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ghouljams · 11 months

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NO BECAUSE imagine cowboy!könig listening to darling after a long day of working and he gets worried because she sounds so breathless and whiney and then bro just realizes she's touching herself

i'll see myself out bye

Oh you are absolutely fueling the stalker cowboy thoughts I have in my head. The bug is technically in the living room but Darling lives alone, so the whole house is really free reign for her.

It's become a sort of daily ritual. König gets in from tending to the horses, showers, and switches on the receiver as he fixes dinner for himself. Usually you're making food around that time too, the sound of your absent-minded singing filtering through the static and filling his kitchen with life. Sometimes you talk to yourself, bitch about your day, praise yourself on jobs well done, remind yourself of things you need from the store, day-to-day minutiae that you must think no one would care about. König cares. Every little detail is stored for future reference and use. How else is he supposed to drop by with just what you need right when you need it?

You're very quiet tonight. He turns the volume up with a frown, did you go out? That would be good, you need more friends. König goes to the kitchen window to check the pasture. No sign of Honey, so you haven't gone chasing after her. Maybe he'll just go over and check on you. The soft whine through the receiver stops him from reaching for his bandana.

Concern hits him first, moving to turn the volume up more. Did you hurt yourself? Were you alright?

Another breathless sound, high and tight, and Needy. Not a whine, a whimper, "Fuck, mm." He recognizes the slick sound under your whimpering. Maybe not from you, but… his fingers itch the dial up higher, leaning over the table to listen. Your moan echoes through the kitchen and König's grip on the table scratches hard enough to splinter the wood.

Naughty, Needy little thing. He could almost see you on your couch touching yourself. Your fingers dipping into your soaked cunt, dragging that wetness to ease the slide as you circled your clit. Fuck. You whine and he sits heavy on his kitchen chair, fingers working to undo his belt and pull his rapidly hardening cock out.

His cock is barely free before his hand wraps around it, grip punishing as he strokes the length of it. The wet sound of your dripping cunt fills the room. He wonders: are you fucking yourself on your fingers, or do you have a toy? The way you whine, whatever it is seems to be doing the trick.

König rubs his thumb against the head of his cock, God if you only knew how it was drooling for you. Would you whine on your knees for him? Stare up at him with those big doe eyes and whimper like you are in your living room? Fucking yourself where anyone could hear you like a little slut. If he walked over there now would he have time to catch you? Would he even be able to control himself when he saw you?

"Please, please, König, fuck," you gasp and König groans. You are just perfect for him, aren't you? Already know who you belong to. Are you imagining his fingers, his cock? Do you want to cum, is that why you're begging him so prettily?

"Not yet, Schatz," he mumbles, imagining the drag of his calloused fingers might be your slick cunt. You whine in response, suppressing a moan that should be his. He's so close. Heat coils tight in his stomach, the stroke of his hand slick with pre-cum as he listens to the delicious whimpering coming over the receiver. He wants to hear you cum, wants to pretend its from riding his cock and not whatever puny thing you’re fucking yourself with. God he wants to break you, and you’ll beg him to.

You already are, your pleas chant like a prayer, his name falling from your lips like water as you moan. That’s all he needs, feeling his balls pull up tight as he cums into his fist with a low groan. He can hear your heavy breaths in tandem with his own as he leans back against the chair. Fuck. God, you don’t know what you do to him, but you will. You will.

#absolutely inspired by this at fucking midnight last night when i was possessed #the bug is really paying for itself good call on that King #cowboy!König #könig x you #könig modern warfare #könig cod #colonel könig #konig x reader #könig x y/n #reader x König #love writing this boy he's insane

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try-set-me-on-fire · 11 months

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pick me, choose me, love me

9,335 words || rated T

Eddie wants to scream. Eddie wants to talk to Buck. There are questions he should ask - Do you know when the bleeding started? How long has it been? How bad does it hurt? Are you injured anywhere else? There is a conversation he wants to have - If I leave you here I don’t know that you’ll be alive when I get back. There are protocols, in disaster situations. If you can only save one person, you save the one most likely to survive. Beyond protocol, you always fucking save the kid. Beyond that, it's our kid. It’s our fucking kid, it’s Christopher, and I am going to get him to the surface and in doing so I am going to leave you for dead. But it’s Buck, and they never really needed words to talk, and Buck is still looking at him, and Eddie knows what he'd say. He'd downplay the injury. He knows the protocol. And he’d already said it, damned him out loud, he’s going to take you back up top and then come back for me.

