#this is so fire

[isabelckl]

his to keep

carl gallagher x collateral!fem!reader

your brother was dumb enough to use you as collateral for his drug debt with Carl Gallagher. Now you’ve ended up in his house—waking up in a dimly lit room, completely alone, with no idea where you are or what he plans to do with you.

cw⚠︎: 18+ NSFW, age gap (no minors), dubcon elements, mild violence/threats, language, degradation, name callings

Your brother really outdid himself this time.

One night, he made the most reckless, heartless decision possible—he sold you to Carl Gallagher and his guys. Just handed you over like you were nothing more than a bag of groceries. Carl didn’t even blink. Took the deal immediately. Your brother had a habit of buying drugs he couldn’t afford, and this time, instead of coughing up the cash, he offered you as payment.

And Carl? He accepted.

You knew who Carl was. You’d seen him around before—heard his name whispered in your brother’s messier circles. You knew your brother had done business with him more than once. But you’d never interacted with Carl yourself. You stayed away from all that. You didn’t do drugs, didn’t hang out with people who did. You kept your head down.

But now, all that distance meant nothing.

Now, Carl Gallagher knew exactly who you were. And you weren’t going anywhere. Now, you’re waking up in a dimly lit room. Your body aches from the awkward position you must've been in. The air is heavy, thick with cigarette smoke and silence.

You slowly sit up, eyes scanning the space. It’s bare cold. Just shadows and silence. You get up and walk toward the door, heart pounding in your chest.

Before your hand even reaches the doorknob, it creaks open from the other side.

Carl Gallagher stands there. Leaning casually against the frame like he’s been waiting. Arms crossed. That smug look on his face that makes your stomach twist.

“Well hey there, sweetheart,” he says, voice smooth and infuriatingly calm. “Find what you’re lookin’ for?”

He doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. “This ain’t a hotel room, so don’t get any ideas about sneakin’ out.”

Then he steps inside, closing the door behind him. “You’re here ‘cause your brother owes me money. And since he’s too much of a screw-up to pay up, you’re the collateral now.”

He gestures to the couch like he owns everything in this room, including you. “Come on. Sit. Let’s talk about how this is gonna work.”

You stare at him, confused and stunned. Your voice barely comes out. “My brother what...?”

Carl chuckles, dark and humorless. “He sold you to me. Came up short again. No surprise there. So I gave him a choice, cash or something else of value. Guess which one he picked?”

He leans in, eyes locking with yours, cold and unwavering. “You.”

You shake your head slowly, disbelief sinking in. “I know he’s an asshole… but seriously? When can I go… home?”

Carl stops pacing and turns toward you, smirk fading into a sneer. “Home? You really think you’re goin’ anywhere?”

He steps closer, voice low and sharp. “Not until your brother pays me back. Every damn cent. And even then…” he pauses, eyes narrowing, “I might just keep you around. Never know when I’ll need another little guarantee.”

Before you can step back, Carl grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “So don’t waste your breath, sweetheart. You’re mine now. Whether you like it or not.”

You turn your head away from his grip, eyes drifting around the room. It’s a living room, technically but the guns on the wall, the locked cabinets, the tension in the air—it screams something else entirely.

You glance back at him. “Are you… a drug lord or something?”

Carl just gives you that crooked grin.

He doesn’t have to answer. Carl takes a step back, a trace of pride in his voice.

"Drug lord? No," he says with a shrug. "More like a businessman. I provide a service. People want it, they pay me. Simple as that."

He nods toward the wall lined with firearms, each one looking like it has a story of its own.

"Those? Tools of the trade. Helps keep things... orderly around here."

You watch him move to a nearby table where he casually pours himself a shot of whiskey. He drinks it in one quick motion, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and speaks again.

"This life isn't pretty. There's violence, betrayal, all kinds of nasty stuff.”

You stay quiet. You slowly nod, your eyes drifting to the details of the room just to avoid looking at him directly. There's tension in your shoulders, and you try to hide it by pretending to study the setup.

"Are you alone here?" you ask, your voice soft but curious.

Carl looks around the room like he's doing a quick check before answering.

