#i almost changed it to “wont promise” but

[ferigrieving]

darkroom chemicals.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ in which megumi develops more than just film.

in the heart of tokyo, tucked away in a cosy corner of the bustling city, megumi fushiguro found solace in an old photography darkroom. 

the air was heavy with the scent of chemicals and the soft hum of the tap running filled the room as he worked alongside you, too busy hanging up your prints to notice him.

in the corner of the room, fushiguro wrestled with a new roll of film, gritting his teeth as it refused to open. you stifled a laugh as you watched him fight, and seemingly loose, to his demons.

you gestured for him to move over, taking the changing bag from him and replacing his arms with yours. with practised precision, your fingers found the bottle cap opener and popped the roll open with ease.

“you’re welcome, ‘guro.” you elbow him in the shoulder when he lets out an indignant huff.

“sure. thanks” he bites out, frowning. “i had it.”

“yeah, sure you did, man.” you roll your eyes,opening the developing tank, removing the lids and before popping the roll of film in the reel. 

once the reel ceased the rhythmic clicking, you grabbed the scissors and cut off the excess at the end. placing it back inside the tank, the lid and agitator followed suit after. shutting it tight, you wrangled your arms free from the suffocating bag, wiping them on fushiguro’s jacket sleeve as a thanks. 

“shut up.” his voice lacks the usual snark it has, face flushed as he looks away from you, taking the bag and removing its content.

the room falls silent for a moment, save for the sound of the running tap and the occasional buzz of the light bulb. he looks down at his tank, mumbling a “..what’re you developing?” in an attempt to forget the moment that happened.

when you tell him its a secret ! he rolls his eyes, shifting his weight as he pushes in his stool. “y’know, usually when someone says that, its almost always embarrassing.”

“you’ll find out eventually, ‘kay? they’re just drying.” you push him playfully, taking his tank and putting it in with the rest in the designated drawer. “you're so impatient!”

“maybe i’ll just have to peek when youre not lookin’.” fushiguro’s tone is sarcastic, but the glint in his deep green eyes tell you otherwise. “you can’t do that, asshole. thats cheating.” you retorted, forwning.

he shrugs, taking another step towards you. his demeanour is more playful than anything, and you didnt know how long he would keep up the act until the jaws of the trap that is megumi fushiguro slam shut once more. 

“pretty please, let me see one of your prints for just five seconds?” he begs, in a dramatic whine, as if he were a little kid asking for another cookie. you didnt know how to feel about this side of fushiguro, but you werent necessarily complaining. he’d have to do a little more begging, though.

you chuckled at his theatrics, the corners of your lips curling up in amusement. “five seconds, huh? you drive a hard bargain, fushiguro.” you hum, wagging your finger at him playfully as you take a seat atop the counter.

“c’mon. just a quick peek. i promise i wont take long.”

you pretend to mull it over, tapping your chin thoughtfully as if you were considering his request. “well, i suppose i could make an exception just this once, just for you, ‘guro.” you grin, grabbing his hand and walking out of the darkroom and out into the light. 

with what you can only decipher as a ‘grin’ ghosting over fushiguro’s face, he crossed the distance and plucked one of the prints that was drying above you.

“oh.. huh.” he mumbles,  eyes scanning the negative. trying to comprehend what he’s seeing– and why you decided to develop this photo, of all things.

“its– me?” his voice trails off after a moment, his brain working on overdrive. “...why?”

you shrugged, cracking your knuckles absentmindedly. “you looked nice.”

“i looked nice?” fushiguro echoes quietly, still not able to fully believe what he was seeing. he feels his face heating up, scanning the picture once, twice, trying to see it the way you do.

“you’re the second person since… a long time, i guess, to tell me that.” he murmurs, eyes moving away from the negative and back to you. he crosses his arms over his chest, trying to disguise how warm he felt. when he speaks again, his voice is quiet, tinged with uncertainty. “you really think that im…nice to look at?”

“you’re real pretty, ‘guro.” you frown, stating it matter of factly. “why cant you accept that?”

“..’cause im not.” he states bluntly, tone flat and defensive. its almost as if he’s certain you're just trying to humour him, but theres a sinking feeling in his stomach that you might, just might, be genuine. “just.. drop the subject okay? ‘m not pretty.” you winced when his voice breaks at the end, as if it physically hurt him to be complimented.

you nod, apologising and hauling your legs up to press them against your chest, resting your chin against your knees as you watched him keenly.

fushiguro takes a deep breath, the tensin easing from his body. even though he’s certain you were merely being kind, it felt nice to hear someone compliment him, for once.

“hey, uh,” he looks around nervously, eyes locking in on a random corner. “when you’re done developing this roll, you’re gonna keep the negatives.. right?”

“–why wouldn’t i?”

“for reasons like,” his voice trails off once more, lost in thought. “...what if one day we– we lose touch with each other? what if we dont talk anymore?” he shrugs, tone remaining nonchalant, as if he wasnt bothered by the concept at all. “wouldn’t the negatives be the only way for both of us to see the pictures again? to remember?”

“why the fuck is that your first thought?”

“....’cause its a very likely scenario?” the question makes him tense up, his expression shifting to what you could only describe as defensiveness. “what, you think we’re still gonna stick around and be years on end? if a curse hasn't killed us before graduation, anyways.”

“we’ll still be friends. and alive.”

fushiguro goes quiet for a moment, a flicker of discomfort washing across him. the statement made him.. uncomfortable, despite it being something he’s thought about for hours end. it makes him feel uneasy to think about how everything he knows is temporary.

“...what makes you think that?”

“you really dont wanna be friends that badly, huh?”

fushiguro grits his teeth, wanting to argue further but refusing to make himself any more vulnerable than he already is. the idea of admitting that he wants to talk to you for years on end made him feel like an idiot. “what i meant was, i think we’ll drift. you and i; we’ll drift off as we get older, and eventually, we’ll forget each other.”

“even if we drift apart, i’ll never forget you, fushiguro.”

“...yeah? you’ll never forget about me? how touching.”

“pinky promise.”

he rolls his eyes, locking his pinky with yours, holding it a bit too tight for what was meant to be a simple promise. you’re not sure why he holds it so firmly when it’s such a small gesture, but you can assume he just wants to be reassured one way or another.

“and you better remember. no matter how many years go by, remember me, got it?” he adds, the usual gruffness back in his tone. once you nod, he slowly releases your pinky finger, before ushering you back over to the developing station. 

“then go develop that roll, ‘kay?” he states curtly, a ghost of a smile still on his lips. “i don't wanna hear anythin’ about it until the photos are all done.”

you salute him, giggling an ‘on it boss!’ and scurrying back off into the darkroom, leaving fushiguro in the classroom by himself.

he sighs, shaking his head as you disappear into the darkroom. he cant help but smile as he watches you go, wondering how you could be so damn pretty and annoying at the same time. finding a spot by the window, he takes a seat on the sill, trying desperately to make his simile smaller, but it just wouldn't bude. he remains there, unable to take his mind off the idea that you actually wanted to take a picture of him because you thought he was ‘nice’? 

it was insane– and he couldn't get it out of his mind.

fushiguro stares out the window for a while longer, thinking nothing but the image of you taking a photo of him. he’s trying hard to focus on the more logical reasoning behind why you’d use your expensive film on a photo of him, of all people. 

he stays by the window for what feels like forever, lost in his own thoughts and trying to convince himself that what you did was a waste of film. he’s lost in the train of thought when he’s snapped back into actuality by the sound of the heavy steel door opening, then closing. he quickly goes to see what you’ve developed. yet, once he’s pushed through the door and the thick black curtain, he freezes up.

on one of the table rests multiple developed photos, all different shapes and orientations. some were completely blank, others too dark, or too light, but they all seem to have one running theme; him. every single photo is a candid shot of fushiguro, all twenty four negatvies.

his breath catches when he realizes this, picking one up to double check if it was truly him, as if anyone else had such unique hair as his. it was one of him crouching down in front of a fire hydrant, snapping a picture of the graffiti that covered it. it was so perfectly composed, he wanted to throw up.

at first, he’s intrigued by the thought, but as his eyes scan over each and every photo of him, he has never felt more uncomfortable in his own skin. he’s suddenly on high alert, noticing all the little quirks and mannerisms he has when he’s not paying attention. fushiguro lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing his arms as he leans against the table. 

he’s thinking. a lot. everything here is making him uneasy. 

the fact that you developed so many pictures of him,

the fact that you wanted to stay friends,

the fact that you called him pretty.

he frowns, shaking his head. its stupid– what is he so paranoid over?

fushiguro finds himself growing increasingly more anxious as he examines the pictures. he’s suddenly noticing everything about himself, all the ugly and stupid things about his appearance that he hates. 

he’s thinking about every little detail when the sound of the door opening and shutting startles him, and the sight of you emerging from the curtains, wet strands of hair sticking to your face, makes his stomach do a backflip.

“looking someplace you weren’t supposed to, huh?”

he glances up at you, trying to keep his composure in one piece. “...you developed all of them?” he asks, a hint of panic seeping through his voice, his nerves rattling more and more with every movement you make.

“why, dont like ‘em?”

“i didnt say that, asshole.” he rolls his eyes, trying to maintain a flat, even voice. he’s unsure of what to say, so he decides to choose the bluntest route. “why me?’

“why not you?”

fushiguro goes quiet for a bit, not truly wanting an answer to his question. the last thing he wanted to hear was an answer that’d confirm whatever he’s currently thinking.

“i just.. dont get it.”  he sighs, expression relenting into something a bit more sombre. “ you could’ve taken pictures of anythin’ else– why did you want so many pictures of me?”

“you’re a very good muse, fushiguro. whether you know it or not.”

he goes silent, his breath catching as he hears your words. he can’t help but feel a small tinge of pride swell up in his chest, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. the fact that you think he makes a good muse.. it fils him with conflicting waves of pleasure and discomfort. he grits his teeth, not wanting to admit that what you’re saying is making him feel weirdly happy.

“...whatever.” he grumbles, his tone going back to the cold and emotionless one you’re familiar with. he’s embarrassed and he’d rather not let you know the extent of it. so, he’s trying to stay as stubborn as possible. he grits his teeth, still staring at the photo of him, not bothering to look up at you. 

you’re humming a tune he’s unfamiliar with, taking the pictures one by one to hang up on the drying rack, seemingly unbothered by his actions.

fushiguro tries to ignore the fact that you’re practically oozing with relaxed air while he’s over here, fighting the urge to hurl all over your chest.  he rubs his eyes, trying to ignore each and every photo you hang up.

after a few moments, he glances over at you, hands digging into his pockets as you ignore him. he’s silent for a moment longer, taking a moment to process everything thats been thrown at him so far. even though he can say he feels wholly uncomfortable with the pictures, he also cant deny that looking at them made him feel… happy. 

“why didnt you ask me before you took the pictures?

“because if i did, you’d look the exact same in every photo,” you huff. “stiff, frowning, looking away from the camera.”

fushiguro remains silent, though he can feel his cheeks flush in embarrassment once more. while he’s trying to look as nonchalant as possible while talking to you, you’ve managed to hit a weak spot. the realisation that he looks unhappy to the point you can predict what he’d looks like makes him feel a little uneasy.

“what makes you think im unhappy all the time?”

“im not sayin’ you’re unhappy all the time, im just sayin’ that if i told you i was takin’ a photo, you’d be frownin’ in all of ‘em.”

he grits his teeth, trying to stop the small smile that wants to break through. he’s trying desperately to stay mad, not wanting you to catch onto the fact that he’s happy right now.

“so you took advantage of the fact that i didnt know you were takin’ pictures of me, huh? is that how you justify it, by sayin’ ill be upset in every photo ? what’s next, you take more photos when im sleepin’ or something?” he asks, voice laced with sarcasm.

“maybe.”

he goes silent at your blunt, honest response, his eyebrows furrowing as his mouth pulls into an awkward smile despite his efforts to stay mad. “...maybe??” a small laugh escapes his lips, although it sounds like more of a garble. the whole thing makes him feel strangely flustered, and you’re only making it worse with each of your responses.

“yeah, yeah, real funny. you’re seriously fucked up in the head, you kn[

‘ow that?” he says, his tone going back to its usual grumpiness.”

“why, what’d i do !!” you pout, pulling up a stool from under your enlarger to criss cross apple sauce on it.

“are you actually this dense?” he starts, before waving you off and sighing. “nevermind, just forget i said anything.”

“‘m gonna go take a break. dont touch anything at my station unless you want me to summon mahogara when you’re sleeping.

he gives you a short nod, before heading off to take his ‘break.’ right now, he just needs to get away from you, even just for a little bit. his mind is working too quickly for him to be around you; he’s just too prone to giving into his impulses when he’s like this, and he hates it.

fushiguro exits the darkroom again, heading off to his usual spot in the courtyard of the first year building. he’s already been here a thousand times and over again, and it’s become some sort of ritual; whenever he needs to calm down, he always comes here. he doesnt even know why he does. he just does. its just the way things are.

his thoughts are still racing as he sits down facing the windows. why are you so interested in taking photos of me? why are you so nice to me? why are you so… pretty?

he remains silent, rubbing his temples as  he sits. he feels himself getting pissed off simply because he feels so vulnerable around you. he’s feeling weak and stupid for getting angry over your harmless interest.

he’s trying to stop his thoughts. he’s trying. but the moment he closes his eyes, all he can see is your damn smile.

fushiguro grits his teeth, staring at a spot in the corner of the stairs. the whole thing makes him so incredibly nervous– you being so undeniably interested in him. its something he’s never experienced before, and its making him feel so odd.

he’s annoyed with you. at the whole situation. the fact that you make him feel so weak just by looking at him.

this is absurd. stupid. insane. he’s pissed off for no reason, and he cant seem to make it stop. he’s mad at you, mad at your photos, mad at everything– especially the fact that you’re so fucking friendly to him for no apparent reason.

he stays silent as his thoughts continue to run wild with anger, trying to convince himself that the reason he’s simply annoyed with the situation and not because he’s feeling

weak.

he’s feeling really fucking weak. his anger stems from the weakness he feels whenever he thinks about you, talks to you, looks at you. you’re the one who’s made him feel so goddamn vulnerable.

as if on cue, you waltz out of the photography darkroom, apron-less. “‘guro?” you call out, peeking in and out of the hallways that made up the school. “i made some tea.”

fushiguro jumps a bit as you call out his name, his eyes scanning the area before settling on you. the moment he sees you, he freezes; the last thing he expects to hear is you calling him by that god-awful nickname he has to tell himself that he hates.

as soon as you spot him, you grin and wave as best as you can with the cups in your hand, taking a seat awfully close to him for all the empty space around. “...why?”