Tag list under the cut

@cm1031sr @buck2eddie @lillathelegend @hermscat @anxieteandbiscuits @swiftiesisters14 @shortsighted-owl @eowon @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @courtjestermerlin @soitgoghs @starlingbite @simplybuddie @goodiecornbread @bingobanjo83 @panbuckley @anatargmova @melodysims @thatnamewill-probably-change @iinryer @thebrofriends @thefangirloutof-time @librathefangirl @fernt1408 @leothil @buckley-diaz-rules @hermscat @the-little-red-queen @readeries @fjuckers @prince-buck-diaz @demieddiediazz @thebirdling @spaceprincessem @daniwib @tulipfromtheinternet @adarkbouquet @devirnis @buckitup @bog-kreature @canyouhearmyfear

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #evan buck buckely #Christopher Díaz #911 fox #911 abc #911 fic #my writing #my art #hello hehe dropping this at like midnight oops. oops #oh well thats what the tag list is for #trapped buck and Chris fic here it is at long last….#pick me choose me love me #really posting because for some reason ao3 wasn’t accepting pasted in italics and i spent awhile fixing them all and dint want it to crash #in the middle of the night and lose all that work #ok goodnight have fun

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anna-scribbles · 6 months

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thirteen update 🍂 🎹 🏠 👻

chapter 2: November

chapter summary:

She was in a good mood. If she was ever going to take it well, it would be now.

“Maman, what if I went to school this year?”

excerpt:

“Heh.” Adrien flicked a finger beneath his chin and strutted the length of his bathroom floor, glancing at himself in the mirror. He twirled a rose—a red one, one he’d grabbed from the vase downstairs—between his fingers and then presented it to the mirror with a flourish.

“Haruhi!” he declared, “the spring of my heart surges upon the sight of your fresh smile, my love. My heart beats at the command of your drum! Your face is the fierce longing of my soul, and I present to you now this token of my lavish, undying—”

A sharp knock clicked against the bedroom door and Adrien froze, his hand still passionately hovering over his heart.

“Adrien?” Nathalie’s voice called, and Adrien—true to character, if he did say so himself—startled so hard that he slipped and fell onto his butt on the tile.

“Yeah?” he called, hastily pulling himself up and trying to find a place to set down the rose.

Nathalie peeked her head through the bathroom door and took him in, his rumpled hair and the too-small blue blazer he’d saved in the back of his closet for occasions such as…this.

“You have a guest,” she said flatly, and Adrien could not for the life of him figure out whether she was making fun of him.

She left before he could decide, and then it was only a matter of seconds before his bathroom door was thrown all the way open and a blonde ponytail bobbed into view.

“Adrikins!” Chloé crashed into him, wrapping him up in a hug that nearly knocked him over again. “It’s been way too long. You’ve been neglecting me. Aw, did you get me a rose?” She plucked it from his hands and then scrunched up her nose. “Ew, is this real?”

“As real as the current that springs from the well of my heart,” Adrien invented, and Chloé frowned at him like he’d just spoken Greek. “Nevermind.”

She looked him up and down and scrunched her nose up even more. “What did you do to your hair?”

Adrien frowned at his reflection in the mirror and pushed his hair further over to the side.

“I was trying to make it look cool.” He’d been trying to make it look like Tamaki from Ouran High School Host Club.

“It looks like you just rolled out of bed.”

read on ao3

#ml #miraculous ladybug #ml fic #miraculous #thirteen #adrien agreste #emilie agreste #my art #HAPPY NOVEMBER(<-girl who procrastinates. it is the last day of november)#still. it counts.#shout out to me for deciding to draw a title card at midnight last night.#a weird thing abt me is that I have such a hard time drawing emilie. even here I had to cut half her face off.#something something ghost of a person. not tangible enough to pin down not even while she's still alive. just the idea of a perfect mother #a beautiful memory #what is it like to be the dead wife before she's dead?#etc etc. anyway there's endless tamaki suoh references in here. sorry #(<-isn't sorry)#I love fact checking myself in my own tags #okay happy thursday everybody I gotta do my work now

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quaranmine · 1 year

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the here and now

After dying in Limited Life, Joel wakes up in his bed on Empires. Except he isn't alone when he does.

