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sugarcoated-lame · 2 years ago

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Seb my love ❤️ I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to get around to reading this, but holy shit !!! I’m going to kiss your brain !!!

“Everythin’ in that fuckin’ town wanted me dead, ‘till I was holdin’ a gun to my head and I knew I had to go.”

“Remember when I was all alone in my house and I was fuckin’ your guts like I hated you? I didn’t hate you, sweet lamb. I just kept prayin’ you’ll save me.”

The way you write, the imagery, all of the little nuances and foreshadowing that indicate Rhett’s true feelings and intentions ugh, it’s just so good and you’ve seriously outdone yourself with this one!! I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, whenever I read this series, I can picture it all so clearly in my head like a movie and it always just has me on the edge of my seat the entire time

‘He never strayed far from his precious lamb. It was as if to guide his lamb to the slaughter.’ And this part !!! I feel like it just encompasses their entire relationship so perfectly

‘The set was simple. It came from a town that hadn’t seen much of the newest century and you wondered momentarily if someone could have been murdered in it.’ foreshadowing??? 👀👀

“I wan’ fuck you, I wan’ see you on your knees, I wan’ rip this fuckin’ piece off,” his index finger tugged at the band of your garter belt and let it slap against your thigh. “But more than anythin’, I wan’ make love to you.”

And the smut omg… the smut had me dizzy my head was spinning 😵‍💫 whew like I need to lie down, it was absolutely filthy and delicious he’s so, so bad but I want him !! The contrast between the degradation and then Rhett being so sweet and gentle with the aftercare hhhfjrgjje I love it

‘His lips parted further to speak, “look at you, my pretty Western sunshine. I’ve found heaven in you, little lamb.”’ I just loved this line so much 🫠

‘The lovesick haze that clouded your vision entirely with Rhett was unforgivable.Trouble was always going to find him and weather you were aware of it or not, so would you with his guidance. If Rhett loved you like he said he did, you would hold a gun to someone’s head if he asked you to.’ The way little lamb is starting to see the cracks in Rhett’s facade, but continues to brush them off because she’s naive and just loves him so much hhhhhnngjrjg it’s so unsettling in the best way <3

Seb, this was absolutely brilliant, poetic and beautifully written, and I know I always tell you, but I just love your writing and this series (and you ofc 🥰) so much 🥹 it just keeps getting better and better and I’m anxious and excited to see what’s in store for Rhett and his sweet little lamb now that they’ve made it out west 💜💕💜💕💜💕

MY LOVE 💐💐

new layout looks SO good!!!

thinking about preacher Rhett bringing his film camera to a dingy motel room…. thinking really hard

ptolemaea. | the thoroughfare motel tapes.

preacher!rhett abbott x reader.

￫ description: you and rhett are nearing the end of the line and he has a sinful idea to document the beginnings of your time out west.

￫ word count: 9K.

￫ c/w: heavy and dark religious themes, sex, p in v, rough sex, cnc, derogatory sex, derogatory names used towards reader, swearing, kissing, thigh riding, pussy spanking, spanking, spanking with a cross, boot riding, edging, blowjobs, deep throat, skull fucking, aftercare, bruising, crying, dacryphilia if you squint, overstimulation, daddy kink, choking, nipple pinching, corruption and innocence kink and preacher!rhett abbott.

￫ a/n: it’s here! i would highly suggest listening to wrestling in dirt pits, gibson girl, western nights and thoroughfare by ethel cain, in that order, whilst reading! a huge shout out to @bobfloyds @beachbabey @sunblchdfly @lewmagoo and @bradshawsbitch for brainstorming the most filthy and precious ideas. i love you all dearly. this is for you all <3 this is part of ‘ptolemaea. | the verses.’ my main masterlist can be read here! 💌

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Rhett had guarded his heart like a fed from the moment you met him. Through the times he had you bent over his wooden desk in his back office at the Church, to lying with him at night in a Motel bed. On occasions, such as the other night when he chased you through the woods as a game, you thought you saw into him. You thought you saw something real, but it was quickly faltered back to the Preacher you knew. None the less, you were getting closer to the end of your destination with each passing Motel and tin shaped diner as you made your way out West. Perhaps it was the force of proximity, or that Rhett knew your journey was coming to an end, but one night on the passing roads, Rhett opened up to you.

“I was twelve years old ‘nd son of a Preacher. I loved him and the love he had for my Mother. Subsequently, he made me fall in love with America. But, my Mama, she was always good for makin’ me cry,” Rhett shook his head and scoffed, his tone gritting between his teeth. “Everythin’ in that fuckin’ town wanted me dead, ‘till I was holdin’ a gun to my head and I knew I had to go.” The sound of his truck hummed through the blackout night and you turned in your seat to watch with intent as he spoke. “I was seventeen ‘nd I knew I had to see it all. I had to get out and go chasin’ its sweet call,” Rhett motioned forward with his hand, then paused. “But I was scared of the world. I ended up standin’ over my Ma’s casket, thinkin’ I was next. I was scared I’d end up like my Pa. I looked in a mirror and I was beggin’ myself for more time.”

Rhett paused for another moment, but his eyes were still fixed on the dim lit road ahead. You could see him replaying it as a ghost of a memory behind those tired eyes and you felt for him. You realized you were no less different compared to him.

He let out a defeated and tired sigh, and then his demeanor switched as he recalled something else behind those cobalt blue eyes. “But then I met, well caught, you.” He had a grin on his face now. “Y’ came in to my Church lookin’ like a backwater girl and America’s sweetheart.” He reached over and squeezed the flesh of your knee with a grin still on his face. You squealed in response and playfully swatted at his hand to stop the sensation that caused your nerve endings to turn into television static.

“Y’ didn’t trust no one.” Rhett huffed out a laugh as you fought to keep his hand away from the pressure points on your knee.

“That’s because the whole town found me suckin’ the Preachers cock.” You quipped back at him with amusement in your tone.

Rhett hummed in pride as he recollected the memory. “I remember though, what you said to me.”

You looked down towards your lap where your fingers intertwined and busied themselves with one another. You were trying to avoid Rhett’s curious gaze at your admittance of remembering something so fondly.

“You said, don’t run, I’ll take you anywhere. I mean fuck, we were both outta luck, but at least your truck beats walking to the fuckin’ West.” You looked out of the truck window as you spoke. It was dark for the most part, only with a couple far off city lights pathing the way, but it helped with the silence that fell heavy over the truck.

You heard Rhett exhale deeply and shift in his seat. “Before I came to your town, I was in Florida. I had no one to worry about leavin’ for and no one left to love. But now that I’ve met you, fuck. I finally know jus’ where I’m headin’. Remember when I was all alone in my house and I was fuckin’ your guts like I hated you? I didn’t hate you, sweet lamb. I just kept prayin’ you’ll save me. You made me fuckin’ crazy.”

You felt a sense of clarity clear your head at Rhett’s admission. Your whole body shuddered at the physical memory. It was the first time he invited you round to his house. It was no more than a week after your run in in the Church toilets and the first time he fucked you in his back office at the Church.

He snuck you in. He was careful not to let anyone spot you visiting the town Preacher’s house during the dead of night. Rhett had claimed he’d been alone all day and he needed someone to kill his loneliness with. He had your legs doubled over and his cock hitting your cervix so furiously, that you could see him bulge in your lower abdomen. At the time, you thought you’d done something to warrant such loathsome sex, but it became clear as Rhett explained to you in his truck, that this night was because he didn’t know how to control himself anymore. He spat in your mouth for the first time that night. Your own mouth salivated as you recalled the animalistic action. You understood now that he was spitting his love into your mouth. He needed you, and it came out in the most frustrating way he knew how.

“I think I’ve found a way to show y’ how much y’ mean to me, when you’re lookin’ all pretty, lyin’ in those sheets undressed.” Rhett motioned to the backseat in his truck as he kept his gaze fixed ahead of him. You leant over and retrieved the plastic bag. You reached inside and fished out an old film camera. It was still in its box with the cardboard tattered around the corners. “I wan’ remember everythin’ when we get to the West.” Rhett reached over again to touch your knee, but this time his hand skimmed higher and squeezed at your thigh. You felt a million and one butterflies swarm your stomach at what your Preacher was implying.

“When?” You had to bite down on your bottom lip to stop the selfish grin spreading across your face.

“Tonight, once we reach this Motel. Wear that pretty set I got you. I wan’ get alone with you, sweet lamb.”

“Yes, Father.”

Your son of a Preacher, sinful as ever. You were all over him like a burning rash as he drew closer to the Motel. Your fingers toyed with the collar of his shirt and your lips placed chaste kisses over his neck. Occasionally your tongue would dip out and soak up the salty taste of his sweat that had been simmering for a day or two. It was heaven to you. A concoction that you would go back for time and time again. Eventually, Rhett parked up at the Motel. He paid with the cash he stole from the Church and guided you to your Motel room, with his hand placed firmly on your lower back. He never strayed far from his precious lamb. It was as if to guide his lamb to the slaughter.

Once inside, you fished out the set Rhett had bought you a couple of towns back and slipped it on in the en-suite. The set was simple. It came from a town that hadn’t seen much of the newest century and you wondered momentarily if someone could have been murdered in it. It was cream and white, but a perfect white. Lacy details that had tiny flowers embroidered on, ran around the base of the bra. The underwear curved perfectly and the straps from the garter belt ran over the swell of your ass that was still tinged a baby pink colour from Rhett’s hands two nights before. The garter belt was attached to cream coloured stockings, and it made your thighs look like a place Rhett wanted to hide his face away in for the rest of eternity, until the end of Armageddon if he had to.

“You look like a virgin born again, my sweet lamb. Or, a lamb brought to the slaughter. Shall we find out which?” Rhett’s index finger lazily pointed to the ground beneath his boots. He needed no definite command to tell you exactly where you were to end up. You moved as gracefully as you could to stand in-between Rhett’s wide spread thighs at the edge of the bed. His calloused hands made contact with the backs of your thighs and your body jolted alive at his fervent touch. As if to elicit this image to memory forever, Rhett’s hands moved up and over your legs, finding their home on your ass. He issued a light, yet solid slap, to the soft flesh that made an easy moan fall from your lips, your skin still tender from before.

“I’m in love with your body, that’s why I’m fuckin’ it up, y’ know?” In sequence, as if Rhett had the rhythm of a hymn playing in his head, he delivered five more curt slaps to your supple flesh, each of them burning a fire on your skin. Instinctively, your palms reached out to grip at Rhett’s plaid shirt, with your body wilting forwards against him. Something of a merciful groan left your lips, as if to beg Rhett to stop, but you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted him to—

“Baby,” Rhett’s tone warned you. “If it feels good, then it can’t be bad.” Somehow, he always knew the right thing to say to discourage your doubt, and you let him continue to welt the supple flesh of your ass with his calloused palm.

“Turn around.” Rhett ordered with a gruffness in his voice. He planted his palm on the round of your ass and curved your thigh to direct you towards the blinking red light in the corner of the Motel room. You tiptoed on your feet to position yourself. His hands snaked along your hips and squeezed the soft flesh of your stomach, before leaving your body momentarily and picking up the small cross he’d packed with him.

The camera had the view finder flipped around so you could watch as Rhett didn’t let up his ministrations of marking your ass, yet this time, using the harsh material of the wooden cross. His stern gaze was fixed directly on you through the screen and you squirmed under his touch. You were unable to break away from his damning gaze and you were completely at his mercy. From however far away you were from Rhett, he would always pull you under with his cold-blooded stare and let it bleed all over you. At the back of your mind, doubt started to cloud you senses. You wondered if you had read this all wrong, especially that night when he chased you through the woods. That was something different entirely. What if he hated you? What if it was too late to—

“Do y’ want to hurt me?” Your voice wavered and babbled out before you had even registered what you’d said. Tears stung in the corners of your eyes from the painful pleasure shooting through your lower back as his cross continued to meet your ass, before it came to a sudden halt and was dropped on the bed. His hands ran soothingly over your now deep rouge coloured flesh.

“Hurt you?” Rhett twisted you by your waist to face him as you stood still in between his thighs. His hands didn’t leave you and the warmth of his palm spread over you to dull the ache that he’d created with the hand of God. “My sweet lamb, I never wan’ to hurt you. I wan’ to love you.”

You looked down at him and blinked away your tears in a flurry. His thumb came up to smooth over your cheeks and wipe them away, feeling your baby hairs on the corner of your jaw. The cobalt blue of Rhett’s eyes reflected in the dim lighting of the Motel room and his prior hardened gaze, had softened entirely. You watched as his eyes traced over your face and every feature you wore. Time stood completely still in this moment, in this particular Motel room, now not far from the West. You started to see Rhett differently, and for the first time since you were a child, you could see a man who wasn’t angry.

“You wanna… love me, right now?” You questioned with hesitation in your voice. You and Rhett had disclosed your love to one another time and time again, but this time, it was different and you weren’t familiar with the sincerity in Rhett’s tone.

“You wanna see me on my knees?” A playful smile tugged at the corners of your lips and you bit down gently onto your bottom lip when Rhett let out a grumbled growl. He delivered one more smack to your ass before pointing over to the camera that had since been forgotten about in the corner of the room. You understood what Rhett was silently implying.

You handed it to him and descended to your knees at the bottom of the bed. You situated yourself neatly in-between Rhett’s thighs and felt the rough tapestry of the Motel carpet scratch at your knees. He brought the lens of the camera up to point directly at the sinful sight below him. He leant back ever so slightly on one arm to allow the view finder to take in every angle of your poised position. “Smile for the camera, my pretty little lamb.” You gazed up at him through your lashes and smiled a sickly sweet smile. A groan got caught in his throat at the sight below him and his cock strained dangerously tight against his jeans. Rhett didn’t have a spare hand and he gestured for you to take the reins. Your hands slinked up his tense thighs and un-did his large belt buckle. It fell to the side with a clang! against the metal. You could already see the bulge outlined underneath his boxers. You had to bite down on your bottom lip to stop the salvia pooling already in your mouth from dribbling out.

“Don’t go shy on me now, sweetheart. Lord knows you’ve had this cock a million times.” Rhett snarked in response to watching your pupils double the size.

“I- I know, it’s just,” you pointed to the camera in Rhett’s hands and stifled a giggle. He cooed and brought his hand to smooth around your cheeks and hold your chin upto him. How his sweet lamb had strayed so far from the flock and ended up in the Lord’s arms, wearing white that barely hid the temptations of your own body. You had come alone into Rhett’s maliciously corrupt arms, from however far away you were before, and he thought it sweet how you were now getting shy.

“Do what your Preacher tells you.” Rhett’s tone was firm and you knew it was the beginning of a stern warning from him. The previous ache on your ass twinged and you were swiftly reminded of the consequences that would follow if you didn’t obey your Preacher.

Your fingers made quick work of freeing his aching cock from the confines of his underwear. A quiet grunt escaped him as he felt your hand clasp around him and squeeze him lightly. He was hot and heavy under your touch and his broad tip was glistening an angry red colour. He momentarily removed your hand and spread your palm in front of his face. He pursed his lips together and a direct line of his spit came into contact with your palm. You wrapped yourself around him again and in steady motions, you ran your lubricated hand over his length, remembering to work your thumb over his sensitive tip, just as he had showed you before.

A now louder grunt bubbled up through his throat, but he was steady enough to still hold the camera in focus of you. Up until this point, you had focused on the engorging sight before you, but Rhett wanted to see you become immoral in his lap. His hand reached up to cup your chin again and tilt your face upwards. His thumb ran along your bottom lip and pushed itself past to press down forcefully on your tongue, jolting your jaw open.

“Out.” Rhett barked. You instinctively pushed your tongue past your lips and let it hang freely. He lowered his head and pursed his lips together again. Another splat of his salvia fell onto your tongue and ran down to the back of your throat. “No more excuses, my pretty whore. Drink down your communion wine.” A shudder ran up the bones of your spine and settled at your neck, with warm beads of sweat already breaking out. A measly whimper came up and out from your throat, but you were left spluttering around the head of Rhett’s cock as his hand gripped onto your head and tugged you down. You swallowed once around him and let the mix of your salvia’s coat his length before sinking down a further few more inches.

The first real groan left him, followed by a greedy curse of your name. The base of your tongue ran under his shaft and traced along a protruding vein. He shuddered at the sensation and resumed his position as before. He was leaning back on one of his arms with the camera angled perfectly against you. You had now sunk down completely to his pubic bone and his soft brown curls tickled at the tip of your nose. You ran your lips back up his length to swirl around his tip a handful of times and then sunk back down. Over and over you repeated this motion, and pride swelled in your chest when the sound of Rhett’s pleasure met your ears.

“Look at me.” Rhett croaked out in-between his stuttered breaths. You peeked up through your lashes and gazed directly into the camera. “Jesus. Fuckin’ hell,” he groaned at the messy sight. Your lips were stretched around his thick girth and your cheeks were painted a rosy blush. Although you were looking up at him and you moved your mouth over his cock, your eyes had crinkled in the corners with your lashes fluttering occasionally. You were clearly trying to keep your eyes on him as instructed, but the tears stinging at your waterline were becoming more prominent, and you were blinking in flurry’s to hold them back.

“‘memeber when I first had y’ in the confessional booth. Look at you now, too far gone on your Preacher’s cock. God made you for me himself.”