“–why ? why not, ‘guro?”

“i can get my own cup of tea, y’know.” he huffs, tone still sharp and blunt. he’s trying to regain his usual composure, but it’s proven to be a bit difficult in your presence. he’s trying hard not to let his emotions show– his irritation, his anger, his bashfulness– because he doesnt want to admit to himself what you’re doing to him.

“well, right now you dont gotta. unless you want me to give the tea to itadori–”

before you could finish the sentence, he takes his cup from your hand, the one you had ‘forced’ him to make with you when you were trying pottery. its a short, white cup, with a long handle that you added yourself because you thought it’d be funny when he wasnt looking. theres nothing on it except the imprint of a paw.

“why– why do you care so much?” he says, voice unusually small.

“why wouldnt i, fushiguro?”

he scoffs, looking away again. the fact you seem so unbothered by his behaviour is… odd. “just.. why? why do you insist on being so damn nice?”

you frown at his words, wondering what you did to make him upset this time. was it the pictures? maybe the tea ? or all of it. probably all of it. “i didnt.. mean ta’ make you upset.” you murmur, looking away, watching the clouds go by instead of looking at the boy in front of you.

“how do you want.. me to answer that? honestly?” you try, looking at him hopefully. he returns it with a blunt ‘i dont know.’

“i just… want to know why someone like you cares about me, out of all people. why would you waste time with someone like me? theres so many other people that are smart, better looking, stronger, and more.. interesting than me. why waste your time with me, huh?”

you roll your eyes, placing down your cup, a black one to match fushiguro’s, before pulling him abruptly into a hug.

he tenses for a moment, surprised by the sudden gesture. for a moment, his thoughts and emotions are quiet, for once. he doesnt know how to react. gojo taught him how to deal with every single curse in the book, how to pop your bones back into place, how to wrap a wound, but never something like this. he’d have to ask. 

after a moment, he hesitantly hugs you back, as if you were a bomb prepped to explode. he’s overwhelmed with how close you are to him. when did he let you get so close? you smell like strawberries. he hates strawberries.

his thoughts are a mess as the seconds pass, he doesnt even have a fraction of an idea on how to handle this. all logic and reason are lost to him, the only things he had going for him. 

all he knows for sure is that his heart is beating out his chest, and his body has grown warm, and that he’s sure that you’ve noticed both. you havent said anything.

“....does that answer the question, fushiguro?”

“yeah.. yeah, it does.” he’s hesitant, voice much softer than it usually is. he lets out a quiet sigh as he continues to hug you. he’s finding more comfort in the silence than he’d like to admit. 

“can i tell you something that ive.. never told anybody before? his tone is hesitant, curious, like he wants to believe you’d be understanding, that you wouldnt judge him for it.

you nod, running your fingers through his dark locks. his hair is soft, you think. i should ask him for his hair routine. and eyelash while im at it.

“can i trust you? with this?”

“cross my heart and hope to die. stick a needle in my eye.”  you grin, and although he cant see it, he can just imagine the stupid shit-eating grin on your face right now.

“this might actually sound stupid. and it probably is, but its been bothering me lately and i just..” he pauses, sighing. “have i ever told you.. that i get really, really fucking nervous around you?”

“...no, you havent.”

“well,” fushiguro frowns, voice going blunt again. “i do. i get really nervous around you. like… a lot more than i should, i guess.”

he sighs, trying his best to stop his heart from pounding out of his chest. he’s still holding you tightly in a hug, like he’s afraid as soon as he lets go, you’ll disappear. he’s scared of you finding this strange, or being repulsed by his sudden honestly. god knows he is. he doesnt want to push you away because.. who else would treat him the way you do?

fushiguro stays silent for a moment, taking in a deep breath as your lack of an answer rattles his nerves again. he’d be lying if he said he was okay right about now. 

“yeah i get– i get real nervous around you. its almost,” he sighs again, swallowing nervously. “its almost embarrassing to admit.”

you’re frozen, caught off guard by fushiguro’s unexpected confession. his words hung heavy in the air, echoing in the silence of the auditorium. you wouldnt be surprised if the plants were listening in, at this point. your voice was barely above a whisper, your heart suddenly too big for your chest. “i do too. i get– i get awfully nervous around you. my heart starts beatin’ all fast, and i want to throw up and cry and scream all at the same time whenever you’re around. its becomin’ a problem, honestly.

fushiguro stays silent when you admit that you too, get nervous around him. without thinking, he reached out, hand finding yours and intertwining his fingers as you too shared the hug. in that moment, all doubts and uncertainties melted away, replaced by a newfound sense of.. something indescribable. 

“nobara told me it’s cause i like you,” you continue, thumb rubbing the back of his hand. “i still haven’t figured that part out yet myself.”

after a moment or two of silence, just holding each other in the middle of the school, you speak again, voice quiet. “you dont gotta say anythin’ you dont wanna, ‘guro.”

“but,” his stomach drops as he hears you say this, and he hesitates before trying to speak. “but i feel like i should. i need to tell you the truth–i do have feelings for you. at least i think i do.”

“i have feelings for you. a lot of the,. you make me feel.. lightheaded, and my heart feels like it’s goin’ a million miles an hour when you’re around. and.. and–”

“i like you too, i think.”

“you… you do…?” fushiguro murmurs, voice barely audible. “you’re not jokin’ right?”

“why would i joke about that, fushiguro?”

“i dont– i dont know. i just.. didn't think you’d ever like someone like me.” he pauses, sighing. “you’re– you’re beautiful, and smart, and kind and.. and everything anyone could ever want in a person. and yet you chose me?”

you pull back a bit to caress his face lightly, thumb brushing over the apple of his cheek, smiling as he continues to babble on. “you probably see something in me that i don't even see myself.. and ‘m so god damn grateful for that but i– don't understand it. and probably never will.”

“why is it so hard for you to accept that you’re loved, fushiguro?”

you know the answer to that. it was a stupid question. you both know it. he could write you a whole book on why he doesn't think he’s worthy of love, starting at the ripe age of six. he shakes his head, thinking back to all the people who were supposed to care for him but didn't. all he had going for him was some white haired man who basically adopted him when he was a teen.

“i’ve never had someone care for me before. not really.” he confesses “they never did– not really. they just liked to say they did. and when they realised i could be of use to them in terms of power, influence, or status..” 

“do you really think i’d do that to you?”

fushiguro hesitates, thoughts suddenly filling his head to the point it was difficult to think. “ i dont.. i dont think you’re that type of person. youre not like anyone ive ever met before. more genuine, more honest. its easy to tell that you care. i guess.”

“plus,” he continues, a small smile forming on his face. “you haven't given me any reason to doubt you. everything you’ve done, its always felt real.”

“i think i... actually like you a lot," fushiguro murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, the words carrying the weight of a confession long kept hidden. he closed his eyes, leaning against you, seeking solace in the warmth of your embrace. in that moment, he wished he could stay there forever, cocooned in the safety of your arms.

"and I want to keep hanging out with you more often, because..." fushiguro hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest as he gathered the courage to voice the truth. 

"because I think I'm falling a little bit in love with you."

your breath caught in your throat, surprise and joy mingling in equal measure as you processed fushiguro’s heartfelt confession. "really?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, your heart soaring with hope.

"really ," he confirmed, his own lips curling into a shy smile as he met your gaze, his eyes alight with emotion.

unable to contain the overwhelming rush of emotions, you grinned, pressing a tender kiss to fushiguro’s jaw before pulling him into a tight embrace. "i love you, megumi" you whispered against his ear, the words carrying the weight of a promise.

megumi’s heart skipped a beat at your declaration, a rush of warmth flooding through him. "o love you too," he murmured in response, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart.

he felt his face flush with heat as your lips brushed against his jaw, a rush of euphoria washing over him. he stayed silent, savouring the warmth of your embrace, feeling a sense of peace and contentment wash over him like a gentle wave. With you, he felt safe, accepted, and loved—a feeling he never wanted to let go of.

he’s never felt like this around anyone before and it feels… nice. it feels like home, almost.

you feel like home to him.

#⊹ ࣪ ˖ greywrites #jjk #jujustu kaisen #jjk x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #jjk fluff #megumi fushiguro x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[wumbsie]

Congrats on deadn't! Please continue dien't-ing

why thank you boss but i can't promise anything

#when i say boss please read it like im a mafia grunt #i almost changed it to “wont promise” but #im not TRYing to die #it just happened #ask

[dayurno]

so kevin was the one who bought jean the magnets and postcards. as souvenirs.

i fear we, the kevjean nation, may not survive this.

kevin used to write him messages and memories and they ruined it

#tsc spoilers #i dont wanna be repetitive so i wont be rehashing this out too much #but i thought the kevin in tsc was very different in a good way but in a startling way too #hes clearly a pillar of stability for jean which is weird enough of a mouthful on its own #considering its Kevin and he is famously Unstable #i thought his immediate switch after the ichirou news was so interesting? #he was panicking just as badly as jean was but as soon as neil left them alone he strongheld jean through it #the k/j dynamic is very much what i already thought it was and it did not disappoint #anything for this stupid man…. #jean keeping his promise to the end whether he liked it or not #kevin really is the first ethically manipulative girlfriend 😭😭😭😭 #these werent crumbs at all these were full meals w space for seconds #jean being in love with him was almost like. secondary #if you can believe it #but uuuh yeah im happy that i dont have to change much of how i write any of them #except maybe jeremy which is its own can of worms #oh my acolytes… how i wanted to like him #how i did not #asks #kevjean

[spyder-junkie]

hello hello there!! I just read your smut fics and I'm in LOVE!! is it possible for a Hobie X fem reader cockwarming fic? If not it's fine!!

-꩜ anon

HOBIE BROWN cockwarming smut

sorry for the wait!

Honestly I imagine Hobie is not a fan of cockwarming.

If his cock is inside of you, hes fucking you. Cockwarming feels like a waste of his time.

He’ll only do it if you ask, or maybe if you challenge him.

“Hobie.” You whisper sternly. “sit still.”

Hobie huffs against the back of your neck, his thigh twitching a bit as youre sitting on his lap, his cock nestled deep inside of you.

“Sweetheart..” he mumbles, no, whines.

Youre seated at your desk, doing some much needed work on your computer. You promised Hobie youd take care of him if he was able to wait until you were finished.

But with how warm and tight you were around him, he wasn’t sure he could wait.

“pleasepleaseplease.” His head is tossed back, eyes shut tightly and his hands over his face. Your pussy is drooling around him, juices pooling on his abdomen.

“Im not changing my mind, you can wait.” You say, leaning forward closer to the laptop screen.

Hobie audibly goans at the movement, cock twitching inside you.

“Im gonna fucking cum” he whines pathetically behind his hands. Your pussy squeezes him at his words, making him cry out again.

“You better not.” youre smirking, but he cant see it.

“If you cum in me, you wont be cuming for a very long time.” you warn.

Hes almost in tears now, leaning his head off the back of the chair and PRAYING you’re almost finished with your work.

#hobie x reader #spiderpunk x reader #hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown smut #spiderpunk #spiderpunk smut

[ravengards-rogue]

WHAT SET YOU FREE, BROUGHT YOU TO ME BABY.

rdr2 men + short blurbs about their favorite sex positions.

ft. arthur morgan, john marston, javier escuella, and charles smith.

✧ tags : SPOILER HEAVY, fem + afab!reader, unprotected sex, light angst (in the horny post is crazy im sorry fdkjjkds), very gendered language, javier says one thing in spanish (thank u @nanamimizz), a little sprinkle of plot with each (and some canon divergency), john co-parents w abigail, otherwise just horny. 18+

✧ wc : about 1.4-8k each (6.3k total)

✧ a/n : sorry for making a multi character post for the cowboy game its cooking me to death. my john bias is showing rip. title is from rebel yell by billy idol but i listen to the bvb cover

sorry about charles and javiers but if i edit this anymore im going to level an entire city using hollow purple technique. please rb if you enjoyed i worked kind of hard on whatever this is.

sorry for . the THIRD repost of this i promise i wont after this. its just really bugging me. PLEASE

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ ARTHUR MORGAN + PRONE BONE ; 

It’s an odd feelin’ for Arthur. 

Wanting something, he means. Wanting anything as much as he wants you. He’s lived a less than quiet life up until now. And he ain’t the brightest, certainly, but living this kind of life teaches you many lessons. One of them being, it’s better not to covet anything. Coveting something you’re not entitled to, well—it’ll lead you places you wouldn’t want to go with a gun. 

Arthur has made the mistake of coveting love before, dreamed of a future so completely out of his reach he almost convinced himself it was possible. Dreamed of it so foolishly he’d even go visit a woman he very well ought to forget. It’s his problem, his burden to bear - always desiring outcomes unsuited to him. 

He’s just that sort of man he reckons. But he learned his lesson. He tries (tried?) to stay away from it after that. Tried not to pine too much for normalcy when such hopes had failed him twice. The loss of his child completely on his account and the loss of his love at the same fate. 

So, wanting you - well, he feels like the world's dullest fool. Really. How is it that Arthur had fallen in love with someone again? It had all just happened so quickly. You were another woman he’d saved from the O’Driscolls, though it wasn’t like you were no damsel. A lot of those men were dead by the time they arrived. That sort of perseverance would stick with you while you traveled together. Much like Sadie, you didn’t take well to housework - you liked to earn your keep. Though you’re not nearly so trigger happy. 

You’re quiet, thoughtful, well-read. Plus you’re good at making money. That’s why Dutch don't complain about you joining them, he figures. 

(Arthur tries not to pry into it too much at first, but he eventually learns that you’re gambling. Which is how you’re able to make such a fast turn around. A prim little lady like you makes for a fine poker player, and you love to play men out of their money. He thinks it’s one of the funniest and most interesting things about you. He can’t help but love you a little more for it. )

When the feelings in him start to stir, Arthur tries to overlook it. Arthur convinces himself, time and time again - that there’s no way he’ll grow more tender about you. Eventually, it’ll die down. You’re a decent woman is all, a kind one - who’s easy for him to love and even easier for him to confide in. In your time together, you often come to Arthur and you always seem to have some profound wisdom he is so sorely lacking. Someone easy to love, who does not expect much from Arthur at all. It’s only natural a lonely, covetous man like him would start to dream about you. He tells himself, it will pass eventually. Should he simply let it run by him, it will pass. But Arthurs a fool, you’ll remember. 

