#they didn't have to frame the scene like this but oh i'm so glad that they did | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

anonymouscheeses · 3 months

Text

Obvious shit I noticed part 3 (spoilers for welcome to heaven)

Look at her! "Teehee"

Also she's nervous! Foreshadowing omg 🤯

STICKERS! Two pride stickers and a cute donut. Gives me an idea to draw Chaggie at a donut shop while everything is burning down <3 (I'll probably do it but if any artist wants to as well go ahead!)

*CHOKES ON COFFEE* I LOVE THEM. I'M SORRY I GET SO GIDDY WHEN THEY HAVE EVEN THE SMALLEST INTERACTION BUT UGHHH I NEED MORE, IT WILL NEVER BE ENOUGH 🙏🙏

KISSY! MWA! *SCREAMS INTO THE VOID*

Vivzie give me more, moar now. MOAR

DAMN. SHE CAN THROW- or maybe it just exaggerates the perspective in this frame but still- ZAMNNN

Cherri x Sir Pentious fans RISE UP.

I wasn't ever really a fan of it myself but I always thought it was CUTE. Like 3 seconds before this part I was already begging for them to kiss 😭

More foreshadowing!

AAAAAA CREEPY BIRD THINGS!!!

Oh wait- Sera's hot and Emily's already adorable

If heaven don't look like what this is in the show, I DONT WANT IT! (THATS A JOKE PLEASE DON'T SMITE ME)

JEALOUS GIRLFRIEND VAGGIE!! Can I just say how much I love Vaggie's face expressions? Not just here but like all the time. She's just made to be so exaggerated, out of all of them I thought it would be Charlie who would have the most dramatic faces but Vaggie wins it for me. I JUST GIGGLE SO HARD WHEN SHE LOOKS LIKE THIS BAHAHAH

Okay yeah. It's very obvious now. Vaggie is definitely an ex-exterminator. They don't close in on Charlie here so it's made to subtly nudge the attention to Vaggie. HOW DID THEY IMMEDIATELY NOTICE IT WAS HER THO??

Hot-

That's it.

SHARE THAT MOTHUSSY GIRL-

YOU'RE TELLING ME SHE GREW OUT ALL OF THAT HAIR?!? YEAH ITS BEEN A LONG TIME SINCE THEN BUT STILL AJJSJD.

But overall the design is pretty meh. I always loved the idea of short hair Vaggie and even have seen art of it but it's just yknow, alright. Reminds me of Cassandra from Tangled: the series. IM LISTENING TO ONE OF THE SONGS RIGHT NOW HELPPP

THIS SCENE HERE! WOOOOO! SO GLAD WE KNOW WHEN AND WHERE THEY FIRST MET!! Wish we got it extended tho. And also probably push it to next episode so it would have a better impact(atleast I think thats when they'll have the duet). BUT WHATEVER SOMETHING IS BETTER THAN NOTHING! or uh whatever

Vaggie must've been a bit terrified at first. The only sinner she ever sent mercy to was a child. Then to see someone who to her is an adult sinner who just looks really human, that must be crazy. BUT THEN IF SHE WAS TOLD THAT CHARLIE WAS ACTUALLY THE PRINCESS OF HELL? HOOOO, LOCK IN AND STEAL HER. THAT'S SOME WATTPAD SHIT. Also, I wonder how long Charlie thought of redeeming sinners. It would make sense to be after meeting Vaggie, since it could have been a wake up call to the fact not all sinners are bad people. Even though Vaggie isn't a sinner technically, Charlie didn't know that at the time. But maybe Charlie was always like this but just needed to meet someone who could start her dream with her. Long rant uhhh

Haha penis 🫵

SCRAP WHATEVER I SAID IN THE FIRST PART. THEY PROBABLY DO FUCK- OR DONT?? I DONT KNOW- ANYWAY LESBIAN SEX (BOTTOM TEXT). WHY DO I CARE SO MUCH??? SOMEONE PULL THE TRIGGER.

Lute looks like a basic asf anime gorl. Adam doesn't ever take his helmet off, or maybe he just can't. OH HE'S DOING THE GAY SIGN 💅💅 Very appropriate for what he's saying

Mentor, apprentice. I love that Husk is just trying to help Angel grow but isn't going to force him into it if he doesn't want to.

Im not a fan of huskerdust and think they'd be better friends as I can't imagine a relationship with them at all. But it's still nice and they are supportive of eachother so that's like- yknow. Basic rules. Or something like that. (HELP. I ruined it all at the last part)

I- girl- WHY IS SHE GROWLING?? GRR GRR RR (INSERT TWILIGHT SAGA HERE)

VAGGIE'S FACE. SENDS ME. WHO GAVE HER THESE OVERDRAMATIC EXPRESSIONS, I APPLAUD YOU RGAGAGA

Ooo... I didnt like this part at all... Instead of making the choice she just runs off. Then because the plot demands it, Adam says nothing. Kinda whish she atleast avoided the question, maybe in some way that would require actual thinking? For a character like Vaggie, she could choose either way and it feel like it's still her. If she chose to protect Charlie's dream, she would still be perfectly loyal to her but in the act of so would reveal a secret that could harm their relationship(which does happen at the end but that's because the plot wanted it like that). If she chose to side with Adam, she'd be hurting Charlie emotionally, sure, but it would keep a secret that could make Charlie see Vaggie less than who she is to her already(atleast what Vaggie might think would happen). Imo it should've been her deciding to protect Charlie, since it would mean she's devoted to her at all times.

ANOTHER THING! IF SHE COULDN'T MAKE THE CHOICE, THAT IS SOMETHING INTERESTING TO GO INTO. Maybe it could go deeper into how Vaggie doesn't know who she is without Charlie. So when she has a choice to make, like here, she can't do it without feeling the need to ask Charlie. BUT NOOO, YA HAD TO GO WITH THIS!! Wow. That was a long ass rant. Wtf 😭

Maybe I'm a dumbass. Maybe they'll talk about that next episode, but still, atleast touch on it a bit to not seem rushed?

Angel looking out for his kids like a mom. We always did need the motherly figure, the one closest to that being Charlie but girl needs a mother in her life too(damn, wait, I did her so dirty).

Huh, so why does it work here then? 🤨🤨 if it was said in the contract that Valentino can do whatever he wants only in the studio, then why is this the exception? 🤨🤨

Yes I'm stupid. Why do you ask? (No genuinely what's happening here)

OH ITS THE IMAGE! I really like Sera so far, hope we get more of her soon or in season 2.

Now that we know the context of this, yeah, that's fucking insane. And badass. WOMEN.

HMM. THATS STRANGE. DID YOU NOT FOR ONCE THINK THERE COULD BE A POSSIBILITY SHE MIGHT HAVE BEEN AN ANGEL? Okay I probably wouldn't either but I have an excuse, I'm an idiot. Some girl with a standing out outfit, with one eye, looks unusually human, right after/during the extermination... that's pretty solid ass proof. But I'm dumb so don't take anything i say seriously :D

Imagine this. No- shit. Just-

JUST LOOK! THEY ARE SO CUTE! EVEN THOUGH CRAZY SHIT IS HAPPENING.

*SWEATS*

Vaggie is DESPERATE. PLEADING. That's obvious yeah, but don't mind me I had nothing to say for the last 3 images I just thought they were cool

I mean. Slay I guess. 😍💅

Do all the exterminators look similar or is it just Lute and Vaggie? 🤨

Even though Vaggie and Charlie may be going through this horrible thing with a hard punch in the gut, but Vaggie is always going to comfort her and I just think that's so adorable.

Also Adam looks like a chicken hah.

Everyone fears to be like Lucifer. If they don't do bad things they believe are for the greater good and make sacrifices that put them higher than those in hell, they could themselves be fallen. It's really interesting but I don't know if it's going to be fleshed out enough with the amount of episodes left. Which also worries me about everything else that still hasn't be concluded. There's gonna be loose strings I just know it. Hopefully though they rather do that then rush everything out y'know?

I want the next episode to be mostly focused on Vaggie and Charlie's relationship and the healing of what happened. Not for the entire episode of course, it would feel drawn out if it did, but atleast address the problem for the first like I would say 10 minutes? Then the rest would focus on one or two loose threads while also having Vaggie and Charlie acting upon moving on. That's just my idea but yeah-

471 notes · View notes

heartsgettingwiser62 · 1 year

Text

Ok so I think I may be losing my mind over some plastic wrap lmao

But PLEASE look at this and tell me I'm not crazy and this is actually weird:

Karen I'm begging you to explain to me why the fuck do you have 2 plastic wrap packages from different brands UPSIDE DOWN in your kitchen cabinet. PLS.

Is it just me?? Is this completely normal and I'm losing my mind over nothing??? I mean probably but WHY ARE THEY THE ONLY THING THAT'S UPSIDE DOWN AND PLUS THEY'RE COMPLETELY LEGIBLE

So since I've spent the last 3 hours looking at fucking plastic wrap let me share some thoughts:

First of all, to structure this mess in some way, let's look at the dates. First, at the Reynolds Wrap invention date. Bc PLS LOOK AT THIS

Oh. Looks like it was created in 1947. Do you guys wanna know who was also born in 1947??

I. Uh. What the fuck. WHAT THE FUCK.

"It could be a coincidence" Dude I KNOW I'm just doing this bc I've spent hours researching about plastic wrap and I NEED to tell someone ok y'all are my therapists ksjdalkj

Now the Glad Wrap was founded in 1963, and some pages say that Kali was born in 1963, others in 1964, and others that in s2 she's 16/17 so there's no way she was born back then; so idk about this date.

Now let's go with the ads, starting with Glad Wrap bc it's by far the most interesting one.

I've seen multiple commercials but none of them seemed to have anything meaningful EXCEPT FOR THIS ONE WHICH IS MAKING ME ABSOLUTELY LOSE MY MIND:

youtube

Am I crazy. Do I seriously need to sleep. Or does that look an awful lot like Karen Wheeler??? Especially here in s4????

I mean, the hairstyle and the blond hair, but much more importantly, the outfit.

Like?????? I mean I get that it's 80's white wealthy woman fashion, fine, but that's a whole load of coincidences???