A loud moan from yourself vibrated around his cock, although it was muffled as your mouth was currently stuffed full. The guiding praise from Rhett was giving you a new found confidence and you wanted to put on a show for your Preacher. You continued to run your lips all the way down his length and let his tip push at the back of your throat. You could start to taste the bitter salt of his pre-cum forming at his tip, and on each shove to the back of your throat, you let out a crude gagging sound. At each push, Rhett would groan himself and follow with his sweet praises.

“Good girl. That’s it, take your Preacher’s cock. You were made to take me.”

More of your salvia was gathering in your mouth and you let it freely fall from the corners of your lips. It dribbled down your chin and dripped onto the stockings. More would pool and each time your mouth dragged up to Rhett’s tip, his cock would glisten wet.

You had made the best of your efforts to hold your fluttering gaze towards the camera. He looked again into the screen, but this time he let out a low, almost mocking, chuckle. He watched as one or two tears finally spilled over your eyes and streaked down your burning cheeks. The camera could catch everything from his laid back view and he noticed how your thighs were starting to chafe against each other. His lips quirked up into a sly and all knowing smirk.

“Need somethin’?” He berated down towards you. Your eyebrows turned upwards as if to plead for your Preacher. “If you need somethin’, you must pray for it.” You let out a defeated whimper, but Rhett only raised one of his eyebrows as if to question if you were about to become a whiny little brat. “The Lord worked hard to earn His followers respect. You must do the same.”

You pulled off the tip of his cock with a string of salvia connecting from his head to your bottom lip. You started to quietly mumble out, “our Father in heaven—”

“Louder.”

You swallowed down what little left of your pride you had left and raised your voice and octave higher.

“— hallowed be your name;”

“Look ‘ere,” Rhett grabbed a tight fistful of your hair and pulled your head upwards to look at the camera. You quickly blinked back the next flow of tears that threatened to spill over your cheeks and continued.

“Allow me to press my Preacher’s pussy to my Preacher’s boot and feel some relief.”

You decided the cooling stream of your tears over your cheeks would be better than anything right now, as your cheeks flushed in heat with embarrassment from your words. You stared directly into the camera and in unison with Rhett, you finished your fleeting prayer with, “Amen.”

“Good, little lamb.” Rhett grunted and pushed your mouth back down and onto his cock. You felt his boot come between your knees and forcefully kick your thighs open. You accepted the wide girth of his boot greedily and caught your clothed clit on the tip of his boot. Your mouth sank back down to Rhett’s pelvic bone and you ground your hips down eagerly onto the worn leather.

The pressure felt delicious on your aching clit, as you rocked your hips back and forth in a rhythmic motion, similar to the one your mouth was making. You could no longer stifle your needy moans and you let your throat wail in muffled sounds around his strained length.

“I know, angel, I know,” he purred with his hand still coursing through your hair and guiding you. “Feels s’ good, doesn’t it? My pretty pussy got s’ needy.”

The rhythmic motions you were providing Rhett caused him to groan your name softly with each flick of your tongue around his head. His body was hurtling closer towards his definite release, but he still had more that he wanted to capture on camera. With a final grunt, he pulled you off his cock by your hair. You let out a protested cry. The sudden movement had jolted your body and re-directed the ecstasy inducing pressure off your clit.

“Hush, lamb.” Strings of salvia trailed from your lips, with your glassy eyes swimming in your own tears. “You gon’ let your Preacher have you? From the fuckin’ mess you’ve made on my boot, it’d be a sin not to feel my cunt squeezin’ me tight.” You nodded eagerly, perhaps a little too eagerly for Rhett, as it caused him to bark out a laugh, mocking you.

He stood up and you moved with him. He momentarily dropped the camera to the bed as you helped him pull off the rest of his clothes in a flurry. His chest was flush a bright pink, and as he removed the final item of clothing, his cock slapped against his abdomen between your bodies. You followed him like a lamb would to the slaughter, as he lay back on the bed and picked up the camera. He positioned himself to rest up against the pillows so he could hold the camera and keep his gaze fixated on what he was recording. He patted his bare thigh and motioned for you to come over.

“Bet my pretty little pussy was so desperate to come,” Rhett mocked as you pouted ever so slightly. He was right. “C’ ere and sit on your Preacher’s cock. If you put on a good enough show, I’ll let y’ come.”

You let out a languid moan. Your thighs were already burning from the constant grinding on his boot, but like your Preacher had already told you as he marked your ass shades of black and blue, if it feels good, then it can’t be bad. Having a sweet thing like yourself be completely immoral in a stranger’s lap would be something any man would want, yet you could only share this with Rhett. It was something only you, could have the power over.

With this new found confidence, you climbed atop of the Motel bed and slid your underwear off, with the garter belt and stockings still firmly attached. You were going to put on a show that anyone would wish they had.

“Save a horse, ride a cowboy.” You mused Rhett with a small smirk gracing your features as you straddled his waist. You raised your eyebrows to await his response. His spare hand reached round to give a fleeting smack to your ass, causing you to yelp in response, partly due to the already residing marks from earlier.

“Atta girl, you’re learning.” Rhett was quick to quip back at you as you braced one hand on his chest and your other hand reached to grab at his cock. It was silky and warm under the base, and you had no issue gathering the pre-cum that was beading at his swollen tip with your thumb and smoothing it over. You guided his tip to nudge at your entrance, catching your clit on the way and letting out a whimper.

“‘member who’s in charge ‘ere,” Rhett taped at the camera pointing your way and you submitted to putting on an immoral show in your Preachers lap. Both your hands were now bracing his chest as you sank yourself all the way down on his length. Guttural groans escaped you both as Rhett filled you whole. He could feel your warm walls squeeze around him, warmer than usual, yet still all encompassing that it made his toes curl. You squirmed your hips down to meet his, taking his cock all the way to the base and feeling his swollen head nudge not so far from your cervix. Once your walls had fluttered around him and emitted the feeling to memory, you made work of your thighs and bounced gently at first. If it wasn’t for your hands bracing Rhett right now, you would’ve toppled over on him.

Rhett peered through the view finder and watched with his bottom lip gripped tightly between his teeth at the Heaven shattering sight before him. Your eyes were pinched tightly shut, but your lips were parted and letting out an endless string of needy moans. From this angle of you leaning forward, he could register your tongue just teasing at your bottom lip, threatening to fall from your mouth completely as he fucked you closer towards that teetering edge. Your breasts were moving in time with your rhythmic bounces, and your nipples had turned into stiff peaks. The soft colour that matched against the inside of your pussy made drool pool in Rhett’s mouth. From this angle, he couldn’t have a taste, but he could do what he adored most. Make you squirm and whine.

His free fingers reached out and pinched at your hardened nipples to earn a shriek being torn from your throat. He twisted at your right nub harshly and even though cries were tearing from you, you pushed your chest forward to keen into the painful pleasure. He wanted to see more from you, but his ears were zoning in on the sounds you were making and he trusted in his gut feeling to check on you. He removed his hand from your swollen breasts and placed them on your hip to still your rocking motions, the camera going down with it.

His thumb ran soothing circles over your hip bone as if to signal to you to stop for a moment. A soft look had replaced his hardened gaze. “Y’ okay, little lamb? Y’ need to tell me if it’s too much.”

You nodded as you panted heavily. You wet your bottom lip to speak, “promise, Rhett. Feels s’ good, p-please, need you.” A beat went by.

“Safe word?”

“Bull riding.”

Rhett wore a smile to match his softened gaze and he leaned up to press a admiring kiss to your swollen lips. When he pulled away and came back to resume his previous position, picking up the camera in tow, his face shifted back in a flash. It made your cunt clench as it resembled something close to the Devil himself. That something you had seen in the woods.

You resumed your previous ministrations and your hips continued to bounce rhythmically. Rhett wasted no time in wrapping his fingers around your tender nipples and pinching at them gently to elicit further cries from yourself. With one particularly harsh twist from his index finger, your head was thrown back and your hips pushed further. You ground your hips into Rhett’s and you could feel the tip of his cock slide neatly along the sweet, spongy spot, inside of you. The sensation of after burn on your nipples stung deliciously in combination. To soothe yourself you brought one of your own hands up to toy and stroke over your nipples. Your jaw had now gone slack, as your head was thrown back and your chest was rising and falling erratically.

Rhett let out a guttural grunt in response to this sight and shifted his hips to lazily meet yours. “Look at you,” he matched with a lazy drawl in his tone. “Preacher’s best girl, puttin’ on a show for Daddy.” He focused the camera directly onto the sight before him. He didn’t want to miss a single second of this.

With every shift of your hips bouncing on his cock, you could feel your clit bump against his soft curls and occasionally provided a teasingly millimeter of friction. You needed more, but no matter how deep you grounded your hips down, it provided no release and you were left edging yourself. Your thighs were starting to give in entirely, with a thin veil of sweat coating your flesh and chafing against Rhett’s own. Mumbled nothings were falling from your lips with silent cries.

“I- I… Daddy,” you managed to usher out. It was a pitiful plead of mercy for your Daddy. You needed him now. Your own body was failing you with exhaustion. You needed him to take care of you.

Rhett could hear your soft plea, how your voice was failing you and how your hip movements were becoming sloppy. Your mind was teetering on the edge of complete nothingness. It was about to break and run it’s course into a headspace that made you entirely susceptible to causing more harm to yourself than you could really take. But Rhett was there to slow down your de-railing. As God loved him, Rhett was to love and care for you. You were his responsibility and therefore it was his responsibility to catch you gently when you fell softly into that headspace that rendered you completely, fucked, dumb.

The camera was placed on the bed and his hands came up to still your shuddering body. He shushed you gently and breathed out, “alright, my sweet lamb. Let Daddy take care of his best girl.”

His broad palms gripped at your torso and picked you up as if you weighed nothing. He lay you down on the bed with your head facing the end. He carted his fingers through your hair that was falling haphazardly over your forehead and getting stuck in the beads of your sweat that was pooling. He gently cradled your supple cheek and the baby hairs that lay there. His thumb soothed over the heat rising in your cheeks and he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to your parted lips.

His own hair tickled at your skin and you hummed into his mouth. Your giggles bubbled to the surface and Rhett reacted with his own. His familiar warmth was surrounding you and encompassing you whole as his lips didn’t stop moving against yours. A taste of a cigarette and lukewarm beer were fading on his tongue, but it was still there, something that ground you closer to your Preacher. Yet, at the same time, it had you falling through the mattress to somewhere safe.

Rhett parted from your swollen lips momentarily and you let out a disappointed whine, turning them into a small pout. You wrapped your hands around the base of his neck and toyed with the damp licks of hair, in an attempt to draw him back to you, but he resisted for a moment. His thumb lifted between you both and ran along your pouted lips, smoothing them out.

“Need y’ to tell me, my sweet lamb. Can you continue?” He purred.

You replied with a, “yes,” and barely above a whisper, with a small nod of your head. To anyone else, your admittance of submission was feeble, but Rhett had you mapped out on the back of his hand. He could read every inch of your body and how it responded to him. He could read this clearly and he followed through by slipping his thumb passed your lips and pressing down on your tongue. Your eyes fluttered shut and suckled down greedily, eager to have anything of Rhett inside of you and filling you whole. He nudged his knelt thigh between your legs and pressed up against your cunt. Your clit was left painfully un-touched by this point and he could feel it throb as you instinctively rubbed yourself up and over his tight muscle. There was a lewd sound of your wetness squishing against him and something of a growl left his throat.

“Jesus, fuckin’ soaked for your Preacher, aren’t you? Nasty, needy, little harlot.” Rhett sneered down at you. His demeanor had switched back to cold-blooded, but you knew you were safe with this version of Rhett and his venomous words only sent shocks to your swollen bundle of nerves. You were desperately chasing your high once again on his thigh, but it was ripped away from you coldly as he pulled away and issued a direct, smack! directly onto your cunt.

This was your fall from grace and two tears finally slipped over your waterline and stung at your warm cheeks. He smoothed them over with his thumb, but in contrast, he only cooed mockingly at you.

“Cry all you want, darlin’. You’re takin’ what I give you. Now—” he got off the bed and retrieved the camera that had fallen to the side. He placed it on the worn out and chipped desk facing the bed and came back to position you. He slid his arm under your back and twisted you so you were now on your hands and knees, facing the camera. He tugged at your scalp and then pinched your chin to direct your gaze directly ahead to the camera. “— smile for your Preacher, sweet girl. You are Daddy’s best girl, after all.”

His words made you squirm and without direction, your back was arched slightly to show Rhett the curvature of your ass. Two of his calloused hands ghosted down your spine and lay at their final resting place on your hips. He squeezed at your tender flesh and let a groan slip at the sight of your glistening cunt.

One hand was removed and fisted at the base of his throbbing cock. He slapped his heavy member against your lips and let it drag through your folds and nudge at your clit. It made lewd sounds, the sounds of your own wet cunt causing your cheeks to return to a dusty red colour. You both moaned together as he let his tip slip past your folds and tease at the beginning of your entrance. You immediately clenched down on him as he slipped the first inch in. You were unable to hold back the string of pathetic whines, and you bucked your hips back to try and chase his length that he was slowly inching in.

“Daddy, p- ‘lease!” Rhett hushed you in an attempt to soothe you, but it was broken by his own grunt as he eventually bottomed out completely inside of you.

“S’ fuckin’ tight for your Preacher, lil’ lamb. Y’ were made for me, weren’t you?” You nodded feebly at the camera ahead of you.

You wrapped yourself warmly around him and clenched tighter as Rhett slowly started to move his hips against you and build a steady rhythm. At each push back in, he nudged deeply at the sweet spot inside of you and it had your knuckles turning white, gripping the thin Motel bed sheets below you and carting you forward with each thrust.

He found a comfortable grip with one hand on your hip as the pace picked up. His other hand found itself buried at the base of your neck and his fingers intertwined to the base hairs that lay there. He grabbed a tight fistful, pulling harshly on your roots with a yelp from yourself. This new found position caused your back to arch further and your hands scrambled on the bedsheets below to try and hold yourself up. That, combined with Rhett’s now brutal thrusts, his thick tip was waging no mercy on your sweet and abused cunt.

It caused you to hold direct eye contact with the camera in front of you, as it documented clearly to anyone who would watch, how your Preacher would ruin his little lamb inch by inch. It was as though he was pulling you apart thread by thread and weaving himself a new found pleasure. You caught a glimpse of Rhett himself in the corner of the mirror, that was situated off to the side of the desk where the camera was sitting and dear God, you had never seen such a prettier sight.

His hair was mused and tussled stray strands of hair fell against his forehead and tickled against his rosy cheeks. There was a small layer of sweat forming already, and nestled deep in the creases of his forehead as his eyebrows knitted tightly together in concentration at sight before him. His piercing eyes that always had you clenching, were trained directly at the sight of his thick cock sliding in and out of you, your own arousal already slicking him and layering at the edges of your lips.

His jaw was set firm, but his lips were slightly parted in comparison to allow for hot puffs of air and guttural grunts. His shoulder muscles, and all the way down to his forearms, were compacted tightly together and bulging. Prodding veins in his forearm were shadowed perfectly in the low light of the Motel room, dusted by his arm hair that grew thicker at the base of his hands. His chest was flush and the rosy pink dusted over his tattoo on his peck, blending into one.

His lips parted further to speak, “look at you, my pretty Western sunshine. I’ve found heaven in you, little lamb.” His voice was hoarse and yet his Southern drawl was still low and boldly coming through, wetted by the gasps of air he was currently letting out. He had found heaven in time where your own Western sunshine met his deep Southern wet. He was lost in it, lost in the feeling, lost in the taste, and he found himself hard-pressed for air and sweating.

The concoction of the reek of sex and sweat hung heavy in the dingy Motel room. Rhett’s pin point accurate thrusts were pushing you closer to the edge that you had so desperately been craving all night. The knot that was settled deep in your lower abdomen was threatening to snap anytime soon, but there was something else missing. Like clockwork, and how well Rhett knew your body like the back of his hand, his hand from your hip slipped down and his rough padded fingers found your aching bundle of nerves. You let out a broken sob and your eyes squeezed tightly shut at finally relishing in the feeling. His thrusts became sloppier as he let your hip go, but his thick cock that was still moving in and out of you, gave no room for error. His fingertips ran calculated circles and you continued to let out broken sounded moans. You were getting louder with each swipe, but you didn’t care. You paid no mind to the other Motel dwellers next door. You were completely unaware that Rhett heard a couple of thuds on the wall next to you. For him, it only added fuel to the Hellfire you were currently drawing him down to.

“Y’ wan’ to come, angel face?” You pathetically whined out a, “yes,” and let out a louder cry when Rhett tugged harshly on your hair to signal at you to open your eyes. Your eyes peeled open and at this admission, the tears that had been stinging on your waterline fell freely. Your pleasure was heightened to a tipping point so high, that you had no idea what would happen when you fell. “Y’ can come, but watch yourself. Watch your fuckin’ pathetic self.” Rhett seethed with condescension laced thick on his tongue.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou…” You babbled out repeatedly in a weak attempt to show your gratitude. You could feel yourself ready to fall. Your skull felt as though it was full with cotton and your eyes completely glazed over as you stared mindlessly into the camera.

Rhett let his fingers swipe continuously over your now completely abused clit, and he felt you clench and twitch around him. “Come. Come for y’ fuckin’ Preacher.”

