got spoiled, my reaction was completely merciless. "Well, he should die if he's like that," I said. But...

I don’t think that’s the case. It really seems like he cares about Aqua.

Oh, and Kamiki’s soul being noble in the past is mentioned, right?

So, he was a good person before?

Well, I guess I wasn’t totally off in reading his character? LOL.

Does that mean he could be a fallen god?(could be a stretch, but there IS a lyric in fatal about fallenness!!!)

Sarutahiko is often described as a "noble" and "just" god, so it’s quite possible that Kamiki’s true nature is based on Sarutahiko, the husband of Ame-no-Uzume = Ai.

That couple was very affectionate, and according to the Aratate Shrine description, they even go as far as blessing marital relationships. Those gods really love each other. In that case, Ai being so fond and loving of Hikaru also makes sense. It could explain why she asked her kids to save him...

So, can't “Fatal” be his song? Maybe he’s fallen from grace?

The lyrics in "Fatal" say things like, "What should I use to fill in what’s missing?" Could that be about human lives? But did he really kill people? How can you save someone after that? That’s why I don’t think he went that far.

"Without you, I cannot live anymore"

“I would sacrifice anything for you”

This isn’t Aqua. This is Kamiki.

Would Aqua do that much for Ai? He shouldn’t be so blind.

When I listened to "Fatal," I immediately thought of "Mephisto" because the two songs are so similar in context.

They’re sung by the same narrator, aren’t they? That made it clear what Kamiki’s purpose was, which is why I started drawing so much about him and Ai after that.

He keeps saying he’ll give up his life and that he wants to see Ai again. This isn’t Aqua! These feelings are different from what Aqua has.

At first, I thought because Ruby = Amaterasu, with Tsukuyomi having shown up, and Aqua perhaps having relations to Susanoo (he’s falling into the sea this time, right? LOL) I wondered if Ai and her boyfriend’s story was based on the major myth of Izanagi and Izanami, since they’re so well-known.

That myth is famous for how the husband tries to save his wife after she dies, though he fails in the end.

The storyline is similar to Mephisto’s, so I thought, "Could this be it?"

And then I realized Sarutahiko and Ame-no-Uzume's lores also fit really well. Ai thinking Kamiki was like a jewel when they first met is similar to how Ame-no-Uzume saw Sarutahiko shining when they first met. Sarutahiko guiding Ame-no-Uzume is similar to how Hikaru taught Ai how to act. They even had descendants that have a title that means "maiden who's good at dancing" The two also fell for each other at first sight. The shrine the characters visit in the story is supposedly where those two met and married. If they REALLY are those gods in essence, It feels like something went wrong with the wish because one or both of them became twisted.

Anyway, I think Kamiki was originally noble but fell from grace, and it’s likely that Ai’s death was the catalyst.

But I’m not sure if he really went as far as killing people.

What is Tsukuyomi even talking about? I’ve read it several times, and I still don’t fully understand.

I really hope she's wrong because… killing others to make Ai’s name carry more weight? That doesn’t make any sense. What does “the weight of her name” supposed to mean?? I don't think that's something that should be taken just at face value, I feel like there's more behind this idea.

What kind of logic is that? And on top of that, I can’t understand why Ai’s life would become more valuable if Kamiki dies. It just doesn’t follow.

Why would he even say that?

He must be really confident... Does he think he’s someone greater than Ai?

Even so, how does it connect?

I read two books today, because I started wondering if my reading comprehension has dropped. Thankfully, I’m still able to read books just fine. It’s not like I can’t read, you know? I’ve taken media literacy classes and pride myself on not having terrible reading comprehension.

I tried to make sense of what exactly the heck this may mean, and I think.. if it were to mean something like, “I’ll offer my life as a sacrifice to Ai,” I’d at least get that. That kind of logic, in a way, has some practical meaning.

Kamiki talked about sacrifices? tributes? offerings? in chapter 147. I really remember certain scenes clearly because I’ve gone over them carefully. In that case, if Kamiki dies, then the weight or value of his life would transfer to Ai, and that would “help” her, right?

If the story is going in that direction,

when I look at “Mephisto” and “Fatal,” I can see that by doing this, Kamiki would have a chance to either save Ai or get closer to her. At least that makes some sense.

But is it really right for Ai to ask someone to save Kamiki, who killed others? As soon as the idea of it came up, I knew something was up.

Because of what Ai's wanted, I think it’s possible that Kamiki didn’t actually go that far. In the songs, they talk about gathering light and offering something, but they don’t say anything about killing people… Kamiki said he’d sacrifice his own life. People around him may have died, but…

Kamiki’s true personality doesn’t seem like the type to do that… And looking at his actions when Aqua was stabbed??