Words: 2312; Joel and Jimmy centric.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Joel wakes up thrashing, sitting straight up in his bed. It feels like breaking the surface after nearly drowning, lungs burning and filled with a desperation to live. He gasps for air, and finding it available in acceptable quantities, breathes it in greedily.

It’s okay. He’s okay. He’s awake now. He’s awake now? Why is he awake? Where is he?

His skin feels hot and clammy to the touch. His head is fuzzy and heavy. His rest was not restful. He feels like he has a fever that has just broken, or is about to break. Some sweat runs down the side of his face, and it’s warm.

It takes him a moment to get his bearings, but Joel is actually well-accustomed to this feeling. He just isn’t red anymore, that’s all. Joel has been red enough times and for long enough periods of time to be intimately familiar with the feeling. And everybody wakes up like this, in the end. There is always an end, and even when you don’t remember it, there is always a bed to wake up in afterwards.

Being dragged from red and dead back into the world of the living is like being yanked out of a bloody haze and splayed onto the ground. He’s still shaking.

Joel blinks and takes in his surroundings. The room is mostly dim, but there’s a dusky slice of light coming in from partially ajar window shutters. He can see little bits of dust hanging in the air, almost like little sparkles in the golden sunbeam.

He isn’t in the Bad Boys base. He’s not on top of the burned out and flooded mansion, or in his submarine, or alone and exposed on the rocks of spawn. Instead, he’s in a room he recognizes well, surrounded by massive pillars of regally carved quartz. The room is filled with marble and stone with intricate carved detail. It’s massively oversized too–fit for a god, and nothing less.

So. He’s home.

So. That was the end for him, after all.

He exhales slowly, letting his breathing steady out. The extra minute of thinking has graced him with a little more clarity. The desperation and madness he felt upon waking up–the desperation and madness of before, of ticking clocks and red names–is trickling away, slipping through his fingers like sand from an hourglass. He doesn’t feel the blood rushing in his ears anymore. He just feels tired.

Something catches Joel’s attention suddenly, though. He’s not actually alone in this room. There, leaned up against one of the walls and sitting on a marble windowsill is the sheriff himself.

Jimmy is here.

Joel’s first thought is that Jimmy looks small. Well, that’s a given. He is small. He is a small little toy-sized man. Jimmy’s feet are so far off the floor that Joel wonders how he even managed to climb up onto the windowsill in the first place. After all, Stratos is sized for a god.

But the thing about Jimmy is this: his presence is always large. When Jimmy enters a room, he is noticeable. He has bravado, and a healthy dose of unearned swagger, and certainly too much ego, but he nonetheless cannot be ignored. He’ll trip over his own shoelaces and then claim to be the most agile person on the server thirty seconds later, and his easy confidence makes you think he might actually believe that.

Sometimes, though, Jimmy fills a room with better things. He is often loud when he is agitated or indignant, but he is especially so when he is excited. His happy shouts liven up the atmosphere and his laughter fills a room. Jimmy is a presence unto himself, and somehow a magnetizing one. He’s easy to tease and somehow impossible to hate, even at his worst. Joel can never tell him that, though, or he’d be even more insufferable than he already is.

But today Jimmy seems quiet and small.

It looks like he might even be asleep. His head is tilted to the side, resting against the wall. Like he was trying to stay awake but drifted off.

Joel swings his feet around and over the side of the bed, standing up quietly. He takes a step forward, but the room is large, empty, and full of polished stone, so his footsteps are louder than anticipated. Jimmy stirs at the noise, and suddenly sits straight upright. He always did react to the slightest of sounds, even when you thought he was otherwise oblivious.

Jimmy startles upon seeing him. “Joel!” he yelps. “You’re–you’re here.”