The mix of his cock still moving with pin point accuracy inside of you, and the swipe of his fingertips, caused you to fall helplessly with the only cord attached to Rhett. Your jaw went slack, unable to hold the drool that cornered in your mouth and it slipped down your chin as your orgasm came and washed over you like a furious tidal wave. The all encompassing and pleasurable feeling started in your abdomen and blossomed outwards to reach each point of your body, setting your nerves alight. It caused your toes to curl tightly inwards at the base of Rhett’s knees and your chest heave furiously, trying to catch up with the labored moans you were currently letting out.

You weren’t aware how tight you were squeezing around Rhett. Whilst caught up in your own storm, you heard him behind you groan and curse your name with a sinisterly sick tone. “Gon’ fill you up, precious lil’ lamb. Gon’ make y’ full of me, y’ want that?” You were vaguely aware of Rhett’s own begging behind you. “Fill this womb with God’s spend, give y’ children of God.”

“Pleasepleaseplease…” You weren’t even sure what you were pleading for at this point. Anything to keep this euphoric feeling going you would settle for. His thrusts became sloppier than before and his cock twitched inside of you. His fingers were still lazily working around your clit and you mewled out at the overstimulation he was causing you. His thrusts were deep and he let out an even deeper, guttural groan, but they turned shallow as you felt his own spend leak inside of you. You squeezed him tightly at this point, as to milk him for all that he was worth. You wanted God’s children to blossom in your womb.

You had admitted defeat and your arms were shaking to try and hold yourself up. You fell forward on the mattress with a pitiful whine. Rhett gulped down air behind you and let out soft groans as his cock soften inside of your wet walls. You winced as he pulled out and you felt a mix of fluids drip from your swollen and puffy lips. Your body thrummed with the coming downs of pleasure and you let your hips fall to the bed when he let go of your frame. You squirmed into the bedsheets, rubbing your flesh over the material in a weak attempt to ground yourself, but there was no need. Warm hands of your Preacher slinked around your waist and drew you up from the mattress.

“My sweet, sweet, beautiful lamb. C’ ere.” His voice was like honey in your ear. The warmth of his breath was causing goosebumps to flesh over your neck. His large, yet damp with sweat, arms encased you against his. You could feel the rhythmic thrum of his heartbeat match up to yours as he held you tightly against his chest for a moment. Skin on skin contact like a baby would have with their mother. Your own sweat was mixing together and puffs of his breath coated your warm cheek.

He maneuvered himself to sit against the headboard with one arm wrapped around your trembling body. Tender fingers from his spare hand slinked upwards at the base of your neck. They were far softer in contrast to the ones that were cruelly tugging on your hair before. They reached upwards and brushed the strands of hair that were stuck to your forehead, tucking them gingerly behind your ear. His thumb and index finger cautiously caught your chin and titled your low hanging head to look at him. Your eyelashes fluttered open and you met Rhett’s face with a weary and blissed out smile.

“You okay?” He moved his hand to cradle your jaw as if it was made of glass. His thumb brushed over the stained tears above your rosy cheek.

“Did I do good?” You voice was hoarse and it caused Rhett’s heart to twinge in his chest. You were his responsibility to take care of and he would be damned to Hell if he didn’t.

“M’ love, you did s’ good. M’ s’ proud of you.” Your weary smile was still there, but you seemed to appear proud. “Can I kiss you, sweet lamb?”

“Please, Rhett. Need you.” You called out to him. He was right there in front of you, but you needed your Preacher to wrap you tightly in his arms and wash away your sins down the basin of the Motel sink drain.

Rhett moved his face to be millimeters away from your lips. Barely above a whisper, he reassured you faintly, yet his words were set in stone. “M’ always here. Never goin’ to leave you. You’re mine forever. I love you.”

Your lips brushed against each other when you replied. “Love you too, Rhett.”

He did exactly as you needed. He cleaned you up with his ever tender and cautious touch. He never left your side and you clung tightly to him when his lips met your ears with honeyed words of praise. However, through a force unknown to you, your body was startled and you awoke from the throws of sleep, wrapped tightly up in Rhett’s arms.

Your bleary eyes adjusted to the dim bedside lamp that was still on. The two of you were too exhausted to switch it off after. The sight of the soft light electrified something in you and you were frustratingly, now wide awake, for lack of better word.

You un-tangled yourself from his arms and he shifted against the pillows to lie on his back. One of his arms came up to stretch behind his head, with his bicep muscles contorting shadows in the light. His hair was tousled, and soft strands fell and framed his face in such a way that made your town Preacher look angelic. The ends of his hair tickled at his hardline jaw, with the four day old stubble coming through. The thin cotton Motel bed sheet was falling haphazardly over his frame and his soft curls with the base of his cock, peeked out from underneath. You retrieved the camera and it whirred to life, clicking in places inside as the flashing red button on the front focused on his sleeping frame. Rhett had never looked more beautiful as he slept naked, due to the air con in the Motel room failing you both once again, and you wanted to remember this serene moment for as long as you lived.

You caught your own reflection in the mirror with bleached corners and tainted glass. You let out a quiet gasp in response and zoomed in on the picture through the tiny screen. Painted over your hips and the back of your thighs, were shades of black and blue. They showcased the way Rhett knew how to show his love.

You were oblivious to the fact he heard the room next door beat on the walls while you were face-first down in the bed mere hours ago. You also weren’t aware of Rhett pummeling a stranger to the floor outside the bar across the street from the diner, because the stranger called you a sickly name. The lovesick haze that clouded your vision entirely with Rhett was unforgivable.Trouble was always going to find him and weather you were aware of it or not, so would you with his guidance. If Rhett loved you like he said he did, you would hold a gun to someone’s head if he asked you to.

On some nights, you were alone in the Motel rooms when Rhett was out. You’d sit on the edge of the bed, facing the television, with tears falling over you cheeks and reflecting in the television static. Yet, your tears came from a place of happiness. You had him to hold you each night as you crossed every state line to reach the West. You knew you’d be alright, as you turned off the camera and slid back into the familiar embrace of your Preacher.

He had now rolled over onto his side and you pressed yourself into his bare back that emitted the warmth of a furnace. Your arms wrapped themselves over his ribs and you could feel the steady rhythm of the rise and fall of his lungs. You would cling to him like some love blind addict. You were always itching for your next fix. Always awaiting the dopamine induced high to flood your senses when you were next to him. You wanted to feel him run hot through your veins and hit the sweet spot in your head that would leave you with your eyes rolling back into your skull and begging for more. Always desperate to scream his name as you drove by the gas stations and trailed down the interstate.

“I’m never gonna leave you, baby.” Your voice was barely above a whisper and your lips brushed against Rhett’s flesh on his back, muffling the sound of reassurance. Even if Rhett was to lose what’s left of his depraved and fortified mind, you’d still be right there besides him. You’d ride with him through every Western night you departed on, and you knew that one day, you and Rhett could be ok.

Rhett pulled his truck off to the side of the road and pulled up on the dirt track. You had finally reached the edge after all this time. You wasted no time and flung open the passenger door, inhaling the near costal air deep into your lungs. You had reached the coast.

Rhett joined you and got out to lean against the front of his truck. He hovered slightly as it was still burning hot from the hours of driving. You both took in the view and spotted the far off shoreline in California from the cliff side he was currently parked up at.

“End of the line.”

You spun around from the cliff side railings and walked back to Rhett as he spoke. You had a spring in each step and you planted yourself between his thighs. His arms came round to encase you against his chest with the warm sun beating down on you both. You looked up at him with hope shining in your eyes for the first time in months, “we made it this far.”

Rhett’s eyebrows quirked upwards, before furrowing slightly as he gazed outwards at the land in front of him. The sun caught in his eyes and caused him to squint. This was a new town, a fresh start, where people wouldn’t know either of you and no one would truly know if you went missing. He looked back down at you and his face broke out into an animated and electrified smile. “‘nd look at what I’ve got.” His hold on your waist became tighter and you felt your feet leave the ground. A squeal, followed by laughter, bubbled out from your chest as Rhett span you around. He placed you back down to the dust eventually, “love’s out there, and we can’t leave it be anymore.”

You craned your neck upwards and pressed your palms against his chest to steady your lips that were now millimeters away from his. You whispered, as if no one else was privy to your agreement, “I'll come with you if you're sure it's what you need.” Because you knew, in Rhett’s pickup truck with all of your dumb luck is the only place you’d ever want to be.

taglist: @beachbabey @tallrock35 @currentlybradshaw @unmistakablyunknown @iloveprettyboysblog @wkndwlff @flames-thebitch

tagging those who may be interested: @peachystenbrough @sunblchdfly @rhettabbotts @bradshawsbitch @bobfloyds @lewmagoo @sushiwriterhere @sugarcoated-lame

#seb <3 #had to wait until my laptop battery was fixed so I could FINALLY read this on there 😭#and Seb has done it again !!#this series is a masterpiece #Rhett saying ‘end of the line’ sent a shiver down my spine #so unsettling #once again I fear for our little lamb 😭😭#but I can’t wait to see what’s next <333 #rhett abbott #outer range #preacher rhett #stardust reblog challenge

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ariahmichelle · 4 months ago

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Secrets Out- Drew Starkey x Actress!reader

Can be read as a stand alone but it is Part 3 of ‘phoning it in’ Part 1 here Part 2 here

Also my requests are open!!

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It had been almost 3 months since you and Drew confessed your feelings for one another. The transition from friends to… something more was surprisingly natural. You’d agreed to keep things under wraps for now, wanting to enjoy this budding relationship without the pressure of others watching.

You and Drew became official two weeks ago and of course, have yet to tell your mutual friends, both of you amused by watching them slowly catch on.

Tonight, though, the entire Outer Banks cast was gathering for a night out to celebrate before filming for Season 4 began, you knew some of them had been sensing a shift between you and Drew but none of them have questioned either of you yet.

However you knew it wouldn’t be much longer before the secret is out.

The girls—Madelyn, Madison, and Carlacia—were already at your apartment, getting ready. Your place had turned into a full-on glam zone, with curling irons, makeup bags, and laughter filling the space. Madison was expertly applying eyeliner while Carlacia debated between outfits, and Madelyn scrolled through her playlist to set the mood.

You were perched on the edge of your bed, fixing your hair in a handheld mirror. It was a classic girls’ night, full of chatter and teasing.

“You look cute,” Madelyn said, glancing over at you with a grin. “Who are you trying to impress?”

“No one,” you said quickly, but the way your cheeks heated gave you away.

Madison wasn’t buying it. “Come on, you’re glowing. Who is it?”

“Yeah,” Carlacia chimed in, looking up from her outfit choices. “There’s definitely someone. Spill.”

You laughed nervously, brushing them off. “I’m just excited to go out. That’s all.”

But as the conversation shifted back to which heels would be most comfortable, your phone buzzed beside you. You glanced down to see a text from Drew.

Me and the boys are otw. Can’t wait to see you sweetheart xx

You bit your lip to suppress the smile that immediately followed and typed back a quick reply.

You thought you’d played it cool, but Madison caught the way you tried to hide your grin. “Okay, who are you texting?”

“No one important,” you said, tossing your phone onto the bed.

“Uh-huh,” Madelyn said, smirking. “Sure, we believe you.”

Luckily, the doorbell rang, saving you from further interrogation. You stood up quickly, smoothing down your outfit. “That’s the boys.”

As you opened the door, the guys poured in, bringing their usual loud energy. Chase, Rudy, JD, Austin, and finally Drew stepped through the threshold. Drew’s eyes immediately found yours, and his face softened with a warm smile.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low.

“Hey,” you replied, your chest fluttering as he stepped inside.

“Alright, let’s get this party started!” Rudy announced, holding up a bottle of tequila.

Drinks were poured, laughter echoed through your apartment, and the group settled into their usual rhythm. As the night unfolded, you found yourself hyperaware of Drew. He was his usual charming self, joking with JD and Austin, but every so often, you’d catch him glancing at you. When your eyes met, he’d give you a subtle smile that sent your heart racing.

Meanwhile, you noticed Chase leaning toward Rudy, whispering something and glancing in your direction. You pretended not to notice, but you had a feeling they were starting to pick up on the little moments between you and Drew.

Eventually, the group decided it was time to hit the bar. It was one of your favorite spots downtown, with good music, strong drinks, and plenty of room to dance.

As you weaved through the crowd at the bar’s entrance, Drew’s hand found the small of your back. The simple touch sent a shiver down your spine, but it also felt protective, grounding. He guided you through the throng of people, staying close behind you until you reached the table the group had claimed.

“Everyone good?” Drew asked, his hand lingering on your back for a moment longer before he pulled away.

“Great,” you said, glancing up at him.

He smiled down at you, and for a moment, it felt like it was just the two of you, despite the chaos of the bar around you.

The night picked up quickly. Drinks flowed, the girls dragged you onto the dance floor, and the guys took turns buying rounds at the bar. You found yourself caught up in the energy, but your eyes kept drifting to Drew. He was at a table with the guys, laughing at something Rudy said, but every so often, you’d catch him looking at you.

Finally, after watching him from across the room for too long, you decided to do something about it. Dancing your way back to the table, you stopped in front of the boys, hands on your hips.

“Alright, enough sitting around,” you said with a teasing grin. “All of you, up. Dance time.”

The guys groaned in unison, but you weren’t taking no for an answer. Grabbing Drew’s hand specifically, you pulled him up. “Especially you.”

He laughed, letting you drag him onto the dance floor. “You’re relentless.”

“You love it,” you shot back, spinning around to face him.

As the two of you danced, the rest of the cast slowly joined in. But you and Drew stayed close, moving in sync with the music. You could feel the weight of your friends’ gazes, especially when Drew placed his hands on your hips.

Leaning into his ear, you said, “I think they’re catching on.”

Drew tilted his head down to yours, his breath warm against your ear. “Maybe we should give them another hint.”

Before you could ask what he meant, he leaned in and kissed you.

It wasn’t a tentative kiss; it was confident, sure, and full of feeling. The world around you seemed to blur, and for a moment, it was just the two of you.

When you pulled back, cheers erupted around you. “Finally!” Madison shouted, clapping her hands.

“Took you two long enough,” Chase added, grinning.

You buried your face in Drew’s chest, laughing at their reactions.

Drew wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. “Guess the secret’s out,” he murmured.

You looked up at him, smiling. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

The rest of the night was a blur of dancing, laughter, and teasing from your friends. While the secret was out, you couldn’t have been happier that you and Drew no longer had to hide. As far as you were concerned, the night couldn’t have been more perfect.

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pocket-goat · 1 year ago

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updated itties yayyy!!! i mainly wanted to fix suns' entire outfit, give moon and sig better shapes, and also make the difference between generations a bit more obvious! also, white eyed sig <3

extra rambles under the cut !!

-sig and pebbles are both technically 3rd generation iterators, but sig was one of the first of gen 3, while pebbles was one of the last

-moon and pebbles have matching cloaks, but pebbles' outfit was made for him while he was still being built and they misjudged the size of his puppet so his shit dont fit </3

-moon and suns, being from earlier generations, are built like ball jointed dolls, more specifically moon is! suns has a little more articulation than moon does

-pebbles and sig have much more articulation in their bodies, being from younger generations. pebbles especially has the widest range of movement in his puppet, and his hands are the most fine tuned and articulated

-moon was built with durability in mind, while pebbles was built with expression and looks in mind. because of this, moons outer shell doesnt crack, but she rusts easily, meanwhile pebbles cracked easily, but the metal of his puppet doesnt rust!

-the newer the model, the more common it is for them to have neon paint markings on their puppet, which was really just for aesthetics

-pebbles has the simplest cloak because his ancients kinda stopped caring at that point lmao. the strand of pearls around his waist was a gift from one of his maintenance workers who pitied him. he stores his most valuable info/memories on those pearls

#rain world #rain world fanart #fanart #pocket.png #rain world downpour #five pebbles #rain world five pebbles #looks to the moon #rain world looks to the moon #no significant harassment #rain world no significant harassment #seven red suns #rain world seven red suns #iterator #rain world iterator #slugcat #rain world slugcat #so many tags #pocket refs

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catcze · 2 years ago

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⠀「 Wearing his clothes 」

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

「 FEAT : 」 Kazuha, Wriothesley, Neuvillette, Kaveh (separate) x gn! reader

!! Hello !! Haven't even had a shot of tequila for the night yet but I'm already writing, look at me go !!

[ #KAZUHA ]

This guy has the absolute comfiest sweaters and hoodies!!

They're the ones that are warm and soft from use, and that you know he's cared for over the years. They're also so good because they smell like him, too! Smells like sunshine and a light breeze, if that makes sense?

Kazuha's hoodies and sweaters are practically free range for you— at this point, half of the cozy clothes in your closet have been pilfered from him!

And he always encourages you to steal from him, too!

It's a cold day out today? Here, have his hoodie. No, don't worry about returning it. Just keep it over at yours and he'll pick it up sometime. (spoiler: he does not, in fact, pick it up)

Oh, he left his sweater behind at your place while you were hanging out? It's okay, just keep it for now.

But really, he does enjoy seeing you in his clothes! Like, for one, it's you wearing his cozy clothes, so he's insanely attracted to you when he sees that. And for another, it makes him happy seeing you all cozy and bundled up, you know?

[ #WRIOTHESLEY ]

For Wrio, his leather jackets and black button ups are the premiere option to snatch from him.