He hasn’t shown any direct actions yet, so I still don’t know how far he’d actually go.

It’s not that I don’t believe Tsukuyomi’s words entirely,

but I don’t think the conclusion is going to be something like, “Ai should’ve never met Kamiki.”

Every time we see Kamiki’s actual actions, there’s this strange gentleness to him, and that’s what’s confusing me.

The more I look closely, the weirder it feels, and something about it just bothers me. If Kamiki were truly just a completely crazy villain, I’d think, “Oh, so that’s who he is,” and I wouldn’t deny it.

But each time, I start thinking that maybe Ai didn’t meet someone so strange after all? Ai liked him that much, so on that front, it makes sense to me. I want to believe that’s the right conclusion. I mean, doesn’t what he says sound kind? Isn’t he gentle?

No, but seriously, when Kamiki listened to Aqua’s reasons for wanting to live, I thought his expression was warm. It didn’t seem like some calculated expression like “according to plan” like Light Yagami. It felt more like a fond, affectionate expression. I draw too, you know. I pay a lot of attention to expressions. This character often makes expressions that really stand out.

It’s like he’s genuinely trying to convince Aqua not to do anything reckless. Maybe I’m being soft on Kamiki because he’s Ai’s boyfriend? But actually, it’s not like that?

I mean, I’m the type who’s like, “Anyone who did something bad to Ai should die!!” It’s because he’s a character. If this were a real person, I wouldn’t so casually tell someone to go die or say such strong things.

But… he seems like a good person.

+It’s a small thing, but why did Kamiki drop his phone while talking about Ruby? Ppft If you drop it from that height, it’d probably crack. Was he trying to look cool? (It’s an Apple phone, huh.) Is he a bit clumsy? Well... since it looks like him and Aqua are about to fall into the sea, maybe it was a blessing he did so. The phone might be saved after all. If he manages to climb out of there, he could contact someone with that phone.

[kenandeliza]

The Marvel Family's Guardian Angel, a very AU-ish Headcanon

One time, The bad guys have won, The Sivana Family had gagged the Marvel Family with metal gags, and they had paralyze their throats

Before finally finishing a blow to them, the lights eerily dim, devices accidentally go haywire, before eventually, the power turns off.

"J-Junior! I thought you had the Electricity secured!?" Georgia shouted

"I did!"

At a flash, the Sivana Family felt a cold temperature rises, the air pressure thickened, the Evil Family began to feel nauseous. By the time the lights are back to normal, The Marvel family are gone, as if they're whisked away safely.

Only a bonechilling word was heard

Ë̷̟̤́̓̒ ̷̢̙̳̀̀ ̵̨̨͙̪͑̿̂Ţ̵̣̮̟͒͌ ̴͎̥͚̍͑͜ ̵̧̐͂̑͌E̷̪͑ ̶̟̗̭́̽ ̶̱̌̽͌͘R̴̜̰̳͍̀͆̿ ̶̫̝͂̎̇̀ ̴̧̃͆N̷͚͙̏ ̷̩͓͍͜͠ ̷͕͎͔̙͑̋͝I̷̝̝͍̗͌̐ ̸͇̈́̄ ̵̢̥̱̌Ţ̵̩͍̒̌͝ ̴̩͆̇̓͘Y̸̲̖͎̥̓͆͒̂

..and the Sivana Family promptly gets haunted by the victims that they have killed before

--

The Marvel Family are now at the safety at their home, Billy who had now realized what just happened spoke first.

"Holey Moley!? What was that?"

Freddy suggested," If you were to ask me, I think we got ourselves a secret guardian angel!"

"That's so cool!!" Billy beamed, "there's someone out there looking for us!"

Mary couldn't speak a word, she'd seen the 'angel's' face, after all, she'd accidentally took a peek into Freddy's Diary once and saw a glimpse of his deceased brother's photograph

she wouldn't want to break Freddy the news of whose face she'd seen.

She needs to have a private talk with this 'angel' one day and get to the bottom of what "unfinished business" he has.

----

This is highly AU-ish or else Kid Eternity could never have done those things to the Sivana Family

[whatitsdecending]

Vore (Vessel Oneshot)

Vessel x Female Reader

Word Count: 3k

A small argument breaks out between you and your partner, leading to the two of you letting your emotions combat the other in a more intimate way.

Content warning: smut, biting, slight masochism, choking, dominance, aggressive behavior

Requested by: @40ss

A/N: hi all, I’m very open to taking requests for anyone in Bad Omens or Sleep Token, hoping you all enjoy this one!!

“…follow me between the jaws of fate, I want to have you to myself… for once…”

—————————

You stared at your partner as he leaned over his guitar, writing something down on the pad of paper in front of him. His eyebrows were scrunched together as he focused, lips tight and holding his guitar pick between them.