“Hello, Sheriff,” Joel says. “Were you actually watching me sleep? That’s so weird.”

“No! I wasn’t watching you sleep!” Jimmy cries indignantly. The energy in his voice peaks at Joel’s jab, and all is familiar for a moment, before Jimmy suddenly gets somber again and his voice swings low once more. “I was…I was watching your bed, actually. You weren’t in it before.”

“That’s not any less weird,” Joel decides, but what he can’t admit is that he gets it. Joel was gone. He was in another server, another plane of existence. He was a different Joel. He wasn’t God Joel of Stratos over there. And then he died for good and when he respawned he woke up on his home server, just like Jimmy did. And…Jimmy knew that would happen.

It’s weird, but it’s no less weird than the way the Bad Boys slept in beds pushed up next to each other out under the stars, or the way they woke up in the mornings accidentally snuggled together.

What comfort did Jimmy take in Joel’s empty bed? Comfort in seeing every minute that he lived longer? What disappointment greeted him when he woke up to see Joel was back so soon?

Jimmy looks concerned and gives Joel a once-over. “Why are you here?” he asks. His voice is earnest, urgently pressing him to answer.

“Why aren’t you in Tumble Town?” Joel asks instead.

“No, you don’t get it, you don’t get what I’m saying,” he pushes, and stands up on the windowsill from his sitting position so he can look Joel in the eyes from across the room. “I’m asking you why you’re here.”

“I get it, Jim,” Joel says softly. “I got it the first time.”

“But you didn’t answer my question,” Jimmy demands. “Why are you here?”

“Why are you here?” Joel says. “Before everyone else?”

“You know why I’m here first,” Jimmy says bitterly. “I’m always here first. It was inescapable. But it wasn’t for you, you were supposed to live longer!”

“It didn’t have to be inescapable,” Joel whispers. “You could have lived.”

“I never live.”

“You could have,” Joel insists, and he crosses the room in a few long steps to look at Jimmy more closely. “I was going to sacrifice myself for you, you know. I was going to give you my time so that you wouldn’t be the first to die. It didn’t have to be like this.”

“But it did,” Jimmy says. He drags his eyes away from Joel’s. “And it was like this. Because it is always like this.”

“I was going to sacrifice myself for you,” Joel repeats, nearly at a whisper. “And you went and died anyway.”

“I didn’t–I didn’t ask you to do that,” Jimmy says.

“It didn’t bother you with Scott or Bdubs. You took their time happily. Why couldn’t it be me?”

“They aren’t the Bad Boys,” Jimmy says. “They aren’t you or Grian.”

“It should have been me because we’re the Bad Boys,” Joel says sharply. “That’s what we do, we look out for each other. I was going to give you time. God, I wish I gave you time. I shouldn’t have waited.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered,” Jimmy says miserably. “You couldn’t have saved me.”

“Ugh!” Joel throws up his hands. “You’re so–you’re so blimmin’ annoying! You’re impossible! Why do you keep acting like you wanted to die? Why do you keep arguing with me?”

“I didn’t want to die!” Jimmy cries. “I never do! But wanting to live isn’t enough in those games. You didn’t need to die instead of me, Joel. There was never a chance of winning if I was there, but I thought that maybe since I had gone…”

“Well, a fat lot of good that did me,” Joel snaps, gestures dramatically, “because as you can see, I’m dead anyway!"

“You were too reckless,” Jimmy says. “You were supposed to live.”

“Reckless? Coming from you?”

Jimmy flinches a little, and clenches and unclenches a fist. “I tried,” he says, words clipped.

“That’s what makes it worse, Jim.” Joel laughs, but it’s strangled. It’s cutting, and it sounds a lot more like the way God Joel of Stratos used to harass the Sheriff of Tumble Town, and not like a friend.

“I don’t need your pity and I didn’t need your time,” Jimmy snaps.

“It wasn’t out of pity, Jimmy,” Joel says. He runs a hand through his hair. “Maybe someone actually cares about ya a little, you know. For once.”

Jimmy doesn’t speak.

Joel shakes his head. “And I know you would have taken my time. Don’t pretend like you wouldn’t have. I know what you felt ‘cause I felt it too before I died. That panic just takes over and…yeah. You would have accepted my bloody time!”