His jackets are insanely comfy! His leather jackets always keep you warm, and the way it drapes over you and smells like his cologne makes it kinda feel like he's giving you a hug :(

And as for his button ups, he buys the high quality ones, you know? None of those itchy ones that chafe or anything. His button ups are so good to wear, whether you button them up and use them as an actual shirt, or just wear them as an outer layer over another shirt.

Funny thing is though, though Wriothesley doesn't really care about which of his button ups you snatch, he's very particular when it comes to his jackets.

Like, he'll let you borrow them of course, and if you're on a date and you get cold, he'll drape it on your shoulders and let you wear it while he walks you home. He even lets you steal a few right out of his closet and scurry them over to your home, pretending that he doesn't see that your bag is noticeably bigger than when you came over.

But sometimes, you'll get a call from him late at night— "Babe, is my jacket with you?" "Which one?" He then names one of the many, many jackets you've stolen. "Oh. Yeah iIthink I have that with me." "Can I come over and get it? I want to use it when I go for a drive tonight." "At this hour?"

[ #NEUVILLETTE ]

Oh, Neuvillette's coats are to die for!

They're the good ones, the designer ones. My guy doesn't shop in the discount aisle— no, he's bougie.

His coats are incredibly cozy and stylish without being too bulky or heavy. They're big, though! Neuvillette is a big, tall guy, and his coats are the same.

It's almost like drowning in an ocean of (expensive) fabric when you steal borrow his coats. But you do it so often because they're so so so warm and cozy!

You always snatch some of his coats if you can— and Neuvi never voices any complaints. He just smiles, and sometimes even makes playful jokes about you going shopping in his closet.

It's to the point that whenever the weather's cold and he comes to pick you up, he brings a spare coat just for you.

He does the thing where he puts it on you, straightens it out, fixes your collar, makes sure you look presentable and nods to himself when he deems that you are— then ends it all with a kiss placed on your nose.

"That's your rental fee for all my clothes you've scurried away," apparently.

[ #KAVEH ]

HIS SWEATERS !!! They are sooo comfy !!

Kaveh buys his sweaters oversized and the kind that gives him sweater paws— those are the ones that you always go for when given free reign of his closet.

Can you help it?! They're oversized sweaters with sweater paws! And they smell like your boyfriend! And they're incredibly comfortable !

It's especially cute when you both go out in his sweaters— both of you look so cozy and warm, wrapped up in your big sweaters, holding sweater paws.

He probably spritzes his clothes with whatever perfume or cologne catches his fancy that week, so that you smell similar to him when you go out.

And! If one of the sweaters has one of those kangaroo pouch things, you guys hold hands inside the kangaroo pouch, so your hands stay nice and warm <3

He's such a cutie about it too. Kaveh always grins sooo wide when he sees you wearing his sweaters. Makes sure to hug you lots too, because you look insanely huggable like that.

#astronetwrk #「 🐈‍⬛ 」 catcze.desserts #genshin impact x reader #kazuha x reader #wriothesley x reader #neuvilette x reader #kaveh x reader #cw gn reader

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eamour · 1 year ago

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the bridge of events.

something that most of us eventually do or have done is try to "fix" a certain situation in our physical worlds. we have encountered something very unlikable and therefore want to "un-manifest" it by thinking of a way to do so. however, that's not your job. moreover, that's not your GOAL.

definition.

the "bridge of events" refers to the lined up situations you will have to experience or go through in order to reach the physical fulfillment of your desire. it's an unpredictable process that describes how, when and where you will receive your desire in the outer world, basically the "bridge" that's between your current and your desired reality.

disregard the bridge.

can you decide the way in which your heart's desires are going to come to fruition? most definitely, you can. but you don't have to. see, you don't have to come up with a detailed solution on how an unfavourable situation is going to change to a favourable one. you don't have to mess around with logical possibilities and realistic outcomes. actually, you don't even need to be bothered by it. you do not need to worry at all.

concentrate on the destination.

you only need to be concerned about WHAT you want, nothing and no one else. you need to focus on what's at the end of the line and fixate your mind on it. nail your thoughts on the version of yourself who HAS and IS what you wish to have or be already, and don't care about the obstacles in your reality. don't "reason" your way into obtaining your desire. go to the end and make sure to stay in alignment with that version of yours. dwell on that version. be it, be the end, not the bridge. do not wait or wonder. enjoy your desire. experience it in the mind. within an infinite range of realities, your desired one already EXISTS!

renounce all circumstances.

if you witness something that brings you off track or just generally throws you off your path, what are you going to do?

exactly, you are going to dismiss it. it's entirely up to you if you use a different term to deal with the outer world — such as ignore, renounce, abandon, neglect, reject, refuse — as long as you do not accept it as true.

whatever happens physically is none of your concern, none of your interest and not worth your time, energy and attention. do not let it get in your way. do not let it affect or influence your new, freshly established assumptions. because the undesirable reality that's currently being displayed isn't the reality you want to begin with. the reality you are manifesting ISN'T the one you are experiencing right now! it has nothing to do with you. you are not obligated to accept or associate yourself with it. it holds no truthfulness, no rightness, no correctness and definitely no realness. and remember: it does not serve as a form of validation either!

do not interfere with the physical. do not intervene. do not take action. withhold from any acts that do not take place in the mind. leave the world as it is, as the old reality doesn't reflect your new one anymore.

consequently, feel the way you would feel and then let go of it. you want to distance yourself from the story that's no longer yours. you no longer identify with that version of self anymore.

"the display of the old story and its circumstances isn't an invitation to return back to it."

persist in imagination.

let it come to pass. let it unfold in your reality. simply persist in your newly chosen reality. select your desired reality every day and don't stop. accept it as true, as correct and as real. your imagination is your confirmation. your imaginative acts are your source of validation. so have faith and trust yourself.

the thing is, if you continuously persist in your desired outcome, you are going to walk the bridge one way or another. your desire is going to announce itself and you will acknowledge it — there is no way around it! it WILL show up, and you WILL notice it. you HAVE to. that's the law!

with love, ella.

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drunkwhenimadethis · 8 months ago

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She does not know her value or why people like her. She keeps trying to fix whoever she is with, but of course she never can. Who is she trying to repair and make better? The focus is too much outside herself. She worries she will burden others, so she does not verbalise her needs or depressions. Habitual defensive responses are associated with a wide range of rigid patterns governing the self and other and the rather empty experience of relationships. These cement the feelings of shame, guilt, grief or anxiety while inhibiting and repressing other feelings such as anger, curiosity or aliveness.

How do children learn to defend against the blank spaces from parents? When feelings are split off and a pseudo maturity takes over, they feel they either lack a solid identity or have a fluid sense of self (Mizen, 2014, p. 316). The inner world remains undeveloped and its riches unplumbed. This is not apparent to the outer world as already in childhood people like Vala become adept at hiding reactions and are self-reliant, leaving dependency needs unexpressed as they learn no good can come from expressing them.

Susan E. Schwartz, Imposter Syndrome and The ‘As-If’ Personality in Analytical Psychology: The Fragility of Self

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macabr3-barbi3 · 1 year ago

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dream a little dream (of me) - chapter 4

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

With new abilities comes fun- and some new problems.

SLOW MOVING BUT WE'RE GETTING THERE FOLKS- have a healthy dose of both plot and angst bc I have no self control hehehe

Those that asked to be tagged (if I missed you or tagged by mistake I AM SORRY AHHH)! @fraugwinska (MY LOVE MY DEAR MY MUSE 💛) @aconstructofamind @littlebluefishtail @spottypug @dennsfz

@bishiglomper @ivebeenthearchersstuff @martinys-world @minamilinaqueen

Tags: Dream Sex; Dreamsharing; Vaginal Sex; Rough Sex; Light Bondage; Dreamwalking; Clone Sex; Threesome - F/M/M; Tentacles; Overstimulation; Angst

Comments and feedback are always loved and appreciated thank u and enjoy 🫶

In the weeks following Alastor ripping his stitches open, you are careful to avoid his dreams- and his bed- so that he can properly recover this time. After his wound heals, when Alastor starts stepping out for errands away from the Hotel again, you start practicing your newfound abilities.

You nap in your own room at times when Husk is off duty and start small- knocking over bottles on the shelf while he speaks with Angel or Charlie in his dreams. Loosening his bowtie so he has to fix it when it starts dangling off his throat. Replacing the alcohol in his glass with various juices and other liquids- and okay, maybe replacing all of the vodka with water was a step too far, since that’s what eventually made Husk start looking around the lobby in suspicion in his dreams. You just hovered on the outer edges of his consciousness, hidden in the shadows of the lobby and watching, messing with things a bit.

Niffty was next, and under any other circumstances you would have felt bad about conjuring a wave of roaches from the closet she was about to open; the little cyclops had a blast though, pulling out her tiny dagger and stabbing away as she was carted off down the hallway, giggling maniacally. It was during this dream that you realized you could vanish, blend into the background of the dreamscape as easily as Alastor shifted into shadows. Niffty had no clue you were there as she rode the wave of bugs into consciousness.

There was only so much that you could really test without the person knowing about it- you didn’t want to try your luck with Vaggie or Charlie without knowing the extent of your abilities, so you finally cave and ask Alastor for permission to enter his dreams to practice some things; simple conjuring, your disappearing act, just generally testing how much control you really had. He also offered up use of his pocket dimension to test the range of your power, which was the first thing that you did together.

Technically with this knowledge you could have figured out a room in the hotel that would prevent you from being close to anyone as you slept. But who wants to climb those extra sets of steps? Better to just stay in Alastor’s room, you figured.

So here you were, in Alastor’s dream version of the bayou, a clearing in the forest laid before you. “The first thing that we should consider,” he tells you, “is that you may not be the only person with powers such as you have. If this is the case, it’s pertinent that both of us learn to distinguish between what is created by the dreamer’s own mind, and what is conjured with your powers. Duplicate this,” he demands, and when he holds out his hand he has a book that he transfers to you before turning around. You concentrate on it, manifesting an identical copy in your opposite hand. Last second, you swap the hand that holds each book before Alastor turns around and takes them back.

He inspects them closely before he gives you back the one that you had created. “It’s very subtle,” he says with a hum, “but if you look and feel closely you can find the differences. Whether that is a matter of your current lack of experience or a side effect of your powers we’ll have to determine.” You run your hands over both of them, actually inspecting rather than just holding them, and can’t find anything different between them. When you tell Alastor this, he simply provides something else for you to duplicate; a silk robe.

This time when you create yours, you take a moment to feel beyond what is in your hand and you think you know what he’s talking about; there’s something a little less corporeal about it even though it’s solid in your hands, the edges almost a little fuzzy if you look too closely. You focus a little harder to see if you can fix that and the lines of the robe sharpen. Satisfied, you have Alastor turn around again, and this time he looks pleasantly surprised.

“Good girl,” he says. “You’re a quick study.” You repeat the exercise a couple more times, the items increasing in size from a radio to a log, finally stumping Alastor with a duplicated taxidermy raccoon- you bring them both to life, and they scamper about between Alastor’s legs before running off into the bayou, evidently vanishing with a snap of his fingers and then yours.

“Excellent,” Alastor commends you, and you glow with the praise, facing away from him still from having turned to watch the raccoons. “We both can tell how to tell your items from those created by the dreamer- now we’ll see if there’s any distinct difference between the dreamer themselves and, say, a duplicate created as a distraction.”

Your inquiry as to what he means is answered when you turn around to face him, and instead of one Alastor there are two.

The pulse of heat in your core at being caught in two of those predatory gazes was distracting, but you could put it aside. “Got it. So am I trying to figure this out just visually?”

The Radio Demons speak in unison, twin smiles in place. “You may touch, if you think that will help.”

You let out a nervous breath and approach, reaching out to the one on the left and trailing your fingers down his arm, focusing hard. You repeat the action on the demon to the right, and you can tell immediately that this one is the clone- its different from when you created duplicates, but there’s still something that almost tingles under your fingers when you touch it that gives it away, where the real Alastor hadn’t given off a similar sensation. Just to be sure, you run your hand over the expanse of its shoulders, noticing the way that the demon beside you stiffens ever so slightly, eyes narrowing and smile going tense at the way you’re touching it.

An idea clicks into your head- wicked, devious, something that Alastor would surely disapprove of. But with such an opportunity presented, how could you deny the whim?

You stand in Alastor’s space, much closer than you would normally allow yourself, and crane up on your tiptoes to get in his face. “This is the decoy,” you say confidently, and the one that stands behind you speaks instead of the true version.

“What makes you so sure?” Even the voice is ever so slightly off, a tint to the tone of the voice that you only pick up on because you’re listening so closely. “Choose your words carefully, dear, lest you insult me.”

You shrug, tone nonchalant. “There’s just something about this one,” you say towards the real Alastor, stepping back and circling around him, letting your fingers trail along his coat sleeve. “It doesn’t feel quite as… real as you do.” You turn to face the duplicate, startling a bit when it’s closer than you anticipated. “I think I’ve had enough practice touching you in your dreams to know the real thing.”

“Is that so?” Alastor murmurs behind you, and it takes everything in you not to turn at the sound, lean back into him. “Well then, perhaps you’d care to make a little wager?”

“Maybe.” You feel your shoulders stiffen when he presses against you from behind, chest against the expanse of your back and hands settling on your waist. “What do you have in mind?”

Clone Alastor brings its hands up to cup your face. “If you stay convinced that I am the real Alastor,” it whispers, face coming to one side to whisper tenderly in your ear, “then you win. Your reward can be whatever you would like.”

“However! If I manage to break your conviction and change your mind,” Alastor says from the other side. “I win. And if I win, my reward is that you allow me to experiment and test your abilities- both within and outside a dream- to my heart’s content.”

“Hmm.” You could always just lie, you supposed- what way would Alastor have of knowing that you were telling the truth? He couldn’t tell now- this would be an easy win for you. And maybe getting to see Alastor get a little jealous would be a nice bonus. “I accept. I’m pretty convinced though.” Just to really sell the point, you press your hands against the chest of the clone, run them over the fabric, tilt your head up to look into its eyes.

Alastor huffs behind you. “Very well. Perhaps you require a reenactment of the things we’ve done in dreams thus far- just to be sure? Make sure that you really recognize the touch.” His hands come up from your waist to cup your breasts, shirt vanishing at the contact and his thumbs brushing softly over your nipples. Your breath leaves you in a shaky exhale, the duplicate stepping ever closer and bringing its lips down to meet yours.

There’s an underlying current of static to the kiss, something that doesn’t happen when you kiss Alastor. It’s not unpleasant, and you moan into it, playing it up just a tad for the benefit of the demon that stands behind you, letting a soft tremble take over your body that wasn’t entirely for show.

“What do you think, darling?” Alastor drags his tongue up the length of your neck, sharp teeth nipping at your jawline. “Still convinced?” He sucks on the soft skin, almost too hard before pulling back with a kiss to the tender spot. His nimble fingers pluck at the sensitive peaks of your breasts, chest pressing further into the front of the duplicate who licks into your mouth with intent, biting gently at your lips.

“Perhaps you need a bit more to really cement your resolve,” it says into the kiss, bending to nuzzle at your neck on the opposite side from Alastor. “It would be unfair to expect you to guess without all of the same experiences.”

Despite the sensations of pleasure taking over your body, you still find the energy to snark at him, “not guessing. I know.” And twist your fingers into the soft (but not as soft) locks of the clone’s hair, dragging it closer to your skin and grinding your hips against his and the growing erection that you find there.

Snaps sound in unison and their clothes disappear to wherever yours had gone, and a hot length of hardness presses against you from either side- Alastor against the plush curve of your ass and his clone against your pelvis and hip. “By the time I’ve finished,” they say, the static that hisses between them by your head making you dizzy with arousal, “you won’t know anything but my name.”

There are hands sliding down your body then, Alastor slipping a finger into your wetness while his clone thumbs at your clit, both of them gently rutting against your soft skin. You let your head drop back onto Alastor’s shoulder, and the menacing grin that you find on his face forces a shaky exhale from your mouth. “S-seems like a lot of work to change my mind,” you murmur, and he steals your mouth in a bruising kiss.

“Nothing with you is ever work, darling,” he whispers when he pulls back, another finger added to your slick cunt, his fingers crooking against the soft bunch of nerves and making you gasp and arch. The clone drops his head from your shoulder trail nips and kisses down your chest, his tongue circling a nipple and sucking lightly. “I think of it more like an investment in my personal entertainment- and pleasure.”

You feel the way you clamp down on his fingers at that, and the clone scrapes his teeth against your sensitive breast- you whimper, reaching down to pull its face up so you can meet his mouth as well. When Alastor growls behind you, you ask, “what? Equal screen time is only fair.”

His smile turns treacherous. “You’ll want to keep that in mind, dear- I plan to hold you to it.”

With that his fingers leave you, arousal dripping to the forest floor as his hands come to your shoulders and pull, the same moment that the clone grips your legs and lifts, automatically wrapping them around your waist so you don’t fall. You’re left in the position of some kind of odd bridge between them, left staring up at the stars through the canopy of the trees in the bayou, the questioning of it dying on your lips when the thick cock of the clone pushes into you- slowly, relentlessly, not stopping until he’s buried to the hilt inside of you with his claws digging into the flesh of your hips.