Now for the rest of the ad, the plastic wrap thingy that attacks the woman is pretty interesting, as well as the clock in the background for Vecna reasons. Regarding similarities with the Wheeler's kitchen, I could only catch due to the low quality the bowl with apples and the phone on the wall (you can't see it on the screenshot but there's a phone behind Mike). I couldn't really find anything about the strawberries, but if y'all know something pls tell me

As a bonus, the ad is from 1987, which as far as I know is when everyone guesses s5 is gonna take place in

Now there's no much to see in the Reynolds Wrap ads, except maybe this one:

youtube

(Ignore the yt bar lmao) Although not as much as the previous one, the woman's outfit in that frame does remind me of this Karen s4 look, the same look she has on that scene the damn plastic wrap came from.

Ik this is all probably meaningless, buuuut do you guys want more meaningless shit??

Let's go back to the Glad Wrap ad. The slogan for that specific ad is "Don't get mad. Get glad." Welp, Vecna's a fan of this last word bc out of 9 times it's said in s5, 4 are said by him.

Let's take a quick look at the most interesting time he says that word. We're in Vecna's monologue in chp 7, and in the same scene just some minutes before, he says this:

"I could not do that. I could not close off my mind and join in the madness. I could not pretend. And I realized, I didn't have to."

Let's remember the slogan: "Don't get mad. Get glad."

Then, a couple minutes later, in the same scene:

"And soon, others were born. You were born. And I am so glad you were, Eleven. So very glad."

Now literally two seconds before this last line, this shot was happening:

And. Um. Do you. Do you guys know what's used for tattoos. Um.

Plastic wrap???

Do y'all get why I said I've a hundred percent lost my mind sjdfisdjfil

Ok so. That was it. Anyways I couldn't find anything else important about the rest of items in the kitchen shelve. If y'all have a better explanation as to WHY TF are those plastic wrap packages upside down and perfectly legible, PLS TELL ME. This said, goodbye

#giving a kiss on the forehead to everyone who read this whole thing muac muac ily #dude i was making an actual interesting post till i noticed the fucking plastic wrap and now i can't even remember what i was doing lol #byler #<<<target audience #stranger things theory #stranger things #henry creel #vecna #martin brenner #stranger things analysis #stranger things set design #set design #mike wheeler #karen wheeler #henry creel theory #karen wheeler theory #001

421 notes · View notes

dmitriene · 9 months

Text

— enchanted escapanda.

᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌«my days end best when the sunset gets itself behind»

᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌«that little lady sitting on the passenger side»

᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌«it's much less picturesque without her catching the light»

summary: you didn't think that your presence at someone else's celebration of happines — a wedding, would lead to meeting your best friend's brother, and even more so a pleasant night in his car. content: chris redfield x fem reader tags: mention's of y/n, fluff, comfort, nsfw, smut, unprotected p in v, fingering, marking, pet names. author's note: hello!! i am glad to present you my first one shot work with chris, and it did came a little too big for me, but i hope you will like it! enjoy your reading) 🍸 (18+ warning)

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the elegant outdoor celebration, white curtains fluttering softly in the breeze, framing the space where the wedding took place.

The bride, your close friend from college, beamed in her white dress and her happiness was palpable as she mingled with the guests, Claire, your mutual friend and bridesmaid looked amazing in the scarlet dress, chatting animatedly with the guests, you exchanged greetings and hugs with the bride and Claire.

You stood among the lively crowd, dressed in a light colored flowing dress that danced around your ankles as you mingled with the other guests, the soft fabric matched with the blooming flowers that adorned the room, giving the whole scene an airy charm.

As you chatted with the other guests, you couldn't help but notice a tall figure standing a little off the side of the festivities, his broad shoulders accentuated by a tight black turtleneck and mid length coat, and his aloof demeanor caught your attention, so you occasionally threw views.

With tousled brown hair and a strong chin, he radiated a stern charm, as if somehow specifically attracting attention to himself, Claire caught your eye and followed your gaze, realizing who captured your attention, she leaned towards you, the teasing gleam of her eyes whispered

— «Caught someone's eye, have you?» she teased, gently nudging you with her elbow.

Blushing slightly, you muttered — «Oh, well, he does stand out..»

Claire smiled knowingly, whispering — «That's my older brother, Chris»

Your heart skipped a beat when you looked at her in surprise — «That's Chris? Claire, your brother is quite eye catching»

She grinned even harder, but this time there were really playful lights in her eyes — «I'm glad you think so, he's a great guy, want me to introduce you?»

Your heart skipped a beat but you managed to nod in agreement as Claire led you to the mysterious man, his burning brown eyes meeting yours as she introduced you.

— «Chris, this is Y/n, a friend of mine and the bride» announced Claire with a sly grin — «Y/n, meet my overprotective brother, Chris»

Chris held out his hand, his firm grip soothing and exciting — «Nice to meet you, Y/n, Claire mentioned you»

᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺

The conversation flowed effortlessly while you were talking to Chris, his charismatic charm and genuine interest made you feel at ease as if you had known him for ages as the evening went on, laughter and music filled the air and your bond with the man deepened with each replica exchange.

Throughout the evening you two were absorbed in conversation, discovering common interests and laughing at funny anecdotes, Chris was the perfect combination of charm and genuine kindness.

In the midst of the celebration, the bride approached you with an understanding smile on her lips — «I see you've met Claire's brother» she whispered, her eyes sparkling — «He's quite the catch, isn't he?»

You chuckled, nodding in agreement — «Yeah, he definitely is»

᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺

As the music intensified, couples began to enter the dance floor, signaling the first dance of the bride and groom, Chris turned to you with a charming smile, his deep brown eyes sparkling playfully in the soft light of the lights.

His voice was warm and inviting, a hint of playful anticipation as he held out his hand to you — «May i have this dance?»

Your heart fluttered at the suggestion, a mixture of surprise and delight filled your chest, you met his eyes, feeling a surge of warmth as your hand slid into his, fingers intertwined naturally, his touch was firm yet gentle, causing a tingle in your hand as he guided you to the center of the dance floor.

The world seemed to disappear as you were enveloped in the music and Chris's presence, he pulled you close to him, his other hand resting confidently on your waist, the distance between you was minimal, and you could feel the even rhythm of his heart, matching your own.

His movements were fluid, guiding you with an innate sense of grace, with every step he seemed to tune in to your every move, ensuring that the dance flowed smoothly between you.

While the song was playing, Chris' eyes were still fixed on you, his expression was a mixture of sincere interest and light playful charm.

A slight smile curved his lips and he leaned slightly, his voice a velvety mutter — «You know, i've been watching you across the room all night» he confessed, his tone carrying a note of flirtatious.

Your cheeks turned pink, a mixture of embarrassment and excitement ran through you — «Is that so?» you answered, and a soft laugh escaped your lips.

Chris nodded, his eyes met yours — «Yes, and i have to say, you have a way of lightning up the entire room»

The compliment sent a pleasant shiver down your spine and you couldn't help but feel a surge of confidence in his presence, as the music continued to weave its charm you found yourself moving in sync with Chris, a dance that transcends footsteps and becomes a conversation in itself.

The space between you got smaller, the magnetic attraction became undeniable, Chris's fingers touched your lower back, his touch sent electricity through your body, his voice, low and intimate, resonated in your ears — «I'm glad you decided to talk to me» he confessed, his words were full of sincerity.

You met his eyes and your heart sank — «I'm glad too» you answered, but your voice was soft, filled with a sincere flash of affection.

The song reached its climax and Chris's hand squeezed yours lightly, his touch grounding you in a whirlwind of emotions, and then as the last notes faded into the air, he brought your hand to his lips, gently kissing your knuckles, the gesture was both chivalrous and intimate, leaving tingling after itself.

As applause from the other guests filled the space, Chris released your hand but didn't back down, his eyes met yours, a silent understanding slipped between you, and then, with a slight smile, he offered his hand, silently inviting you to spend a few more minutes together.

With a smile of your own, you wrapped your arm around his, feeling warmth and connection transcend the dance floor as you stepped away from the center of the action, the chatter of celebration abruptly faded into the background

᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺

As the festivities continued to swirl around you, Chris leaned closer, his voice a soft whisper that sent chills down your spine — «You know, it's getting a little crowded here» he said thoughtfully, touching your ear with his lips — «How about taking a short break?»

His offer took you by surprise, a mixture of surprise and excitement seething inside, looking at the lively crowd and then back at him, you couldn't help but smile — «Well, taking a break sounds like a good idea»

With a playful spark in his eyes, Chris gently took your hand and led you away from the main area of the celebration, the two of you made your way through the labyrinth of guests, his presence was both calming and exciting, as you walked he maintained an easy conversation, making you laugh and forget about the noise and chaos around.

Eventually you found yourself in a quieter corner of the room, away from prying eyes and the buzz of conversation, the soft glow of the garlands creating a warm, intimate atmosphere, and a sense of calmness swept over the two of you.

Chris turned to face you, his smile was warm and sincere — «You know, it may sound a little crazy, but i have a suggestion» he said, and mischief danced in his eyes.

Your curiosity was piqued and you raised an eyebrow — «Oh, really? What a suggestion?»

He pointed to the exit with a nod of his head, a mischievous smirk played on his lips — «How about getting away from it all for a while? My car is parked outside and.. i think it would be nice to have a change of scenery»

You were intrigued by the idea of escaping from the noisy celebration into a more private and personal setting, you nodded with a smile, a thrill of anticipation running through you — «I'm in, go ahead»

Chris's smirk widened and he extended his hand inviting you to join him on this spontaneous adventure, as you grabbed his arm with yours the two of you started to make your way towards the exit, moving carefully so as not to attract too much attention.

The night air was refreshing when you both found yourself outside, the cool breeze was a nice contrast to the warmth of the holiday, Chris' car, sleek and black, was parked nearby and he swung open the passenger door — «Your chariots await, milady» he said with a playful wink, his brown eyes twinkling.

The interior of the car was cozy and intimate, subdued lighting creating a warm atmosphere followed by soft background music, Chris leaned back in the seat, his eyes fixed on you, a playful smile touching his lips.

You couldn't help but laugh at the comfort and excitement of his presence, the inside of the car was cozy and when Chris started the engine, the soft glow of the dashboard illuminated his features.