It’s been an hour… one long, grueling hour of watching him write, play some riff, shake his head and scratch out what he first wrote to only rewrite another thing. He grew increasingly frustrated with himself each time and you were just waiting for him to give up. But that wasn’t how he worked. You’ve seen it firsthand how he works himself to exhaustion and you’re driving the two of you home as he sleeps in the passenger seat.

He was too stubborn for you to step in and tell him to take a break. You’ve tried many times before, but always got the: “I’m fine, I’ll have a break when I think I need one” response. So now, you just sat back and watched over the pages of your book as his frustration grew.

“Fuck.” He muttered as he stopped strumming the chords that had you tapping your foot along to them.

You looked up. “What was wrong with that one, Vessel?” You asked, setting the bookmark in the place you were and put your book to the side. You rested your forearms on your thighs and leaned your weight against them, staring at him as he shook his head.

“Didn’t feel right.” He said, crossing out something on the paper once again.

You sighed. “I really liked it, if that means anything.” You toyed with a loose thread on your sweatshirt as he was quiet and wrote again.

“It was a simple, peppy riff that anybody remotely interested in music would have found to be catchy.” He snapped. You straightened your spine in alarm at the tone he used at you, something you’d never heard come from him when he talked to you. He just focused on what he was writing on the paper, completely unaware of what he just said to you.

You swallowed the lump starting form in your throat. “Well. I guess I should leave, if you clearly don’t want me around here today.” You picked up the book and stood from the couch, striding to where your bag hung on the coat rack and reached to pull it from there. You turned to Vessel after grabbing it. “I guess I’ll see you at home once you figure out a riff that’ll make someone who is as interested in music as you are like it.” Your words were like venom on your tongue, not once have the two of you spoken in such ways to each other and it felt so wrong. But couples have fights all the time, it’s healthy… right?

“Fuck,” he muttered once more and you turned to where he still sat, realizing his eyes were on you. “I did not mean to upset you Y/N.” He set his guitar to the side and stood, his long legs making a quick move to where you stood.

“It’s fine. I’ll see you when you get home.” You grit out as you stared up into his eyes, a flicker of regret in them as he went to cup your cheek with his hand.

“I meant none of that. I’m just…” He glanced away as he tried to find the words. “I’m just frustrated with this song, I want it to be perfect.”

You sighed. “Vessel every song you create is perfect, you don’t have to stress yourself out so much about this one song.” He was so, so talented and you admired that so much about him. But god was he a perfectionist. You knew he always was but this time around it’s increased at least ten times, for some reason he was putting his all into it and was struggling.

His long arms wrapped around you and pulled you into his chest, holding you tight as his heartbeat thumped against your skin. You savored the warmth radiating off him and onto your skin, the light scent of his cologne and the slightest bit of sweat from his day of working wrapped around you, engulfing you in that comfort that he gave you.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered against your hair.

You nodded. “It’s okay. I forgive you.” His grip around you tightened ever so slightly and he kissed your head. “I’ll still head out though, just so you’ve got the space to yourself to figure it out.” You pulled away from his embrace.

“No, no.” He said, continuing after you raised a brow at him. “I need you here to be able to work on this.”

“Why…?” You put your bag back on the coat rack and fished the book out again.

He smiled slightly. “The song, it’s about you. And I need you here in order to work on it. That’s why I want it to be perfect.” Your heart strained against your chest and it felt as though your stomach flipped a few times as his words settled in you.

“You’re making a song about me?” It was a shocked whisper that came from you, making Vessel smile as he observed your face.

“Yes.” He smiled and kissed your forehead again. “Now, go sit, read and look beautiful so I can keep working on it.” You blushed and rushed back to your spot on the couch, curling up in the corner and flipping open the book to the page you were on. You felt his stare and you peaked over the edges again, smiling as he watched you with a loving gaze.

“Stop staring at me and get to work.” You chuckled.

“I’m getting inspiration.” He smirked as his eyes raked over every bit of you. You blew him a kiss and went back to the book. “Hmm, that would work too.”

“What?” You asked, waiting a moment before glancing up and seeing him stalking over to you. “What are you doing you dork?” You laughed as he came up to you, pulling your face to his and kissing you gently. “Oh, that’s fine I guess.” You muttered after his lips parted from yours.

“Mmhm.” He hummed softly and pressed his lips against yours once more and deeper than the first one.

You pulled back. “Is your inspiration flowing now?” A light giggle came out as you spoke, noting the fire that gleamed in his eyes as he looked at you.

“Only a bit. I might need a little more help, though.” He said, voice rough with desire.