"No. I have a few guys working for me. Keep an eye on things, handle business. They're not here right now. Probably out on runs or handling other stuff."

He leans against the table again, arms crossed. He watches you closely, and there's a slight smirk on his lips.

"But with you here, things might start shifting. Could use someone with your... particular set of talents, if you know what I mean."

You meet his eyes, your brows rising slightly. You shake your head quickly.

"I'm not interested."

Carl chuckles. It's a deep, gritty sound that fills the room.

"I figured you'd say that. But that’s alright. We’ll see how long that lasts."

He pushes off the table and starts walking toward you. His steps are slow, controlled, and deliberate.

"For now, let’s just get you settled."

He stops right in front of you. His presence feels heavy, like he takes up more space than he should.

"You’re gonna need clothes. Food. A real place to sleep. Can’t have you starving or freezing on my watch."

You glance up at him, your voice quiet. "Yeah... okay." There's something with this man that makes you terrified, leaving you not to question anything, now.

A small smile forms on his face, like he's satisfied with your answer.

"Good girl."

He pulls a set of keys from his pocket and lets them jangle for a second, but he doesn’t hand them over yet.

"Room’s upstairs. Second door on the left. There’s clothes in the dresser and toiletries in the bathroom."

He tucks the keys back into his pocket instead.

"Consider them a welcome gift. But don’t lose them. You’ll regret it."

Carl’s tone shifts again, firm but calm.

"If you need anything, you come to me. No one else. Understand?”

You nod slowly, feeling awkward. "Got it. Thank you.. You're kind for someone as..” You trailed off, not knowing whether to continue or not.

That earns another laugh from him. He shakes his head, clearly amused.

"Kind? Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart. I’m just taking care of what’s mine."

Then he steps in closer again. His voice lowers, quiet and tense.

"You’re under my protection now. That means you follow the rules. No smart remarks. No games. You step out of line, we’ve got a problem."

His hand rises, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The touch is soft, unexpected.

"But since you seem to get it, I’ll give you a pass. For now."

Carl turns away and heads for the stairs without looking back.

"You owe me," he says as he climbs. "And I always collect.”

After showing you to your room, Carl disappears into the kitchen, and the faint clatter of dinner being made fills the silence. When he calls you down with a cold “Dinner’s ready,” you find him already at the table, watching you with a dark, unreadable stare, like he’s already decided something you don’t know yet. The meal is quiet and tense. After finishing his drink, he tells you not to wander. “You wouldn’t make it to the gate.” Then he heads to the basement. Left alone, you clean up and eventually drift into a dim, dusty library. You barely have time to breathe in the scent of old pages before you feel Carl behind you. His presence is heavy and calculating.

“Find anything interesting?” he asks, his voice low and echoing slightly through the quiet space.

You glance over your shoulder as he leans casually against a shelf nearby, arms crossed and eyes sharp. He studies you like he’s trying to figure out what page you’re on before you’ve even opened the book.

“The library’s my favorite part of the place,” he says. “Always liked the smell of old pages, the quiet. Not often I’ve got someone to share it with.”

He starts pacing through the aisles, his fingers brushing along the book spines with familiarity.

“What brings you here, hmm?”

You shrug and pick up a book at random, not even looking at the title.

“I don’t know… just thought of doing something.”

Carl raises an eyebrow, intrigued by your vague answer.

“Something, huh? Could be worse. At least it’s not stirring up trouble.”

He steps closer, just enough to peek at the book you picked.

“Ah. Poe,” he murmurs. “Always had a soft spot for the twisted ones. ‘The Tell-Tale Heart,’ ‘The Pit and the Pendulum’... good stuff. Messed-up, but honest.”

He straightens and folds his arms again, eyes narrowing slightly.

“But let’s be real. You didn’t come down here to talk literature. What’s really on your mind?”

You look up at him, uncertainty tightening in your chest.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I’m still… looking?”

He chuckles, deep and low.

“Still looking. For what, exactly?”

Before you can answer, he closes more of the distance between you. His voice drops to something softer — not gentle, but more private.