With quiet background music you shared stories, hopes and dreams, the conversation flowed easily and initial shyness gave way to playful banter and flirtatious remarks, time seemed to slip away as you got lost in each other's company.

As the night deepened, Chris turned to you, his gaze intense but gentle — «I'm glad i met you tonight, Y/n» he confessed in a hoarse whisper.

Your heart beat faster when you met his eyes, you took your breath away — «Me too, Chris» you confessed in the same quiet voice.

Before you noticed it, Chris stopped the car in a secluded area with a breathtaking view of the city lights, he turned off the engine and a calm silence fell over you as you looked at the illuminated horizon.

— «It's wonderful!» you muttered with surprise in your voice.

Chris turned to you with a soft and sincere expression — «I'm glad you think so»

As the minutes turned into hours, the two of you continued to talk, share stories, and exchange laughter, the nervousness long gone, replaced by a deep sense of comfort and connection that felt natural and undeniable.

The two of you were talking and laughing, the bond between you deepening even further as the conversation took a flirtatious turn.

With a soft smile, Chris cupped your cheek, his touch was gentle and reverent — «I am very glad that we took this chance» he confessed in a voice hoarse with excitement.

Your heart filled with tenderness, the conversation took other scenario and Chris reached to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, goosebumps ran down your spine at his touch, the air filled with anticipation and soon the space between you contracted as your lips met in a gentle kiss.

The kiss was at first a soft, delicate exploration of shared feelings, but as the moments went by it deepened, fueled by the electric chemistry that simmered throughout the evening, Chris's hand cupping your cheek, his thumb touching your skin as the kiss turned into a passionate dance.

The kiss deepened, igniting a fire of longing and desire that smoldered under the surface of the night, which continued to unfold in a haze of stolen glances, and you don't notice how you find yourself on his knees facing him.

Chris's hands instinctively find their place on your hips, his touch is gentle, the desire between you is palpable, the hunger grows with every moment.

As you sat on him, his lips find the exposed skin of your neck, his teeth lightly touch your flesh, a low growl escapes his throat, a sound reflecting his primal desires, he leaves a trail of hot kisses along your collarbone, his hands grip your waist, tight holding you close.

Leaning closer, his warm breath dances against your ear as he speaks in a low, husky voice — «Don't worry, sweetheart, i'll give you exactly what you need» his words are filled with promise, and his tone is a mixture of tension and tenderness.

Chris's hands begin to explore your body, his touch as light as a feather as he traces the curves and contours of your skin along your spine, he takes his time enjoying every moment as his fingers slide over your thighs, up your sides and caress the softness of your breasts through your dress.

His lips find their way to your neck, continuing to leave gentle kisses on sensitive skin, he enjoys how you react to his touch, how your body curves and presses closer to him, Chris revels in his opportunity to please you, choosing to lift you to new heights.

His hands slide under your dress, his touch is hot and more confident, his fingertips touch the smooth skin of your thighs, sending a shiver of anticipation through your body, he explores the curves and contours of your body, his touch is gentle and firm.

His fingertips rise higher, slowly approaching the peak of your desire, Chris's touch is purposeful, he caresses the inside of your thighs, teasingly skirting the edge of where you crave him the most, he can feel the heat emanating between your legs, which indicates your growing excitement.

As his fingers trace patterns on your inner thighs, you find him in a passionate and burning kiss, his tongue dances with yours, a symphony of desire and need, his kiss is intense, his longing for you manifests in every movement.

Chris's voice is a low, seductive growl against your lips — «It's okay, that's right?» despite the excitement and the atmosphere, he can't help but worry about your agreement, his voice trembling slightly, watching you nod your head

— «Yes, Chris, p..please»

His fingers finally reach their destination, his touch glides over your folds, exploring your wetness, his touch is skillful, his fingers draw insanely slow circles around your clit, he enjoys the way your body reacts to his touch, the way you moan during the kiss .

His fingers begin to more purposefully explore your folds, sliding between them and delving into your depths of the clitoris, his touch seems ruthless, his movements are calculated to drive you crazy with pleasure, he seems to know how to caress your most sensitive places, pushing closer to the edge.

His fingers move purposefully, gliding in and out of your moisture, each push brings you closer to the edge, his movements getting faster and more intense, he knows exactly how to press your buttons, how to make you untangle under his touch.

As he continues to please you, his other hand sliding up your body, his fingertips tracing a path across your quivering skin, Chris enjoys the feel of your body responding to his touch, the way your muscles tighten and your breathing quicken.

His lips find their way to your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses on sensitive skin, he bites and sucks, as if marking you as his own.

His voice is low, an unexpectedly hoarse whisper in your ear — «You're so beautiful, so good, shit..» his words are full of desire, promises of more intensity as you shudder from the pressure in your lower abdomen and shiver down your spine at his compliments.

Chris's fingers quicken his pace, his touch becomes more insistent, he is determined to drive you crazy, make you scream his name in ecstasy, he feels the tension build up inside you, clear signs that you are on the verge of release.

He can feel your need, your desperate desire to be free, so with a final push of his fingers he pushes you over the edge, sending you into an intense orgasm.

As your body shudders with pleasure, Chris holds you tight, tight and incredibly caring, he enjoys the way your body shudders as your moans fill the air, as you shudder when your pleasure testifies to his ability to satisfy you.

Chris continues to hold you close, his fingers slow down as you struggle with the waves of your orgasm, he wants to enjoy every moment to engrave this memory forever in his memory, you are his greatest pleasure and he intends to continue in the same spirit, at least tonight.

Once the trembling of your climax subsides, he leans back slightly, his eyes glowing with satisfaction to sparkle at your next trembling words, nothing more than a gentle chirp for him.

— «I.. i'm.. i want you, Chris..»

Chris's eyes look into yours, and at your request, surprise flashes across his face, for a moment his facade wavers as he sees the vulnerability in your eyes, desire, Chris understands that behind your desire for pleasure lies something deeper, a desire for real connections.

He takes a deep breath and nods, his voice soft as he answers — «Me too, hun»

He gently lifts you off your knees, his arms still around your waist, Chris stands up and reaches to take your hand so he can take you into the backseat of the car, his touch slow and gentle as he caresses your cheek.

He speaks with a voice full of sincerity — «I'll be gentle, my love, i will cherish you every moment» his words are a promise, an oath to make this connection something more than just physical pleasure.

Chris slowly undresses, his movements deliberate and reverent, he takes his time, savoring the anticipation that grows between you as he shows you his naked form that looms over you.

He runs his fingers over your body, marking every curve and contour as if memorizing them, his touch is soft, his fingertips leaving a fiery trail behind him, he is positioned above you, his gaze is riveted to yours, seeking permission and connection.

Chris enters you slowly, his movements are controlled and deliberate, he moves with the utmost tenderness, his movements are gentle and unhurried, he wants to enjoy this moment so that you feel loved and connected to him on a deeper level.

As he moves inside you, Chris' eyes never leave yours, he wants to please you in ways that go beyond the physical, to create a bond that goes beyond just meeting.

In the enclosed space, they moved with delightful urgency, their bodies finding a rhythm that drove them both to the brink of pleasure, the windows fogged up even more as their passion intensified, their moans and sighs filled the car, Chris's hands gripped your hips, guiding their movements until you rocked against each other, lost in a world of pleasure.

— «S-so good, Chris, mmh» your voice is a slight hoarse tremor, covered by a sudden moan

Chris's eyes search for yours, the intensity of his gaze reflecting his understanding of your desire, and he nods, his voice filled with newfound tenderness as he responds to your request — «I will give you more, love, everything you need»

His movements become more deliberate, his thrusts deepen as he seeks to fulfill your desires, he takes his time, enjoying the connection between your bodies, the way you are perfect for each other.

His hands wander over your body, his touches are gentle and tremulous, he caresses your skin leaving fiery traces behind him, his lips find yours in a gentle passionate kiss, his tongue intertwines with yours in a dance of desire.

As he continues to move inside you, Chris adjusts his pace and angle to give you maximum pleasure, listening to your quiet sighs and moans, attuned to your body's response, determined to make this experience everything you've both been waiting for.

Chris's voice whispers hoarsely in your ear as he mutters words of adoration — «You're so beautiful, so perfect»

He showers your neck and collarbone with gentle kisses, his actions testify to the depth of his feelings at the moment, noting every reaction, every breath and thrill that escapes your lips, Chris is attuned to your desires seeking to give you pleasure that transcends the physical, he wants to give everything to you to create a moment that will remain in your memories.

— «C-chris, i-i'm close!»

He understands silently and his movements become more insistent, his thrusts get faster and deeper, Chris feels the heat build up inside him, the familiar tangle of pleasure tightens inside, he is close, so close to the edge, but he wants to make sure that you reach your peak first.

His hand glides to where your bodies meet, his fingers find your most sensitive spot, the touch is skillful, his movements are calculated to give you maximum pleasure, he rubs and swirls your clit, his pace matches the rhythm of thrusts.

He watches your face, studying every flash of pleasure dancing across your features as he whispers seductively — «Cum for me, let it go, sweetheart»

The intensity of his touch and the words escaping from his lips push you to breaking point, your body trembling and squeezing around him just like your walls around his cock as the waves of ecstasy crash down Chris feels your release and that pushes him to the extreme too.

With a final push, he finds his release, his body tense as he pours himself inside you, Chris moans your name, his voice filled with unbridled desire and satisfaction, his breath hitching as he tries to catch his breath.

Chris leaned over, his forehead pressed against yours — «I'm glad i met you tonight, Y/n» he muttered in a sincere voice.

You smiled, your heart was full of feelings — «Me too, Chris»

Chris pulls you to him, his arms wrapped around you in a protective embrace, he kisses you gently on the forehead and whispers endless words of tenderness in your ear.

Thus, under the starry sky and the dark interior of the car, among the celebration of love and new beginnings, your own love story seems to have found its magical beginning.

please, don't copy my works as your own, and if you want to post them somewhere else - contact me.

reblogs, likes and comments are very much appreciated, thank you for reading! ♡

#chris redfield x reader #chris redfield smut #chris redfield x you #chris redfield #chris redfeild x reader #chris redfield fluff #chris redfield x y/n #resident evil #resident evil chris #[ ✒️july writing ]

234 notes · View notes

aihoshiino · 26 days

Text

chapter 145 thoughts!

what even was this chapter, y'all. i'm getting a migraine.