You smirked as he came close again. “I could help you out with that.” You purred, his lips pressing onto yours again as he took the book from your hands and placing it gently on the side table. He hummed against your lips as you lightly nipped his bottom lip and positioned yourself so you were now laying on the couch, his body following yours and resting against you.

“You sure no one will be coming in?” You asked between a kiss.

He propped himself up and brushed a stray hair from your face. “Yes, everyone had plans today. It’s just us darling.” He leaned down and peppered soft kisses across your face and your jaw.

“Mm, good.” You breathed. “So no one will question why you’re moaning my name so loud.”

He laughed. “Sure, darling. But I think it’s more so the other way around.” You rolled your eyes at the implication and pulled him back down to your lips, biting his bottom lip a little harder this time to make him gasp and you could slip your tongue into his mouth. You propped up your legs after he tapped on them, letting him nestle between them and press his growing erection against your core.

You pushed your hips up, pressing yourself against him more and causing his breath to catch in his throat at the feeling. A smirk twitched at your lips as you began to grind your hips into his, a groan rumbled from his chest. He took his free hand and gripped the side of your hip, pushing it back against the cushions and away from his.

“Don’t fucking do that.” He ground out, voice gravely as he stared at you with desire burning in his eyes.

“And why not?” You cooned, cocking your head to the side as you eyed him. He huffed a breath as he took the hand that pinned your hip and began to undo the button of your jeans.

“You’re being a brat.” He said as he slid the zipper down. “You know I don’t like it when you’re trying to take control.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re no fun.”

“You’re gonna regret saying that in two seconds.”

He pulled your jeans off with a swift tug, grinning at the panties you decided to wear today. He didn’t leave you enough time to laugh about the bright pink fabric that had “eat me” on the front before he pulled those down your legs.

Vessel lowered himself between your legs and set your thighs on his shoulders. He turned his neck to kiss the flesh next to him, inching down slowly as he kept his eyes trained on yours. You watched as the anticipation built between your legs, writhing around just a little as you ached for his touch.

He smirked against your thigh as his finger ran up the center of your folds, a shiver running through you as he teased both your clit and entrance. You breathed in deeply as he continued his teasing, his tongue drawing circles on the skin of your thigh. And then, he inserted his finger at the same time he bit your thigh. Not too hard to cause you so much pain, but hard enough where you gasped at the different sensations happening at once.

“Oh… god.” You moaned as he pumped his finger in and out of you and kept hold of your flesh with his teeth.

He moved his head over to your other thigh, biting down as he inserted a second finger. You moaned loudly and your back arched up at the feeling of his fingers stretching you slowly. You whimpered at the feeling of them as he curled them up each time he reached where your g-spot laid and the feeling of his teeth on your flesh… you needed more from that.

“M-mark me.” You moaned. Your eyes peaked open for a moment, noting Vessel staring at you. “Do it baby, please.” He hummed against your thigh and you felt his teeth push deeper and harder into your skin, the sharp pain hitting you in tune with the pleasure of his fingers inside of you. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back, enjoying the sensations that overwhelmed your mind all at once.

You knew it wasn’t going to be a bloody mess due to the thickness of the skin of your thigh, but the bruise it was going to leave would be satisfactory enough.

After he studied the bite marks on both of your thighs, Vessel moved his mouth to rest on your clit. His tongue drew circles around the sensitive bundle as you writhed beneath him. Your hands flew straight to his hair and your fingers tangled with the strands of his hair. You tugged each time he flicked his tongue or curled his fingers, and your hold grew tighter the closer he brought you to your orgasm.

“V-Ves… Vessel.” You cried out as the release rattled through you, your thighs clenched tight around his head as your muscles locked up for just the moment.

You laid there breathless as your body came down from the high. Vessel stayed between your legs and gently caressed the bite marks that were now very apparent on your thighs. You smiled down at him and he smirked back in response.

“You want more? Or just that?” He asked you, drawing invisible shapes on your pelvic bone as he waited for your answer.

You raised a brow. “Well what does “more” entail?”

He only smiled as he said, “Fucking you to the point where I have to carry you out of here.” Ache built between your legs again as a dark look gleamed in his eyes now.

“How do you want me?” You asked, biting your lip slightly as he ran a finger through the slickness of your folds.

“Something like this. But,” he sat up to where he rested on his knees and towered over you, then pulled you down so you were fully flat on the couch. “More like this.” You giggled at the strength he possessed in order to move you at the speed he just did, a little surprised by the movement too.

He pulled off your shirt and bra, eyes sparkling at the sight of you bare before him. “Is this what you needed for “inspiration”?” You stretched your arms over your head to elongate your torso, his eyes widened at the sight.