 Of course, by the time he understood all that - he already loved you enough that he couldn’t bear it. It was already too late and it wasn’t going to change any time soon. Especially not while everything changed around him. 

So, Arthur is undoubtedly a fool, but he’s lucky. He felt divinely blessed when you’d returned his feelings for him so politely. A coy little smile on your face, a laugh like you thought he was silly for being doubtful. Arthur tried to explain himself but you wouldn’t hear a word of it. Maybe that’s another thing he loves so much about you. There’s nothing he ever needs to explain. 

In any case, all Arthur seems to do lately is want you. Wants you when it’s inconvenient. Wants you before he wants liquor or a cigarette or some other vice. Any time anything goes wrong, you’re the first thing his mind can conjure up for relief. That pretty smile and that self-assured way of living. It’s hard to get time alone in camp. And Arthur is a man in love, so any touch could be enough to set him on fire. Last week you hugged his waist a little before giving him a kiss goodbye and he had to listen to you laugh yourself into a fit as he waited for…little Arthur to settle down. 

He don’t get many chances to be with you. Lay with you in that way that grown folk in love do. Though, if the two of you book it somewhere for a few days - the camp knows better not to ask where you’ve been. But it’s not often you get to really be together, where it’s peaceful to do that. Someone’s always hounding one of you to do something. 

Arthur is a lucky man though, like he said. Today he had time. Today he’s alone with you in a beat up little saloon and today he gets to do as he likes. He gets to be greedy. And it’s an odd feeling for him, really, to want something so bad he disregards everything else in the world for a little while. 

Feeling you, though - absolves the guilt for wanting. He’d be stupid to want you any less desperately. 

Arthur’s favorite way to have you is on your stomach. Laid flat, just barely pushed up against him as he fucks you deep. You’ll fuck like rabbits for a little while and Arthur will wear you out just like this, maneuvering you until you’re pinned all underneath his weight. You lose any fight you might have, too exhausted to worry yourself with pleasing him - and when you’re like that, you let Arthur take care of you. 

(He really ain’t talented at much, but he’s good with his hands. Being dexterous is part of being a talented shot. When Arthur has the time to spread you sweet in his lap and make you cum all over his fingers, he does so for as long as he can. At least until you beg him so sweetly otherwise. The same hands, soiled with gunsmoke, look so good so deep in you. At least in his eyes.)

Wet and pliable and helpless. Arthur loves you like that. He knows, he knows you’re anything but - but he’d be damned to pretend this don’t feel best. Tight, wet cunt so welcoming from all the pleasure he’s ripped out of you. Your bodies pressed together, your heartbeat pulsing through your skin. All sticky, honeyed need and animal desire as Arthur lets all of him sink on top of you. His heavy, lumbering form crushing you in - trapping you somewhere you can’t run from him. The curve of your spine pushed against his chest, ticklish. 

Every inch of his body that so wholly wants for you, Arthur aches to make you feel. Burn it in you lest anything happens that risks your forgetting. 

He can feel his hips meet your ass, backside squished against him - desperate for deeper friction. Whining. You’re whining to him so pretty, a pillow pushed underneath you to give friction to needy clit. 

Arthur can feel how much you want more. Maybe Arthur is greedy, but he likes that look much better on you. Your pussy is sucking him in so tight, silken walls pulsing with every shallow little measured thrust. Arthur lets his arm wrap around your neck, your face pressing into his bicep. You moan again and he laughs. 

“Arthur,” Your words come out in a messy slur. He lets his scruffy face press against your neck, a kiss behind your ear. He wants to kiss you all over. There’s not enough hours in the day. “Oh, god, Arthur,” 

“Still feels good, then, I’m guessin’,” 

“Shut up,” You huff and press your cheek into his arm. He doesn’t bother stifling his laugh. “Still feels…big. Stretchin’ me out—hicc—so much,” 

You really don’t try to rile him up - but you do a damn good job of it anyway. He groans, grunts as he pulls back and pistons himself in you. A gesture half-way between a kiss and the warning shot of a gun. The sound of skin hitting skin echoes, noisy and vulgar. Arthur don’t pay it much mind. He laughs against your shoulder.

“One of these days, that moutha’ yours is gonna get me in real trouble.” 

You giggle back at him 

“What kinda trouble is that now?” 

Even from your side glance, you’ve got that lovely little smile on you. Fuckdrunk and ingratiating, like you know he’s wrapped so tight around your fingers. And he is, like nothing else in the world could have him. A wave of possession curls up over Arthur, makes him press more of himself into you. Onto you. Another deep push of his cock, sliding against the tenderest parts of you. Staking some silent desire in you. He wants and wants and wants, and hopes that whatevers above him can forgive him for making the same mistake thrice. 

“Dunno,” Arthur comments, teeth grazing your shoulder and kissing the indentations “Got our whole lives together to find out, I reckon.” 

“I’ll hold you to it, Mister.” 

Arthur laughs. “Hope you do, Miss.” 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ JOHN MARSTON + COWGIRL ;

John doesn’t say that he loves you lightly. 

Hardly a thing he says can be said that way. Could never afford too. In an alternate universe where nothing goes wrong in his life, maybe - but he has a hard time picturing what the hell that’d look like. A version of himself so untainted, without all of the violence and blood and gunsmoke? Foreign. John can’t picture it worth a damn. 

Who John is without a deadbeat father and a dead Ma is somewhere far beyond his reach. Ain’t nothing about his life, at any point, lighthearted. 

On top of all that mess, he’s got a boy at age four with a woman he ain’t married too. And that relationship is always on rocky waters, even though John’s decided to do right by his own flesh and blood sometime ago. Most things in the world he should feel good about he doesn’t, and most things he should understand render him clueless. He’s a mess on multiple accounts, and he still doesn’t know how exactly he’s meant to approach this life of his. He knows what he should do, but nothing about how to do it. 

John doesn’t come to love you easily ‘cause he wouldn’t know easy love if it hit him in his face. Quickly and painfully, but not easily. 

Your return to the gang was an odd one. You were an old presence and your disappearance was an even older story. John thought he’d never gonna see you again for sure. You’d been a part of the gang back long before all of the nonsense that took place in Blackwater and you left about the time Arthur’s boy died. John don’t remember why you left exactly. He thinks it was a fight with Hosea, of all things.

 Dutch weren't too happy about it neither, but Dutch back then didn’t make a show. 

So you left, and John buried every feeling he ever harbored. You found all them again up in Colter, where you’d been living out your days lately. According to you, in the middle of riding, you thought you’d heard Arthur. So, somewhat recklessly, you went chasing him. Didn’t matter if he was just something your mind conjured. According to you, if it was him, it was at least worth checking to make sure. You’d reunited with Arthur and after some tears, he rode with you back to camp. 

Upon your return, the gang welcomed you with open arms. 

You’d done a lot in your time alone.You spent most of that time just like that, a ghost wanderin’ the planes. You weren’t gonna stay with ‘em, but Arthur insisted and Hosea did too. That wasn’t enough to compel, so John was last to chip in. You should stay, at least until Valentine. 

(Silently he thought, you should stay so John can trace memories of you. It was so long ago, he should’ve forgotten all of it. You were a year older than John and always on his ass but easy for him to talk to. Didn’t fuss over his failures. You just barely grew into your womanhood when you set your sights on running away. You wanted more than this life, and John never really forgave you for it. His first heartbreak, maybe - but it’s all too blurry for that. 

You understood him though better than anyone, and one day you were gone. Nothing’s really the same.) 

You changed tremendously and not at all. He missed you. God, did he ever. Missed you a long time. Didn’t realize how much until you came back and everything in him felt right again. Your return stirred up old feelings and everyone noticed. He wasn’t trying to keep it a secret, but he really wasn’t trying to fall back into anything with you. Not how he did. 

Just like you did back then, you read John like an open book. And just like he did back then, he loved you all too helplessly for it.  It was just all too easy again, to be with you. 

You stayed out of the way at first, for the sake of his family. 

But, John ain’t a half-decent man even when he’s trying to be. So he set himself on being with you. It wasn’t easy - most things with him aren’t as you’ll see.  Having you around again straightened what was left of his common sense, at least. He told Abigail before telling you. He figured you wouldn’t even reply unless that was all out of the way. That turned out as well as you’d expect.

 It was settled between the two of you thereafter. He’s lucky she didn’t toss him into the street. 

Everything works out in a way. As best they can between broken people. You make peace with each other. His boy loves you like a third parent (you’re better with him than John is). Abigail commends you for straightening out such a worthless man though she’s a little melancholy.  John just tries to stay out of the way. You’ll be together in the end. There’s a plan with the five of you. 

But until it all falls apart, he doesn’t get all that much time with you. 

There’s moments like tonight, though. Rare ones. Together out robbin’, cooped out some place in the woods where no one is around. A place so shaded by nightfall that John can absolve himself of every sin he’s ever committed in his life and pray at the altar between your hips. John is convinced he might find worship like he’s always hearing about there whenever he touches you, the marred skin of his hands and knuckles reading the scripture of your body with careful precision. 

You might turn him into a literate man yet. 

John glances up at you. Only the light of the fire and the moonlight there to accompany as he watches you over him. You’re beautiful. John couldn’t picture a single thing more perfect in his life. 

Your hands against his bare chest, nails digging into the flesh as you lean forward. Your palm dug into the dirt, John finds his own hands rested at your hips. John looks at you awe-struck, cock twitching at the mere sight. His heart settles in his throat, but he’s calm all at the same time. With you, he forgets. All of it. The worst of himself. 

Bare naked and so close, he watches your face as you strain. You feel soft. Every inch of you in comparison to him is. A bead of sweat slides down the valley of your breasts. John cranes his neck up to catch it with his tongue, licking a stripe up to your neck - letting his teeth sink into the space between your jaw and neck. You want to make it last and John doesn’t blame you. It’s so rare you get to have each other so unrestrained. John can feel all the ways you want him, can see it in your face - all pinched with need. You’re holding yourself back, trying to get it to last as long as the night will allow. It’s cute in a way.

It’s different than how he’s used to seein’ you, all cocky or otherwise. You’re needy like this. Just needy. His stomach turns with lust, jolting through him like a strike of lightning. His cock twitches against your folds, sliding against them. Pure admiration watching the sticky mess of his pre-cum and your own arousal mix together and smear on your mound. You make a soft noise in the back of your throat, faint and tender as you fall forward just a little. John laughs against your neck. 

“Darlin’,” He says with a huff. Not malice. Something akin to bliss, where he can rarely afford it “Have I done something to piss you off today?” 

You pick yourself up and look down at him and frown. John kisses the corner of your mouth, resisting some crude desire to fuck up into you. 

“Just,” You grunt as the tip of his cock passes over your throbbing clit, your whole body wracking to a shiver. John looks awed. “Pent up. Goddamn it,” 

John figures it out quickly after that. It’s this part of it he likes. The proximity. The closeness. Feeling the tremble in your hands as they struggle to keep up right, muscles strained in your forearms. Being able to hold you, to keep the pace or let you take the lead. The clear view of your face as pleasure travels up through your spine and melts into you. He grabs your hips, the fat dimpling underneath his fingers as he moves you along. He can’t wait. You don’t bother to protest seeing John can’t seem to bear it anymore. You collapse into his chest, your tits pushed flat against his pecs.

His cock throbs near painfully, sliding against your soft cunt before finding himself lined with you. He thinks to himself that it’s this he was looking for, as he tucks your face against his neck and lets his tip stretch you out slowly. Such a vice like grip, stretching - resisting him like your whole body can’t anticipate the sensation of fullness. You gasp against his throat. 

“John,”  

What a sweet sound from your mouth, even sweeter as he bucks himself up. Keeps you steady and lets his cock stretch you full, feel you deep. “That’s right, my angel. Didn’t think you’d remember my name when you’re all worked up like this.” 

“You’re,” You gasp and John thrusts, thrusts hard until he’s buried to the hilt. You shudder, walls pulsing around him as he bottoms out and John laughs like the terrible man he is. He fucks you again, over and over - a wicked little smile watching “Awful. Just awful, John Marston,” 

“Ain’t that the truth,” He hums against your mouth as his hand snakes between your bodies, thumb rubbing against your clit. “Wonder what kinda woman that makes you,” 

“A foolish one,” 

John laughs. 

“I sure do love you for it,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆JAVIER ESCUELLA + SIDEWAYS ;

Javier hasn’t thought about much other than surviving. 

It’s been like that. Been like that for a while, probably much longer than he cares to admit. He’s sure any sane man would suffer the same plight if they lead the same life. Anything but survival is little more than a pipe-dream, so Javier tries not to go for anything too strongly. In that aspect he’s like many of the members of the gang he’s in, perhaps that’s why he sticks to them. There’s that phrase Hosea’s always saying - that misery loves company. Javier will take any decent company he can get.  He’s desperate for it just like he’s desperate for most things - inwardly, silently. 

Some of that desperation may be symptomatic of who he is. After he killed a man in a crime of passion for a woman he loved and ran from a government who would sooner exile him than change, Javier decided to not dream anymore. Every revolutionary who dreams too hopefully pays the price in blood.

(Javier thinks there’s probably nothing in the world as true as this. A form of gospel. He remembers the first dream he ever had after his uncle passed. Not a nightmare but a dream. He remembers the exact feeling of waking up, cold and confused. What is a dream, except a memento of survivor's guilt that loyal people cling onto fruitlessly. When hope starts to feel like a debt he’s going to waste his life paying back, Javier loses sight of everything. The beginning of the end in some way.) 

His mind doesn’t occupy itself with anything bigger than that. Since Dutch found him starving, there was never a desire to try and live off aspirations. He pays his penance with loyalty and honor. Practices some form of humility and tries, not too desperately, to carve a place for him to fit. All without drawing too much attention or caring too much. If you ignore the bleeding in his fingers, his penchant for knives over guns, and his refusal to talk too long about the place he comes from - it’s nearly believable that none of it matters. 