If you hadn’t already been aware that the demon behind you was the real one, the way he hisses through his teeth would have given him away- Alastor can feel it, you know he can, the tight grip of your walls clenching down on the clone’s length somehow happening in duplicate on him, his hands tightening their hold on your upper body where you lean into his chest. And this, at least, doesn’t feel too different from the real thing; the second Radio Demon fills you perfectly, hips pressed flush to yours before pulling back and bucking forward again, a shock of pleasure that ripples through your body and forces a cry from your lips. The angle of the way they’re holding you pushes him right against the sweet spot inside.

When a couple of claw tipped fingers come down to press against your clit in soft circles you’re done for, the strength of your orgasm causing you to whimper and drop your head back against Alastor’s chest, body tensing and shaking as the clone rides out the waves of it. You wait for his release but it doesn’t come- no flood of heat inside of you or spilling onto your exposed skin. Your eyes open, watching the clone through blurry eyes and trying to raise your head up.

Your body is shifting then, shadows emerging from both demons to effectively flip you in the opposite direction, clinging to the duplicate’s chest now as Alastor presses his erection against you again, a couple tendrils of darkness wrapped securely around your waist and legs to support you from below. “What-”

“It’s not a fair game if we don’t both get a turn,” says the Alastor in front of you, grin dangerous as he whispers against your forehead, and you’re being entered again, faster this time since you’re already slick and open and ready for him. The force of it punches the air out of your lungs, exhaling wetly into the chest of the dream manifestation before you.

Claws dig into you, sinfully delicious little marks that you know will appear on your body when you awaken. “Or two turns,” comes Alastor’s staticky voice behind you- or, maybe in front of you? With your eyes clenched shut and your focus so completely on the pleasure being wrung from your body, you can’t quite tell where it’s coming from, which one of them is speaking. You had thought there was a difference in the way they sounded but-

“Maybe three.”

“Four, even. Equal screen time and all that, like you said. Until we’ve had our fill and you’re absolutely certain which of us is which.” This is accompanied by a sharp thrust of Alastor’s hips, the slapping sound of skin overwhelming in the relative quiet of the bayou. It’s loud and lewd and arousing as anything as he fucks into you, your cunt clamping down with a fierce single-mindedness to keep him inside of you, even as the wetness it creates eases the slide out and back into your body.

“What do you think, dearest?” You can’t even tell which one is speaking any longer, your mouth lolled open against the bare chest of the clone who sweeps a comforting hand over your hair as the real deal fucks you into a cock drunk stupor. “You’re still sure which of us is the duplicate?”

“Y-yes,” you manage, but only because you know that when you started the dream version of Alastor was in front of you. You dig your fingers into his neck and moan, high and unashamed, and feel claws pierce the skin of your hips, a rumbling growl tearing itself from Alastor’s chest. “I- I would know the real thing anywhere- this,” you say, with a forceful, intentional clench around him, knowing you’ll regret this when you wake and all of the aches and bruises appear on your real life body, “is a p-poor imitation .”

He snarls, and you see the shadows of his antlers grow in your peripheral vision. “This poor imitation is going to make you cum, sweetheart, how does that sound?”

“Like a challenge.”

His laugh is dark, one of the shadows coming up from below you to push and grind hard against your clit above where you’re speared on his length. “Th-that’s cheating!” You cry out; the feeling is intense, almost too soon after your last orgasm, pleasure that teeters on the edge of painful . The clone holds you tighter against his chest, soothing touches to your back and head as you’re made to take the cock inside of you and the tentacle thing that plays you with a mindless conviction. “Oh, God, fuck -”

“You forget that I play to win,” he says simply, his speed increasing, and another tendril of shadow slips into you alongside his cock, narrow and squirming in a different rhythm. “The method matters little if the end result is what I want.”

You choke a little when this orgasm hits you, vision darkening on the edges as your body seizes in his grasp, jerking uncontrollably as the force of it slams into you. Again, there’s no spilling of warmth inside your pussy, Alastor’s release once again postponed for whatever reason.

They pass you back and forth like this for a couple more rounds, each time growing more fervent and rough in their handling of your body while they are inside you, only to brush your hair back from your face and whisper sweet, filthy words into your ear while you cling to their arms and your sanity. Your body is drenched in sweat, inner thighs coated in the evidence of your arousal and orgasms- limbs trembling with the effort to keep your head up and your eyes open. You can’t tell them apart by touch anymore, a hand on your body at any given time as they switch your position and pass you between each other, your mind completely gone as you cum another time, body twitching with the pair of them holding you through it.

Immediately after, you lose the comforting presence on either end of your body when both of them step away from you, another couple of tentacles wrapping around you to keep you still as you pant and shake, body weak and trembling. “Alastor?” They’ve both slipped into the shadows, a whirl of noise in the space around you, and when you open your eyes they’re rematerializing- and fuck, you’re already so overly stimulated that you can’t tell them apart by sight alone either, vision still blurry from the power of your last release. The shadows make a sort of shelf beneath you, allowing you to drop your head back into the gentle embrace of something soft and billowy.

They speak in unison now as they approach. “Final determination now, darling,” they say, a hand on either hip. “Which of us is the real thing?”

The wager is the last thing on your mind as you turn towards him, desperate for the more solid connection that the real Radio Demon provides in the dream scene. “Alastor,” you whine, reaching for him, digging your nails into what you can reach if his arm. “Please-“

His smile is devious when the duplicate disappears with a puff of smoke and he slots himself between your legs, pushing forward with a sharp snap that has you keening, head falling back as his claws push into the plush flesh of your hips. “It would appear,” he murmurs, “that you’ve lost the wager, dearest- you’ve changed your mind.”

“Don’t care,” you cry out, grip ironclad where you hold him, spare hand coming up to hold his shoulder like a vice. “Please, Alastor, I’m- I can’t go again, please.” Your body is aching and sore, muscles trembling from how many times they’ve tensed and released and shuddered through an orgasm at his hands. You don’t think that you can do it again; it might honestly shove you from the realm of the dream with how overwhelmed you are.

“Darling, darling,” he whispers, drawing his hips back and pushing forward in a steady rhythm, letting his hands run over your hands wherever he can reach and letting a tentacle reach up to rub at your sensitive clit. “You’ve got one more for me, I’m sure of it. Cum for me one more time, sweetness- let me feel you after taking us both and show you much better the real thing is when I flood your cunt with my release.”

Your stomach swoops with sharp arousal- you’ll never get enough of him talking like that, all traces of the prim and proper Radio Demon gone when he’s desperate to orgasm, buried inside your cunt with no radio filter and no thoughts in that lovely head but to drag you over the edge with him. An edge that, currently, is far too close and threatening to destroy you. “Al- Alastor, please, I can’t,” even as the tension pulls ever tighter, the tentacle at the apex of your thighs unrelenting in its focus, legs shaking uncontrollably where Alastor has wrapped them around his waist, his own steady rhythm stuttering.

“With me, sweetheart,” he says, and the words are tinted like a plea, like he needs it. “Cum with me-” He bends down over you, tongue sliding against yours in your mouth before he turns, teeth sinking into your neck as he spends himself with a muffled groan against your skin, pulses of wet warmth inside of you that have you crying out into the silence of the bayou when your own orgasm tears through you.

You’re shattering- splintering into fractals of consciousness as you’re torn from the space of the dream.

You don’t immediately wake though- pleasure jolts through you with the force of an arc flash but somehow you’re still asleep, flashes of something zipping by you as your- spirit? Soul? Whatever you currently were, you were catching glimpses along your peripheral vision as you moved; scenes of Alastor’s dreams, moments of his life, his face non-smiling and dark, covered in blood, a bullet hole between his eyes, and there was his mother again, as she had been in the first dream you had seen her.

You feel like taffy, being stretched and compressed hundreds of times over the span of what couldn’t be more than a few moments. You don’t think these are things that Alastor is currently seeing or dreaming about, which means that somehow you’ve gone further into his consciousness than his dreams- you might even be in his subconscious, you think, as you see snippets of a memory with Husker, eyes angry and hurt; Niffty, dirty and bloodstained as Alastor offers her a hand; yourself, the way that he had seen you in the dream with his mother, eyes wide and frightened when you had stepped on the stick that gave your position away.

And then there’s more of you, moments that he had apparently been observing you when you weren’t aware. It’s from his own point of view, eyes dropping down to your hand where it rests on Angel’s forearm at the bar, tracing the line of your arm where it’s draped affectionately over Charlie’s shoulder. He’s watched you everywhere, scenes of yourself in front of the fireplace in his room, curled up on a lobby couch, sitting in the main office with plans for guest events laid out before you, an irritated crease in your brow. You see yourself sleeping in the bed in his room where he had apparently stood over you, a clawed finger reaching out to brush your hair back from your face; there’s a rumbling of speech that you can’t make out as he says something and you stir in your sleep, face going slack with a small smile taking over your features.

The scene fades, and the sharp pleasure of your explosive orgasm returns with force, your eyes opening in reality with a choked off cry as your body trembles with the aftershocks of it, hand digging into Alastor’s arm where he lays next to you. The overwhelming feeling fades finally, and your muscles go slack against the mattress, finally turning to look at him.

His eyebrows are creased in concentration, smile still present but a bit strained. “Where were you?” He asks softly, and when you cock your head a bit he clarifies- “I was awake. But you were… elsewhere, it would seem.”

You don’t think he’ll appreciate you being in his mind like you were, but you don’t have many other options as far as figuring out what the fuck that was. “I think I was… in your head? Like your thoughts and memories. Sorry,” you add as an afterthought. “I didn’t mean to- I’m still learning, I don’t really understand what happened-”

“You were in my mind despite my being awake?” Alastor doesn’t look upset at the revelation- rather, he looks intrigued. “It seems that your power is changing- how entertaining!” He jumps up from the bed, the clothes he had fallen asleep in rumpled and wrinkled. He doesn’t seem to care as he starts pacing around the bed. “This is all speculation of course, but it would seem to me that the excessive stimulation in my dream has caused another bond to form with your powers- no longer just between your physical and dream forms, but between your powers and the real world. Fascinating!” His grin is wide, manic when he looks back at you. “And what perfect timing, now that I’ve won a wager that allows me all sorts of rights to experimentation with your powers and abilities. We’re going to have such fun with this, darling-” He continues to ramble and you watch him pace as he does, one turn allowing something to catch your eye.

A bruise on Alastor’s collarbone- where you had held him in the dream, your thumb digging into the skin that covered the bone, apparently hard enough to leave a mark. None of the marks you had left on him in the past had ever manifested like this in the real world; his theory about the links between your dream self and reality seeming more plausible, if you could inflict something physical on him from a dream.

Might as well tell him now. “Alastor,” you interrupt him, and rise from the bed to stand before him, brushing your thumb over the discolored flesh. “Look-”

His eyes go dark, dials flickering when he grins down at you. “Another mystery to experiment with,” he says. “We’ll have to determine if the ability to leave physical alterations is limited to just myself- since you spend the most time in my dreams, I would presume your powers have developed a sort of bond to my mind- or if you could do this to others.”

Your hands freeze on his chest. “What do you mean, ‘others?’ I don’t- I’m not doing anything like this with anyone else.”

“No need to worry, dearest, I didn’t mean the more intimate aspects! I merely meant markings in general- say, if you were to cut someone with your claws, or take a bite from them. Would that manifest in the real world?” His antlers expand, green stitches appearing at the edges of his smile. “Imagine the ease of being able to kill someone in a dream without ever having to be in the room! Oh, the possibilities are thrilling-”

“I’m not doing that.” You let your touch fall from his skin, taking a step back at the clear delight on his face in thinking about you killing someone. “That’s… that’s not what I’m here for, Alastor, I don’t want to use my power like that.”

“You would rather waste your potential? Regardless, we had a wager, my dear, one that you lost- it was made in a dream but it’s still binding. For the sake of experimenting you’ll do whatever I ask of you; that was the condition, was it not?” Something green glows in his hands- not a chain like you had seen on others with a legitimate soul deal, but something like a rope, a leash. He tugs on it gently, enough to make you lose your balance and stumble forward where it pulls at your wrist.

This was the Alastor you had seen in the first dreams of his- ruthless, bloodthirsty, angry. Gone was the softer version of him that you had come accustomed to, the one you had glimpsed in the dream with his mother, in the memories you had seen. You needed to get away-

No sooner had the thought come than there was a blast of light from your palms, startling Alastor into releasing the cord that tied you to him. Your steps falter backwards and put space between the two of you, no time to think about what had just happened; the hurt look in Alastor’s eyes is the last thing that you see before you turn and bolt from the room.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54459367/chapters/142955671

#alastor x reader #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor the radio demon #hazbin alastor #simp shit <3 #x reader #DREAM DEMON #asldfkjasldkf I love this story so much #having a great time

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fishfooddude · 9 months ago

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Wedding Date

Rhett Abbott Blurb

Outer Range MasterList

Directory

“Ain’t you a beaut.” Rhett teased as you walked out of the hotel bathroom. You rolled your eyes, “I swear. I’m gonna either make her wear something more horrendous at my wedding or elope and deny her the opportunity to do any bride’s maid stuff.” you huffed as you looked at your reflection in the full-length mirror on the closet door. Your sister was getting married in a few hours, and you’d opted out of getting your hair and makeup done by the hired makeup artist to postpone putting on the monstrosity that was the orange puffy dress she’d demanded all the bride’s maids wore.

“Baby, you forgot the flowers.” Rhett chuckled as he watched you push the pair of diamond studs he’d gotten you for your birthday in your ears. “Oh, I know I did. What kind of bride chooses orange as one of their wedding colors? No one looks cute in orange.” you huffed as you went to dig for the hair flowers in the bottom of your suitcase that had been sprawled out on the bed. “Well, what color would you choose?” Rhett voiced as he struggled to do his tie.

“Wouldn’t you like to know…” you implored as you walked back to the mirror to place the flowers over the jumble of bobby pins you’d used to pin your hair back. Rhett chuckled and closed the space between you, hugging your waist from behind. “You’d be a pretty bride.” he purred as he nuzzled his face into the crock of your neck, taking in the tantalizing aroma of your perfume, “Pretty lil wife…”

You giggled as his subtle stubble grazed your neck, “Well if my guy proposes…I’d be more than happy to get married at the courthouse.” you cooed before turning in his arms to fix his tie. Rhett grinned as he kissed your forehead, “If that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get. Jus’ know that my Mom wants you to try on her dress.”

“Well, until then, you can just be my wedding date.” you laughed.

#rhett abbott one shot #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbot fluff #rhett abbot fan fic #rhett abbot x reader #outer range fluff #outer range imagine #outer range fan fic #outer range x reader #outer range fic

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writing-until-i-drop · 8 months ago

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Public Sex | Rhett Abbott (Outer Range) x reader | wc: 336

No use of y/n | 18+ Minors DNI

Warnings! public sex (duh), rough oral (m receiving), lmk if I missed anything

Ao3

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

“Such a good fuckin’ girl for me,” Rhett grunted, thrusting into your mouth. Rhett had a great ride tonight, coming out on top and was running on pure adrenaline. You two hadn’t even made it to the truck, the second you had jumped into his arms after his ride, Rhett had pulled you between two trailers towards the back of the fair grounds and you were all too happy to fall to your knees for him.

You squeezed your fist, tears spilling down your cheeks, trying not to choke on your boyfriend’s cock and failing miserably. But he liked it when you gagged around him, he loved that you let him fuck your mouth like this. Especially when you let him do it in public.

“A good fuckin’ slut, lettin’ me fuck you where anyone can see you.” You moaned around him, the idea of getting caught running through you like lightning. “You’d like that wouldn’t you? Shit. Gettin’ caught, havin’ everyone know you’re my little slut.” You did. You really did. But you also knew he’d never let anyone see you like this. Even now he had his back to the walking path, shielding you with his body. He fisted your hair, pulling it painfully tight as he climaxed, spilling down your throat. “My good girl. My sweet girl, are you okay?”

“M’fine,” He helped you to your feet before tucking himself away. Your throat was raw but you were a needy mess, pulling Rhett in for a kiss. He groaned against your lips, trailing his kisses down your neck, his stubble scratching your delicate skin.

“So good for me,” Rhett whispered, nipping at your neck. “Winnin’ you is better than any trophy.”

“Save your sweet talking for the bedroom, cowboy,” You kissed him, using it to distract him so you could steal his stetson. “I plan on riding the champion bull tonight.”

“Think you can last longer than eight seconds?” Rhett teased, fixing his hat so it sat properly on your head.

“Can you?”

Taglist: @wanderingsoul6261 @halflifejess @kyemna @alipap3 @yutangwl @teacupsandtopgun @glenpowellluver @closetspngirl @that-one-fangirl69 @starshinegrl @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @sarah-bear706318 @shanimallina87 @atuman @carolina-on-my-mind03 @winelover27 @cherrycola27

#rhett abbott x y/n #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott #outer range #rhett abbot x reader #rhett abbott smut #smut #kinktober 2024 #kinktober #bet writes

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gallifreyanhotfive · 1 year ago

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Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 36

The Eighth Doctor has referred to Time Lord society as "bitchy" before. (Audio: Seasons of Fear)

Maximelos and the Three Ogrons was a children's fairy tale on Gallifrey that the First Doctor heard as a child before being initiated into the Academy. (Short Story: Nothing O'Clock)

Peri once turned the song "Wild Boys" up in order to drown out the Sixth Doctor's opera singing. (Short Story: A Star is Reborn)

Susan failed her maths exam because she had forgotten that Britain hadn't moved to the metric system yet (despite the fact that the First Doctor had tried to get her to remember at least that). (Short story: Extracts from the Doctor’s 500 Year Diary)

The Doctor had a bear when he was young but had to release it when it started eating all the furniture. (Audio: Cuddlesome)

Jo and Cliff Jones frequently work with David Attenborough (Short Story: Greyhound)

The Tenth Doctor and Rose Tyler got caught in 1914 Belgium in a battle between Germans and an alien Warfreekz. Rose stopped the war by singing "Angels" by Robbie Williams, which made all sides think she was the Angel of Death come to take their dead to Heaven. (Comic: Warfreekz!)