While it certainly wasn't actively bad, it basically hits on enough of the issues I've been having with the Movie Arc that if you've been reading my chapter reviews lately, you could probably write this one yourself. Weird pacing, skipping over interesting parts of the movie, continued framing of AQRB as a shallow gag and failing to follow on any of the implied development from or literally any referenced fallout of the kiss in 143? It's all here, babes. It would ultimately just be boring and redundant for me to go over all that at length again, so I won't.

I will however say that I'm pretty disappointed we're blasting through what had the potential to be some really interesting bits of postmortem characterization for Ai, even filtered through 15YL. I don't mind the manga breezing past scenes we saw firsthand but like… how did Ai react when she realized she was pregnant? How did she feel, especially given that Spica once again emphasized her longing for a family of her own? IDK. The way the story is suddenly jolting forwards in these last few chapters and skipping such huge chunks of Ai's life ultimately feels very strange and I don't know what to make of it yet.

Everyone reacting to Crow Girl's acting was pretty funny though I'm kind of exhausted with Ruby's Gaga-For-Oniichansensei Gag Character flanderization. IDK if my tolerance for it is just decreasing or if it really is amping up, but at least in the 125-137 stretch I at least got the sense that they could be in the same room and have a normal conversation but ever since 139, it feels that bit more relentless. I imagine this would be less irritating if we knew how the aftermath of 143 had played out but it really seems like the manga is going to drag this out until we're all old and grey.

THAT SAID, this chapter does confirm that Aqua's hoshigan stayed white after that chapter and… eh. Who even knows what that means lol. It does at least imply that his talk with Ruby has brought him back to Baseline Aqua but Baseline Aqua is still a guy with every single mental illness on planet earth so I don't know if that's the world's biggest W quite yet. It certainly implies an improvement over double black hoshigan but… again, with Aqua being so totally cut off from the readers this whole arc and no idea of what happened in the aftermath of 143, it's impossible to make a meaningful guess as to wtf is going on with Aqua right now.

Oh yeah, uh. This chapter also I guess constitutes the reveal of how the AQRB reincarnation happened. I guess LMAO. Honestly, I don't have much to say about it other than it feels like a bit of an anticlimax for me? The idea works fine, the execution just left me… idk. Whelmed at best, underwhelmed at most. I feel like this backstory and the implied deep fondness for GRSR -> AQRB it implies doesn't really like up with the personality she displays in the Private arc but like, I kind of feel like she was tossed into the story without Akasaka having a clear idea as to what her role was even going to turn into so maybe that's not a surprise LOL

I will say I'm glad this seems to quash the theory that Aqua and Ruby were secretly capital-G Gods, instead framing it as a Tsuru no Ongaeshi type return of kindness to two otherwise mundane people. There was some fun fan theorizing around the idea, but for me personally, Oshi no Ko is most interesting when it focuses on that aspect of the story Akasaka highlighted in an interview recently, of human relationships being warped by the entertainment industry and I think an explosion of the emotional stakes to the cosmic scale of AQRB (or tbh any of the characters) being Secretly Gods All Along would be a bit of a shark jump for me and would really shift away from what I like about the series most.

That's kind of it for this one…! Not really a lot to say about this chapter, which is why most of this review was me explaining why I didn't have a lot to say about it.

#oshi no ko #oshi no posting #chapter reviews #onk spoilers

39 notes · View notes

asleepyy · 6 months

Note

Hello! I just did yet another reread of your comic, so here's a list of random things I love about it!! Sorry if this is a bit uuuhhhh MUCH but I just love your comic a lot, and want to share some of that love, and this seemed like the best way to go about that. So:

-The way Azazel's wings are so fluffy and Jophiel's are so sleek! Your stylization of them is so pretty.

-How you draw Azazel's hands always folded as if in prayer, or fiddling...even though the rest of him is often so still. Very true to Aziraphale, of course, but also fitting of an owl - still and always observing. But still, something that betrays that vigilance.

-Jophiel's honest-to-someone mullet in Mesopotamia. I love him so much. His little curls give me life.

-How Jophiel is always moving, angling his head in funny ways, pulling absurd expressions! He's so fun and mobile, which is just perfect to contrast our very sad and stationary owl.

-just a second being overwhelmed again at the fact that Azazel risked and gave up everything for Jophiel and continues to do so after Falling for him I'm fine I'm fine I'm fine this is fine.

-The way they are so in character in this!! I love reverse AUs but it's very hard to keep them in character in them. You do so flawlessly, to the point that as I find myself trying to imagine future story beats, I struggle to because I just see them acting the way they do in the canon. Stellar writing.

-Jophiel's wink in Mesopotamia. This deserves its own point in this list. As does Azazel finally getting to look happy in the frame after, even if it doesn't last...oh sweet owl...

-Azazel tugging on Jophiel's abaya in Golgatha...completely unnecessary to get his attention, didn't need to pull him closer or anything, but it's like the fiddling of his hands wasn't soothing enough and he needed to reach out in this moment of fear for Jophiel, always asking questions.

-The return of Jophiel's mullet in Heaven! Hell yeah

-help you draw Muriel SO cute.

-Azazel's "I've personally witnessed an Angel become an owl" PLEASE it's so devastating yet so funny

-Every time we get a little frame of just Jophiel's eyes reacting with sorrow and anger at moments when it's so, so clear Azazel was never meant to Fall. His eyes are SO expressive. I don't think your future sunglasses are gonna hide the fact that you're constantly glaring at god my guy.

-I really love the way you draw Jophiel's nose, it's gorgeous!

-Jophiel. Calls. Him. Angel. Need to lie down

-Seriously, I should've anticipated it, and I didn't, that's on me, but my HEART was not READY and I'm obsessed with this scene and its implications. The way Jophiel, deep down, doesn't even see Azazel as a demon ("you were an angel once" "that was a long time ago"). How pleased and adorable Azazel is at being referred to thusly (the little hair poofs!!!). The care they have long held for each other, in its unique and strange manifestations, revealing itself as a tangible burgeoning affection.

-Jophiel's declaration on the most recent page to protect Azazel, having no freaking clue that he's frankly 4500 years late to the game. Glad to have you here, your demon friend has been protecting YOU since before time was invented! Woo...but seriously, such a powerful and touching moment all around.

Anyway, I know this is ridiculously long, but goodness knows long comments on my GO fics always make ME very happy, so I figured you wouldn't mind. ;) I eagerly anticipate every update and bit of art, and when you make this comic into physical form, I will be camping out front of the pre-orders like it's a Black Friday sale. Tent and all. And snacks.

Take care!

🥹🥹😭😭 THANK YOU!!! This is super super sweet thank you for taking ur time to do this!!! I think I’d create the first physical copy when we finish season one of the show in the story, and then if interest is still high, a second physical copy for when we tackle season 2!

#good omens #ask #ineffable-doll

84 notes · View notes

greenconverses · 3 months

Note

What's your overall verdict on the show?

Oh, I'm glad you asked because I was def planning on doing a post about it!

Overall, I'm giving the first season a solid B. It was a fairly solid interpretation all around and it nailed the feeling of the books from the very beginning. I had a lot of fun watching it and I'm excited to see where they go from here if they get another season or two (and so help me if the mouse doesn't renew!!!!!) now that the world and characters has been established. It was a big task to properly adapt this, and they did it!

Casting was absolutely stellar and is the main reason why the show succeeds the way it does. The main trio are so very good, especially Walker, who had to be the heart and soul of the show, and he nailed it every episode. I'm excited to see how they all grow as actors in future seasons or with new projects! Also, the supporting cast was fabulous. There were weak spots here and there (LMM) but overall, excellent work by the casting director.

I loved the set design and how they brought the world to life. I'd like to see some more fun with costuming next season (why the same outfits for the whole parts of the quest? give us variety!) and I hope we get to see what they'll do with some of the sets next season.

Areas that need improvement are the script and directing. None of the action scenes really wow'd me and the blocking in some episodes was weird. I complained by story pacing since episode one and that issue never really resolved itself. If they'd gone for a 10 episode season, or extended the shorter episodes by like 5-10 minutes, I think some of these issues would've gotten resolved. There wasn't a lot of time to breathe and sit when big things happened; going from the throne room straight into Luke's betrayal scenes is a recent example where I think the episode could've padded it out some. A lot of the story felt rushed when it didn't need to be.

Unfortunately, by spending so much time with the Sally/Poseidon and Percy backstory, some of the character development and world building for everyone else got sacrificed. BUT I adored those additions, so I'm not mad about it, just disappointed that the rest of the characters didn't get that. (Again, I liked the framing they did with Luke and Percy in the last episode, and showing those scenes gave a little bit more weight to his betrayal... but it could have been more.)

I've already bitched about my other issues with the script (exposition is a scene killer!) and I'm like vaguely annoyed that some of the main beats/themes of the first book were ignored, but they usually replaced it with something better or at least in-line with what had been established in series. Again, I'm not a super stickler to "It has to be 100% accurate!" thinking when it comes to book adaptations, so I didn't mind some of the changes as much as other parts of fandom might've.

So yeah, I'm satisfied. I'm going to miss having something to look forward to on Tuesday nights!

#anon #ask box #pjo tv #pjo tv show #jess watches pjo

42 notes · View notes

starpirateee · 21 days

Note

i would actually die for a owen and curt both join chimera au!! ur writing is incredible and i desperately need more of it for my blorbos <3

One of these days you anons are gonna have to tell me who you are so we can talk (/nf /hj) cos you guys have some BANGER ideas

oh and, uh, please don't actually die? I'm gonna need you back here to read this thing you got me excited over 👀

[ February, 1959 ]

He was assigned the agent who almost got away. An American with a name that struck a little bit too much of a chord.

Mega.

They'd finally caught Mega. Part of him hated to think that Curt was next on their ever expanding list of potential hires, because if they failed, that would likely be the end of agent Curt Mega, and not only how the world knew him. But that thought and all of the others were drowned out rather fiercely by the vast majority of his mind that was glad that they finally had the chance to take him down a notch.