“It’s not what I fully thought I needed but yes, Christ yes Y/N, I need this.” His hands toyed with the soft mounts of your breasts for a bit before he removed the belt from his jeans, pushing the fabric from his legs and onto the floor. Your eyes fixated on the bulge of his erection through his briefs, desire now seemed to drip from your body as he pulled away the undergarment from his body.

He lifted your legs, letting you hold them yourself as he settled between them once more, coming down to press a kiss to your lips as he lined himself up with your entrance. In an instant the feeling of him pushing inside and filling you up was all you could focus on. You grabbed at him, pulling him down so he was flush against your chest as he moved in and out.

Once you were used to him in you, he leaned back from your chest and wrapped his fingers around your neck, squeezing a bit as he picked up the pace of his thrusts. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he did so. You locked your hand around his forearm, digging your fingers into his skin.

“Harder, Vessel.” You whimpered and he nodded, simultaneously squeezing more at your neck and thrusting harder into you. The sound of his skin slapping against yours filled the room and mixed in with the harmony of your moans and his. You were on cloud fucking nine right now.

“Pull your knees to your chest.” He ground out in multiple breaths. You nodded and pulled your knees up as he paused for a moment to let you. He leaned his body into your legs, pressing them up further and further until your toes were almost touching the pillows behind you. “Mmm, fuck this feels good.”

You cried out when his thrusts came fast and hard, his pace never faltering as he slammed into you. He leaned down and kissed you roughly, tongue and teeth clashing with one another as you did your best to focus on his kiss.

He was slowly making you come undone again, the pressure of this angle was stimulating that little spot in you and it was going to make you orgasm all over his cock. You could tell by the increased whines coming from his throat that he was close too, but never once did his pace slow.

The muscles of your walls tightened up as your release came quickly, a strangled moan escaping your lips as your body shook against the position you were in. He smiled down at you, kissing your cheek quickly as you came down from your orgasm. His hands grabbed hold of your wrists and pinned them up over your head, allowing him a full view of your fucked-out expression. You stared up at him through your lashes and he kept your eye contact as his own orgasm came crashing through his body.

He slowed his pace to a stop, panting heavily as he moved each of your legs back down to rest against the couch. They shook wildly as Vessel pulled out of you and went to get a towel to clean you up. You laughed at your body, the involuntary shaking of your muscles as you calmed down from the activity.

Vessel returned with a slightly damp towel and cleaned you up, chuckling at your legs like you had just done. He pulled you from the couch and you placed your feet on the floor, pushing yourself up as you winced at the cramp you felt. “Oh you got me good, babe.” You winked at him as you bent down to grab your clothes and pull them back on.

“Am I going to have to carry you when we leave?” He asked, pulling his shirt back over his head and attempting not to laugh as you struggled with your jeans.

“You know what I was going to say no, but now that you’re laughing at me you must carry me out of here.” You put your hand on your hip as you pointed at him, getting another laugh in response. You rolled your eyes and grabbed your book from the side table, making sure to make yourself comfortable on the other end of the couch this time. “I hope that was enough to inspire you now.”

He smirked from where he sat down, guitar now on his lap as he strummed a few chords. “Hm. Should be good for now, but I’ll let you know if I need any more.” He winked at you.

You snorted. “Dork.”

“You love me though.”

You gave him a pointed nod from over the edges of your book. “Yes, Vessel. I do love you.” He smiled broadly at your words and went back to working, focus taking over every aspect of his face.

The first sample was finished within the hour.

[blueishspace]

Looped Sun 15

Loop #451

Mumbo wasn't sure about trying out Double Life, especially in a null loop like this one...but Grian had asked and he wasn't able to say no. So there he was, ready to see how this would go down.

TangoTek was blown up by a creeper.

Solidaritygaming died.

Mumbo didn't expect Tango to die the same way so he had to assume they were unawake this time around. It had been a while since they looped together now that he tought about it. Oh well.

Skizz: Hey man!

Mumbo: O-oh! You are here too?

Skizz: Sure thing!

Mumbo: O-oh...have you found your soulmate yet mate?

Skizz: No, have you?

Mumbo: ... Not really. Do you think...?

Skizz: No hurt in checking! Come on dude, punch me!

Mumbo: Oh pants! Uh... here you go?

Turns out they were soulmates, guess it made sense since the other pairs seemed to be the same.

Mumbo: I see skeletons!

Skizz: I'm on them!

Mumbo: Try not to die please?

Skizz: What's up!? What's up!?

Mumbo: O-oh I'll help!! Wait for me!

Well, they didn't win...not that he expected them to. It was lots of fun though.

Loop #453

Pearl had loved her first Avatar the last airbender loop, Katara had been a great teacher and she still used waterbending often... She didn't like this specific Avatar loop though, mostly because she was stuck as a fish.She got it of course, moon spirit, PearleascentMoon, sge wasn't stupid... but still being a fish in small small pond while swimming in literal circles is mind numbing.