Except loyalty. All Javier honors is that. It’s the only thing he has some part in choosing, so he choses it every time. Living like that didn’t make any difference to him. He was surrounded by mostly decent people. He didn’t hate the life he was living. 

It wasn’t important. It didn’t matter. His directionless-ness, his floating. Hadn’t since he joined the gang. At least not to anyone but him. He didn’t know what he’s meant to do or if he was meant to proceed with this forever. He was (is)  loyal to Dutch. To the gang. 

He hadn’t thought much about what comes after. 

And it didn’t matter until he met you

He’d sworn off love after seeing where it got him, at least until he could love more dispassionately. When the women bring you back from their outing from Valentine and beg Dutch to let you stay, Javier doesn’t think much of it all. He thinks you’re pretty, if it counts for anything. But he doesn’t let himself linger on you too long. 

But that’s the sequence with you two, really. The whole time.  He doesn’t linger until he does. It doesn't matter until it does. He doesn’t think about you until it’s all he can think about. 

You go for him first. And it’s in little, unimportant ways that might not mean shit to you but mean a whole lot to him. You have some kind of tenderness about you that you wear deep, runs through your blood like love ran through his once long ago. Some softness he can’t really measure with his own. It’s not that that gets him. It’s that sometimes you look at Javier like he's … someone you want to see. He forgot what that was like all together. It felt foreign to him the first time it happened. Seeing how you light up when Javier is around. 

You wanted to see him. You noticed that he’s gone. If he sang by the campfire - you’d sit by him and listen.  If he was out in the trees keeping guard, he’d hear the soft call of your voice to Grimshaw ask Where’s Javier? And sometimes the girls will make fun of you - but you wouldn’t deny anything they said. It’s so small and ordinary. He would’ve never considered himself simple before meeting you. Nothing is simple. Nothing. 

(But then, Javier thinks of the kinds of songs he sings and the way he takes care of himself and the clothes he wears and maybe Javier has some kind of affinity for preciousness that explains all of it.) 

When Javier confesses his feelings for you - he finds the affair to be like most things between you. Ordinary love, not really between outlaws but people. It’s up against a tree while you share a drink and he’s looking at the curve of your mouth and the plum color Karen’s so kindly put on you. And his head fills with kissing you so he does. A breathless confession between alcohol stains and the feeling of your hands curled in the lapels of his suit. 

From there, Javier is your lover. He’s not interested in the business of secrets, but he tries not to let it show too much. Not that he doesn’t want to. He wants to show you off more than anything - at least some part of him does. But the other part wants to keep you away from prying eyes, keep his love for you only where the both of you can see. If he could keep that pretty lovestruck face you make all to himself forever he would. 

When he gets a chance to whisk you away from everything, Javier jumps at the chance. Not often, but Javier makes time for you. Makes time to indulge in love he thought he’d  never find again. 

That’s why he’s here with you in the middle of nowhere, a ghost town where no one knows you.. A reserved room with a bed and lowlights all to yourselves. 

Javier can’t keep his hands to himself and he doubts you expect him too. 

For Javier, this sense of proximity is what intoxicates him most. The warmth of your bare skin in the slivers of yourself exposed. Javier is fond of finding you like this after a long day of horse riding. Of sneaking touches to your waist as you push back against him to sleep, only to find his desire for you - laid clearly. He likes hearing you whimper feeling his length poke against your back, the embarrassment when it dawns on you that he wants you after all. Always surprised, even though Javier tells you it so often. Whispers it along your neck and shoulders whenever you’re at camp together.

You like the feeling of his hands so Javier always starts with them. He squeezes your hips. Planes his palms over your chest before squeezing your chest, pushing the fat between his fingers. You like the way  they look when they grope you, his chin resting against your shoulder as you spoon. In the lowlights of a cheap hotel - Javier gets the perfect view of your silhouette. Your body is sensitive over the fabric of your gown, heat prickling through you. 

Javier who is always so gentle with you, rouses so deep listening to your whining as he explores your body. The suffocating closeness of a single bed intoxicates him. 

“Javier,” Your voice is sweet and thin. Plays in Javier’s head like music and makes his mouth curl up into a catlike grin as you push back on him.  You look slightly over your shoulder, lips pushed into a pout. “Please,” 

He tugs at the fabric of your nightgown. The top half pulls haphazard underneath your tits, nipples perky and sensitive to touch while the skirt pools at your waist. What gets Javier like this is the desperation. Wanting so much but not being able to look too long. A way for you to mirror him, it’s a matter of possession. In some stupid way. Bunching your clothes up, pushing the fabric of your panties to one side, letting his arm wrap around your waist to touch and tease.  All of these are imprints of his longing, tucked faithful into your side as he whispers sweet nothings into your skin.

His cock twitches as it pushes past your folds with finality, your hands curling up at your sides.  You whimper softly, let your cheek rest against the sheets as Javier takes you on your side. Terribly close, you fuss as you feel him slide every inch into you slow, your hands reaching back for purchase. It’s the fit of you against him so perfect, the silent strokes of intimacy, the hush-hush giggles between the sheets that Javier loves most about fucking you like this. Too enamored with you to look too closely, he lets his eyes flutter closed. He could get drunk just being in your space. 

He carves out space for himself inside of you, feels your cunt accommodate for him like it loves him. A feverishness breaks out as his forehead rests on the space between your shoulders, an uncharacteristic whiny quality in his words. 

“Ser mío,” Javier says - as a reflection of what he really wants, to belong only to you. “Belong to me.” 

Darling as you always are, you nod softly. 

“All yours, Javier,” You whimper, finding his hand. “Forever,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ CHARLES SMITH + MATING PRESS ; 

Wandering. 

He’s been doing it his whole life. Not something he’s proud of. Or ashamed of either, really. Just how things have gone for him until now. Charles doesn’t think his life has been any better or any worse than anyone else's. At least not when he weighs it with the same kind of pragmatism he does most things. It’s been a hard life, and a miserable one in so many ways. Still, it’s not something Charles is too keen to dwell on. 

There’s just something thematic about loss in Charles' life in a way he finds completely unpleasant. It’s more constant than anything. Loss of his home, loss of his mother, loss of his father in an attempt to find what’s best for him. It’s some overarching message that hangs over his head like a shadow. Everywhere he goes, trying to rectify his own solitude seems to come back to him. It doesn’t help that it’s an unfair world to start with, and would’ve been if he had just been black or just been native. But Charles is both, and has lived a life that reflects that specific injustice thoroughly. 

There’s not really anything Charles can do about it, at its baseline. When he left his father, the name of the game had simply been survival. He was well-equipped enough for that at least. But after survival comes trying to live and trying to live isn’t something so simple. Jumping in and out of gangs who thought they could get away with slighting him or generally being surrounded by unpleasant people. Trying to find something in pages of book and scripture, or in the way water ripples when it rains. 

He’s never felt any one way towards the gang. Even when he joined them all the way back in the Grizzlies. Lost in the cold, they’d crossed paths as Charles was out hunting. A lot of it feels like a blur. Of all the folks he’s met in his travels though, Dutch treats him fair and the rest of them (or most of them) are decent, honest folk. Charles stays in the Van Der Linde gang for such simple reasons as trying to stay alive and be somewhere that isn’t actively hostile towards him. He’s a good gunman, and a better fighter. The inner workings of gang politics and forging connection isn’t at the forefront of his mind, with the exception of the kindest few. 

The Van Der Linde gang is just a place where he can figure out what his purpose is meant to be, even if he doesn’t find it there. He’s never expecting anything to come out from his loyalties to it. 

Of all the things Charles expects of his life in the Van Der Linde gang, love is at the very bottom of the list. 

Maybe it’s about time he stops being surprised by these things happening to him one or way another.

 You were a member of the gang far before him, and someone Charles took to quickly. You’d joined the gang not too long after John from what Arthur tells him. Though the brunette speaks about you more fondly than he does his brother. A problem child at the start, according to Arthur - always getting into all sorts of trouble. Something you seemingly feel embarrassed about now and refuse to bring up. Charles has a hard time picturing it having only known you as you are. 

The woman you’ve grown into is someone else completely, and Charles sees that in you all the time. Compassionate like Hosea but charismatic like Dutch, and clever. And you’re beautiful, too, though Charles feels a little shallow admitting that’s part of what drew you into him. 

It wasn’t Charles that approached you first. You were the one who spoke to him, as often as you thought necessary but never in a way he found invasive. He doesn’t know what it is exactly about you that charms him near instantly. You’re enigmatic to a fault. It’s like you always know exactly what to say and exactly when to say it. Even more than that, you’re a terribly pleasant person to be around. Subtly warm and free of assumptions. When Charles talks to you about anything, you listen without making him feel like it’s any sort of burden to you. You don’t pry, don’t make missteps. Treat him fair, and then some. 

It’s unbearably simple, just how quickly and how easily he comes to adore you.  And, in some ways, Charles knows better than to believe that his purpose is loving someone. There’s more to it than that, surely - after everything. 

But then, he’ll watch you do something. Watch you do some kind of menial work that he could do for you instead. Thinks of skinning animals for new clothes and chopping wood and rubbing the soap off of you and all of a sudden it makes him feel anchored. Everything he could do for you. You anchor Charles easily, with a wispy smile. Make him want to find purpose in life with you. He never wants to be somewhere you’re not. 

He confesses it to you just like that, and like you do with most things - you accept and reciprocate without making too much of a fuss. 

For Charles, making love is an extension of wanting to ground himself in you. A distant siren song - the intersection of lust and bone deep adoration. Like most things, you’re the one to approach first every time. A soft hand on his forearm, a whisper that you want him. It’s with ease that he draws you away. Drags from you camp during nightfall with his horse and blankets and picks a spot with the perfect view of the stars. 

Charles watches you under the glow of moonlight, his vision adjusting to you easily. Naked underneath him, laid on your back with your legs folded at your knees - heaving deep breaths. He can see the sweat beading down your skin, your chest rising and falling - and the perfect view of your pussy. His hands and mouth are wet as you breathe out. He finds himself smiling at you, his own erection pressed against your thigh, pre-cum leaking out in a mesmerized haze. 

You lift your hands up and he leans down, surprised as you wrap them around his neck and pull him closer to you. Your mouths meet like that, and Charles laughs against your lips as you kiss him so eagerly. You blink at him, pretty. You’re always prettier than he remembers you being the last time he looks. 

“Charles,” You frown at him. “It’s impolite to keep a lady waiting,” 

He kisses the corner of your mouth. “Sorry, my love. I don’t want to hurt you,” 

“Well, I’m fine with it,” You repeat, almost petulant. Charles frowns. “‘Sides, it ain’t my first time taking you, you know?” 

“Well, I’m not fine with it.” 

You pout, looking at him all endeared. Charles couldn’t help but love you even if he tried. “You ain’t gonna hurt me. C’mon. Please?” 

“Please, what?” 

You look at him aghast before breaking out into a faux-scandalized giggle. “Now you—please fuck me. Pretty, please.” 

Charles feels something tickling against his spine hearing you say it. He couldn’t imagine getting sick of you in his whole life.  “Yeah, that’s good to hear.” 

You make an indignant noise but it’s silenced quickly as Charles positions himself against your entrance. He has plenty of discipline when it comes to matters like these, but right now - he feels like he’s going to lose his mind. Not nearly enough patience to wait. He lets his hands go up underneath your knees just to have something to hold onto. 

You make a little gasp as the tip of his cock pushes into you. Your walls are so soft, likely after all the orgasms he’d given you prior. You stop him in a shocked gasp, and Charles immediately readies himself to pull out. As if sensing his hesitance, you shake your head. 

“Charles,” You gasp, the words caught in your throat and hoarse “Deep. Want it deep,” 

His abdomen tightens, cocking twitching hard at your words. He agrees silently to your desires. 

When it comes to sex, there’s very little Charles dislikes.

But this is his favorite. He’s simple but no other position lets him see you so close. He likes the way your eyes widen as he pushes up underneath your knees and folds you underneath his weight. How you look pinned down under him, the perfect view of your eyes rolling back into your head and the proximity from your face to his. He lets his cock stretch you out slowly, throbbing each time your nails dig desperately into arms trying to keep your composure. Fuck you feel so tight like that. Soft pussy, dripping and sticky. You suck him in relentlessly, and Charles groans as he bottoms out. You take every inch of him so well. So perfect like the rest of you. 

Your eyes flutter open as he stays there, buried in you in complete bliss. You’re dazed. 

“Kiss?” 

Surprise followed by adoration, he abides by your request easily. Overwhelmed with it as he presses a chaste peck to your mouth, he laughs. “As many as you want.”

Anything you want, Charles thinks, he would give to you. 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

#arthur morgan x reader #john marston x reader #javier escuella x reader #charles smith x reader #rdr2 x reader #rogues love letters #red dead redemption 2 x reader #THIS IS THE LAST TIME. THE LAST FUCKING TIME !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[cryptidghostgirl]

Make You Wish Chapter Four -- Vox

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: I don't think there are any for this chapter? Correct me if I am wrong.

Word Count: 1,225

Previous Part: Chapter Three -- A Reunion

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List 

Make You Wish Master List

A/N I wasn't planning on posting this until tomorrow, but it seems to have some rather excited fans so here is chapter four (and the fourth thing I'm publishing today. We're very done for the day. I am tried and have actual work to do.) Also guys, I'm screaming. I accidentally deleted the whole things right before I was gonna post it. Thankfully I had a draft from when it was almost done save but like, god that sucked.

On the screen was Vox, seated behind a desk.

"Top of the hour and we're discussing a certain has-been how has been spotted cavorting around town after a seven year absence." Vox was saying, a poorly drawn image of Alastor displayed on the screen to his left.

Y/n saw Alastor's ear twitch with irritation.

"Yeah." she sighed, folding her arms across her chest, "Vox has gone kinda crazy since you left. I told you, things got tough."

"Did anybody miss him? Did anybody notice? More on tonight's program." Vox said through the TV, shuffling a stack of papers.

Alastor changed the channel with another flick of his finger.

"Hun, don't worry yourself with it." Y/n advised, "He's still gonna be there tomorrow."

The new channel showed a talk-show set up, Vox-2-Nite, where Vox was both host and guest.

"So, the old Radio Demon is back in town." host Vox was saying to himself as guest.