Curt wasn't conscious when Owen entered the room. It gave him enough time to survey him and the injuries he'd already sustained trying to fight them. All things considered, he seemed to have been putting up a fairly substantial resistance, but Owen quietly supposed that such confidence wouldn't last him much longer. They were supposed to be sending the man currently under the guise of deadliest man alive after him. If Curt hadn't caved before then, he'd surely be in for a world of pain.

Owen leaned against the wall in wait, folding his arms over his chest. By the end of 1957, he barely recognised the parts of himself that he couldsee, and resented that which he couldn't. These days, the inconsistencies in his body- the pale flashes of skin, the constant ringing or low throbbing in his ears, and even the way they'd had to force one of his hands to cooperate with the rest of his person, leaving him with a stiff tremor- felt more or less neutral. They were slightly outdated pieces in an otherwise well oiled and perfectly running machine, and he had that machete weilding assassin to thank for most of that.

He didn't know how to deal with that which was wrong with his body, so most of the time, he simply… Didn't. It was easier that way.

Curt's eyes opened, and he tried to get used to the world again. It had been the same scene for- days? Weeks? He didn't know how long exactly, but the more times he woke up in it, the less he had to force himself to get used to it.

There was one thing different this time. One thing that, when he saw it's tall frame casting him an all too familiar glance from across the room, startled him to no end. Of all the times… Of all the times he really needed his mind to cooperate, it did something like this and screwed him all over again.

"Oh god. Oh god… Not now…" His voice was raspy and so quiet it was almost a whisper. He was begging the universe not to make him see Owen. Of all the times for his ghost to show up uninvited and take up that aching part of his brain, now was probably the worst of all. He cursed under his breath, willing the pain of the past to just leave him alone for once. "God, Mega, pull yourself together! He's not even real!"

Owen huffed a breath of laughter. Not real? That was a new one… What was going on in Curt's head to make him believe he wasn't real? Why was that his first response?

He pushed himself up off the wall, deciding to put this notion of his to the test. He looked Curt right in the eye as he approached, making sure to keep his gaze intent and focused, and then slapped him across the face. Curt gasped, recoiled, and then his eyes went wide.

"Is that real enough for you, Curt?" Owen hummed, straightening himself up and clasping his hands behind his back. That had been two years in the making. He was surprised it wasn't harder…

"Owen..? That- that's not possible… You're-"

"Dead?" Owen scoffed. "So you seem to believe… But did you ever think to verify that for yourself?"

"I watched you fall. I-I watched you hit the ground." Curt could feel the heat spreading across his now tingling cheek. This was real, alright. Owen was real, and right in front of him, and alive. Owen- this real, not-inside-his-head Owen- had just slapped him right across the face like this wasn't the first time they were seeing each other in two years or more. All of this was actually happening, right there in the hands of the enemy.

Owen was in the hands of the enemy.

Owen… Was the enemy.

"You didn't ever take it further, did you? You just assumed I was dead right from the off, and you never took it further!" He shook his head, somewhere between offended and completely unsurprised. On one hand, did he really expect anything else? Curt wasn't the type to go back to anything, and that shouldn't have been surprising in the slightest. Still, he was a little disappointed, now having to force himself to understand that everything they'd tried to tell him was right. Curt was a coward. Curt did leave him for dead out there, and he didn't have an intention to return.

He'd managed to convince himself for a while that Curt wouldn't possibly leave him to suffer in the ways he had. Even at the time, that was no more than an attempt at self regulation, trying to pretend that one day, Curt would follow the end of a trail that led him straight back to him, and he could leave the pain behind…

Of course, that day never had come.

Curt watched his eyes cloud over with something that may have been a slight of genuine heartbreak, and felt his stomach drop. "Why are you here?"

"Thanks to you, both the American government and my own believe I'm rather dead. After that, there weren't a lot of other options." Owen answered, as bluntly as he could manage.

"You can't be saying-" But, no matter how hard he protested, it was his fault. And even he knew it. Every single step in this catastrophic failure had been his fault. He sighed. Even the fact that Owen could no longer live or work in the UK or the US because he was legally dead… That was his fault too. "Don't answer that. What do you want from me?"

"I want you to see some sense. We want nothing from you, so to speak, just enough of a chance to make our proposals?"

"You're crazy if you think I'm gonna cave just because it's you."

"I didn't expect you to have a bias just because we have a history. I know how hard a man you are to break."

Owen's eyes still burned with that same passion that they always had. Golden shimmers burst through the burnt caramel of his irises, and it felt like he knew them so well. It was distressingly familiar, and devastatingly handsome.

"But, all the same," Owen continued, voice not half as alive as his eyes. He took a well thought out step back, and started to pace. Curt heard his every step as they resonated through his ears, sending tiny shivers up his spine time and time again. "You know how I refuse to compromise."

The pacing stopped for long enough for Curt to nod, and then began again. In trying to ignore it, he dared himself to get a little confident. "Go on, then. Draw me in with the same bullshit they forced into you. I'm all fucking ears..."

"That's what you don't understand. What we're trying to create, it could change your life. This world isn't built for men like us, and you know it. Doesn't matter how hard you fight, the federal governments are never going to change their stance."

"You don't know that—"

"I do. Nothing will change if we don't force the change out of them. What you're doing is fine, as far as these things go... But, Curt... What happens when your agency finds out about your affilations?"

"They won't."

"What, ever? You're careful enough for now, and my death certainly helped with that aspect of things, but you do realise that the second they find out- in fact, the second they even start to suspect you- you're going straight to death row. That wouldn't be the case if the plan came into fruition, you understand..."

Owen passed through Curt's line of sight, and he scoffed, forcing the Brit to stop in his tracks. In a moment, his gaze was back on him, and Curt felt the intensity of it as it weighed heavy on him. This kind of unbridled confidence and sudden slights of anger had only been seen in the most calculating of adversaries, but Curt had never thought to believe he'd see it ignited in the face of someone like Owen.

"You sound mad. You know that?"

"Mad?" Owen raised an eyebrow, his head tilting as if he were trying to consider Curt's accusation. "Right... Is it mad to want what everyone else has? You're the one of us from the self proclaimed land of the free, and you're telling me you don't want a slice of that freedom?"

"No, I-"

"A straight answer, please, Curt. You beat around the bush more than a bloody politician. do you, or do you nor, want to be a free man, without the repercussions of people knowing who you are?"

There was a beat of silence. Not like Curt needed to think about it, but the last thing he wanted to do was show any ounce of desperation, especially not in front of Owen. He didn't deserve the satisfaction of knowing he was right, not in any capacity. So, he baited him for a moment, testing the possibility of saying no in his head.

But the truth was as plain as either of them could make it without words. He wanted to be free so badly. He wanted a life without repercussions, without the need to hie any one part of himself from everyone, for fear that they'd have his head if they found out.

It was mainly just the fact that Owen had called him a politician...

"Yes. Yes, I wanna be free. But not like this."

"Not like what? You have no idea of what we are capable. Nobody will care by the time we're finished. We will be on top of the world."

Curt didn't want to believe a word, but Owen was so convincing in his own way. He made this freedom sound both easy and attainable, when he knew it was anything but. When they had been fighting for so long, how was Owen and his organisation so sure that everything was going to change, just like that?

He suddenly felt confident enough to put into words what he had been thinking since Owen first started making his proposal. He looked up, registering that Owen was still there in front of him. "Do they know about you?"

Owen froze momentarily, drawing in a breath. Curt managed to convince himself that this was the edge, this was the one thing he had over him and everything he was saying, however tempting it was to listen to. Eventually, Owen sighed, but he had the pride enough to not drop his gaze through the defeat that was so evidently- and yet so briefly- written across his face.

"No. They don't."

"So, why'd you think they would accept people like us? You make out like it's easy, but you don't know! You don't know whether these plans will accomodate everything wrong with the world, because you've never bothered to try and find out!"

The risk was too great. It always had been. Owen knew for a fact that the more they knew about him, the more they could expose. All things considered, he had somehow managed to remain a closed book, even here. They only knew anything at all about him as an operative, very little about the man behind that aim, that laser focus... If presented with the opportunity, they may have known more, but they had been rather built on the idea that all secrets would be exposed in their time, and therefore, anything their agents were keeping would also leak from the woodwork.

"The way the system works," he started to explain, partly aware that Curt would buy it even less now that he'd found that edge. "We wouldn't be the ones in the public eye. All over the world, those who turn thousands in profits, and those who keep their secrets tight, will be forced into watching everything be exposed, piece by piece. The people's focus will be there; reams of government secrets and endless, publically available data, and it'll be people like us who will revel in the change."

"But how do you know that?"

"Because I've seen it. I know what they're going to do with it. Think of what they could pull from the secret service, for example. Tell me you believe the public will still have their attention on men like us, when everything that the secret service has kept hidden is suddenly on the record."

This was the kind of back and forth that happened every time Owen and Curt saw each other again. Owen would get closer and closer to genuinely moving Curt, and Curt would become less and less convinced that he was going to leave this place. For some reason, he still felt completely familiar in Owen's presence, and it became harder to ignore what he was saying.

It came to the point where he started realising that he was being offered everything he'd ever wanted. Owen's silver tongue had him convinced that whatever was going to happen in the long run was going to be an improvement on the world's current state. He got in easier. His words started having more of an effect.

Curt was a recruit under Chimera by the end of the month.

#spies are forever #saf #agent curt mega #owen carvour #void offering #star mail #nova's tags →#curt's gonna come about as willingly as owen let's be real here #and the only way he would join chimera would be through owen's persuasion #because again. maybe the love they felt for each other isnt what it was #but there's an insane kind of bond there #these men are probably the only people in the world who know the other is gay #that's sacred #that's something you don't tell anyone #so even if it's not love. there is something there #fic tag: hands of the enemy

29 notes · View notes

shintin · 8 months

Text

Glory-Hole

↳ Vash the Stampede x Female Reader

One-shot (A cut from Gunpowder Dreams fic)

Summary: Trapped in a mafia's clutches, you embark on a daring escape from the relentless grip of Vash, the enigmatic boss. However, freedom comes at a price as you face the unforgiving consequences of your defiance. In this thrilling tale of survival, navigate a treacherous world where alliances shift, and shadows hold secrets. Can you outwit the formidable Vash and break free, or will you succumb to the merciless retribution that awaits?