Then of course came the general who tried to kill her, which was rude by the way, and she had to deal with him...fortunately chaos magic still worked as a fish.

Loop #457

Grian: And that's Uno.

Jimmy: No! No! You can't let him win.

Tango: I got nothing...

Mumbo: M-me neither. Scott?

Scott: ...Pearl? ... I'm sorry, +4.

Pearl: Don't worry mate, I got you. +4.

Grian: What!? Noo! Pearl why!?!

Jimmy: And It's my turn!

Grian: Ok, what if we traded?

Pearl: Go on.

Grian: I'll give you one of the red properties so you can get the monopoly if you give me that one.

Pearl: So you can get a monopoly too?

Grian: It's a win-win.

Pearl: ... Sure. Here you go.

Grian: I hate this. I hate life.

Mumbo: O-oh!

Scott: Look at the bright side.

Grian: What bright side?

Scott: Jimmy is sucking so bad.

Grian: You what, you are right. The game of life is my favorite now.

Jimmy: Wha- hey.

Tango: I mea ... He's not lyificating.

Jimmy: Rancher, you too? Betrayal!

Mumbo: Oh ...ok... Before blank all we had was blank.

Pearl: Ooh a double.

Scott: I have an idea but I also hate it.

Jimmy: I ...don't like this game...

Tango: Well, here goes nothing.

Mumbo: Ok let's see... Before s-sexy pillow fights all we had was gladiator fights? I don't get it...

Pearl: Yeah that was just boring.

Grian: Listen, I had 0. Absolutely 0 good cards.

Jimmy: I like this one a lot better.

Grian: Timmy ... Timmy this is not a game, It's Mumbo's tarot card.

Jimmy: I stand with what I said. So what did I get?

Mumbo: Oh! That's the... that's the fool.

Jimmy: Nice! ... What does it mean?

Mumbo: Youth... and luck...it depends.

Loop #459 (part 1)

Jimmy: Uh, were are we?

Tango: It looks like a dungeon entrance?

Jimmy: Well, I got that.

Scott: Oh fuck I know what loop this is. This is bad.

Tango: You do?

Scott: This is fear and hunger.

Jimmy: ... Oh...I heard about it. The very non pg one?

Tango: Are the two of you going to share.

Scott: This... We can do this, It's not a null loop or anything. It should be doable.

Scott: It's...really dark. Darker then the game.

Tango: I can have my flame hair on, it might help.

Jimmy: Or I could do the sun incantation? Make my hair glow.

Scott: No, no. You need to sing for it to work, we can't risk your throat getting tired too early on.

Jimmy: ...Alright.

Tango: Aren't you like a god of order Scott? Can't you do anything to help?

Scott: Not really, my divinity here is really diminished for some reason. Probably the influence of the old gods.

Jimmy: Wait I hear a voice!

Tango: Uh!? Where!?

Jimmy: It's...

Jimmy enveloped himself with a thin layer of Listener magic.

Jimmy: That way!

Tango: What-

Scott: Since when are you a Listener?

Jimmy: Pretty early on in my loops, it happens sometimes. Oh, I hear it again. It sounds young!

Tango: A door?

Jimmy: We obviously need to get to other side!

Scott: Let me try something.

And in a flash of blue Scott is gone... A few seconds later the door opens with Scott behind it.

Scott: The tesseract still works.

Jimmy: Is that a little girl?

Tango: Why is she in a cage? Scott?

Scott: ... It's complicated...just help me get her out.

Tango: The cage doesn't look too hard to breakificate. Just pull a bit and uh... It's harder then it looks. I'm going to melt it-

Scott: And risk molten metal getting on the girl?

Tango: Point... I'll just use an axe.

Jimmy: Hello there! Who are you?

Girl: ...

Jimmy: Right uh... I'll introduce myself first if you want.

Girl: ...

Jimmy: Right, I'm Jimmy, that's Tango and that is Scott.

Girl: ...

Prev Next First

[karlachismylife]

I Need My Love To Be Here

Once again I couldn't help but do the second-most voted choice too. Why am I making my own life so much harder?

CW: fem!reader, reader and Price are married and have a daughter, long-distance relationship, my music taste projected once again, the tiniest bit of suggestive teasing, toothrotting fluff.

(Title from The Beatles' "Here, There and Everywhere")

Dealing with an energized six-year old refusing to go to bed was a battle alright, especially when your trusted partner with his commanding presence and a true Captain's voice wasn't there to help. You couldn't blame your little one for behaving herself better when John was around: isn't a natural law that the one parent that's often away and always comes back with gifts is the favourite one? It's not daddy who's forcing you to eat healthy food every day and go to sleep when you want another batch of cartoons.