"Why is he hanging around?" guest Vox asked, taking a sip from a mug that had 'fuck Alastor' written on the side.

"Al." Y/n warned, sensing her friends irritation growing.

"What does that mean for your family?" Host Vox asked before Alastor changed the channel again.

Vox was on the screen again, before a bright red curtain.

"Well, handily, I've got good news." he was saying theatrically, "He's a loser, a fossil, and I don't mean to sound hostel-"

Alastor changed the channel again. This time to one of Vox's mega church broadcasts. Vox stood in the center of the screen wearing a pope's hat with an inverted cross on it.

"But the demon is a coward!" he announced, his words matching the previous channels sentiments perfectly.

"Jesus, V." Y/n asked, eyes wide, "How many channels are you running this on?"

"You can take that as gospel. Pulling my viewers? Impossible. I'm visual, he's barely audible."

"Y/n." Alastor hummed, his eyes still fixed on the screen.

"Yeah?"

"You wont mind if I handle this quickly. We can have our little chat after, I promise. It wont take more than a moment."

"I don't know, Al..." Y/n sighed, crossing her arms and tapping her foot slightly, "This isn't good for you, letting him get under your skin like this."

Alastor changed the channel again. A cooking show appeared and Vox was standing before the oven, singing along to the music playing in the background.

"But he should've stayed away! While he hid in radio, we pivoted to video!"

Vox on screen turned to the oven as he sang, opening it and pulling out a deer's head on a plate. Y/n bristled at the site, her horns growing just the tiniest bit longer, her teeth just the smallest bit sharper.

"And now his medium is getting bloody rare!"

"Al?" Y/n asked sharply.

"Yes, darling?"

"I lied." Y/n turned to face him, "He took this shit musical. Rip him a new one."

"Oh!" Millie exclaimed, excitedly grabbing onto Moxxie's arm, "We're gonna get a show!"

Alastor's grin widened at Y/n's words, if that was even possible. He stuck his hand out to the side, his microphone materializing in his grasp.

"Lucky for me, I've got the best voice this side of the divide on my side." he noted, shooting Y/n a look.

Her eyes flashed red.

"You flatter me."

Alastor brought his microphone to his mouth, suddenly exceedingly calm. The imps present in the room watched in shock as his ears flattened along his head.

"Salutations, good to be back on the air!" he announced into the device, "Yes I know it's been a while since someone with style treated hell to a broadcast. Sinners rejoice!"

Vox's brow furrowed on the TV screen as he inched up close to the camera.

"What a dated voice." Vox shot back, clearly listening to Alastor's broadcast on the set of his cooking show.

"Instead of a clout chasing, mediocre, video podcast." Alastor continued, not showing any sign he had noticed the TV demon's insult, "Is Vox insecure, pursuing allure? Flitting between this fad and that, is nothing working?"

"Ignore his chirping!" Vox commanded from the TV.

Y/n laughed and, turning to face Alastor, realized the man held a hand out to her. With a smile, she took it and he spun her into his arms as he spoke. The music echoed through the office as Alastor raised the volume on the TV once again.

"Every day he's got a new format."

Alastor spun Y/n back out again as the pair began dancing.

"You're looking at the future!" Vox yelled back, "He's the shit that comes before that!"

As Alastor spun Y/n back into his arms, she laid one of her hands on top of his holding the microphone and pulled it closer to her face.

"Is Vox as strong as he purports, or is it based on his support?" she sang in a clear voice, Blitzo, Millie, and Moxxie's eyes widening with recognition at the sound, "He'd be powerless without the other Vees."

"That's true!" Alastor noted, pulling the microphone back to himself as Y/n let go of his hand and he spun her back out again.

"It can't be..." Moxxie muttered under his breath.

"Holy shit!" Millie cut him off, excitement creeping into her voice, "There's no way, Y/n is the guest star?"

"The fuck are you two talking about?" Blitzo asked, turning to Millie and Moxxie as they watched the couple continue to dance.

"Well, Sir," Moxxie began, fiddling with the cuffs of his jacket, "back before the Radio Demon went missing, he used to bring guests onto the show on occasion. There was one guest he never named during his broadcasts however. She mostly just sang songs and chatted with him but, she sounded an awful lot like Y/n did just now."

"You don't say." Blitzo hummed, his arms crossed as he turned back to Y/n and Alastor, "So much for little miss 'oh, my life has been so boring. You'd probably just fall asleep if I started talking about it!' She is so gonna get it later."

Alastor let go of Y/n's hand and leaned into the microphone, beginning to sing as well, using the music emanating from the TV as a base.

"And here's the sugar on the cream: he asked me to join his team!"

"Hold on!" Vox yelled.

"I said no and now he's pissy, that's the tea!" Alastor finished, ignoring the demon once again.

"You old timey prick!" Vox exclaimed, his face glitching slightly as Y/n wandered back over to Alastor.

She leaned an elbow on his shoulder, tilting her head to the side in amusement as they watched Vox struggle.

"I'll show you suffering!"

"Aww, the TV is buffering." Y/n said, leaning into the microphone, her voice dripping with sickly sweet pity.

"I'll destroy yoo-o-u-u" Vox exclaimed as his technical difficulties seemed to grow worse.

Alastor and Y/n exchanged a wicked pair of smiles as the TV flickered out. Shadows crept from the edges of the room, encircling their feet. Alastor held an arm out to Y/n once again which she took with a smile. In a flash of darkness, they were gone.

"What the fuck was that?" Loona asked, stalking into the room.

----

Next Part -> Chapter Five -- The Conversation

#x reader #fic writer #x reader fics #x reader writer #alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #fanfic #fanfic writer #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor fanfiction #the radio demon #radio demon #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin #hazbin hotel #make you wish #helluva boss x reader #helluva boss x y/n #helluva boss x you #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #alastor x you #x reader fanfiction #x you #x reader fanfic

[thesmallonesblog]

Just a Jeonghan voice message sucking up to you basically...

Hey it's me. Your boy. Your fave. The one you dream about every night. At least I hope you do or we have a lot to talk about.

I know it's late and you're asleep or just avoiding my calls which if so, ouch. What if I was in danger, in need, lost and alone and afraid? Then what?

I know you're rolling your eyes at that last part.

I know depite the dramatics you're intrigued as to why I'm calling though.

The reason?

You.

After we dropped you off at home Gyu and I were talking and you know what he had the audacity to say to me? That you were going to get a restraining order aganist me if I keep staring at you the way I do. I told him to stop being so dramatic. He's just jealous that I don't give him the attention that I give you.

He didn't deny it either.

But it got me thinking. I don't think I told you once tonight how beautiful you looked. I was so caught up in taking you all in that I was at a loss for words when it came to telling you how you made my heart do backflips. I could have stared at you all night.

The way your whole face lit up whenever Hoshi told you one of his horrible jokes. The way your eyes crinkled at the corners, your laugh filling my ears like the purest music. How animated you got, almost like you were living every moment of the elabote stories Seungkwan kept telling you from our tour.

I can't get enough of you. I never want to get enough of you. I want to keep you close to me always so that I can see you enjoying life. To hear your laugh, To take in your beauty. My world is brighter with you in it. It's complete. I couldn't ask for amything more in this life. I feel so foolish for not being able to tell you this all in person. When I see you tomorrow I'm sure I'll tell you this all again and more. I just couldn't go to sleep without telling you.

And if you listen to this and happen to think 'Hey you know what, this guy is crazy and maybe I should get a restraining order' I'm blaming Gyu for manifesting it and it wont' be pretty.

Please don't let Gyu win this battle - it'll go right to his head and I'll never hear the end of it.

But more so, don't because I need you in my life, I want you in my life and I don't want that to change.

Ok, I think I've poured enough of my heart out to your voicemail for one night. I can't promise I won't do it again tomorrow night.

Maybe you do need a restraining order aganist me.

Ok, love you, miss you BYE

#seventeen #seventeen imagines #svt x reader #svt #svt fluff #svt imagines #svtcreations #svt fanfic #jeonghan

[borntoyearn]

Everything hurts. Your boobs, your lower back, your legs...fuck everything aches. It's the last month of your pregnancy and you want to die. Not literally, but god these last weeks have been hell. Simon has been so damn patient with you– just yesterday you snapped at him for "crunching too loud" on his cereal. He apologized and sat at the other end of the couch.

He's been an angel, and you want to cry for how mean you've been to him. He swears he gets whiplash from your mood swings, but he wouldn't have it any other way. You're carrying his baby– he has no right to complain about your moodiness.

Uncomfortable is the word you would use to describe the last days until you become a family of three. You can't even sneeze without peeing a little, its fucking embarrassing. Most of all, the new ache between your legs is insane. It's so sensitive down there, when the inseam of your leggings brushes the nub just right, you almost whine.

Simon's almost-new-dad status doesn't help. He works around the house and looks so fucking sexy doing it. You came back from a walk some days ago and found him sitting in the nursery, brows furrowed trying to decipher the crib instructions. You fought every urge not to pounce on him. Today though, its unbearable. You need to cum, like...right now.

"Babe my boobs hurt," the first hint...well, hardly a hint. But it's a start. Simon only humphs in response, apparently the documentary on Machu Picchu is more important than your current predicament.

"Uh hello? They fucking hurt, Simon" you press. Okay, watch your tone, breathe...he's just invested in the Incas right now.

"Can you help me?" you plead. Now he turns to look over at you. "What do you need, love?" his tone is calm, even that makes you feral. But fuck, what do you need? Well...

"Take off my shirt please" you give him your best doe eyes. Simon puts down the remote on the coffee table and scoots closer to you. "Arms up princess" your pussy pulses at the nickname, "My bra too please, it's killing me." He takes both garments off so gently. "That all you need?" Fuck no, not even close.

"Take your shirt off."

"Mine? Why?"

"I want you hold me."

He complies, of course he does. Simon has been fighting the horny demons too. Jerking off doesn't even help anymore– he needs you just as much as you need him.

His shirt is off and he lays down, you lay next to him. Chest to chest...or belly to belly is more accurate. It's just not enough. You grow impatient, "Babe, I need you." It's barely a whisper, but dripping with want. "I don't think we can anymore, doll." You want to stomp like a child. Your current position only lets you nudge his foot with yours. "Please baby. I think I'll die if I don't have you." He chuckles, "I'm so serious, Simon. If I don't cum in the next thirty minutes you wont have a wife anymore." He doesn't say anything, but you know he's thinking.

"Okay, flip over" Fuck yes. Finally. It's happening. You miss him...so much. The last time he took you to pound town was after your baby shower, two months ago.

You're on your back now and Simon is on his knees between your legs, looking down at you. "Promise me you'll tell me if it gets too much." He's serious and you shudder. "Yeah, I promise honey." He leans down and gives your cheek a kiss, then your forehead, and finally your lips. "Thank you" he says. He dips his head to plant wet kisses on your neck, your collarbone. He lays his head on your chest for a moment, and continues on his venture. Your breasts are equally as pleading as you are, begging to be touched. He gives them a light squeeze, he knows they're sensitive. Then he suckles on your left nipple, massaging the other. You mewl...its been so long.

You two used to go at it daily, even earlier in your pregnancy. Then your body started to change and things started to get uncomfortable, so sex was off the table until the baby arrived. Right now, you're so happy. His mouth feels amazing on your tits, but you need him somewhere else.

"Simon, baby" you manage to speak, "need your mouth on me"

"It is on you" he challenges.

"You know what I mean."

"I don't think I do" oh he loves you like this, he'll make you beg if he has to. But you don't have the patience, not tonight.

"On my pussy. Need your mouth on my pussy." You moan and arch into his touch. You can't even see that his hand is under your shorts and panties. Another belly problem.

"I've got you mama, don't worry." You swear you cream. He takes off your shorts and scoots back to dip his head between your legs. He presses his nose into your clothed core and inhales deep, "Fuck you smell amazing." Simon can be so nasty, but you love it.

You jerk hard when he presses a kiss to your pussy. He sits back a little, concerned. "You okay?" you can only nod in response. You're dizzy already and he hasn't even taken your panties off. He goes back to the task at hand. Simon drags his hands down your waist, hooks his fingers on the waistband of your panties and slides them off. The sight is to die for. Your clit is so big and puffy and red, practically screaming to be played with. He cant help but ask. "Are you in any pain, love?" you laugh. He takes that as a no.

Simon's tongue licks a fat stripe over your folds. You might die, fuck you're gonna die. He parts them and licks at the center. The way he suckles on your clit is fucking divine. Everything feels so much more intense with the pregnancy. Your legs are already twitching. Simon's tongue flicks over the angry red nub. It's getting you to the edge, fuck its too soon though. You want to cry, it cant be over yet.

"Baby no more please!" It's all you can manage to squeal. He sits back, breathless. Your juices coat his lips and chin. You wanna kiss him so bad. "C'mere please." You grab at his tattooed bicep and pull him on top of you. "Need your cock" you plead in his ear, "I need it so bad."

"Baby we cant, I'll hurt the ba-"

"Just the tip." Your negotiation skills are terrible, but you literally need this, "Please just rub your tip on me. That's all I need."

How the hell is he gonna say no to that? Simon gets up to take off his sweats and briefs. His cock springs up to his abdomen, you can see the pre that has smeared all over the tip. He gets on top of you once more, your legs immediately wrap around his waist.

"You're shaking, you cold?" Fuck you are shaking, his tongue on you and the sight of his dick have you fucking shaking. "No not cold babe, just fuck me please." Simon shakes his head and laughs, he'll never get over how needy you can get. He doesn't want to make you wait much longer, maybe you will die if he takes another minute.

He grabs his cock and rubs it between your folds, the tip bumps against your bundle of nerves– you both sigh at the contact. Once his dick is coated enough, he slides into your clenching hole. Simon has to remind himself that its just his tip for today, but the way your walls are fluttering on his head and sucking him in more...he's fighting every urge to not bury himself balls deep in you. You're a moaning mess at this point. He's moving his hips just enough to slide his cockhead in and out of you. You're almost there, but just need a little push. So you grab Simon's thumb, suck on it, and you guide it down to play with your clit. He looks at you and nearly cums too– his heavily pregnant wife, her legs spread wide open literally creaming on his dick. It could be his own personal porno.

A few more quick strokes of his cock send you over the edge. Your back arches and you moan loud, relief and pleasure wash over you. You have to smack his hand away from your pussy from the sensitivity. Simon is fucked out, he's chasing his high too.