“This place can be stifling. But it’s not just hallways and locked doors. If you’re curious enough, there’s plenty worth discovering.”

He leans in, his breath grazing your ear.

“Want to explore some of the more… intimate corners of the estate? Find out what doesn’t make it into the house tour?”

His hand settles at the small of your back, warm and steady, nudging you gently between the shelves.

“Say the word, and I’ll show you a side of this mansion no one else has seen.”

You glance up at him, startled but unsure why your pulse quickens.

“Intimate corners?” you repeat, your voice shaky, trying to laugh it off with a nervous smile.

Carl smiles too — but it’s a different kind of smile. One that says he knows exactly what he’s doing.

You step back, shaking your head and avoiding his gaze as you turn to the books on the shelves once more. “I have a boyfriend,” you lie, feeling a pool of heat between your legs at the situation immediately.

Carl frowns, clearly displeased by your rejection. "Boyfriend, huh? I figured you'd cling to some naive notion of love and loyalty. It doesn't matter to me, though."

Carl steps closer again, his voice low and menacing. "You're under my roof now, and my rules apply. No more discussions about outsiders or commitments. You're mine to toy with, and that's final."

He grabs your wrist, pulling you back against his chest. "Now, let's try this again. Are you going to be a good girl and follow my lead, or do I need to remind you who's in charge here?"

You look up at him, gulping before stepping back, feeling butterflies in your stomach.

His grip on your wrist tightens as you attempt to pull away. "Too bad, sweetheart. You're already here, and you're not going anywhere until I say so."

Carl yanks you back against him forcefully, pinning you between his body and the bookshelf. "Now, I asked you a question. Are you going to behave, or do I need to demonstrate what happens when you disobey?"

His free hand snakes around to cover your mouth, silencing any protests. "Shh, none of that. You're not in control here; I am. And I always get what I want."

He presses his hips against yours, allowing you to feel the hardness growing beneath his jeans. "So, are you going to be a good little slut for me, or do we need to have a little fun first to teach you your place?"

You breathe heavily as you look up at him, the dim library lights casting shadows across your face. You shake your head, reluctantly.

He tightens his grip on her wrist, his thumb pressing into the sensitive skin. "No. You're not in a position to shake your head or refuse me. You're mine now, and you'll do as I say."

He slides his hand down from your mouth to wrap around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. "Breathe, baby. We're just getting started."

With his other hand, he hiked up your skirt, exposing your panties to the cool air of the library. "Looks like someone is already getting excited. Isn't that cute?"

He rubs his palm against your clothed pussy, feeling the heat building through the fabric. "You want this, don't you? You want me to make you feel good, even if it means submitting to me."

He leans in close, his warm breath tickling your ear. “You're so wet,” He whispered before setting your panties aside.

You keep your eyes shut tight, body trembling as Carl's fingers grazed your bare skin. The sensation sent shivers down your spine, making you gasp softly.

He chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that vibrates through his chest and into yours. "That's it, baby. Let me hear you."

His touch was electric, igniting a fire inside you that you couldn't control. You arch into him, craving more of his attention, more of this forbidden pleasure.

His fingers dipped between your folds, stroking your sensitive skin with expert precision. "Fuck, you're so tight," he murmurs, teeth grazing your earlobe. "I can't wait to feel you wrapped around my cock."

You moan, the sound muffled against his palm. Your hips buck involuntarily, seeking friction, chasing the intense sensations he was creating.

Carl didn't disappoint. He circled your clit with his thumb, applying just the right amount of pressure to make your knees weak.

"You like that, don't you? Getting fingered in a library where anyone could walk in and see what a dirty slut you are for me."

His words should have horrified you, but they only turned you on more. The thought of being caught, of being seen as Carl's plaything, was strangely exhilarating.

He pushes a finger inside you, then another, stretching you open. His pace was relentless, driving into you with deep, purposeful strokes.

"Come on," he coaxes, voice thick with desire. "I want to feel you come on my fingers. Show me what a good girl you can be."

Your body tense, pleasure coiling tight in your core. You were so close, teetering on the edge of ecstasy. But you held back, not wanting this moment to end.