When the Fifth Doctor broke his spine and was subsequently paralyzed, he thought he would regenerate. (Audio: Devil in the Mist)

The Toymaker once turned the Eighth Doctor into a doll. (Audio: Solitaire)

Chancellor Delox was a lecturer at the Academy who expelled the Doctor from her class after discovering he had not returned to his House for Otherstide. (Novel: Divided Loyalties)

The Second Doctor remembered being something of an acrobat in his First body before age had taken its toll. (Novel: Heart of TARDIS)

The Doctor's TARDIS has an entire snowy mountain range inside of it. (Audio: The Settling)

The console room of the Monk’s TARDIS has a comfy chair covered in comic books in it. (Audio: The Black Hole)

The Tenth Doctor recovered from his regeneration in part because of tea but also in part because he took energy from his Third incarnation, who was nearby. (Short story: The Christmas Inversion)

The Sixth Doctor continued to try to fix the TARDIS chameleon circuit after Attack of the Cybermen. This caused the outer shell to shift to all sorts of odd forms, such as Nelson's column, a giant strawberry, a train engine, a clock, a Christmas tree, a giant Radio Times, and more. (Comic: Quick Change)

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osakanone · 4 months ago

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Exotic doctrine theory: Grappling & Booster-fu

Source of the song is "If you Dare", anime is Orguss 02 episode 1

When all conventional means of machine combat are forclosed, only unconventional means remain: This is what seperates the aces from the jobbers, bitches: the capacity to improvise.

A fighter pilot will jam the WEZ, that's weapon engagement zone: the minimum arming range of a missile before it will hurt both the enemy and yourself -- but what about mech pilots?

You get up in their BAZ; the Ballistic Attack Zone, with the tip of the barrel behind you. How do you stay safe up close like this?

You ever seen any soft-bodied octopus or starfish get into a crab?

They have hard bodies and are all soft underneath, like a mech. They're not impervious.

Why? Any hard body is made of levers:

Drive any joint to its limit and you have an instant fulcrum to rip at the inner structures and shatter the outer form.

But then what?

No blades? No pile bunkers? No problem.

Ground talons. Rollers. Grappling hooks. Joints.

The sheer fucking mass and density of your armour plating.

Your whole body is a weapon.

Some of you make 3:1 against your mass with your boosters.

That's a lot of energy and if it has nowhere to go very bad things happen.

Some of you can do this with neural implants but you've got biofeedback out of the wazoo to contend with, which is why so many of you go twinkly eyed with overload daze out when you lock up with an opponent.

The smart among you are already running a specialist grips and inceptors in your cockpits, so you can dip out of the feedback when you need to and you're TAZ compliant: that's TORSION, ASPECT and ZONE controller, so named for the work of a Dr Senerchia, a fighter who deserved better than they got, and a treasure to us all.

So what does that mean to you?

A mixture of special software, and a pair of extra thumbsticks for your index fingers on your grips above the triggers.

Those of you familiar with loaders or cargo-work will find it familiar.

The rest of you: they're there to override and guide cueing information based entirely on brutal trial and error that'll make the size or weight of your frame irrelevant in CQB.

You can't rely on fixed solvers and playback to do the work for you with some existing motion-plan: You need to invent a new one on the fly using all of your fine control inputs.

So how is this relevant to you?

A Class A heavy support is fucked against a Class F attacker surely with the height difference and loadout, right? That's fifty tons of mass and nine meters of stature apart.

But watch an A slam its talons into the dirt, wrap the F with its wire anchors, and then perform a boost suplex, knock its barrels under the deflection plating of the other guy and follow-up up with a full sabot alpha-strike at point blank.

Any trainer worth their salt will teach you this shit.

You should know how to grapple with your sisters, and to practice regularly in and out of the cockpit. You need to get familiar with how bodies roll across eachother in motion.

You get lucky and you'll get some special training with oxytocin boosting mucus membrane massage and carotid restraint to simulate g-loc until you see stars to keep it memorable.

Have fun out there.

Class dismissed.

#mechposting #Pilotposting #mecha #its tazz

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desire4ella · 1 year ago

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 @wrestlingprincess80 ✰ part1 of the Gif euphoria series

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Desperate!JeyUso x Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Kowing Jey could NEVER resist your pussy you use that to your advantage.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: Daddy kink, Sl*t shaming and just full on nastiness

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 840

You and Jey got invited to one of Jimmy’s “ get wrecked ” parties in which you get shit face drunk and do whatever the fuck you want because Naomi and the kids went on holiday too spain for two weeks, so that means PARTY TIME! ( shhh don’t tell her tho ). Before you guys left your house you could already tell that Jey was horny due to him tryna pull up your dress every five seconds but you reassured him that when you guys get back home , he can damage your pussy all night long but for now you have a party to get to.

Pulling up to Jimmy’s house you knocked at the door and patiently waited for him to come out “Hold on guys , lemme just open this beer real quick”he shouted from behind the door , rolling your eyes annoyed you huffed and gave Jey a side eye , almost indirectly saying for him to fix up his brother. Lifting his hands up in defence he said “ Hey don’t blame me, it ain’t my fault your impatient ” and gave your ass a quick slap, before you could do anything back the door opened up and you were engulfed in a bear hug. “Heyyy sisssss , how u beennnn ? i ain’t seen yo ass since the last party .Jey got you locked up in his basement or sumn ?” he goofly remarked, laughing you said “ Nahh i’ve just been busy and shit , tryna keep your LITTLE brother under control “ you mockingly emphasised the “little”cause you knew it would rile him up. Attitude spreaded across his face and he kissed his pearly whites at you and remarked “ quit playin wit me lil girl , cause i wasn’t little when i was deep in ya gu-” Slapping you hand over his mouth you send him a glare and drag him inside the house , with Jimmy laughing behind you guys.

Walking in inside the house ,the stench of alcohol and bounce that ass over filled your nostrils, it almost made you wanna turn back around and leave but it would be a shame because you actually wanted to enjoy yourself so you walked down to the kitchen, swivelling past the drunk , dancing bodies. Reaching the kitchen you closed the door and grabed a red solo cup and poured yourself some of the alcohol fruit punch. Taking a seat on the counter you take a sip of the drink and close your eyes relishing the burning sensation going down your throat.

“ Hey baby , you good ?” Your boyfriend’s voice rang throughout the desolate kitchen scaring the shit outta you , snapping your eyes open you place your hands on your chest “ Baby you scared the shit outta me.” laughing he walked in between your spreaded legs and placed small kisses along your neck “ my bad bae,i ain’t mean to”. Knowing what he was trynna do , you decided to give in and let him take control since you kind of wanted it to and plus , this would be a new experience for the both of you. Pulling you at the edge of the counter he hastily pulls down your red lace panties “ Ooooo kinky , i see you baby ” he says and kneels down to face your already dripping pussy.

You felt a little bad that you were about to fuck on Jimmys counter but all that went down the drain as soon as you felt Jey’s lips kiss and prob at your outer lips.

Moaning in complete bliss , you lock your legs around his head to which he forcefully pries them back open and wraps his arms around your thighs, keeping you in place. “ That’s it baby , let daddy know how good he’s making you feel ” he said as his tongue skilfully glided against your swollen clit. Crying out you grip his hair “ Fuck, Fuck , Fucckkk ” was all you could chant out as you felt Jey’s fingers slowly slide inside your sloppy , wet hole . “You dirty slut , look at you . Imagine if someone was to walk in right now and see you all fucked out on the counter , i bet you would like that wouldn’t you ?” Gasping his filthy words you clutch your eyes closed and start to grip Jey’s hair even tighter , you felt your lower abdomen tense signifying your about to cum all over his face . Growling in response he fingers your pussy faster too the point all you could hear was squelching “ that’s it baby , let it all out , let the people outside hear much of a dirty slut you are”and on command you cum right then and there, eyes rolling back into your head as you squirt unto his freshly cut beard.

Just as Jey was about to say something, the door opens revealing a shocked Naomi and kids….

𝐃𝐔𝐍 𝐃𝐔𝐍 𝐃𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐍𝐍𝐍𝐍𝐍𝐍

𝐈𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬𝐬𝐬𝐬𝐬𝐬 , 𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐲𝐲𝐲𝐲 😭

Ps this ain’t proofread since i was in a rush to get this out so , sorry for the mistakes.

#jey uso #jey uso x reader #jimmy uso x reader #the usos #wwe #roman reigns #my original fiction #roman reigns x reader #wwe superstars #jey uso smut #the bloodline #my original content #main event jey uso #jey uso imagine #wwe wrestlemania #fanfic

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angellurgy2 · 9 months ago

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Hiveship

hii! this is the 1st and 2nd chapter of my new story, as a little show of whats to come when i make it a full-length book.

cw for bug rape but like, its also just an introduction to deeper non/sexual ways the bugs will destroy this girl's soul. you'll see!

i'd appreciate if people checked this out/gassed it up because i've worked reallyyy hard on this for a bit ^-^

CHAPTER 1

A live wire sparks as loretta reaches a gloved claw inside the open electrical box, her digits blunted by her heavily plated and padded, alabaster white cosmonaut suit. she roots around the active electricity, scraping out chunks of the greenish-brown sludge growing in its crevices- the same mysterious viscous slime that’s been popping up in parts across her starship over and over the past few weeks. her theories ranged from an excremetal expulsion of an unidentified space object, to some disgraceful cosmonaut’s trash finding its way into her ship’s vents.

she clicks the button for the analyzing tool of her protective visor, closely examining the fluid. long thin wires splay across all sections of the large junction, leaving burning hot indents in the thick substances that feel like way too much of a fire risk. looking at the wires, spread out in patterned parallels like gigantic spider-webs, an anxious tinge of fear strikes her. don’t fall in, don’t get caught- robots don’t need any more prey. not that you’re prey. you aren’t.

she flicks her visor back off, worried her sweat might fog up the the visor, and continues swiping the rest of the gunk into a bin.

all clean, she fixes the fuses back into place before immediately making her way back over to the equipment corridor to hang up her suit. on the way she passes vibrant posters of mechanical cross-section diagrams, detailed anatomy drawings of every variety of species she could scavenge, and historical propaganda posters. it was a nice splash of existence inside a clinical minimalist coating.

lounging in the cabin suite on her sofa, she flips her state-provided entertainment console to the galactic news. on-screen a suited, pristine looking woman takes the centre stage behind a stretched out desk. her voice is calm and analytical, with a hint of soft sympathy that can’t be hidden no matter how hard of a professional facade they must put on.

“News from the pandora planets have finally reached the internal core, revealing devastating effects of the latest assault campaign from the exoskeletal hives, multiple colonies’ messengers have reported complete razing of ground and sub-ground infrastructure, with several not appearing for the census at all. the URSS military and all commune bioships have retreated back to pantheon-V for rehabitation before a pandora counter-takeover can be attempted.”

Loretta shudders. the exoskeletals have been advancing deeper into URSS territory much faster than ever before, the fact that the state hasn’t been able to put a stop to it—and that the threat has only gotten more aggressive—makes sweat begin to pour down her head. if she was doing a term with the forces or part of a commune science crew she’d probably be worried for her life right now. thankfully, her ship was currently flying safely in one of the middle systems, relaxing in orbit of an abandoned desert world after recently coming back from a call of excursion to the outer worlds. she always enjoyed the quiet of minimal space travel and the utter lack of civilization when she gazed down upon a world, so this has been her favourite spot to reside for a long while. from the cabin module’s glass wall she can see such stark vistas of sandy mountain ranges, demarcating the most beautiful fields of gigantic outstretching spiny cactus.

with a loud buzz the tv automatically switches to the nightly Sallite news segment, where they broadcast the most important of state propaganda to every television set at 8pm local time. with an exasperated sigh she turns the volume all the way down to 1, takes off her grey tank, and throws herself into her cushioney bed. a switch on the wall next to the alloy headboard turns on the room’s surround sound to a soft pitter of forested rainfall, and she falls asleep in a matter of seconds.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Loretta awakes to the foreign sound of a sloppy wriggling near the floor by the end of her bed. jerking upright, she quickly slides into the suit boots she had laid at the side of her bed, strapping them tight, and moves to examine the intruder.

a pulsating green slime slides itself across the floor, leaving a small trail of slightly transparent lime goo behind it. loretta kneels to look at it closer. she could swear it’s looking right back at her- though without any obvious eyes or features of its own. it excretes another loud squelching sound and fires off a copper-smelling mist around it, some of which sprays directly into loretta’s face causing her to wince and tear up at the dense cloud of smell. she reflexively slams her booted heel down into the creature, stomping through its gelatinous body.

she attempts to swiftly scrape the thing off her heel,, but the flattened slime spreads to encase her entire boot before she can even look down at it. when she does, she sees sticky lime green half-translucent goo coating the suit metal like adhesive, excreting a slight burning odour. loretta throws her leg around trying to eject the subject, but only manages to trip over herself, tumbling to the thick panelled floor with a resounding thud.

on her back she watches with wide terrified eyes as the slime continues to slowly expand up her limb. it should be stretching itself out fully by now, but it seems to have an infinite amount of mass to express over her. some kind of anomalous entity from deep space? but how would it have gotten this deep into the middle systems? a new wormhole would’ve been reported immediately, and the nearest systems are all too well-inhabited. the gears turn in her head, clearly rusted over, struggling to think of a potential scientific hypothesis. by the time she breaks out of her clouded monologue and thinks to stop analyzing, the slime has already subsumed her entire left leg, grasping spreading tiny green tendrils grappling for the next part, which is fully uncovered by the comforting protection of the URSS engineer corps. she struggles to force herself away by clawing into the floor, but the slime seems to have extra weight to pin her leg down. such a little creature, overpowering her so easily- it must be alien. she doesn’t stop struggling even if it pins her utterly. if she could just get to the corner and grab her piece she could-

her scrabbling eyes find themselves staring at the cabin’s ceiling vent. a thick bile-like grey sludge seeps down from the cracks, forcing her to hurry. loretta shoves her hand into the green slime against her better judgement, trying to peel it off like one of her mother’s gelatin molds. her hands try to slide underneath it but they find themselves struggling to push against an unmovable solid, far away from the gravyesque consistency it had before. then she feels her legs, or rather, feels the lack of feeling of her legs. when she tries to move them, she cant even muster a shake, lower half pinned to the floor, not even pins or needles remaining. it doesn’t stop her relentless pushing and attempts to pull herself out by her arms, but she might as well be an amputee at this point. like one of those UOA prisoners of war from back in the day, laser neutered to be nothing but working hands for the Authority’s machines.

unable to get away from the oncoming deluge, lorreta realizes it must be relent or die. and so she does, shutting her eyes tight and curling her lips inward together like the anti-parasitites’ studies have taught her. though this wasn’t the typical annalidesque parasite commonly found in the outer cosmos, or a parasite at all for all she knows, it’s the best her dizzy mind can handle. and as she feels the sludge’s drip touch down on her estrogenated skin, it succeeds in helping stop it from flowing inside her eyes. she can feel it coat the skin tight, like a face mask but smelling of wood and suffocating and lively probing at her pores, blocking her vision black with its opaque body.

the sludge now dispensed, loretta senses a chance and attempts to pry the mask off of her. blindly groping for a free spot by her neck and sliding her unkempt nails under it and into the disgusting goo. it feels like a cadaver from anatomy class under her fingers, diving into the fat and peeling away the outer layer. but this corpse has undergone rigor mortis, and loretta’s attempts to peel it off go only slightly better than with the green thing, lifting an inch before it slaps itself back on even tighter. her second attempt goes even worse, her arms starting to feel numb and anaesthetized. she lifts her arms to fight but she cant feel the texture of what she touches anymore, and then the viral limpness travels to the rest of her motor function, and they flop uselessly at her sides. no part of her body responding to her brains frenzied orders to move, the most she can do is flail inside.

she pictures Andromeda-ZE in her mind’s eye, emotionally travelling to the place she spent most her childhood. she’s running through the market, the most well-known place in the capital, excitedly waving at family friends and commune teachers like she’s a kid again, so happy, so free, so ignorant. red and yellow and orange colours shine bright on the market stalls, sand and wood structures stand beautifully tall around her, everything is even more beautiful than it was when she was young. the wind on her cheeks as she runs makes her glow with a safety she doesn’t feel in the atmospheric void in space. not far ahead she spots her unit hut, and ramps up her speed. in a minute of invigorating sprint, she makes it to the large aspen door, knocking 5 times. she hears several light footsteps trot up and bounces with excitement. the door slowly creeps open…

and a hulking nurse bug towers over her. its mandibles chitter, the egg sack on its back wiggles, and its claws rub together in front of its chest. she looks into the creature’s eyes and sees a thousand mirrors staring back at her. she screams muffled into the slime gag, jolting away from the colour behind her eyelids, and back into the void in front of them. instead of trying to push inside like loretta assumed, the sludge begins to creep into the part of her eye socket above her lids, pushing with prying hair-like digits. her heart cramps, and she can feel her heavy perspiration being immediately absorbed by the material the second it drips. she doesn’t want to close her eyes, doesn’t want to see the bugs that close again- the spindling inner legs, the slimey chitin, vision of swarms of exoskeletals charging her squad flash through her, all she wants to do is scream but all it does is wear out the last muscles she can work. but she can’t stop, she wails banshily, reverberating in her own skulll. and then she can’t manage to hold her eyes open any longer.

the jointed arthropod returns, fully subsuming her soul.