It's the strict, stern-looking mum with her hands on her hips as she scolds you gently for throwing a fit over putting your toys back like promised.

Still, you'd want a little more appreciation and cooperation from Princess Price, sulking in her frog pjs - everything was frog since recently, you even got daddy a froggy hat for when he comes back from deployment.

He was away for a long time. Not somewhere dangerous, he told you as he called and texted regilarly, but he was constantly held back by one or the other thing that just couldn't be resolved without Captain's expertise.

That's what made his new phone call just the sweeter, since the first words you heard after closing priness's door hastly and moving to the living room, were:

"Guess who's coming home tomorrow, darling."

A relieved, longing sigh escaped you as you leaned onto the couch and stared at the ceiling with a dreamy smile.

"Good. Someone here needs a reminder how to listen to what she's being told."

"Is princess being a bad girl?" John's hearty chuckle warmed you even through the phone. You bit your lip, trying to save your own face from splitting in two with the horribly wide smile - same was gracing Price's face for sure, you could hear it, his plump cheeks all big and round, almost hiding his happily narrowed eyes.

"Not necessarily bad. But we have attitide and no respect for mummy's authority. Maybe I should start calling myself Captain too, just for her to listen to me."

"I'm afraid, impersonating an officer is illegal, love," he huffed and chuckled again, gruff, big, bear-hugging sound. A pause. "Are you being a bad girl?"

You pressed your phone closer you your ear as a warm tingling flooded your cheeks and held your breath.

"I'd like to report I'm being perfectly good, sir," if only you could see the way his kind eyes twinkled in the dim lighting of wherever he was, sitting on a chair with knees wide apart, one hand holding the famous cigar.

"That's good to hear. I have a little something for you. A reward for being so good for me and waiting while I'm in this shithole."

"The only reward I need is you back home, John," you weren't even being coy, just honest. It was so long since you last felt his rough palms slide over your sides and lock together as he pulled you into a tight hug from behind, pressing ticklish kisses into your nape.

"I know, sweetpea. Consider this an apology gift then, for taking so long," he didn't let you argue a single word, clearly set on having you accept whatever he prepared, as if him being alive, well and home wasn't enough. "Got us tickets to that McCartney concert, love. For all three of us. Gotta start teaching our princess what good music is."

You gasped, jumping in your seat - your heart did a little flip, cheeks burning now, butterflies that never went away even after years of marriage flocking to your lungs.

"But it's so close, how did you even- oh, I just wanna kiss all hells out of you, John!" His laughter dripped through the phone like spicy honey, sweetening already increbibly sweet deal.

"Oh, I can tell, love. Hope you feel the same way tomorrow."

"Why is tomorrow so far away?" You allowed yourself to be just as sulky and pouty as your little one snoring softly in the other room. Of course you could wait another day, you've waited for months already. But now every minute felt like a whole month itself.

"That's so you can get enough sleep before I make you forget about it for several nights."

[failyaoi]

Khaos Reigns Spoilers my thoughts on everything xd

well starting off there's a lot I'm upset about and a lot I'm happy about. so I'll air out my grievances first -

I'd like to say I actually had a feeling from the start that Sektor was genderbent in order to be shipped with Bi-Han...but I didn't feel that was fair to her so I didn't really say anything... when I saw this I just had all my fears confirmed 😭 WB didn't want to do a gay relationship so they just genderbent Sektor. I'm honestly really upset about this because it's just.........weird. it makes me scared for the future of lgbtq rep in MK..... as a bi & trans person it's honestly saddening to see that happen, especially because they took classic subscorp from us. I don't have a problem with girl Sektor or Cyrax at ALL btw. I love them, this is just really crappy on WB's part another thing I'm upset about is the lack of our main characters and the introduction of new ones- I don't like the multiverse stuff as much as I did when Mk1 first released because it made sense. but I personally didn't feel bad for Emperor Rain or Tanya, because I don't Know Them (their designs were really cool though) and new variants coming from different timelines and being the main focus feels........ODD. for mortal kombat. I was expecting a lot more focus on Raiden and Lao but we didn't really see much of them. not impressed with Titan Havik's defeat. he felt very weak after being hyped up the entire time. I actually like Titan Havik as he is a really good mix of chaotic, silly, and evil. he had a lot of cool things like the maze (which I would've REALLY loved to see the earthrealm champions in, btw) and the pit. seeing Noob/Bi-Han defeat him THAT easily with not even an invasions style boss or anything was really disappointing but 😭 for the last thing... I'm actually a little disappointed no main character actually died . I was expecting maybe Smoke or Lao to die because... THIS IS MORTAL KOMBAT 😭😭 like main characters tend to die, and they're just not, and it doesn't feel right because this franchise has had a lot of angst over the years and missing that feels empty NOW FOR THE THINGS I LIKE!!! :3