Carl seemed to sense your hesitation. He increased the pressure on your clit, rubbing fast circles around the sensitive nub.

"Let go, baby," he commanded, fingers pistoning in and out of your dripping cunt. "I know you're close. Just let it happen."

With a sharp cry, you did as he said. Your orgasm crashes over you, waves of blinding pleasure radiating from your core. You convuls around his fingers, juices flooding out of you and coating his hand.

He kept fingering you through it, drawing out your climax until you were shaking and spent.

Finally, he pulls his hand away, bringing his slick fingers to his mouth. He licks them clean, savoring your taste with a satisfied groan.

"Delicious," he said, eyes locked on yours.

After Carl left you there, you felt used. Used and disgusted with yourself for letting a stranger finger fuck you in the library. You hurry upstairs, showered, hoping the hot water would wash away the remnants of your body's response to his touch. But as you stand under the spray, hands roaming your curves, you couldn't escape the way your pussy clenched at the memory.

You slept it off, but in the middle of the night, you woke up to someone eating your pussy. The room was dark, but you knew it was Carl by the way he grunts against your clit. He spreads your legs wider, pushing them up towards your chest as he dove in, tongue swirling around your sensitive flesh.

"Fuck, your cunt tastes even better than I imagined," he growls before sealing his lips around your clit and sucking hard.

Your back arch off the bed, hands fisting in his hair as he devoured you. His tongue was relentless, thrusting inside you, stroking your walls, lapping up your juices. He moans against you, the vibrations adding to the intensity.

"Your little pussy is so greedy for me," he pants, coming up for air. "Bet you've been fingering yourself thinking about my cock all night."

"N-no," you stammer, cheeks burning with embarrassment and arousal.

He chuckles darkly, "Liar. Dirty little slut like you can't get enough of my touch. I just know you're a slut who'll let a stranger fuck her the moment I saw you."

Then he was back between your thighs, two fingers plunging into your wet heat. He curls them just right, hitting that spot inside you that made your toes curl. His mouth returns to your clit, sucking and licking until you are a writhing mess beneath him.

"Come for me," he demands. "Let me feel this slutty cunt spasm on my fingers again."

Your orgasm hit you like a freight train, back bowing off the bed as you screamed his name. He didn't let up, fingers pumping in and out as he rode out your climax.

As the last waves of pleasure subsided, Carl crawled up your body. His jeans were undone, cock springing free, hard and thick. "My turn now."

He grabs your legs, pushing them back towards your chest as he notches the head of his dick against your entrance. With one brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside you.

"Fuck, you're tight," he groans, hips already snapping against yours. "Gonna wreck this perfect little cunt."

He set a punishing pace, slamming into you over and over. The headboard slams against the wall with each thrust, the room filling with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin and your moans.

"Take it, slut," he growls, one hand gripping your throat. "This is what you were made for - being stuffed full of my cock."

He angles his hips, driving deeper, hitting that spot inside you with each thrust. Your pussy fluttered around him, greedy for more.

"That's it," he pants. "Milk my dick with this slutty cunt. Fucking hell..."

His rhythm grew erratic, chasing his own release. He leans down, biting and sucking at your neck hard enough to leave marks. "Fucking cum on my cock like a good girl," he commanded. "Now.”

Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your pussy clenching around Carl's cock like a vice. He groans, hips stuttering as he buries himself deep inside you. "Fuck yes, that's it. Squeeze my dick, slut."

He thrust through your climax, prolonging the intense pleasure. Your moans echo off the walls, mixing with his grunts.

With one final snap of his hips, he hilted himself and came with a low growl. His cock throbs, pumping hot seed into your spasming cunt. "Take it all, baby," he pants, grinding against you. "Every last fucking drop."

As the aftershocks subsided, he collapsed on top of you, still buried inside. You were both sweaty and panting, hearts racing. He nuzzles into your neck, lips brushing your skin.

"Goddamn," he murmurs, voice rough. "That was... something else."

He lifts his head to look at you, dark eyes smoldering. "I'm not letting you go now. You're mine."