“it’s okay, sweet darling Lore, we are here now” it speaks in her mothers voice. sweet and soothing.

CHAPTER 2

loretta wakes up in a stasis vat, her body floating in air like oil. green biofluid drenches her skin, manufactured nutrients flooding her organs, keeping her fed and stable. she smiles, thinking back to her first spacewalk, bounding into the open cosmos with footless steps. she kicks her foot up, sending herself into an airy backflip. her mouth opens on its own and takes in a load of the fluid. it tastes like the earth pineapples her mothers would trade for on her birthdays. she has to figure out what this is when she’s out of here. and by the looks of her motor functions, she’ll be out of this in no time.

* * *

she awakes groggily inside of another vat. there’s no more fluid, but something similar sticks to every inch of her skin. the walls of steel have turned into a coffinesque cocoon, fleshy and aboreal brown and wriggling with her movements. yet as she attempts to push herself backwards, her hands still find themselves scraping cold metal. she sees how some light manages to seep through the cracks of the chitinous chamber, and prods at the squishy folds where the tiny glowing rays strike, poking through an inch or two of foreign flesh before her fingertips feel air. bio vat? or some sort of.. metamorphosis chamber? she can’t remember how she got here, or when she signed up for such a procedure. she needs to find someone before she gets stuck. she lifts her moist lips to one of the little holes and screams out a plea for help. she manages to fit another finger out, and begins trying to spread open the breach when she’s stopped by someone’s cold fingers pulling hers. one of the scientists, or guards?

the person outside pulls on loretta’s hand hard and she feels her light body raise up to the roof of her confines. despite her reaching the walls, they keep going, tugging forcing painful friction between her bare limbs and the meaty hide. in a few short, supernatural pulls she is burst through the sac entirely, getting to see chunks of what appears to be sinew and slime splattering the surroundings as she flies through antigravital space and crashes hard into a familiar wall.

HISSSSSSSTHH

innumerous spindly brown limbs bringing fading memories of phasmid anatomy charts stretch out across the polished floor and walls now brutally scattered with keepsake and furniture debris, looking like abstract blobs in loretta’s slime coated vision. blobs which are constantly being absorbed upwards into the air by twitchy movements. loretta grasps at the wall behind her, pulling herself away from the enormous creature.

slamming into the far wall, she attempts to reach for where her dresser should be, where her trusty sidearm should be awaiting its imminent retrieval. then she remembers the lack of gravity.

it was a stupid idea to make a grav switch so accessible. she never even uses it, and humans are the only creature out in this abyss who are weak to its pull. stupid stupid stupid. she tries to look for it in the debris but can’t make it out through all the other white and grey blobs.

in the room, a few brown splotches stand out, utterly foreign to the ship’s shade-based palette. she stares closer, and even more seem to appear. the black space where the open door leads to dark corriders begins spewing them out en masse until at least two dozen of them scatter across the floors walls and ceiling of the cabin, staring right back into her with beady pinpricked eyes.

a bug pounces, its thin limbs pinning loretta hard. the hair on its tarsi scrape across her bare arms jolting goosebumps up her entire body. its membranal underside presses up close, making her shake with unease as its squishy segmented body rubs against her and coats her with an inky discharge well familiar to her after multiple campaigns.

click, click, click, click. clinking mandibles together, like a hungry and petulant child. antennae rub against her ears, just then noticing their dulling by a xenotic wax substance. yet the vile hissing of a group of specially angered freaks still deafens.

searing pain transports into her flesh. she screams but a sludgey backup in her windpipe stops everything but the vibration. loretta looks down at the thick brown apical claw stuck inches deep in her side. a gaping void begins a slow seeping of crimson. another of the blobs quickly dashes into her view, bursting into definition as it pops up at the wound’s side. the same black liquid that drapes over her skin begins to leak out of its open mouth-thing, mixing and diluting the blood until the cut is naught but a thick black wall subsuming a portion of her outer thigh.

she looks forward again as a twinge of neck pain insults her for forgetting herself, and sees the first roach reaching its body upwards. a yonic hole in its abdomen begins to slowly invert, while a large black tendril reaches out of the now-extremity and fluidly twirls itself around loretta’s leg, dripping ichor all the way.

she’d never gotten this close to one of the breeders before, to the point she didn’t even recognize their exotype until now. as far as she knew, they stayed deep inside the tunneled grounds of the hive worlds, fucking like lagomorphs to appease their queens and ever-outbreed the URSS’s onslaughts. and yet, here they are.

the appendage flicks into loretta’s belly, proding at and pushing inside her navel cavity. it feels almost like she’s being licked by a pet dog, or it would if it wasn’t by a fucking bug. the creature tries to push forward past the inch-deep space and is swiftly yanked back in turn, reaching the end of its rope. loretta sighs. if they can’t even reach her then the worst they could probably do is-

the tentacle prods at a lower place before a concept can reach her nerves. a deserted, forgotten plateau, a space too human for her to accept. sliding over a smooth ravine, wet shocks drive up her legs. coiling atrocity digs into her malleable dirt like the hills in pandora. she screams like she imagines it must. though the terror speaks in soft, writhing texture, and not pain. pandora and i, sister bodies- desecrated in twain.

she turns her head to the room’s one window. beyond the hexagonal plasteel frame, one of the last things held up through the chaos, halcyon skies stretch out for infinity- vistas of beautiful achromatic calm broken only by dots of terrestrial colour. an anaerobic dead zone, where nothing except calm would subsume her. devour her. she yearns to feel that cold blanket take her now. she dreams of the window bursting open, space gaining pressure the glass wasn’t ready for, and ripping them all out with it. she dreams of mom bursting through the door gun in hand. she dreams of simply disappearing from all being.

from above her head slithers another pair of mandible and trio of forceps, digging into her budding chest. a sparse pink miasma sprays across her vision, and she’s stumbled out of her wonder by a furious coughing fit rising in her trachea, and finally taking off some of the adhesive coating her throat alongside it. she tries to look back outside and the claws digging deeper just force her gaze right back. her eyes glaze over with water and, unable to wipe the sleeves away, it drowns her. it fills her mouth until her muscles strain, spread taught like an epithelial fingertrap. she cant help but cough more, painfully clenching on the foreign object sliding deeper inside using her windpipe as a transistor to her weak points.

beige meat squishes up against her face, phantom sensations of a man’s stomach thrusting. it should never have been able to get more evil than that. how did they put human’s cruelty into animals, was it taught? more inches of squishish meat force the thought from her shrouded head. her tears taste like ink. maybe they like it that way.

Lorettas’s hull stretches with fullness and terror. she cant see it, but she can feel it bulging her front extremitously. it feels like the two tendrils will soon meet in the middle. she shudders in fear and feels them swirl inside her as punishment.

she feels a slight relent, and her thoughts finally losing their haze. the creatures in front of her thrust backwards through the air, and the twisting coiling tentacles whorl their way out like a pullcord. again she has to feel the thing climb her hole, leaving a painful space where there used to be nothing, unable to go back to nothing. it is ashamed and sobbing in it’s own. what a bipolar old lady you are, where is your rage?

his voice forces itself inside of her. look what you’ve done. ruined and irreparable. you must’ve loved it. you and your little bug fascination. maybe if you didn’t spend your time with abominations, you wouldn’t have become one.

she screams back. it’s not too late, i don’t love them. he’ll never control me again, i’ve carved so much into the world, i won’t let myself be belittled. you’re smart, they’re miniscule- a surprise assault shows their utter lack of strength. i’ll kill them all if i have to. i’ll prove it, i will.

she tries to open her eyes again and sees, stained by pink clouds floating in her sclera, a huge mutated insectoid towering behind the others. a large dynastinaen horn displays ignorant ideas of its strength above its excitedly quivering mandibles. or perhaps the exoskeletals have no need for concepts of pride or egotism. perhaps hive mentality’s destroyal of the individual will always grant them an advantage. no thought of the victim- evil little creatures. no different than the evil of the Authority. no different than-

two blunt black mandibles thrust into her chest. the wind is crushed from her body before she can realize what’s happening. she is too dazed to look at the impact. her deflated cadaver is thrusted into the air, and carried,

her vision bobs up and down as swift twig limbs drag her forth without thought. station windows fly past her, blobs vaguely looking like her favourite posters lay scattered and sliced in pieces, slime staining them irreparable as it coats the floor. does their cruelty know no limits? was the destruction of her ship and her spirit not enough? the destruction of her people? will anything sway their pure evil? she wants to cry, but she’s already using all the tears her body can muster.

black begins to gorge itself on the halls, the chunky whirring of automatic doors blares in her ears drowning out the chattering sounds of dozens of limbs. the hydraulics were a deeply familiar sound, one she had always cherished hearing. it felt like a reminder of the spacecraft’s life, always interacting to her existence, responding in kind noise whenever loretta’d root around fixing her insides. it was a comforting relationship, wonderful in its unconditionality.

now, her beautiful partner screamed red with anger. they destroyed her entrance too. the airlocks outer seal is burst open with what could fairly be assumed to be anti-ship cannons, if not for the claw marks and acid tainting it all. she looks through the inner seal, into the void where death surely awaits, her body has been so painfully torn and remade, that she can’t make herself put up a single limb to fight at the end. she imagines a blaster in her hand, and clenches its handle tight. then she opens her eyes, and her fingers havent moved an inch.

then her face meets cold surface, jagged. then the green drapes grab onto her skin again. then her blood mixes with the green and turns the colour to the same rust she smelled in the air at the start. then she feels the perfectly held-at-average air of her beloved spaceship turn into cold freezing anguish of the outside. then she feels her body turn to nothing. then, she feels nothing at all.

#puppy writing #uhm #rbs encouraged #i needddd attention chat #but yeah um id appreciate ppl letting me know what they think too!!

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nurse-floyd · 1 year ago

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Not a People Doctor

Pairing: Rhett Abott x Vet!Reader

Fandom: Outer Range

After a bar fight, Rhett shows up at your doorstep.

For the amazing @vivwritesfics and the reason I am now Rhett/ Bob trash! Thank you for the title idea 💕💕

It's getting late as you settle down in your living room with a hot cup of tea and the latest book you're reading. Your peace is interrupted by a soft knocking at your door. You almost think you've imagined it when the knock comes again, a little louder this time. Grumbling slightly, you set your book aside, hoping it isn't another mare in labour or a horse with colic; you just want a quiet night.

Opening the door, you put on a smile for the paying customer you expect to find, but your smile falls as you see none other than Rhett Abbott, your childhood friend and a frequent customer. He looks dishevelled, blood staining his clothes, and you can already see the bruises and cuts on his face in the dim porch light.

"Jesus, Rhett, what the hell happened to you?" you exclaim, ushering him inside.

He winces as he moves, clearly in pain but not wanting to let on. "Got into a bit of a scuffle at the bar," he mutters, not quite meeting your gaze.

Leading him into your living room, you move the blanket you'd been cuddled under not long ago. "Sit down, let me take a look at you."

He lowers himself onto the sofa. You flip on the light switch to give you a better view of his injuries as you sit on the coffee table opposite him.

"You must've really pissed someone off," you tut as you gently turn his head with your fingers on his chin. You lift his shirt seeing the bruises over his ribs, shaking your head. "We need to get you to a hospital; some of these cuts need stitches. Probably got a broken rib or two as well."

Rhett gives you a shit-eating smile, a smile only he could pull off when his face looks half as bad as it does, and it still makes you weak at the knees. "That's why I came here, thought you were a doctor."

"I'm an animal doctor, not a people doctor," you shake your head in disbelief.

"I can try. I don't have any of the good pain meds, so it's going to hurt like a bitch, and it won't be the prettiest. Gonna have a few more scars to add to the list."

"Never had any complaints from you. You always liked my scars and tattoos."

You smack him lightly on the arm, causing a 'hey' from him in response. Ignoring him, you run to get the first aid kit you keep in your bathroom closet as well as your veterinary kit.

You start to clean his wounds, carefully stitching up the deep cut over his eyebrow. You can't help feeling a pang of concern. Rhett isn't a stranger to bar fights, but seeing him so vulnerable and injured stirs something within you.

"Are you going to tell me what that fight was about?" you ask gently, your voice laced with worry.

Rhett hesitates for a moment before he meets your gaze. "It was dumb. Just some guy mouthing off about things he shouldn't have," he admits, jaw clenching.

You sigh, finishing up and snipping the last of the stitches. "You need to be more careful, Rhett. You're going to get yourself seriously hurt one day."

He nods, his expression sheepish. "I know... I know. I just... I didn't want to go to the hospital."

You place a comforting hand on his cheek, your thumb gently smoothing over his cheekbone. "Well, you're just lucky you've got me, and I happen to know my way around stubborn bull riders, and I'm pretty good at suturing."

A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "You have no idea."

Once you've finished cleaning and bandaging the last of the wounds on his face, you sit back, admiring your handiwork. "There... all done," you lean in and place a gentle kiss on the side of his head, "good as new."

Rhett stands up slowly, getting a look in the mirror above your fireplace. "Thanks, sweetheart. I owe you one."

"Don't mention it, I'll just add it to the list. Just promise me you'll be more careful, Rhett. I'm pretty good, but some injuries I can't fix."

He nods, his gaze finally meeting yours. "I promise."

As he makes his way to the door, you can't help but shake the feeling of concern lingering. "Hey, Rhett? You need a place to stay tonight? Probably shouldn't be alone after something like this."

"I don't want to put you out..."

"You're not," you interrupt him.

Rhett's gaze softens, and you can see the gratitude in his eyes. "I... I'd appreciate that. Thank you."

You feel a wave of relief wash over you as you leave him on the couch, running to change your sheets, not wanting him to spend the night on the sofa with his injuries.

"Beds all changed; let's get you some rest. I've got some pain meds and a glass of water up there for you too."

He looks at you, confused as to why you haven’t brought down blankets and pillows, assuming he'd be sleeping on the couch.

You hold out your hand. "Come on, I don't mind. Besides, I'll feel a lot better knowing you're not sleeping on that uncomfortable sofa."

He blinks, confusion evident in his expression. "Are you sure, Y/N? I don't want to intrude."

You give him a look that leaves no room for arguments, and he knows he'd be fighting a losing battle to even try.

With a grateful nod, he takes your hand, helping pull himself to his feet before he follows you up the stairs. You pull back the covers, helping him slip under the blankets before joining him. As you both lie there, you couldn’t help but love the feeling of the warmth of his body beside you. You love it even more as he wraps an arm around your waist, whispering a thank you into the crook of your neck.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x you #outer range #my writing #rhett abbott imagine

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fiction-is-the-new-reality · 1 year ago

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Pt 2: The Start of a Long Night

prologue and part one and part three!

word count: 4k

warnings: major violence, adult language, and angst

a/n: thank you guys so much for your patience. I’m so sorry this took literally forever to write and post. I’m not going to make excuses or anything, I just hope you guys like it. Pls give feedback! Love y’all 😘

The entire night was one fight after another. You couldn’t remember the last time you stood still. The multiple close encounters and being thrown around had caused your outfit to tear, not to mention the grime that had accumulated made you feel ten times heavier. Watching the last guy fall to the ground, you thought about how he must have been the twentieth guy you had fought.

You notice that Gotham is gradually getting brighter. The downpour had turned into a drizzle as you approached the clock tower. Keeping off the street and using the roofs of Gotham for travel. Once at the clock tower, you looked around, ensuring no one had followed before opening the entrance.

Bright light filled the room as Barbara used the computer. Surveillance footage and maps are pulled up. Hearing the door close, Barbara began speaking.

“Morning sunshine. How’s it going out there?” You almost missed her question. Her voice was so soft compared to the abrasive noises you had been around all night.

When you hesitate to respond, she turns to you. Her eyes take your appearance in. “God, you look rough.” Her face scrunches up as she notices the bloody splashes on your skin.

“Thanks, Barb.” The couch squeaks as you flop onto it. Your head instinctually goes back as your eyes shut, enjoying the brief moment of rest.

“Can I ask for a favor? I need an update on tech. My radio shit the bed halfway through the night.”

“You could call Lucius. Surely he’s got something that’ll help.”

Puffing air out through your nose, you object, “And have Bruce get wind of it?”

“He already knows you’re out there fighting. What’s wrong with him knowing you’re being safe about it?”

“It makes the risk of us running into each other much higher. I’d rather just avoid that altogether.”

“You’re going to have to see him, eventually. He cares about you, you know.”

“Yeah, I’m sure in his own emotionally constipated way he does.”

There’s a silence that falls over the room. Neither of you cares to break it. Having no strength to fight back, you let the silence pull you into sleep as your eyes grow heavy.