"Where do you want it?" He's frantic, hopefully you read his mind.

"On my belly..wan' it on my belly" you respond, breathless. That was it. That was his push.

Simon pulls out and strokes himself a couple of more times. His tip a lighter color than before he fucked you, it's probably the layer of your cum. He puts his hand next to your head and leans over you. The slick fwop fwop from his dick makes you dizzy all over again. He cums hard. His seed shoots out in long strings over your tummy. He groans loud next to your ear.

"Fuuuuck, look at that. Look at the mess we made." It is a mess. You can't see the dark spot the couch has now, but that's something you'll deal with later.

Simon is still staring at the marking he gave you. He reaches over and grabs his cellphone. It'd be a sin if he didn't capture this moment. He then grabs his tossed shirt and cleans you up, stomach and pussy.

"I can't get up" you whine.

"C'mon we have to shower."

"Carry me" you jut out your bottom lip. He can't help but kiss you, his darling wife.

So carry you he does. He also washes your hair in the shower and gives some extra love to your belly. As many changes that you both have gone through, he's content to know that you'll always want him, and he damn sure will always want you.

a/n: literally ignore this rushed ass ending y'all 😖 dad!simon brainrot is tew real !! maybe i'll write some headcanons since i am not able to write long fics like this one without sounding silly LMAO

#love u if u read n reblog :* #also love u simon riley #he goes back to his docu after fucking u btw #such a dad sobsob #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader

[squerlly]

flames of desire chapter 7: setting it off

Alastor x (f! bunny reader) -NSFW-TW: mentions of rape

your POV:

"cmon relax I can make you enjoy my company in more ways then one~" with the snap of his finger the girls that were once at his side were gone, and it was me, him, and the background noise of the club "so what is a cutie like you doing here alone" "I-I was with angel..." "angel is here? well ill deal with that later, for now~" snaking one of hands on my thighs he inches closer under my dress, using his other hand to take a puff of his pipe, he blows the pink smoke in my face, drool dripping on the corners of his mouth "how about we have some fun yes~?" "wait-" my words are trailed off as I start to feel dizzy, I feel light like I could be blown away by the slightest breath, my body begins to feel hot, really hot "w-what did you do to me...." "oh nothing you wont enjoy" being laid down on the seat my head spins and his hands lift my dress "no- stop!" "don't fight it I know you want to~" no I'm not going to let this happed, come on y/n snap out of it!!, grabbing his hands I push him off "No I wont" frustrated he yanks me forward pinning me, my chest pressed against the seat "damn you stubborn bitch!" "NO get off of me!!!" after a while of struggling somebody pulls me up, everything went silent, no people just music. opening my eyes there's a hand around my waist, looking up its Alastor?! what the hell is he doing here!!

Alastors POV:

when my shadow informed me that valentino was at the club and with her I rushed there, were the fuck was angel, why isn't he with her!!! barging in the club everybody moves out of my way as I storm past the crowd seeing valentino on her. I rush to grab her up pulling her dress back down "valentino, I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut this short" "alastor, what are you doing here!" valentino said through gritted teeth, I tried my best not rip all four of his arms off right then and now, maybe later...."I'm afraid your messing with something that's mine" "uh huh ho does this little conejita have a contract with you" "no but that doesn't give you permission to touch her without permission!" "if she doesn't belong to you, then she free game~" "you wont dare if you value your life!" by now my patients is running thin "I'm taking her and if you ever lay a finger on her you will never see that finger again!!" picking her up I walk of with her in my arms, the poor thing was shaking and she smells of alcohol, surly drunk "this isn't over Alastor I will get her eventually!!!!" ignoring Valentinos yelling I head out of the club, outside was a very panicked angel.

your POV:

I have a terrible headache, I'm cold and I cant think straight what the fuck is happening, being carried I look up at Alastor he looked pissed, angry, the static radiating off of him was loud but he was gentle, like he was holding a piece of glass. angel ran over "Y/N!! there you are, iv been looking every wear for ya!! what happened" as angel reached out to touch me Alastor pulled back "angel you said valentino wasn't supposed to be there" "he wasn't h-he was supposed to be filming with the others back at-" "well he wasn't, and because of your carelessness valentino got his hands on y/n" angel turning his attention to me "he didn't hurt ya did he, y/n are you alright!?" "no angel I'm-" "he almost did, I'm taking her back, this will never happen again"

back at the hotel we walked through he doors, Charlie and vaggie waiting for us "Y/N!!! oh my Satan are you ok, we saw Al running out of the doors in a hurry" how did he know I was in trouble..."I'm alright Charlie I promise" "what happened!" "unfortunately valentino was at the club and angel lacking in supervision lost her, letting valentino take his chance" "Voy a matarlo! (im gonna fucking kill him)" "I got there just in time" "thankfully she's ok, you guys are ok..." "I'm gonna...I'm gonna go change"

walking out of the lobby Alastor follows close behind me "what are you doing.." "making sure you get back to your room" "why" "do I need a reason?" "no but can you explain how the hell you knew I was in trouble!" he pauses for a moment stopping in the hallways by my door "I was watching you.." "why are you stalking me" "because angel is carless and I was just being cautious!" "ok but you didn't have to be so mean to angel he was just-" "just what!?, explain to me my dear what do you think would have happened if I wasn't watching you, angel couldn't saved you because he was to busy fooling around" "why do you care!" "what do you mean why do I care" "the radio demon a mercy less overlord who was known for his broadcasted carnage over hell, heartless, and terrifying so why... why are you so concerned for me, I mean nothing to you, you follow me around give me weird looks, vaggie told me about you, told me to stay away..." "I don't know, I don't understand why..." looking up his smile is almost none existent, his eyes are dark as he look at me, the radio static in his voice was gone, just his plane old voice "I though my interest was just playful amusement, to toy around a bit, but the more I know about you, your smile your laugh that dress, it irks me, this feeling... I-I don't know what you did!" "Alastor-" "I would kill a demon for even looking at you funny!, I never cared about some lowly sinner...but I care about you, you have me rapped around your little finger and you don't even know it" all this time I though he wanted to kill me, even eat me or something but I never realized "Alastor.." I huff out a small laugh "what's so funny..." "I didn't put a spell on you, or curse you, or anything" grabbing his hand "this is all you and its completely normal" bringing my hand up to cup his cheek he leans in to the touch "don't look at me like that, you did something and I know it.." he mutters as I lean in closer, hunching over he leans in breaking the distance into a soft kiss pulling me closer. once I pulled away, looking at him I smile "I don't think I will ever understand this feeling but...I will try my best to show you how I feel" bringing my hand to his lips he places a soft kiss "goodnight my dear and get some much needed rest~" "goodnight Alastor"

I hope you enjoyed and I love you guys so much for the love and support have a wonderful day/night!!!

-squerlly

@pooplyface1423 @strippezzz

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#hazbin #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x reader smut #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x y/n

[bytedykes]

one thing i noticed (and loved!!!!) in nimona is the different eye-shine shapes. specifically the way they changed as the story progressed, specifically focusing on ballister and ambrosius

[ID: screenshots of Ambrosius and Ballister speaking. They both have a similarly shaped, rhomboid, square diamond eye shine. /end ID]

in this first scene their eyeshines are a very similar square diamond shape. they still share it right after the part where ambrosius cuts ballister's arm off

[ID: screenshots of the two of them looking at each other, both still with a matching eyeshine shape. /end ID]

however immediately after, when ballister falls through the hole in the platform we get a brief shot of his face:

[ID: slightly blurry closeup of Ballister's face. His eye shines now seem more square. /end ID]

later we see ballister creating his new arm, and immediately after when nimona knocks on the door we see his eyes again, and the shines are completely square. not really any ambiguity to it, the tilt of them is entirely gone

[ID: closeup of Ballister's face, the eyeshines now square with the flat edge on the bottom. /end ID]

ballister isnt super consistent with this, but from here on his eyeshines remain mostly square. there are a few moments when they tilt again to resemble how they were in the first scene, eg. when he's telling nimona he's not a villain, and when she reminds him that ambrosius cut off his arm and he tells her its complicated, as well as more later that i wont get into now

[ID: screenshots of the above mentioned scenes, in both Ballister's eyeshines have a more oblong rhomboid vertically-oriented shape. /end ID]

BUT!!! a bit later, when he and nimona bump into ambrosius as they're breaking out of the castle,

[ID: screenshots of Ambrosius and Ballister looking at each other, both again with diamond shaped eyeshines. /end ID]

wow look at that they match again! ballister's are a bit more square and ambrosius's are more elongated, but again they have a very similar shape! however immediately after...

[ID: closeups of Ballister's face. In the first his eyeshines are square, in the second they are more diamond shaped. /end ID]

the first screenshot here is when he says "did you see the way he looked at me?" to nimona. the second is right after he says "he really thinks I killed the queen." by this point you probably can tell where i'm going with this post

also this is the part where i just now noticed nimona's upper earring on her left ear is a star hoop :) very neat

nimona snaps ballister out of his daze (square again), makes him promise he wont freak out (still square) and then he rides off on rhino-nimona (square). when he sees and almost runs over ambrosius in the hallway, the brief seconds he's looking at him, his eyeshines tilt again into a diamond. no screenshot of this one because it's hard to get the timing right on motion shots

when ballister wakes up back at the lair they're square again

[ID: screenshot of Bal in the lair, his eyeshines square. /end ID]

when he's looking at the photo wall (at ambrosius's photo specifically) i expected them to become diamonds again, but here they stay square! i am quickly realizing this post is mostly an excuse to stare closely at ballister's big baby seal eyes

[ID: screenshot of Ambrosius's photo, where his eyeshines are upright triangles. /end ID]

in the photo ambrosius's eyeshines are triangles which isn't a shape we've seen on him before. i dont think this really means anything though its just neat

skipping to the part where ambrosius says he'll be the one to hunt down ballister, his eyeshines are triangular here too, in person this time

[ID: closeup of Ambrosius's face. His eyeshines are triangular. /end ID]

during his declaration to "find ballister, and bring him to me" however his eyeshines are briefly diamond shaped again

[ID: Ambrosius looking down in sadness or resignation, with diamond eyeshines. /end ID]

back to bal. in the subway, both nimona's version of ballister and the real ballister have square eyeshines.

[ID: Nimona-as-Ballister with a pathetic expression, and the real Ballister with a disapproving one. Both have square eyeshines. /end ID]

in the next scene where the knights are looking at the subway footage, ambrosius's eyeshine shape has changed again:

[ID: closeups of Ambrosius's face. He has oblong reverse triangle eyeshines. /end ID]

they are now long triangles. my eyesight isnt awesome so the first time i watched this part i thought they were hearts :) but theyre triangles

i dont have it in me to rewatch the entire movie for this post so skipping to way later when ballister is trying to convince ambrosius the director is the one behind the queen's murder. the lines said are important here too

[ID: Ambrosius's face right before Ballister pulls out the phone with the video proof. Second image is Ballister's face after the phone is shot from his hand. Ambrosius has diamond eyeshines and Bal has square ones. /end ID]

the line bal is saying in that screenshot is "it doesn't matter. you shouldn't need proof. you know i'm not a murderer." then:

[ID: Ambrosius is pointing a sword at Ballister. Ballister's eyeshines are square, Ambrosius's are hard to see but resemble diamonds. /end ID]

AND THEN:

[ID: Ambrosius looking up at Nimona when she shoots into the air. His eyeshines are triangles. /end ID]

during their nacho meetup at the [checks notes] tavern? bar? nacho place? whatever. their eyeshines are square and triangle respectively

[ID: three consecutive shots of their conversation. Ballister has square eyeshines; then Ambrosius has triangular eyeshines; the last picture is of Ambrosius putting his hand over Ballister's prosthetic one. /end ID]

their shapes remain this way for a while until a key moment where ballister looks at nimona's rampage and realizes he fucked up BAD

[ID: closeup of Ballister's face, with distinctly diamond eyeshines. Behind him a fire rages. /end ID]

it's not clear in the screenshot but the fire in the background is ALSO diamond shaped which probably means nothing but again, is pretty neat

and then yeah basically from there their eyeshines stay the same shape to the end of the movie including the epilogue. i cant add any more images to this post though so i will have to stop here!!! just take my word for it. their (i say their but i really mean ballister's, because ambrosius doesn't get any more good eye shots after the beginning of the epilogue) stay their respective shape until the very end

"wow, nik, this post was beyond pointless" you might be thinking and yeah maybe!!! this may be all coincidence and i may be looking for things that are not even remotely there!!! but guess what i sat here for over an hour taking screenshots and putting this post together so by god i WILL see it to its end

my idea is that the changing eyeshine shapes represent their paths splitting and then coming back together again. at the beginning they have the same eyeshine shape; they're together, they understand each other, they think the same way. (this is a good time for me to note that the director's eyeshine shape is also a vertically oriented rhombus.)

then the betrayal happens. ballister kills the queen, ambrosius cuts of ballister's arm. they still have the same eyeshine shape here; but then ballister falls and ambrosius doesn't fall with him. this is where they separate - this is the betrayal

after making himself a prosthetic ballister's eyeshines are a different shape, more clearly now. he is apart from ambrosius, they're no longer a unit. however his eyeshines still appear as diamonds occasionally, namely in moments where he's with or thinking about ambrosius (or the institute, im mainly thinking of the "im not a villain" line when he's thinking i'm still a knight, i'm still good)

ambrosius's eyeshines are still the same diamond-like shape. when he and ballister see each other again they briefly share a shape again. it's not as similar anymore, and they're not the same as they were. there's still this rift of betrayal between them. but in that moment they're having, well, a moment

in the closet when he's thinking of ambrosius's betrayal (did you see the way he looked at me?) his eyeshines change between square and diamond

then cut to ambrosius, who's eyeshines are also a different shape now: when he's formalizing his betrayal to he and ballister's relationship, officially declaring that he will be the one to hunt him down. but there's a moment where his armor is being put on where he looks down with guilt and diamond shaped eyeshines

i dont even want to talk about the subway footage part because i still keep mistaking the long triangles for hearts which is killing me. killing me DEAD. if his eyeshines were really hearts when he was saying things like "something doesn't feel right, he hates freestyle jazz" i think i'd just explode or something. moving on

during the confrontation at the institute, before ballister tries to pull out the phone and is telling ambrosius he has proof, ambrosius's eyeshines are diamonds! just like in the beginning! i think here it's more representative of how he wants to believe ballister, despite the director whispering in his ear not to, how he badly wants for all of this to be a misunderstanding and for proof that ballister didn't betray the institute, didn't betray him. he doesn't want to lose his best friend (and more)

but ballister's eyeshines are square here- like he says a few seconds later, "you shouldn't need proof." he's being betrayed again, ambrosius doesn't believe in him after all. but even when pointing a sword at ballister he looks at him with diamond eyeshines. when nimona begins doing her thing his eyeshines are triangles again, like he and ballister are fully diverging paths again

you get the idea. their eyeshines are representing of their emotions about, and relationship with each other. so then why don't they go back to the diamond shape at the end of the movie? why are their eyeshines different even when it's clear that they've made up, they're happy now, things are different?