(For more details, read the original story linked above.)

Word count: +6 k.

Genre: explicit smut (Mafia au).

Warnings/Tags: +18, NSFW, Alternative Universe/Modern Setting, no spoilers from manga and anime, dominate Vash the Stampede, dub-con, toxicity, gunplay, manhandling, unprotected sex, biting, etc.

Notes: I just wanted to write gunplay smut.

Disclaimer: The gunplay scene is inspired by the books I've read.

Song Recommendation: Nancy Sinatra - Bang Bang

You can read my fics on AO3 and Wattpad. If you have any questions, don’t be shy and ASK. This is my DISCORD account, in case you want to contact me.

Back to the master list.

As you sat motionless, a realization gripped you: escape from this house was an unattainable feat. He was smart, but the scariest part was your inability to anticipate a single one of his thoughts. You felt like a dumb rabbit while he, as cunning as a fox, remained one step ahead.

"You're not touching me," you hissed, your voice wobbly and rife with unshed tears.

"What you gonna do if I do?" He directed his gaze toward the ceiling and the pipes. "I'm glad it's the dead of night, and this room is almost soundproof. So, you won't disturb anyone's peaceful slumber."

Driven by instinct, fear propelled you to your feet as you hurriedly made your way to the door, frantically grasping the handle and repeatedly tugging it up and down.

Open!

Please, open!

As you wrestled with the doorknob, attempting to force it open, a sturdy steel arm suddenly encircled your waist and lifted you off the ground.

"NO!" A piercing scream erupted from your lips as you kicked futilely at the space, fiercely resisting his grip.

"Oh, yes, love," he growled, swinging your body towards the wall.

You grunted from the impact, leaning your back against the wall; this time, you used it as leverage to kick against the bastard of a man. "Let me go, you fucking creepy-ass fuck—"

"Keep talking, and you'll just make it worse."

You screeched, out of breath and growing weaker, as he pinned your flailing body against the wall, rendering you powerless.

"We had a deal, didn't we?" Vash asked in a panting tone.

A tear spilt over your lid. And then another and another until you were on the verge of sobbing again. "We had, but—"

"Don't cry, love," he cooed. "It's going to get so much worse."

His breath skated over your cheek as he pressed himself further into your body, just like in the previous encounter. Towering over you, his larger frame enveloped you completely until all you could see, feel, and smell was him—his warmth, the distinctive scent that was uniquely his, and the way his black-clad body surrounded you.

"I like you scared," he whispered, sending shivers down your core. "I like you begging and pleading. Crying out for imaginary Gods to save you."

You felt the touch of leather on your face, and you flinched away. His fingers delicately traced a path from your cheekbone to your hair, gently tucking stray strands behind your ear. "I like you trembling beneath my touch, uncontrollably."

"You're sick," you snapped, doing just that. You were shaking from head to toe, and you couldn't seem to stop it.

“You think your pleas will only arise when your life is at stake, but you are mistaken," he grunted, letting out a deep, mocking laugh. "In due time, you will beg for my touch, craving it desperately."

"That'll never happen," you hissed, glaring at him with all your might. Or at least you thought you were. The dim light emanating from the ceiling lights shadowed his eyes. It felt almost like being far-sighted. Your face was so close to something, but clarity evaded you. The shadows were a part of him. He carried them around.

"It's time to punish you, and I've thought of the many ways I could do this," he said, ignoring your jab. It only infuriated you more that he found your lack of consent so inconsequential. So… worthless. "I'll be nice this time." You opened your mouth, but he cut you off with a deep growl of warning, "But only if you reciprocate, love."

Your teeth audibly snapped together, the sound punctuating the air and drawing yet another amused grunt from him. Your pride took a hit, and you wanted to knee him in the balls for it, but you couldn't lift your leg an inch as you tried.

"You freak! What are you going to do?" you spat out, the stutter of your words in sync with the beat of your heart. His searing breath brushed against your cheek as you felt the gentle glide of his lips tracing along your jawline. You swallowed but nearly choked from how dry your throat had become. Those lips descend to the column of your neck, skittering along until he paused on the spot right below your ear.

"I'm gonna play with my toy," he declared right before his teeth clamped down. Your back arched involuntarily, repulsion and pleasure marrying in your nerves, sending misfires to your brain. All coherent thoughts escaped from your mind, leaving behind only primal instincts to guide your actions.

But, somehow, as if he was electrocuted, he distanced himself. His gaze shifted downwards towards the collar of his shirt. The cross was there, concealed on his chest. His eyes changed momentarily, remorseful, maybe disgusted by what he had become. As if he was lost, struggling to find himself, but instead, his eyes found you—the one with the answers.

You wished you could show him hatred, but seeing your pleasure, he groaned, his teeth piercing as his tongue lapped at your flesh. Your mouth opened, and a silent scream suctioned away just as his mouth did the same, drawing in deep like he was drinking the essence from your body. And then, with a lingering sensation of pain, he withdrew, his teeth grazing your skin as he released his hold, leaving behind a stinging reminder.

Your hands pressed into his chest for stability or to push him away. You were not sure. Though your question was quickly answered when instinct coerced your hands to curl, gripping his shirt tight and anchoring yourself to him as if he was your lifeline. When in reality, he was the one killing you.

Severe shivers wracked your body when he licked a wet path with his tongue, descending from your neck towards the juncture where your nipples resided. He paused, and it felt as if your body teetered precariously over a sharpened blade. You held your breath, the anticipation rattling your bones. And then he was biting down again, pulling an animalistic sound from your chest. He did this, over and over, leaving behind a trail of bruises that marked his territory along your neck and across your shoulder.

You were breathless by the time he pulled away. "Good girl," he finally exhaled, his own voice airy. Somehow, that made you feel worse. You wanted him to hate it as much as you should've. "You like this, don't you?"

"I…ah," you panted, trying hard to conceal the depths of your desires because you were revealing more and more as he went further. You were fucking seconds away from reaching out and grabbing his cock through his pants and begging him to fuck you since you hadn't been touched by a human for a long time, let alone a man, and this thing in front of you had the power to make you momentarily forget everything, despite being the very reason for your need to escape reality. Then something occurred to your mind.

You couldn't explain why you did what you did next. You would ask Gods later. But at that moment, you were so overcome with a tsunami of emotions that you reached up and bit his tattooed neck. Hard, and you didn't care, just bit harder. Maybe you wanted to hurt him back, give him a taste of his own medicine, make him feel whatever you felt.

Regardless of the reason, he didn't take kindly to it. His hand wrapped around your throat, exerting pressure as he forcefully pushed you back, simultaneously tearing himself away from your body. He was squeezing tightly, but you couldn't care less. You felt justified. If he killed you here and now, at least you could say you left one last mark on him.

He growled low, a sound of frustration and an unnamed emotion that eluded definition. "I'm beginning to think you like to be punished, which means I'm just going to have to do better."

Before you could react, he hoisted you up, effortlessly tossing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Fucker!" you snapped, your fists pounding against his back as you thrashed your exposed legs. You were not a potato.

A sharp smack to your ass was his only response. "Love, the wind can do more harm than what you're doing."

"Want to see my teeth again, asshole? I'll sure to grab your ugly face this time."

"Keep telling yourself that, but deep down, we both know this face is making you wet," he retorted, amusement coloring his words. Snarling, you resented his fucking unruffled calm. And because he was not entirely wrong. No, dumbass, he was wrong. He must be wrong.

More curses flooded out of your mouth, but they were cut short when he dragged your body down his front until your legs were wrapped around his waist, and he was cradling you to his chest. Oh, fuck this. You lifted your hands to scratch his face, maybe do a little eye-gouging, but instead, you just squealed. He swooped you backward, your stomach bottoming out as he set you on the bed, flat on your back. Your robe came undone, leaving you inadequately covered when he hovered over you, his arms positioned on either side of your head as he braced himself over you. You swallowed, tears pricking your eyes. "What a gentleman! Letting me look at your obnoxious face as you murder me," you mouthed off, forcing the words through your tightened throat.

You really needed to shut the fuck up. But you couldn't seem to stop yourself. Apparently, when you were in a life-threatening situation, all you could manage to do was make it worse. While some might perceive it as fearlessness, you could only assume it as an act of sheer stupidity.

Balancing himself with one hand, he reached behind him with the other. As you prepared to unleash more insults from your mouth, his arm emerged, revealing a tightly gripped gun.

Another audible tick of your teeth later, you were back to being choked silent with fear.

"I told you not to run away. I told you to follow the orders," he stated, his tone bled dry of emotion. "Typically, I would choose to crack open your skull and forcibly implant the words in your brain, but it seems you require a different method to learn your lesson."

"Okay, I'm sorry," you rushed out, your eyes widening as he pointed the gun at your chest. "I-I'm really, rea—"

"Shh," he hushed. "You're not sorry yet, love. But you will be."

A myriad of thoughts ran through your head on what you could possibly say to get out of this. You were sorry clearly, wasn't good enough. "You're going to shoot me?"

Your bladder threatened to explode, and knowing that you might die in a puddle of pee brought tears to your eyes. A bewildering cocktail of emotions engulfed you. Fear had gripped you tightly, its icy tendrils coiling around your heart, as you found yourself trapped in this fucked up situation. Yet, amidst the suffocating grip of fear, there was a grotesque sense of fascination. You couldn't deny the perverse allure that came with the feeling of being trapped, as if a part of you savored being confined, even as it elicited a thrilling sensation. WHAT? What the fuck was wrong with you?

"You gonna taste this gun one way or another," he responded, his tone dripping with impatience. He punctuated his response by dragging the gun down through the valley of your breasts. The weapon continued its way down your stomach, stopping at the edge of your robe's tie. "Will you take the bullet or the gun?" As he inclined his head, his neck tattoos stretched, emphasizing the presence of the pulsating veins that wound their way towards his enigmatic mind. Meanwhile, the small golden loop on his left ear playfully winked at you while he patiently awaited her response.