Jimmy looks down. “I thought you and Grian would have lasted longer once you stopped having to worry about me.”

What Joel doesn’t say is that he was never going to have lasted without Jimmy. It was his plan from the start–play recklessly, lose a lot of time, and then donate the rest to Jim, thereby breaking the cycle and making Joel die first. He never planned to live a long time. Live fast and die young, yeah?

And without Jimmy, well–well Joel hardly remembers most of it, in truth. He went a little mad, maybe. He remembers Grian withdrawing a bit. He remembers bloodshed and TNT minecarts and the high adrenaline of battle. He remembers the desperation of the final minutes on the clock, how it felt like he was clawing for scraps that might let him hang on a few moments longer. And he remembers thinking that maybe he could have delayed this fate for Jimmy, just a little longer, if he’d only died earlier.

But for the life of him he doesn’t remember a single thing about his thought processes from then. There’s only Jimmy’s death, and then a haze of actions he can’t quite rationalize. Probably because none of them mattered at all anymore. He should have been dead by then, anyway. He was never supposed to watch any of the Bad Boys die before him.

“Jimmy,” Joel says quietly. “How long did you plan to wait on me?”

“The whole time, I guess,” Jimmy says. “I was hoping it would be a while.”

“That could have been more than a week. You were gonna watch an empty bed for days?”

“The longer the better,” Jimmy mutters. He’s embarrassed now, cheeks flushed pink and eyes averted from Joel’s. “Is Grian–because Empires isn’t his home server, so I can’t just check–”

“Grian was still alive,” Joel confirms. “At least he was when I died.”

He told me not to leave him alone. But Joel had left Grian alone, in spirit at least, from the moment Jimmy died. And Grian had known it, because he had already been making arrangements for a new alliance afterwards.

Joel wanted to feel betrayed about that, but all he felt was emptiness right now. He's so tired. He's too tired to care about it anymore.

“Do you think he has a chance?”

“He had a lot of time,” Joel says. “I think he’ll be fine.”

“He could win it for the Bad Boys,” Jimmy says.

“Since we couldn’t, you mean?”

Jimmy chuckles a little and ducks his head. “Well, I think expecting me to win for the Bad Boys was a little much.”

“Ugh,” Joel says. “I didn’t even want you to win, I just wanted you to not be out first.”

“I’m sorry.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “You’re fine.”

“You didn’t really do much better did you?” Jimmy says. “Like, I seriously thought it would take longer for you to get here.”

“You’re so rude, Timmy,” Joel says. He pauses for a moment to think. The name of the game is inevitability. Jimmy could have received more time, but he still would have died. Joel just wouldn’t have been around to see it. “There’s really no point though, is there?” he says after a moment. “To doing better, I mean. Dying just means we get to leave and come home faster.”

“It never seems like that though,” Jimmy says. “When you’re actually in the game, I mean. It feels like winning is everything.”

“So here’s to not winning, then.”

Joel raises an invisible glass. Jimmy returns the gesture.

“Here’s to not winning.”

Joel turns toward the door, takes one step, and then pivots back around to Jimmy once more. “Actually, uh, do you want to go to the tavern with me, the one in Sanctuary? El Caldero de Colores? We could get a real drink and maybe some food that isn’t bread for once.”

“Hey, what was wrong with bread?” Jimmy says indignantly. “Joel, get back here. Tell me what’s wrong with bread!”

Joel’s already halfway out the door, but he calls back over his shoulder. “Are you coming, or do you need help getting off that windowsill? Unfortunately, Stratos doesn’t make step stools, but I’m sure I could find something that works.”

“I hate you,” Jimmy calls back.

“We’re not in our hater arc anymore Jim, can’t you read the sign I made for Tumble Town? Or do your schools not teach reading out there?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Jimmy grumbles. “We’re best buds.”

#smallishbeans #jimmy solidarity #limited life smp #lilsmp #trafficblr #empires smp #empires s2 #limited life #solidaritygaming #quara fanfic #traffic series #this came to me at like midnight last night and now i present it to you 24 hours later at midnight once again:#limited life spoilers

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