The visuals in this dlc are amazing

the attention to detail is really cute-

and as always I'm so happy to see all the characters again >_< BI-HAN'S SMIRK

OKAY I actually really , reallyyyyy liked the writing with these 4 here, it shows more into their friendship and that they've obviously been friends for a while now. I got so emotional seeing them hanging out again

glad to see Orin back but she's terrifying omfg. WHAT DID HAVIK DO TO HERRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

beautiful wife appreciation:

GERLIU AHHJAFHAWJFBWF THEY HEARD MY PRAYERS THEY HEARD MEEEEEEEEEE the way Liu didn't even flinch oh myyg gdododdffdd

also Kenshi eye scars confirmed ???? WE WIN ??? WE LITERALLY WIN ?????? the animalities are really really cool and I'm actually about to go play some mk1 ranked and try out all of Lao's new moves and stuffs and to check out all the new junk....I'm very excited and happy at where this game is at game-play wise ^_^ I LOVE YOU MORTAL KOMBAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[diy-fire-water-pups]

Heya, guys! Just an ask for you guys, especially for Rocky. What do you guys feel about those cyber trucks? To me, I get salty because people drive a frickin TRAPEZOID!! it looks like an oversized microwave with four wheels! Even raccoons are attacking those trucks because they think they are dumpsters. But hey, that’s just me. What do you guys think?

If only the problem would be ONLY that this truck looks like a trapezoid… Someone once joked it’s Lara Croft in her first game - I had to look that up - but to be very honest, I think she has more polygons than a Cybertruck. And that’s saying something for sure.

As the Paw Patrol’s pup who’s specialized in medicine, I'd like to say that this truck is literally a menace on wheels for both passengers and pedestrians. Have you seen the crash tests? The truck doesn’t crush when colliding with something! It’s supposed to crush so the force of impact won’t go fully on the passengers inside. Without it, if it hits against something full force at top speed, people’s organs will practically become puree against their ribcage. And if it hits a pedestrian, even at lower speeds, the chances of major injuries is insanely high because it doesn’t have any smooth lines on its frame to soften the impact against the person! Only sharp edges! It’s absolutely deadly!

It looks like something you'd see in an Atari game, of course there are people who would be a fan of it but that's a very small percentage of a specific public; as Marshall said, the very frame design makes it extremely dangerous; I absolutely DO NOT trust anything that's entirely dependant on a touchscreen to function, once the screen is out, you won't be able to do anything anymore; If you need to look away from the road for more than 5 seconds to do something on that tablet, it should be considered already a failure of programming and danger inducing; a lot of them came out of the factory with already rusty components so THAT SHOULD SAY SOMETHING; oh yeah, you can't even take it to a car wash or it'll come out a huge useless brick on the other side and if you can't wash it, you'd at least want to coat it but guess what, you can't do that either; a bunch of the panels are literally GLUED to the frame...?; every time you go recharge it you need to do it as correctly as possible to not risk the charger getting stuck and eventually breaking it; if you drive in the rain, water will leak in through the edges; you can't even haul stuff or help another car because you'll be risking to snap the back frame - it's not in one piece with the chassis, but connected by a sort of plastic piece to it...???? I swear I've seen Chase's cruiser hold and tow heavier stuff with its winch than what a Cybertruck can ever dream of doing; if anything happens to the back of this truck, you can kiss goodbye to its bed, even though it's not as big as they promised either; they basically made a fool of a lot of people by making them pay a lot more for a "Foundation Series" promising a full self driving feature that, as far as I know as of now, is still not available; the truck just has so many problems someone drove it out of the factory and not even two minutes later it bricked completely and has been at a repair shop ever since; the list goes on and on...

Some Tesla vehicles at least look good and have decent features, though they also have a lot more problems than they should, which could have been solved already by now, but they don't even try, all because the company owner is just... A bad person, let's put it like that. He's got a temper worse than Sweetie's, he thinks he's above everyone else and won't ever take a "no" or "don't". I've heard a lot of other EV companies are making better AND affordable EVs literally by looking at what's wrong with Tesla cars to not repeat the same errors on theirs.

Oh, and one last thing! This guy also went against regulation laws against hate speech in our Mod's country, which resulted on his social media website and app getting banned there. Not satisfied with that, he double-crossed the ban to make it available there again although totally illegally, by using the same IP servers that hospitals, public services and even the very Brazilian government websites use, so... Triple crime? Not gonna lie, it's funny to follow how it's going down there.