"Are you fucking serious?" you panicked, your hands gripping the ends of the tie tightly, the fabric moist with sweat. He must be kidding, right?

"I was going to take it easy on you, but when you act like a rabid puppy, you leave me with no choice but to tame you," he said, tracing the tip of his gun along the edges of the robe. "This is your last chance, or I'll do as I see fit."

Your lip trembled, and a single tear slid down your temple. "Please, don't do this."

He cocked a brow, and the act was damning. He appeared so damn unimpressed with your pleas, causing another tear to trace the path of the first. You had to survive, didn't you? You had to endure long enough to witness this man's demise with your own eyes, didn't you? It couldn't hurt that much, could it? Just focus on counting, fixating your gaze upon the cracks in the wall, and listening to the faint chirping of crickets emanating from the pipes.

You gulped and answered, "I-I'll…"

"You'll what? I need you to be loud and clear."

"Y-your…your gun…" you stuttered, words all dropping dead on your dry tongue.

"What about my gun?" he inquired, sliding the weapon beneath the tobe and directing it towards your bellbottoms. " Say it, love. Utilize that sharp tongue of yours that knows how to hurl curses."

With your eyes tightly shut, you released your grip on the tie, your hands trembling. "I... I'll... I'll take the gun."

"Take off your robe," he ordered, moving back a little. "Now!"

Sniffing, you finally listened. Hooking your thumbs into the robe's belt, you undid the tie. You fought the urge to cover yourself. Because you knew that the act of hiding would bring him greater delight than being almost entirely naked before him. He dug the thrill of conquering through struggle, and you were determined to deny him that win. You were only able to slide it a little before the muzzle of the gun got in the way.

He took the hint, grabbed the robe, and harshly moved it aside. More tears followed suit as you stuck your thighs together.

"Open your eyes and look at me."

You did as he said; your gaze got tied with his. Yet, as you stared into his eyes, you noticed something unexpected. No hatred, resentment, or even lust reflected in them. Instead, it was a vacant look devoid of any deeper meaning. It dawned on you that violence was his only language, his sole response to the world around him. He had not learned any other way to navigate life. Perhaps the only bright spot in his existence had been his beloved, cruelly taken away.

Maybe, but maybe in a parallel world, you thought, he could have been a different person—a better person, surrounded by love and family. In that alternate reality, you might have looked at him with a second glance, for his eyes, the deep azure pools, his lips, and his face were reminiscent of something celestial, qualities that angels themselves would possess, not those cast out from heaven.

Vash's touch shocked you back to reality, causing you to startle, as if you were about to leap out of your own skin. You had to beg your bones to stop shaking.

"Next, your hands," he commanded, jerking his gun to emphasize his directive. Reluctantly, you moved your arms away from your body and let them drop onto the sheets with a huff.

"Stunning," he murmured, his eyes tracing over the curves of your body. He leaned over you again, his mouth kissing the last bruise he left on your shoulder. "Do you know what these mean?" he whispered, pressing another gentle kiss to a different spot on your skin.

You shuddered beneath his touch, electricity sprouting from the point of contact and dancing across your skin. You didn't answer, but he didn't seem to mind. "Those marks," he stated with a sense of ownership, "signify that you belong to me."

The tip of his tongue darted out, trailing your flesh as he moved down towards your breasts.

"Don't—"

His teeth pierced the nipple of your left breast before you could finish your futile plea. You gasped, squeezing your eyes shut as he left another mark on your skin. "Now, whenever you see these, you'll remember me," he said, claiming your body for his own.

Once satisfied, he moved to the other nipple, leaving his own hickeys on your it. And all you could do was just take it.

When your body was well and abused by his teeth and tongue, he lifted and forced your thighs apart. You strained against him, but it only hurt you in the end. He was too strong. With a firm grip on your waist, his clothed forefinger traced the delicate crease of your groin, starting from the juncture of your thigh and trailing downward towards the very center of your being.

Before his finger reached your clit, he tantalizingly ran it up and down your engorged vulva, coming perilously close to your pussy. The sensations were overwhelming, and you felt deeply ashamed as you realized your body was responding to his touch. You wanted to cover your face because you knew he was feeling your body's betrayal.

"You're drenched," he rasped out, his lips still wet from his saliva. The sweet Vash with kind eyes had vanished entirely.

"That's called discharge! Your stupid ass wouldn't know that!" you snapped, hoping your lie would shoo him away.

He responded with a smile. "As much as I hate to say this to you, I'm no stranger to a woman's pussy and what it feels like when it weeps for me."

Your eyes widened. So this fucker had slept with women too? It seemed he had explored every possible avenue. Disgust curled your lip as you retorted, "Last time I checked, most girls weep because they're upset. Maybe you should take a hint."

He let out a chuckle. "Love, that's exactly what I'm doing."

With a firm grip, he spread your legs apart, baring your pussy to him, where the arousal glistened from within. He muttered a curse under his breath as his eyes hungrily devoured every detail of your being. Another tremble of your lips had you biting down on the traitorous flesh.

With one finger still positioned on your pussy, he raised the gun to your face with his other hand. You flinched back, squeezing your eyes shut and letting loose a startled yelp. "Calm down," he reassured you, his tone strained. "I just want you to suck it."

It took several seconds for his words to register. To process that he didn't pull the trigger and you were not dead. As the comprehension dawned, your eyes flew open, and you shot him a fierce glare. "Why the hell—"

He tapped the gun's tip against your mouth, effectively cutting you off. The remainder of your words dissipated into thin air as he glided the gun across your lips, almost as if he was painting them with lipstick.

"Suck," he ordered, his tone deepening with finality. Closing your eyes against more tears, you opened your mouth and obediently opened your mouth, allowing him to guide the gun between your teeth. You squeezed your lids tighter as you twirled your tongue over the cold metal, cringing from the nasty taste.

"My good girl," he said, pulling the dripping gun out, a trail of saliva following until it snapped.

Your entire body locked when the cool metal slid against your clit. You flinched against the foreign touch of an incredibly dangerous weapon. A wave of pure terror washed over you, and it took all your strength to keep from full-on sobbing.

Holding a gun to your head was far less intimidating than it being held between your legs. A gunshot to the head would bring instant death, but this? This would be slow and painful. Torturous.

He leaned in, close enough for his warm breath to caress your core. You raised yourself, yearning for a clearer view. At that moment, he met your gaze, peering up at you through his long, thick lashes, his perfect blue eyes sparkling with delight.

As you parted your lips to question what he was doing, he stuck out his tongue, saliva pooling to the tip and dripping off onto your pussy.

"Seems like you can never be too wet, can you, love?" Sitting up, he traced circles around your entrance with the gun, the metal slipping against your skin.

What if he shoots you mistakenly?

"Oh, my God, please do—" This time, your words were cut off as he pressed the gun past your folds. Just the tip, but enough to close your throat, only allowing a startled squeak to escape.

He laughed cruelly. "Don't hold back. Moan if you want."

You'd snap at him if you weren't frozen solid. You couldn't look away. Helplessly, you just watched him push the gun inside you, your rounded eyes barely processing what you saw and felt. Everything so fucking surreal.

Slowly, he worked the gun inside you, eliciting both pleasure and pain. You clenched your jaw, shuddering from his ministrations but refusing to make a sound. You were determined not to grant him the satisfaction.

He gradually worked the weapon halfway in before retracting it to the very tip, granting you a brief moment to catch your breath. However, that respite was short-lived as he buried the entire barrel deep within you. Your hands clenched the sheets as you sucked in a sharp gasp and let your head fall back, unable to bear witness any longer, drained of the strength to endure the sight.

This was so, so fucked up. Beyond fucked up.

As the gun pulled back and penetrated you once more, a noise did slip through as a wave of pleasure rocked through you. FUCK!

"Good girl," he breathed. "Now open wider, love." His free hand nudged against your thigh. Without a thought, your thighs instinctively parted further. Another praise, but you barely heard it over the beating of your heart.

"I can feel how tight your pussy is. The way it clings to my gun when I slide it out—exquisite."

You bit your lip, but it wasn't enough to hold in the forthcoming moan. Or the one after that. You could hear the suctioning and slurping noises as he fucked you with his gun, and shame filled you in response. The embarrassment nearly overrode the fear. But neither was more potent than the pleasure your body was compelled to submit to.

When he angled the gun in a particular way, he hit the spot inside you that sent your eyes to the back of your head and an unchecked moan to slip free. He growled in response, further fueling your arousal. Your back arched as he skillfully continued to target and stimulate that pleasurable area.

Your hole grew impossibly tight, biting into the gun barrel when his gloved hand gripped your thigh in a bruising hold. Your heart jumped when he leaned closer but only clamped his teeth onto your inner thigh. You cried out from the sharp bite, but it quickly morphed into a moan, sending waves of ecstasy coursing through your body as he hit that spot again.

His mouth sucked your thigh, and his movements quickened until you felt the familiar stirrings of an impending orgasm settled low in the pit of your stomach.

"Please," you begged but didn't know what for. He relented, briefly tearing his mouth away, only to clamp down again, this time lower but still frustratingly distant from your center. Too far away. Sadly far away.

"Tell me what you learned, love," he demanded, looking up at you, his mouth wet from his biting. The sight made your heart drop deep into your belly, right to where the gun was driving into you.

"Not to bite you?" you guessed, your voice trembling as if you were high. He answered by biting your thigh in a punishing grip. You cried out, the pain blinding. He loosened his jaw, allowing the pain to blend with pleasure.

A primal, guttural sound slipped out as he thrust the gun deep. "Are you going to make me ask again?"

You opened your mouth, but no answer came out. Your silence allowed you to hear his warning loud and clear. He cocked the gun.

"Okay, okay, fuck," you relented with a terrified hush. "I-I learned not to run away from my cage." Those words brought tears to your eyes because uttering them aloud made you feel truly trapped by this man.

"Who owns your life, love?"

You closed your eyes, resenting the lie on the tip of your tongue, ready to spill forth just like the tears streaming down your face. "You," you whispered, the bitter taste of the words clogging your throat.

A battlefield raged in your body.

One part of you craved his touch, longing for him to make you come. Meanwhile, another part of you harbored a dark desire, wishing for him to turn the gun upon himself and fire it.