well i DO have an explanation for this. things are different now! they're no longer under the thumb of the institute (is this a good time to mention again that the director's eyeshines are also diamonds), a section of the wall is down, the kingdom is different! it's changing!

and so have they! the way i'm choosing to read into this, is that they're not the same people as they were at the beginning of the movie. they're not both brainwashed into thinking the same way, having the same ideology where cutting off your boyfriend's arm instead of disarming him isn't only justifiable, it's what's expected. now they're their own people, who aren't under constant pressure of a legacy or an institute. they've grown! and now it's okay that they don't think the exact same, because they love each other, and are now capable of loving each other like this

tldr this movie is great i love it here :)

obviously this might all just be a coincidence and im just overthinking it lol but whatever i spent this long reading into it i might as well hit post

edit: people have mentioned that ND retweeted stuff relating to this so it IS intentional! yayy i love being right

also for the love of god do not add undescribed images to this post. it takes like two seconds to describe a screenshot just use the same formula ive used for every single image here. please i can't keep doing this

#nimona #nimona spoilers #nimona 2023 #ballister boldheart #ballister blackheart #ambrosius goldenloin #nimona meta #i think?? does this count as meta #oh yeah read my fucking post boy #goldenheart

[lumibuns-blog]

Gojo is my life

Same bed trope with Gojo (fluffy)

I don't proof read anything so I apologize for my terrible spelling

Gojo didn't know wether he wanted kiss or kill Ijichi for screwing up the hotel booking and booking only one room with one bed in a sold out hotel.

He was standing there next to you, both of you were speechless, just standing in place as you realize there was no backing out of this situation.

"Taking me to hotel? Wouldn't your house been a bit nicer?" He joked trying to cover up his nerves.

"Very funny" you respond "but seriously what are we going to do about this?"

"Well I obviously did the most work on the mission so far, so there for I deserve the-"

"Alright yeah you can take the bed just give me a blanket for the floor" you say cutting him off

Your friend was disheartened, he had hoped he would try and coax you into sharing the bed, but you were to nice to go against his attitude.

He sat disappointed on the bed while you changed and washed your face (he faced the opposite way to make sure he didn't see anything that would fluster him)

When you both got settled in, you could barely sleep, it was obviously uncomfortable on the floor and Gojo's tossing and turning was helping

'Is he trying to rub it in?' you think

Little did you know Gojo couldn't sleep either because he was too worried about you being uncomfortable to relax.

About an hour passed before he couldn't take it anymore and he turned to lean his head off the bed down towards you.

"Psssst hey are you asleep?" He whisper yells

You begin to sit up "well I'm trying to but-"

You suddenly realize you are face to face with him, you lips so close they could almost be touching, his eyes seemed to glow even in the dark with that mischievous twinkle.

"Oh-I um sorry" you stuttered, turning away

"It's ok, um...don't worry about it" he responded trying to play it off. "if you can't sleep the bed is big enough for the both of us and some room so you can join if ya want, I promise I wont try anything funny" he chuckles

You were half asleep and in a stupor from your last interaction with him already so surprisingly you agreed and he scooted over to make room for you.

"Night" you whisper facing away from him

"Yeah night" he sighs wishing he didn't have to sleep back to back

Within minutes Gojo finally passes out, letting himself go spread eagle with one arm and one leg flopped haphazardly on top of you. You're annoyed but also a little amused he fell asleep so quickly.

You turn over to face him and are met with the most peaceful version of your friend you've ever seen, his pretty eye lashes gently closed and his mouth open with just a bit of drool on his chin. With that image firmly burned into your memory you finally go to sleep.

Gojo wakes up at about 5:00 AM because of a certain weight on his chest. His eyes open to see that in your sleep you had grabbed onto his shirt and pulled your face right into the crook of his neck while snuggling the rest of your body on his side.

The man who always has so much to say is left speechless, he didn't ever realize his arm was curling to protectively hold you against him, he had never felt so at peace, never been held into like he was the only thing in the world. He never wanted to let you go, wanted this feeling to last forever. He relaxed into the best sleep he's had in his whole life.

You woke up in the same position Gojo had found you in, completely flustered you try to move but his arms keep you in place. All you can do is helplessly look at that handsome face

You feel him stir and watch as his eyes flutter open, for what feels like an eternity you just look at each other, blushing.

"I guess I'll need to thank Ijichi" he smirks before grabbing both sides of your face to pull you in for a long awaited kiss.

#gojo fanfic #gojo fluff #gojo x reader #gojo my love #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x you #jjk x you #jjk fluff #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader fluff #gojo is love gojo is life #jjk #jjk x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic

[mrsparrasblog]

I wont pay for your therapy after this🥲

Mrs. MacTavish

Scotland—Johnny's birthplace and the place where he would be laid down permanently. The three men closest to him, the men who saw him die, stood together with his ashes in their hands. It felt surreal for them; of course, they knew something like this could happen. They had all lost a great deal of friends, but this was different. This task force should have been invincible, they should have been better—too good to be killed. But here they were, only three of them.

"Who dares wins. Sleep easy, soldier."

"See you down range, brother. We take it from here."

"Rest in peace, Johnny."

The men spread his ashes; he was finally where he felt at home, at least that's what his friends, his brothers in duty, thought.

They sat together in a rundown pub, unsure how to grieve or how to throw a worthy wake. Price said he didn't have any family left, so they were all he had, and they still failed him.

An order of his favorite whiskey stood on the table they usually occupied.

"He'd love that, he loved this place," Gaz said, trying to reassure his brothers. He now needed to be the glue of the group, the job Soap had before.

"One time, he hit an officer when he was still a rookie. The officer touched a female civilian, and Soap knocked him out. He almost got kicked out of the military, but he didn't press charges—too embarrassing," Price said, earning a slight chuckle from Gaz. Ghost stayed still; he was frozen since the death of his best friend.

"He almost beat my record at the SAS. Made me proud when I saw him in the recruitment," Gaz told them.

"He was the best," Ghost said. His voice sounded monotone; if he didn't have this thick British accent, he would have sounded like a robot.

"He tried to enlist in the SAS several times at 16, lying about his age each time," Price chuckled at the thought of his best trainee.

"He was more than his accomplishments." The other two men looked confused at Ghost; they weren't as close, he knew him better than them.

"Of course, he was, son."

"He had a journal, always drawing each of us, calling us his family. But now, he is dead. We failed him," Ghost said, bringing Gaz and Price down from their attempts to cheer him up and to appreciate Soap's life accomplishments. But he was dead, and nothing would ever change that.

After a while of drinking without speaking a word, Laswell came in, looking at the group of guys sitting down next to them. "Holding a wake for him?" she asked, nipping at the shared whiskey.

"Spread his ashes," Ghost replied shortly.

"You did what?" Her voice was loud; they could see the look of panic on her face.

"What's wrong, Kate? He would love resting in the Highlands."

"Please tell me, John, you didn't spread the whole ash."

"Kate, what's wrong?" Price asked, and she only sighed.

"I'm torn between granting the wishes of a deceased person and betraying his wishes at the same time," Laswell said. The inner conflict was visible in the wrinkles around her eyes.

"Laswell, spit it out!" Ghost shouted at her, the normally calm soldier completely losing control of his emotions.

"His last wish was that someone specific get his body in case of his early demise."

"Bullshit, he had no family left," Gaz replied, confused. His brother wouldn't lie to him about his family.

"Who is this person?" Ghost asked, his expression full of hurt. He wasn't mad like Kyle about the possibility that Johnny lied to them; Johnny was always smarter than the rest of them. He couldn't entertain the possibility that one of his brothers or whoever this person was would die because of his enemies.

"Mrs. MacTavish," Kate muttered under her breath. She promised him before joining the task force that she wouldn't, under any circumstances, tell anyone about her.

"Like his mother?" Kyle asked, and Kate only shook her head.

"He was married?"

"For ten years," Kate sighed.

"I will personally tell her and apologize," Price said. He knew this was the least he could do for him.

"I will tell her," Ghost thought. He needed to do this for his best friend, especially making sure that whoever she was, she would never be found by Makarov and could live a safe civilian life.

"Count me in, Captain," Gaz said, determined to apologize to Soap's wife. Maybe if he had been better, faster, Makarov wouldn't have gotten Soap.

These three men were as different as they could have been; the only thing about them that all of them shared was the guilt.

A few days later

The last days were harder than usual for you; the pregnancy took a toll on you. The worst part was not hearing anything from your beloved Johnny for a long time. You were used to not hearing from him; you knew what you were getting into when you decided to marry him. But you never even thought about making him retire. You loved him since high school. How couldn't you? He was a charmer. He had been in love with you since you both were 6, starting elementary school.

He asked you at least every week if you wanted to marry him when you grew older. You always declined his advances. You were sure that you even hit him once for staring too long at you. He looked like an arrogant ass who could have anyone he wanted, but somehow, he never, not even for a second in his life, thought about another woman. So after some years, you decided to give him a chance, and you never regretted this decision once in your life.

The bell rang, and you were sure it must have been one of the neighbors asking if they could have milk or eggs from the farm. But before you could gather your pregnant body up, your six-year-old son ran up, opening the door. "Maybe it's Dad, Mommy!"

"James William MacTavish, how often did I tell you not to open the door?"

Your son was a spitting image of your Johnny. It got worse when he decided that he needed to cut himself a mohawk to look like his dad. You were so happy to see Johnny's reaction to the mohawk when he came back.

At the door stood three muscular, tall guys looking down at the little boy. As Kyle saw the spitting image of Johnny, he walked to the nearest trash can and threw up. It was too much for him. The thought of a wife was bad enough, but a son too.

You walked down and gathered your son who hugged your thigh. You looked at the men; one of them was a bit older with a funny beard, and the other one was blonde with a scared face.

When Price saw the visible baby bump, his heart broke. The thought of you not only having a son but also being pregnant gave him the rest; his guilt was eating him out.

"Mrs. MacTavish?"

"Yes?" you asked in confusion. They didn't seem like the villagers who wanted to buy something from the farm, nor the parents of your students.

"We need to talk about your husband."

"No," you knew what this meant; you knew it in your gut.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. MacTavish, but your husband died while protecting his country."

You always thought these films were dramatic, but it was nothing compared to what you felt right now. The pain was indescribable; you felt like someone pulled your ground from you, and you fell, completely in shock. Your tears slowly started to roll down, and you saw how the older man held the blonde one back from reaching out to you.

"No, my Johnny, he said he would always come back. He will come back, he will come back to us, he always will," you sobbed uncontrollably.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am."

From behind, Aiofe and Maeve ran down, our oldest, the twins. "Mom, are you okay?" All your three children sat down next to you, afraid that something happened to their mom.

That was the final straw as Ghost saw even more children, his best friend left behind a wife, three children, and a little one on the way. It should have been him.

You sobbed as you spoke to your children, "It's okay, Simon is just kicking hard in my belly, nothing is wrong with Mommy. I love you."

"We love you too, Mommy."

#johnny #soap x reader #soap cod #soap mw2 #john soap mactavish #soapghost #john mactavish #johnny mactavish #john mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john price #kyle gaz garrick #cod x reader #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod #hurtful #tw death

[neverendinglabyrinth]

Analyzing 35 Portland Row:

Back at it with my set decoration posts, but lets overanalyze 35 Portland Row, shall we?

I love the way most of the house seems untouched, like it was frozen in time. Presumably, Lockwood never really "redesigned" the home from its original state, maybe a couple of changes here and there (which are more noticeable as we move on to other rooms) I say this, because of the contrast between pristine and messy in the areas.

The entryway:

I assume that the perspective pictures were taken as a way to assess how the set was going to look, in perspective 1 you can see the pillows on the bench missing, and in perspective 2 the clothing rack/hanger are completely missing.

On screen, we see that contrast I was talking about, you can see the way the clothes are almost stacked on that clothing rack (we can see George's coat, for example) I regard this as the kids respecting the space, since it is Lockwood's house they, most likely, don't want to trash it with their personal mess (or maybe George is the one that sets the 'mess-boundaries' to lighten the cleaning work).

On the other side of the spectrum we see the neat decorations and respected vases (respected as in, not using them as holders or trash bins) and the well cleaned masks and antiques hanging on the wall.

The Living Room:

This room is the "look how professional and neat we are" room, it is (by far) the cleanest one of them all, here is where they receive people and it is evident that they don't use it much by themselves, I know this because of the alarming lack of books laying around. I promise you, in Portland Row there are books EVERYWHERE.

Proof:

(these are just from the first couple episodes)

The Library:

I would argue that this is the "let's talk" room of the house, because it's the place where all of the information is. This is the room with the most "Lockwood flare", plus it's the perfect place for me to talk more about the messiness contrast.

In the scene where Lucy goes to talk to Lockwood, she has an apple core in her hand and this madwoman sets it ON THE TABLE (outrageous) but she looks for a spot where she wont ruin the table OR the books beside it. THE SELECTIVE MESS, PEOPLE! And Lockwood doesn't care, he just smiles, thankful.

Also there's a piano on the corner. (Hey! Locky, play Piano Man!)

The Kitchen:

Lockwood & Co's kitchen my beloved <3

By far my favorite room of the house, it is so cozy! From the spice rack, to the pot holders, to the kitchen utensils, the DETAILS. I'm in love, I love it.

And of course, the thinking cloth. The kitchen is the heart of Portland Row 35. And the crumbs on the table mean the world to me. LIKE DO YOU GET IT? DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE SIMBOLYSM OF CRUMBS ON THE TABLE?