He kisses you then, deep and filthy, tongue tangling with yours. You could taste yourself on him, musky and sweet. He rolled his hips lazily, his softening cock slipping out of you.

"Clean me up," he orders, bringing his fingers to your lips. "Taste how good we are together.”

....

[brokebacker4life]

guys i js started watching hannibal, why did no one put me onto this shit earlier it’s so fucking fire omg

[expiredmedication]

T4T TicciJeff who’s with me

[celestial-mutt]

Werewolf boyfriend knotting sesh when?

[cryingseraph]

Trying out acrylic markers.. these are so good?????

[handsomefreak69]

O wielki i wszechmocny kapitalisto, masz odemnie fanarta 🙏🏼

WINNER.

man these pretzels SUCK.

[piazzaduck]

[nanamimizz-archived]

eating banana bread w butter n apple cider jam and strawberries…..lord im about to buss

[kiwi-does-stuff]

WOWIEEE HAVEN BY NILFRUITS

[goobyblob]

thinking of being somewhere I don't belong. some place that hides in how boring it is, boxes and file cabinets and manilla folders, contents mind-numbingly monotonous but worth more than their weight in gold. maybe I didn't know what I was getting into, but most likely I did, swiped a keycard when someone wasn't looking, slipped inside this room just to feel the surge of fear and terror that crawls up my bones and makes me feel alive.

it isn't long before someone notices, but I thought I'd have a bit more time, at least, barely able to read a few documents before the door swings open. the light is dusky, and I'm buried deep into the room, able to peer through wire frame shelves through towards the entrance. in the doorway is a woman. maybe the only reason I was here in the first place.

she's strikingly gorgeous, with a dangerous glint in her eye, especially with the frustration across her features and the revolver she holds clenched in her right hand. dusky, wavy dark hair spills over her shoulders, and her lips are neatly coated in a dark red lipstick. between her lips she holds a cigarette, something nice and expensive. she slowly steps forward, both hands on the weapon, eyes flickering across the room.

it's a sudden and earnest surprise when her hand comes out to slam against a metal shelf, a loud and sharp noise reverberating through the room. it's such a surprise that a yelp slips past my lips before I'm able to close them, and through the chaos and noise, she hears it. her eyes pinpoint on my location, even through the dark and the mess, and her fury becomes focused, pinpoint, a deep and frightening calm in her eyes.

"you're smart enough to know," she says, her voice deep and husky and slightly grainy, probably from the cigarettes, "that if you move you're dead." her revolver remains trained on my location, even through the dark, my form still obscured. she reaches up and tugs some chain I missed, and light spills in from above. she can see me now.

her eyes scan me up and down, shameless. she's sizing me up, I know. I know her job is one of split second decisions, of trusting instincts and stereotype because everyone lies. I can feel her gaze on my face, judging my excessive eyeliner and blush and lips, and I can feel her eyes shift down to my cleavage, how my dress pushes my tits up like I'm proud. *whore* she thinks, I know, and I can't disagree. I don't even want to.

she doesn't respect me. the knowledge is comforting, because her grip on her weapon changes, just a bit. it also twists something deep in my gut, something I can't describe or explain. I'm not what she expected.

she steps forward, then again. I shuffle back, out of instinct, and collapse against the wall. she presses her gun against my abdomen, just under my ribcage. her finger still lingers against the trigger.

I'd be dead before my blood soaks the documents.

"you're going to make this easy." she says, all deep and rough, like she talks to everyone like this. "you're going to tell me who made you do this, and then you're going to run along, and you're never going to come back here again."

the revolver jabs against my stomach, and I can feel my body squish to accommodate it. I whimper, turning my head away.

her hand grasps my face before I get the chance. her nails are trimmed but sharp and she has rings on each finger, iron things too heavy and ugly to be worn for anything but practicality. my eyes linger on them, wonder if they've been used today. if there's blood on their crevices. if it's from a girl like me.

her fingers dig into my cheeks, and I feel my face distend, feel it morph under her touch. my eyes flick up to hers, for there is nowhere else for them to go. she's large this close that she fills my vision, her hand holding my gaze forward, her eyes too much to ignore.