You glanced downwards at him and noted how he was staring at you. And you had the terrifying realization that he saw through your deceit and didn't believe your lies.

"You have ten more seconds to come, love. No more chances after that," he warned before nipping at your thigh again. "Rub your clit."

You hesitated. The last thing you wanted to do was allow this man the satisfaction of making you come and, even worse, helping him do it. In your mind, he didn't fucking deserve it. And though your body was strung tight with desperation for release, your mind rebelled against the idea.

"Now," he shouted, his eyes blazing with something carnal and dangerous.

Muttering a curse, you reached down and twirled your fingers over your clit, too scared of the potential consequences. If it was between orgasming and getting shot, you were going to have to choose the option that would cause the least damage.

"Good girl," he whispered. It took two more thrusts of the gun before you were propelled over the edge, your ass shooting clear off the ground as the orgasm ripped through you. You were screaming. You could feel the sound vibrating the muscles in your throat and turning it increasingly hoarse. But you couldn't hear it. Not when your entire being was consumed in fire and ice, and you could only see a blissful heaven.

The gun worked inside of you faster and deeper, drawing out the orgasm until you were literally begging for it to come to an end. He ripped the weapon out of you, and your thighs snapped shut instantly, sealing off the remnants of your shameful orgasm.

You were left a shuddering mess from the aftershocks as the waves of pleasure subsided. Meanwhile, his body towered over you. Through your half-lidded eyes, still jerking from the little shocks, you glanced up and met his gaze. His face broke into the broadest smile you had ever seen on his face, and you noticed he had dimples.

He had fucking dimples.

He was easily the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen. And you wished you'd never seen it. Because something inside your heart was being torn apart, and it felt like fear, it tasted like panic, and you didn't know how to understand the image in front of you.

You didn't want to see Vash like this. You vehemently refused to perceive him as anything other than a monster. This wasn't right. Your body was full of rage, humiliation, and shame—you knew this. But it was like your brain couldn't process those emotions, so it was just choosing to feel nothing at all. Was this what trauma did? Knowing that you had been violated, yet your body opting for a state of numbness instead?

The silver cross sprung from his shirt, diverting your gaze to the scar it adorned. "Lick this clean," he said, placing his gun onto your bared breast. "I can't use this when it's dripping your cum."

Like a magic trick, he pulled his body back, and every heat you had in your veins disappeared. With one last lingering look, he stood up and turned his back to you, his hands probably adjusting his pants. Then he began to walk leisurely toward the wall, floorboards creaking beneath his weight. Not even a passing glance was spared in your direction. Probably you didn't exist for him anymore. He had taken what he wanted, reducing you to nothingness.

Men.

As he neared the worn-out brick wall, his hand delved into his pocket, retrieving a cigarette. With practiced precision, he placed it in the corner of his mouth. His fingers trembled as he reached for his lighter, or perhaps it was merely a figment of your imagination. Anyhow, he poised himself to ignite the flame, preparing to immerse himself in the disgusting cloud of smoke that would soon envelop him.

You moved without thinking, your hand wrapping around the sticky gun. You would never lick this shit. You stood on your feet, not caring about covering yourself. The second he realized what you'd done, he backed away, raising his hands in surrender—the stupid cigarette dangling between his lips.

You pointed the gun right at his fucking head, and all you wanted to do was blow it off. All you wanted to see was his brain exploding beneath the bullet. Because you were not looking into the face of the man who could easily steal your heart under different circumstances. You didn't see him at all. You only saw a faceless man who took what he wanted from you, and you let him. But now you wanted him to fucking burn for it.

Tears built in your eyes, your vision blurring. The gun was vibrating from how hard your hand trembled, but he stood close enough that you'd strike accurately. Whether the bullet hit his head, his throat, or his chest, you didn't care.

"Love," he whispered.

You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing the sweet but stupid, stupid and stupid whisper out of your head. You didn't want to hear it.

"I haven't done anything to you." You voice cracked. "How can you hurt me like this?" Your eyes burned from the tears welling up. And within seconds, they spilt, running down your cheeks. It seemed like orgasm had pushed your feelings out with itself.

And he seemed to realize it too because a subtle change reflected in his eyes. "I asked you to stay away from trouble," he murmured, his voice so soft. "Why don't you listen to me?" He bared his teeth, his own ire flashing in his eyes. "Do you think I enjoy hurting you?"

"I do!" you shouted, thrusting the gun at him. You sucked in a sharp breath as a sob climbed up your throat. He nodded slowly, a glimmer of understanding replacing the anger that had once flamed in his eyes.

Deep down, you knew better. You knew he wasn't angry with you. He was angry because he was helpless. Hopeless. A goddamn lost cause. Because he would never be the same, and he knew that. But what he didn't know was what to do with it.

A sob escaped your throat, but the rage persisted. He slowly stepped towards you, like approaching a frightened animal with vicious teeth. His eyes didn't stray from yours as he advanced, and you were so close to slipping back into that paralyzing hold he had on you. Then he was right before you again, pressing his lips into the gun barrel.

"Does this make you feel powerful?" he murmured.

Another sob broke free, but you didn't lower the weapon.

"Does this make you feel free?"

You scowled but couldn't muster the courage to respond. You couldn't articulate what it made you feel—you just knew it made you feel something. You stared at the gun in your hand, at the smooth, heavy metal, and you were surprised to find that you enjoyed the way it nestled within your grip, like an extension of your body. It didn't frighten you anymore.

You could stand still in this moment forever.

"What you seem to have forgotten," he snarled, "is that I am already a dead man. I died months ago. So go ahead, pull that trigger, love. End the remaining fragments of my existence. I am nothing but a hollow vessel."

You broke and screwed your eyes shut against the flood of tears, but it was like putting a flimsy piece of paper over a bursting pipe. Agony etched across your face, consuming you completely. "I don't want to be here," you choked out, barely getting the words out before a gut-wrenching sob tore through your trembling lips.

"Let me help you—fuck love, just fucking kill me," he bit, his voice breaking. He opened his mouth, and the barrel slid in. His lips tightly closed around the gun, his eyes staring at you, begging you.

Pull the trigger.

It wasn't fair, but it was becoming harder and harder to look at Vash and blame him, too. You were beginning to revert to that weak, thoughtful part of yourself that was convinced your life wouldn't be such a goddamn shitshow if your father didn't come barreling into it.

But no! You would no longer let your emotions get in the way. You were supposed to play this game by its own rules. So if it were your turn to shoot, you would do it.

No hesitating. No understanding. Just pulling this little trigger.

Click.

To your dismay, there was only a vacant stillness, a blackhole that swallowed your hopes and replaced them with a rising tide of unease. Your chest resonated with the thunderous cadence of your own heart, the loud thud filling your ears as you refused to accept the defeat. Ignoring the gnawing doubts gnarling at your mind, you pulled the trigger again and again and again.

Click. Click. Click.

The sound of the emptiness mocked your growing desperation.

A cold sweat bead on your brow as you stumbled backward, your body shaking with disbelief. Your eyes widened in horror as you stared at the gun, and when your gaze met his face, your world unraveled further into a maelstrom of darkness. His lips contorted into a wicked grin, now devoid of the innocence and sadness he pretended to have. The sight sent a tremor scurrying up your soul, your skin prickling with a nauseating blend of aversion and revulsion.

"You taste fantastic, love" Vash's voice slithered with a perverse delight as he savored the moment, his tongue caressing his lips in a vile display. His hands, tainted with malice, raked through his disheveled hair. Then with an ear-splitting crack, he twisted his neck, relishing in the discomfort he inflicted upon himself. "You hate me enough to try pulling the trigger four times?"

Your blood ran icy as his words seeped into your consciousness, a sting as bitter as poison. Suffocating the room, his laughter took on a haunting quality, a symphony of evilness. Each note of his amusement revealed the true nature of his depravity, shattering the fragile illusion of triumph you once held.

"Did you really think I'll leave you with a loaded gun?" Then as if to prove how simple-minded you were, he reached into his pocket, extracting the sixth bullet with a perverse flourish. He presented it before you, a diabolical offering that sealed your fate. The weight of that one extra little bullet pressed down upon you, an oppressive force that smothered any remnants of hope.

"Game over," he declared, his voice dripping with finality, each syllable a nail in the coffin of your aspirations. The room contracted around you, a claustrophobic arena that confined you to this sleepless nightmare. "You've got balls."

Your eyes snapped up, your mind working quickly to fit all the pieces together, and he was gaping at you, staring at you in a way that was entirely foreign to you, in a way that said he was utterly, absolutely amazed. You were not sure if he was proud.

But the fact that the gun was empty the whole time was a kick in the gut. No. It was a gun in the cunt.

"It… empty…bullet…" Stuttering, you turned to look at the bed, sheets still wet from your heinous climax, and then yourself, every inch of your body bare to his disgusting gaze.

Fingers coiling like vipers ready to strike, Vash extended his arm, reaching closer to your slumped figure. As his hand reached you, he guided it downward with deliberate precision, his touch a phantom of sweetness. You remained motionless, your body as still as a fragile porcelain doll, your spirit hollowed out by his relentless torment. You offered no resistance, Your limbs heavy with acceptance. It didn't have a meaning anyway. This was his playground, and you were nothing but a worthless pawn.

The room held its breath, like you when you thought his fingers were headed for your hole again, only to find them closing around the gun with an ironclad grip.

He leaned closer to your ear, whispering, "You're far too naïve. I would never take even the slightest risk of losing my favorite toy."

Your eyes got shot closed, your lips pressing on each other as he planted a kiss on your temple and walked out without any more words.

You opened your mouth, and you screamed. You screamed and screamed until your voice cracked beneath the pressure. Until you feared your throat would shred from the force. You wanted to crawl outside of your body so desperately. Just so you could escape this feeling. No. You wanted that gun loaded with bullets to turn it on yourself.

One last shout ripped out of your throat, this one so full of pain that brought you to your knees. You crumbled. The raw sound tapered off, fading into a hoarse, staccato cry. You sucked in a deep breath, filling your lungs with oxygen you didn't want, but you were too lost in your grief to scream like you wanted to.

I know this one-shot kinda doesn't make sense, but I'd be damned if I hadn't done it.

72 notes · View notes