I love kitchens, and I love set decor. That's all I have to say.

The Rooms:

Last sections of me nerding out about set decor, I promise!

Lockwood's Room:

It's safe to assume that Lockwood doesn't spend much time in his room, so it stays mostly neat. Probably only in use when he's sleeping or getting changed, and most of his time is spent in the library or in the kitchen with the others.

Lucy's Room:

Okay, this room is a set decor work of art. Why? Well, because it is a prime example of a characters personality shining through in a new space.

Not only does it show what it was before (a storage attic) but it also shows what it is now (a personal room) AT THE SAME TIME! You can see the way Lucy organizes everything contrasted with the way it was laid out before.

(look at the shopping bags she was carrying when talking to Kipps beside the bed, CONTINUITY!)

George's Room:

One thing about George is that he is way too excited about The Problem to care about actually cleaning and organizing his own room.

I think that his room is a physical representation of how his brain works. Books on the floor, papers stacked over anything, post it notes on the wall. You can just see the way his brain jumps from one thought to the other by the way his room is laid out!

The set decorator credits: JUDE FARR

So that's it! Im sure i missed a couple of things so if you want to add your observations, please do! And if i made any mistakes or incorrect assumptions I apologize, i am by no means and expert, I just like the subject.

#l&co #lockwood and co #lockwood netflix #locklyle #lucy carlyle #anthony lockwood #george karim #l&co. netflix #set decoration #35 portland row #neverendingthoughts #lockwood & co

[jackmanbj]

mirror mirror on the wall

AN: this is smut!💕

summary: you make a post with jack harlows favorite lingerie set and hes not to happy about it.

you watched jack leave the driveway as you quickly ran upstairs and shed of your clothes revealing a black lingerie set jack had gotten you for your birthday.

you went to the bathroom and put your hair in two pigtails and placed on some of your jewelry.

you went back in front of the mirror and pulled lightly on your hair as you posed to take your photos.

you took a couple photos and posted it on your instagram, jack being the last thing on your mind at the moment.

you went back to your bedroom and took of the lingerie changing into more comfortable clothes.

stinka💕- why the fuck did you post that y/n y/m/n?

you- what are you talking about stink?

stinka💕- you in that lingerie set? didn’t i tell your ass about playin with me?

you- sorry baby, i wasn’t thinking nothing of it when i posted it, i just looked cute!

stinka💕- just wait till i get home.

you left jack on seen as you quickly got up and went to shower and get ready for jack.

after about 2 hours you heard jack car pulling up in the driveway.

you threw your phone down on the bed and acted like you were sleeping.

when jack walked through the bedroom door you could tell he wasn’t very happy, especially since he had spammed the doors and would yell at you if you slammed a door.

“girl i know your not sleep, your not even cuddling anything you cant sleep without cuddling something.”

you slowly picked your head up to look at jack while he was taking off his belt.

“jack please, im sorry i wont do it anymore! promise!”

“no fuck that, explain to me what made you think to do that shit huh?”

“i didnt think you would be mad!”

“and you still didnt take that shit down.”

you quickly grabbed your phone ready to take it down.

“no dont take it down now, come here.”

you slowly made your way off the bed walking to jack with your head down.

he used his finger to push your head up.

“what did i tell you ‘bout posting and showing off whats mine huh?”

“i dont even get the big deal! i looked cute and everyone knows who im yours!”

“who you getting smart with?”

you rolled your eyes and jack picked you up and threw you over his shoulder.

“JACKMANNN!!”

“hush.”

jack walked over back to the bed and put you down.

you started taking off your (his) t-shirt before jack stopped you.

“did i tell you to undress?” “no..”

“you dont fucking listen.”

jack pulled down his zipper and looked at you.

“i shouldn’t even have to tell you this, take off my pants and boxers and suck.”

you did as you were told, you were slow when taking off jacks briefs, jack was growing impatient.

jack grabbed you by your throat and forced you to look at him.

jack had nothing but anger and lust in his eyes.

“y/n, if you dont quit fucking playing with me you wont get to cum at all, act like you got fucking sense before you piss be off.”

you quickly pulled off jacks boxers, his cock slapping against his stomach.

you grabbed it and spit on it using your spit as lube while jack grabbed your hair, making a makeshift ponytail.

you took jack all the way in your mouth.

you slowly sucked him knowing jack didnt like head to rough.

jack decided you weren’t going fast enough and pushed your head further down his dick.

you gagged and almost took jack out of your mouth but you knew better.

jack moaned as you sucked him, using your hand for whatever couldn’t fit into your mouth.

you tried to take jack out of your mouth but he pushed your head back.

“this dick not coming out of your mouth until cum is going down your throat understand?”

you nodded your head yes and went back to work.

“fuck!”

jack twitched into your mouth and came without warning.

you took jack out your mouth and swallowed before trying to get up.

“let me see your tongue.”

you stuck your tongue out at jack.

“good girl, get on the bed, face down ass up.”

you got up and walked over to the bed while jack smacked your ass.

you got into the position you were told, making sure to toot your ass up a little while shaking it lightly.

jack quickly put a harsh smack to your ass leaving the flesh to turn slightly red making you whine.

“i dont want to hear any whining, shut it up.”

you smacked your lips, earning yourself another, harder smack to your ass.

this time jack rubbed the skin while bending down to kiss it.

jack got behind you and rubbed his hand up and down your back, his hands were cold enough to make you shiver.

“you just want everybody to see whats mine huh? you just want to act like your available to every man in Atlanta and Louisville? huh?”

“no jack! i just looked cute!”

jack pulled on your hair roughly, pulling you up.

“first off, thats not my name right now and you know it, second, if you just looked cute why did you wait till i leave? huh?”

you went silent while jack chuckled and let go of your hair, your face falling back onto the black sheets.

“whats my name y/n?”

“jackman thomas ha-“

jack roughly pushed his whole length into you making you let or a gasp.

without warning jack started roughly thrusting into you making you cry out in pleasure.

“daddy!! its to much.” “no its not, take it like a G, you want to be all big and bad? take this shit.”

you shook your head no while jack lightly smacked the side of your face.

“you take this dick and i dont want to hear anything after that, you speak when spoken to, i dont want to hear anything but maybe a whimper, if you talk without bein’ spoken to your getting punished.”

“understand?”

you shook your head yes but that wasn’t enough for jack.

“i spoke to you, answer me.”

you opened your mouth to answer jack but nothing but moans came out.

“aww baby this dick got you cock dumb?”

“please..”

jack popped the side of your thigh, making you jump.

“didn’t i ask you something, this is my last time telling you to answer me y/n”

“yes jack i understand!!”

jack pounded into you harder, pulling your hair back when he realized what you had called him.

“yes who?”

“yes daddy fuck!!”

jack left go of your hair and continued fucking you, slapping your ass every other thrust.

the room filled with the mix of you and jacks moans.

“jack im gonna cum!”

“hold it.”

“i cantt!”

“i wasn’t asking you, i was telling you. hold that shit.”

you did as you were told and while jack pulled out making you whine.

“didnt i tell you no whines?”

“sorry j..”

“missionary get there now.”

you got into the position while jack raised your thighs up before roughly pushing into you, you grabbed at the sheets trying your hardest not to moan out loudly knowing jack hated when you damn near screamed into his ear while fucking you.

“look at my girl, taking this dick.”

jack started thrusting into one again making him grunt out louder then you moaned.

jack fucked you harder and harder until you released all over him making him pop your thigh.

“you lucking i didnt stop yo ass from cumin, you dont get to cum with out telling me or asking permission, you know better.”

“yes sir.”

jack didnt halt his thrusting, in fact he got faster trying to chase his own orgasm.

“daddy cum inside of me please.”

“i was planning on it.”

jack fucked into you harder and ended up cumin into you and collapsing onto your chest.

“fuck jack, we need to clean up.”

jack shook his head and got picking you up as well, he carried you to the bathroom and started running bath water.

you peed and joined jack in the bathtub to let him clean off your body.

you let your body relax onto him as he slowly cleaned you, you body tensed up when he got to your pussy, making sure to clean you off slowly to not agitate the sensitive area.

jack finished you off before cleaning himself off.

he got out before you and rapped a towel around his waste, he pulled the plug and let the water drain before helping you out.

jack put a towel around you and brought you into the bedroom.

“jack can you please put some lotion on me?”

“of course ma, was about to do that anyway.”

jack got the lotion and put it onto your body.

once he was done he pulled his t-shirt over your head and let you lay down while he put on his sweatpants.

by the time jack had gotten comfortable you were sound asleep.

“i love you ma, goodnight.”

jack kissed your temple and cuddled into you before his breathing slowed himself and feel asleep.

#jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jackman thomas harlow #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow x you #jack harlow x black reader #jack harlow smut

[jacktoria4ever]

Norman Fucking RockWell-a blurb for my main man Rafe Cameron😩. they’re in an argument about wtv you chose and Rafe gets mad and starts breaking stuff, scaring the reader and with a fluffy ending. If you want to, thanks love<3

I was a bit stumped on this but it's okay

What Happened To Us?

Rafe Cameron x fem!Reader

Warnings: ANGSTY ANGST...., fluff, yeeting of objects..., bad ending, crying, rafe being scary, topper being bestie, I already said fluff but FLUFFY ENDING

A/n: thank you for requesting this Love 😘😘😘 Also not me staring at the gif for 5 mins straight 🫣 lowk me just tryna figure out the layout of his apt so I know how to get to the bathroom when I move in...it's a joke. No it's not. Also I changed the name of this one like 20 times so....just ignore it if it has a bad name...

You were on the floor crying while Rafe was yelling louder than he ever had before. You were slightly surprised and also relieved you hadn't gotten a noise complaint yet. You were almost entirely positive Rafe hadn't paid any attention to how you looked, a curled up, terrified, shaking mess. You were scared and it was evident in the way you were shying away from every little move he made while yelling at you. You don't even remember why this argument started anymore. All you knew was you wanted to get out of here as soon as possible.

"Why did you do it!? Huh? What? Are you not going to talk now?" He asked too aggressive for your liking.

You just sat there suddenly remembering why this all started in the first place.

at a party earlier that night

––≡––

"Hey, Y/n, right?" A random guy said whilst walking toward you. You didn't recognize him so you thought he must be a touron. Except a touron wouldn't know your name, so who was this?

"Ummm...? Who are you?" You asked wanting to just walk away to find your boyfriend.

"I'm one of Rafe's friends. He told me to come find you." He said suspiciously in a manner you didn't believe. You know all of Rafe's friends, even Barry so him saying this confused you.

What you didn't know was Rafe was watching this encounter thinking you were flirting because from across the room your scared, awkward smile look friendly and inviting, but it wasn't. He thought you were finally trying to find someone better than him after all he's done. What he didn't know was you were occasionally trying to look around for him but didn't succeed at all.

You learned the guy's name is chez. Where he got that name, you're not sure. All you know was you wanted out of there as soon as possible.

You still refused to follow him to Rafe because you didn't know his true intentions. Rafe on the other hand thought he knew your true intentions which weren't true at all.

After you politely denied several times and stated that if Rafe wanted you, he could come get you on his own. Chez didn't like that you didn't want to follow him so he tried to lay a hand on you. You quickly ran away, ironically right into Topper, Rafe's best friend. When you asked if he knew Chez and when he said no you got even more suspicious of him.

"Topper, can you take me home?" You asked, already knew the answer. Topper was like a brother to you, he would do anything to make his 'little sister' happy. Plus he was deemed the DD tonight.

"Yeah, of course. Why? Did something happen with this Chez guy? Or Rafe? What happened, Y/n?" He asked in a kind if rapid-fire manner.

"No, nothing happened, I'm just kinda tired and I want to be home." You say lightly not wanting the interrogation to go on longer than it has.

He just silently agreed and walked you to his truck.

"Did you tell Rafe you were going home?" He asked to make sure his best friend knew he was taking his girlfriend home.

"No, he would've wanted to come with...I just wanted to be alone. Please don't tell him, Top. I'm trusting you for a reason right now." You said quickly, knowing he wouldn't tell rafe anyway if you hadn't already.

"Y/n, I wont, I promise. He won't know." He assured with a hug as he puts his truck in park after arriving at your house.

"Thanks, Top. You're a real one." You say jokingly.

"Of course, Y/n. And I know I'm a real one. You wouldn't like me if I wasn't." He jokes along.

"Who said I like you now?" You continue on with the joke as you unlock your front door while waving goodbye to Topper. "Thanks again, Topper!" You shout lightly while walking in.

––≡––

Back to present

––≡––

"you were flirting with that guy, huh?!?" He yells at tou once again.

"Rafe-"

"No, let me talk! Who was that? Why were you smiling at him? Tell me!" He screamed loudly at you while shoving one of your favorite vases from a table to the floor. Not one of your favorites now. You flinched. He didn't notice and kept yelling 'tell me' over and over again

"Rafe, listen to me. He was a Creep. Trying to get me to follow h- him because he- he said you were friends and I- I didn't believe him so I kept stalling s- so he would forget why he came to ta- talk to me and then he l- laid a hand on my arm an- and I j- just ran away an- and I asked topper to take me home...I'm sorry." You said through broken sobs and suddenly his violent dark eyes softened.

He immediately kneeled down and hugged me. "Baby, I'm so sorry, I didn't know. It looked like you were enjoying his company because I was kind of preoccupied. I'm so sorry sweetheart. Did I scare you at all?" He asked worried.

You nodded lightly not wanting to move much.

"Aw, baby, I'm so sorry. You wanna go take a shower while I clean up my mess?" He asked while looking at your puffy, tear-stained face. He just wanted to have you relax now.

You nodded again. Still not wanting to move that much but you had to now.

He helped you up and gave you a kiss on the forehead and started to walk away to get the broom.

You slowly got up and walked to the bathroom to take a shower and when you walked out your favorite movie was playing on your TV and a note on your pillow that said:

Dear, Y/n. You have no idea how much I love you. I'm so sorry about scaring you earlier. I'm on the couch. I'll leave you alone for the night. – Yours, Rafe

You read it and wanted him in here immediately but you knew he wouldn't budge if you tried so you just went to bed.

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Taglist: @dreamingwithrafe

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#rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x you #rafe cameron thoughts #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe obx #rafe cameron imagine #rafe fluff #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron x y/n #♡♡♡