"tell me." she's so close that she doesn't need to speak, her voice a low and breathy whisper.

I shake my head.

she drags the revolver up my abdomen, over my ribcage, through the valley between my tits, over my shaky throat and ends just below my chin. it feels cold against my skin. the cold makes it more real, somehow.

"nobody set me up." I manage out. it's shaky and disheveled in a way I hope she sees as fear. or maybe I don't.

"you came yourself." it's a question and an accusation all in one, with a tinge of misbelief and confusion laying underneath. it doesn't make sense, I know.

her eyes flicker down to the box I was rummaging through. she picks up a folder, the one left ajar that I dropped as I heard the door click open.

"who the fuck cares about this guy? why do you care about him?" she's back to being right in front of me.

"it doesn't make sense." her confusion is evident, now. she's not even trying to hide it.

a pause.

"because you don't."

her gaze flickers once again over my body. I can feel her gaze on my chest, how it rises and falls so quickly, to the blush on my cheeks, genuine redness creeping in over the dusty pink already there, to my lips, ever so parted, to how my eyes gaze up, scared and confused but needy.

"you're a whore." she settles on, before shaking her head. "no, you don't even want money."

she presses closer. "you're a slut. and a fucking pathetic one. what, the dykes at the bar were too nice to you? too gentle? you're so fucked in the head that you need to almost get your head blown off to get off? is that it?"

my gaze had quickly jumped down, my body curling in on itself, but her hand on my face wrenched my shame back into view.

"what a freak."

the gun trails up to the side of my face, pressing into my cheek, and she must hear my breathy exhale as it drags across my skin. she runs her nails across my other cheek, hard enough for red trails to drag in their wake, hard enough to make my lower half squirm on instinct.

"please..." comes out of my mouth, almost miniscule, a shameful and embarrassed sound that I'd never make if it wasn't for the throbbing need spreading through my bones making anything else feel irrelevant.

she laughs without the warmth and kindness of a smile. it's terrifying.

she brings the cigarette to her mouth, and takes a long, content draw. it's hard to ignore how she looks like that, her eyes closed, mouth pursed against it. there's a moment where she seems to be done, and without warning, her lips release to send smoke billowing over my face. it's overwhelming and gross, and I cough, but all it does is amuse her, and the fuzziness in my mind grow. she takes another drag, and I can't help but watch her again.

this time, she comes close, hand reaching up to pinch my nose shut. her lips press against mine, and as hers part mine do too, my eyes closing as she kisses me for the very first time. the only trouble is the smoke she billows into my mouth, her hand coming up to cover my mouth. for a few seconds, I can't breathe, choking on the smoke she forced into my mouth. her hand slips away just as I get dizzy, and I choke and cough the smoke out of my system, my body heaving as she's smug in amusement. then she kisses me for real, and it's almost as overwhelming as the smoke. I'm shoved backwards until something catches my fall, and she's towering over me, clambering so I can see and feel and see nothing but her.

[nandysparadox]

okay this might be the recency bias talking im aware but the ithaca saga might be one of my favorite sagas musically

[expiredmedication]

Me and @creepylittlelady were joking around about an HU+Miku collab one day and since we’re so back I felt like this would be a great time to bring this to the world

[didntyoubelieveinme]

Hi again! I mentioned that my VG Secret Fairy gift to you was a two-parter. Well, I spent an embarrassingly long amount of time on the second part, and it didn't turn out half as good as I hoped, but here it is!

This is Golden Curt painted as Manet's Olympia. Everything is acrylic paint, except the suit itself, which is collaged from magazines. I saw Olympia in person last week and I thought it would be a perfect painting to place Curt lounging around! Instead of the cat (a symbol of Olympia's position as a courtesan), I put a wolf (duh), and instead of a maid bringing Olympia flowers, I decided to go with an iconic Curt quote :)

Alrightie that's it! Happy holidays!

OMG PUTTING THIS IN MY MOUTH RN

[monstermonger]

~3 months traveling in my wife’s home-country -> 100 journal pages