Jolting awake, you take in your surroundings. There’s sunlight coming through the small gaps in the shutters, and Barbara is back at the computer. Groaning as you rub your face, you feel extra gross now that everything has dried.

“I decided to be nice and let you have my old stuff.” She tosses a thick smartphone-looking device and an earpiece at you.

“These are long-range devices. The comm has multiple lines you can connect to. I programmed mine, Tim’s, Bruce’s, and Dick’s, that way you’re not alone out there.”

“Thank you, this is amazing.” Getting quickly accustomed to the device before you head out to go to your apartment before nightfall.

“I’ll keep in touch tonight. It might help to have an extra pair of eyes on me.” You lean down to hug her. She smiles and hugs you back.

“Hopefully, things will go back to normal soon.”

You both know it won’t, you don’t think there’s going to be a normal Gotham after this. It seems too unreachable to even hope for.

When you finally get home, you dedicate an hour to a much-needed shower. After the shower, you gather your sewing materials and take a proper look at your clothes.

The outer layer is scuffed while the mesh sides are sliced through. You stand in your living room, deciding whether to settle for a makeshift look for tonight or dedicate the time to fixing the clothes. You’re about to just say fuck it and not worry about it until you remember the kevlar fabric Dick had dropped off. You run to grab it from the drawer in your bathroom. Settling on just reinforcing the holes with kevlar, for added protection.

After running it through the sewing machine, you’ll be happy with the outcome. You shimmy into the clothes, moving differently to get the somewhat tight underlayer over your body. Reloading your gear and pulling the hood over your head, you leave your apartment as Gotham is covered in shadows again.

You flip on your transmitter and wait to hear where you’re most needed. Sitting down with your legs hanging over the roof's edge, you see the streets below. It would usually be a pretty sight, Gotham lit by all the neon signs. But observing the riots unfolding below, on the empty streets, illuminated only by flickering neon signs and the occasional car fires, only added to your unease. The absence of people served as a haunting reminder of the chaos and destruction that had taken over the city.

Before you jump down, a low rumbling makes you pause. As the sound reverberates through the air, you turn your gaze in its direction, your eyes widening in disbelief. A massive, fully armored car comes barreling around the corner, its plated exterior gleaming under the neon lights. The men on the road barely have time to escape its path. It makes no attempt at stopping; it continues barreling down the street toward Chinatown. As it disappears from your view, the unmistakable sound of the Batmobile's engine reaches your ears, and in the blink of an eye, it speeds off toward the military car.

Guess I’m using the bike tonight.

“Vulture, you have to see this,” Oracle’s voice comes in over the comm.

“If it’s basically a tank on the streets of Gotham, I’m aware of it.”

“Yes, that, but there are actual tanks in Gotham. I’m tracking several transport helicopters. Gotham is about to be flooded with them. Batman could use the help.”

“Not sure I’m much help against tanks, Oracle.”

“Maybe if you talked to Lucius, you would be.”

She closes the line before you have time to say anything back.

Pulling up your mask to cover the bottom of your face before saddling up on your bike. You quickly twist the throttle, revving the bike's engine. The powerful roar fills the air as you speed through the dark streets of Gotham. The men rapidly dispersed as the bike zoomed past, leaving an empty space in its wake.

You spend your time following cop cars that are being chased by thugs in vehicles and stopping momentarily to stop the bigger groups of armed men.

As you drive, the number of cars similar to the ones Bruce was following earlier increases, and you start to spot men in full body armor.

Stopping near Bristol, you hide your bike and quickly reach a high vantage point. You watch as a group of men set up what can only be described as a checkpoint. Crates full of guns are parked there, and they put up walls to hide them from street view.

Oracle’s voice causes you to jump as she begins talking over the comms.

“Something’s happened at ACE Chemicals. There’s a new character, he goes by the name Arkham Knight. Be on the lookout for any militia.”

“Funny you would mention it. I’m looking at what appears to be a checkpoint full of militia.”

“Don’t engage. They are very organized and heavily armed. That Arkham Knight guy put them through a lot of training.”

“I can’t just let them set up a checkpoint. I’ll swoop in and check it out. If I start getting my ass handed to me, then I’ll dip.”

Barbara sighs, knowing she’s just pleading with a brick wall.

“You get out of there at the slightest hint that you’re losing.”

“You got it!”

You take a few moments to think of how you’re going to approach the fight. After watching them, you finally see a blind spot. Getting back down on the street, you run over to the right wall of the checkpoint. You give it a minute, and then you hop over. There’s a crate to your left. You roll behind it as you listen to hear footsteps. Soon enough, one officer walks by the grate. Lunging forward, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling as tightly as possible. He falters from the lack of oxygen, but he’s taking too long. You need to get back to hiding before the others notice. Pulling out a baton, you hit the side of his head with just enough force to knock him out.

Laying his body behind the crate, you wait for another one to walk by. You repeat the same process to the second guy. Unfortunately for you, the others notice the disappearance of their coworkers.

Taking a chance, you stick your head out of your hiding spot. Not noticing anyone, you start your crawl toward another box, which is in the center of the floor.

You feel your body being lifted off the floor before you even see the person. Then you’re being flipped around and brought down onto the floor, which has you almost blacking out. You wheeze as your lungs collapse from the air that’s being forced out of them. Your eyes involuntarily shut as you try to regain your breath.

As you’re finally able to open your eyes, they widen at the sight of a massive metal boot coming toward your windpipe. You narrowly avoid getting hit by the boot by pushing your body up at an angle. Jumping to your feet, you create space by taking a few steps back from the two men.

“We were told to look out for Batman. Didn’t realize we’d have some wannabe.”

Faking a laugh, you take out your rope and throw it over the bigger man. Yelling on it gets him to stumble, but he stays upright. Sprinting at him, you use his shoulder as leverage to wrap your legs around his waist. Using all your weight, you toss yourself back and pull the rope, causing him to fall. Flipping around at the last second, you let him break the fall. Making quick work with the ropes around his legs, you tie him up.

Before you get too far into tying the man up, you hear footsteps behind you. Turning to look, you find that there’s a metal pipe headed directly at your face. Using your arm to shield your face, you grab the pipe from the man. Taking the pipe out of his hands, you stand at full height. Flipping the makeshift bat in your hands, you use every ounce of strength to swing it back and forth. You feel the bat make contact multiple times, and the man groans with each hit. A blow to his knee causes him to crumble over. You hit him in the stomach, not stopping there, causing him to curl in on himself. You remember that there had been another man glancing over your shoulder, and he’s gone.

Shit.

You crack the pipe down on the man’s head twice. He stops moving, but you can see his chest still rising. Turning around, you’re met with the sound of a gunshot.

As you look ahead, you see the man you failed to tie up, his figure casting a long shadow over you. Upon impact, the bullet bounces off your body, tumbling to the ground. Smirking at the guy as you start walking towards him. He smirked in response and rapidly fired the weapon, the sound echoing through the air.

Brandishing your baton again, you chuck it at the wall behind the guy. It bounces off the wall and slams into his back. He lowers the gun just enough for you to run towards him. You grab his wrist and forcefully strike your palm against the joint of his elbow. It cracks loudly as the bone shatters. The gun falls, and so does the man. You deliver a kick to his head, and he falls, unmoving.

Taking a look around, you attempt to find what’s keeping the walls up, and then you hear the soft beeping. Following the noise, you’re able to find the remote. Taking it off the man, you place it on the ground and crush it with your baton. The walls fall, and you’re able to see the street again.

There are multiple tanks in front of you. It doesn’t seem like they notice you as they drive on by, but you don’t want to risk it. You leap behind the little wooden crate on the floor.

“I found those tanks you were talking about. I just saw multiple driving together in a line.”

“Did they see you?”

“I’m talking to you aren’t I?”

Oracle lets out a small laugh, “True.”

“The checkpoint is destroyed. I damaged my suit, but it’s still intact.”

“Hmm, good work.”

“Thanks. I’m going to stick to the rooftops. I don’t think my bike would hold up against those tanks.”

“Stay safe, I’ll keep in touch.”

Running across the street, you get on top of the building. You begin to make your way around Gotham by leaping from one building to another.

Incoming call

You’re about to jump when the call disrupts you.

“Hello?”

“Good evening, It’s Lucius. I was told that you need a new suit, are you able to stop by Wayne Tower? I’ll need measurements before I can start with any updates.”

“Uh, I don’t really need anything. I appreciate–”

“Mr. Wayne said that you would try to resist the help. I’ll have the Batwing pick you up. Please stay in your current location.”

“Uh, thanks?”

“Hey quick question, how the hell did Lucius get my com line?”

“Oh uh….I let Bman know you were out there fighting with handed-down equipment. He didn’t like that idea so he reached out to Lucius.”

You groan, “Oracle-”

“I know you didn’t want him to know or to help, but take it as him trying to rebuild the bridge.”

The line once again closes before you can say anything back.

You stare off into the distance.

Over the years, you have heard all of Dick’s thoughts. All the good and bad ones. How sometimes it’s the best thing in the world, and then the next minute you want to pull your hair out.

There’s something in you that can’t imagine working with Bruce. There’s still a part of you that blames Bruce for what happened. There’s still that part that seethes with anger when you think about how nothing was done after what Joker did. You won't betray Jason like that.

Even after all this time, the grief and the guilt still consume you. You can still see his youthful face, that the life of a kid on the streets of Gotham had already hardened. You wonder what he would look like now. You’re pulled out of your thoughts by the noise of the Batwing circling around.

As you arrive at Wayne Tower, more memories of you and Jason flood your mind. How the two of you used to do homework together, and how you two would pester Bruce while he tried to do his work. Every place you two had been to held a bittersweet spot in your heart.

Standing at the end of the hall is Lucius. He smiles warmly at you as you get closer.

“Hello, miss. I'm glad you were able to make it. Please come in, let’s get started right away.” He holds the door open for you.

Inside the room are multiple measuring tapes, fabrics, and weapon holsters. He begins with taking your measurements and asking what you have in mind for your suit.

“It’s crucial that not only are you recognized as your own person but that you’re also well protected.” His voice helps ease you a little. For just a few minutes you’re able to forget everything going on outside the tower.

He goes over your fighting style if you’re more acrobatic like Nightwing or more of a heavy hitter like the second Robin. The mention of Jason makes your heart sink.

“I guess I’m somewhere in between the two.”

“Very well, is there a specific color in mind?”

“I guess dark green if you can, black is fine as well.” He nods and picks up the book with all the measurements.

“It’ll only take me a few hours to get it all put together. I’ll let you know when it’s done.”

“Thank you, Lucius. I appreciate your time.” He smiles back at you.

The peaceful feeling you had earlier was instantly shattered as you emerged onto the chaotic streets of Gotham. Everywhere you looked, clusters of armed men patrolled the streets, their presence adding an air of tension. You spot another checkpoint high above a nearby building as you glance around.

As you leap onto the roof, a rush of adrenaline courses through you. You consider how many more men there are compared to the last checkpoint. You hesitate for a minute. Maybe you should leave this for Bruce. But you’re too stubborn and prideful not to at least try.

By sneaking around the roof's edges, you can pick off some unobservant men. Moving further onto the roof, you could destroy some sensory guns. Being too focused on infiltrating, you don’t realize the attention you’ve garnered.

You stop as you hear a robotic voice over their coms.

“Don’t forget your training! Don’t embarrass me!”

As the robotic voice echoed through the comms, your heart raced as you quickly strategized your next move. With the element of surprise gone, you know that you have to act fast and take out as many people as possible.

You move swiftly, dodging the ones reaching out to grab you. You land hits on some of them with your baton. You’re swinging punches and dodging as many as you can. Too caught up in trying to knock someone out you don't notice the man charging at you.

Being slammed to the floor for the second time tonight you struggle to counter his moves. You finally throw him off and get back onto your feet.

Suddenly, the right side of your body is engulfed by a pain so intense that you can’t move any further. Looking down, there’s a blade sticking into your stomach. Grabbing it with both hand,s you yank it out and throw it behind you in hopes of hitting someone. You feel yourself falling,g and can’t do anything but brace yourself. You finally cry out in pain as you hit the ground. Grunting heavily as you get back u,p your nerves scream in agony. But you have to get back up.

Rest later, survive now.

Getting on your feet, you start swaying, only making it a few feet before a pair of hands seize you. As you try to wriggle free, they quickly immobilize your hands, securing them tightly behind your back with ropes. Before you know it, the man hoists you over his shoulder.

You start thrashing back and forth. Trying anything to get out of the grasp, doing everything you can. Nothing works.

You’re tied to a chair in an empty room. You scan your eyes around the room, looking for an escape route. You can feel blood leaking out of you. It’s gone cold and sticky, and your suit is sticking to you uncomfortably. Your attempt at fleeing earlier had only caused you to do more damage to your open wound.

The ropes squeak as you pull them against the chair. Attempting to rub them against the backing of the chair to try to wear them down proves futile. You just keep pulling at them in hopes they’ll break.

Two men throw open the door and walk in. One has a med kit, and the other carries a taser stick. They lock the door behind them.

“Why do you care if she lives or dies?”

“I don’t, but the Knight will have our heads if she dies. You know he wants to be the one to take care of all the little vigilantes. It’s personal for him. I’m just stopping the bleeding.” The one in white comes and kneels beside you.

He cuts the blood-soaked suit away and lazily wipes at the blood that’s still coming out. Taking thick gauze, he pushes it up against the wound and then uses multiple layers to secure it before taping it.

He turns his head towards the other man, whose intense gaze suggests he's eagerly anticipating an opportunity to deploy the electric weapon. "All done. Let him know we got him a prize."

An idea pops into your head about how you’re going to get out of here. Letting your head flop down like dead weight against your chest you begin to mumble softly to the medic.

“What is she saying?”

“I’m not sure. Speak up.” The medic barks the order at you.

“Can’t breathe. Need…need.” Then you put on the best performance of your life. Convulsing your body and gasping for air.

“Oh fuck, what did you do?”

“I didn’t do shit! We have to untie her, quickly!”

They make quick time to get your convulsing body untied and lay it down on the floor. Dramatically you stop convulsing and heave out a final breath.

“Fuck fuck fuck, we’re so dead.” The medic sounds like he’s almost in tears.

You sneak a peek and see the medic getting ready to start compressions. They’re so scared of Arkham Knight that they’ve forgotten to check your pulse.

As he goes to place his hands on your chest, you grab his arms. Bringing him down to you as you curl your body up, you slam your head into his before tossing him towards the other man.

Gasping for breath from the excruciating pain, you stumble before running towards the guy with the taser. Locking your arms around his midsection, you’re able to lift him off the ground and slam him harder into the door. He drops the taser as his hands go to grab your shoulders. You drop to pick up the taser.

There’s a banging on the door as the people outside try to get in. You pay them no mind. You’re running out of time before you collapse.

“If you unlock that door, I’m going to shove this so far up your ass you’ll feel it in your brain.” You spit at them.

Looking up to the skylight above you and then towards the table covered in your weapons. You know you’ll need a boost to get up there but you can’t move the table yourself.

Taking the taser you jam it into the medic's neck, moving out of the way as he drops. You gesture to the other one.

“Pull that table so it’s below that skylight and I won't shoot you.”

He stands still, challenging you.

“Bullshit, Batman doesn’t let his lackeys kill people.”

“Well unfortunately for you I’m not one of his fucking lackeys.”

Taking out your small pistol, you aim it at the skylight and fire. The nonlethal bullet cuts through the glass, and you turn your gaze back to him as it crashes around you. He swiftly moves the table under the skylight.

“Appreciate you doing that for me man.” Your voice is dripping with sarcasm, and he scoffs a disgusted laugh.

Standing on the table, you don’t even spare a look at him before you take the pistol and pull the trigger. The nonlethal bullet hits his shoulder, and he examines himself to see the damage before realizing it didn’t pierce his skin. When he looks back, you’re gone.

You move away as fast as you can. Your heart thumps and the drumming of your blood in your ears add to your headache. Jumping from one building to another, your wound grows larger. Looking down, you noticed that the once-white patch of gauze was now stained with patches of dark red. Getting to the edge, you see a shorter building you can lower yourself onto.

Your eyes droop and you wobble. Stopping for a moment you brace yourself and try to push forward but your legs don’t allow you to go any further. You collapse.

Using the energy you have left you push the comm.

“Oracle I’m injured….need….help.”

“Phoenix, what happened? How bad?”

“Stabbed in side…can’t keep my eyes open.”

“Hey, hey, keep talking to me! I’ve let Batman know he’s on his way. Just keep talking to me.” You feel bad from the panic in her voice. She’s trying hard to fight it, but you hear the shakiness. You don’t have the energy to fight against having Bruce come to save you.

“I’m…still…here Barb. I can’t….move. Too…tired.” Your words come out thick like honey as you begin to lose consciousness.

“Bruce, hurry. She’s passing out.”

There’s silence on the other end. With her eyes closed, she leans forward, as if on the verge of offering a silent prayer. The thought of losing another friend is unbearable for her.

Bruce finds you with your hands clasped around your side. He assesses your vitals, you’ve lost a lot of blood but other than that you’re stable.

“I’ve got her Barbara. She’s going to be ok.”

“Oh, thank god.”

They both let out a shaky breath.

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#jason todd #arkham knight #red hood #jason todd x fem!reader #arkham knight x reader #red hood x reader #dc comics #if only you knew #iyok #if you only knew pt. 2

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