#//hope this is okaaay

[festivalcfhearts]

{ @jadehowlettthewolf }

It'd been a couple of weeks since they've settled into their home. They being himself and the company he found not incredibly long ago, that is. Luck would be that Gar happened upon her - er, more like she happened upon him when she did. He'd be far more than just incredibly lost if they hadn't met each other, that's for sure.

The reason for this is because the world around him is entirely foreign. Once upon a time he might have been free as a child, but those memories are almost entirely lost to him at this point; Abducted at a young age and experimented on. His captors are what Gar had escaped from before bumping into his company, Jade. No surprise he wasn't quick to trust her though he'd gone along with her anyhow. She was just about his only chance to getting as far away from that place as fast as he could. Otherwise he would have been walking. Hoofing it for miles and miles isn't exactly his idea of a good time. Getting caught isn't either.

As time passed, Gar allowed himself to ease up around her. He couldn't help but to find her genuine enough to be able to trust her, traveling with her until they ended up in a place called Hawkins. There they seemed to be setting up what would be their home. A wild and foreign concept to him as part of him still felt the need to keep running, but unable to deny the fact it'd be nice to just settle somewhere.. he stays with her.

"Do you go to 'work' today?" He's still wrapping his mind around the concept, really. Things normal to most like the concept of a job and what it was were completely lost to him. Well, before they got here and Jade began job hunting, anyway. "Or are you gonna hang around?" It'd be nice if this was one of those 'days off' things she'd mentioned.

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

✧ Fantasies in the dark - II

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Female!Reader ✦ Summary: Arthur's obsession with you intensifies and reaches a point of no return when you catch him red-handed... ✦ Warnings/tags: SMUT 18+, MDNI! Masturbation (again), Arthur is still a little pervy, stripping, p in v, Arthur's self-esteem's still shitty, sub!Arthur at first then switches into dom, Reader is a BIG tease. Mainly Arthur's pov. ✦ Words: 5k (oops) Arthur's pic is mine, others are from Pinterest. And as always, as English isn't my first language, prepare for some possible misspellings. Read on AO3

Part I - Part II

 A ruby, squared, soft form.

His eyes are stuck on it as his thoughts unthread and tangle endlessly in his brain. 

Arthur was a damned man. He had been for a while now and this fatality had settled into his head for a few years already. His sins were so numerous and varied that he hadn’t even considered the thought of going to rest in Heaven when the Grim Reaper would finally put an end to his sufferings. 

But even considering all of this, the gunslinger had definitely not planned on adding a new sin to his list by jerking himself off while watching you almost every night for more than half a month. Oh, the same old speech was still playing in his head; his gesture leaking with shame and muscles sweaty from fear of getting caught. The adrenaline and depravation of the act, the sweet, sweet relief of his orgasm, and the momentary satisfaction he was pulling out of it every time was a very dangerous cocktail; he knew it.

He knew, knew, knew everything of that, of course he did. And still, his fingers opening his fly carelessly. Still, his eyes searching for this sublime silhouette of yours. Still, his cock hardening, itching, burning, begging to be grabbed. And still, his hands taking the doomed responsibility of answering the call. Still his muffled groans, his lips bitten, his silent words spoken in his head, your body joining him. Still, your hand, instead of his. His spend, less and less consistent, spurting quickly and spreading on his dirty clothes, the silence following, the emptiness, the shame, the guilt, the coldness amplified by his intimate fantasies. Like those dark loud nights of storms, air charged with electricity, and left in heavy disturbing quietness after the last lightning struck. Still, dreaming, wanting, longing. 

Still you.

He felt insatiable, like an enraged, mad dog, pathetic bastard. And paradoxically, as he finally had found sleep again after allowing his body what it needed, he felt weaker than ever. Weakened by you.

You hadn't left him after the first night he had succumbed to temptation. You had branded his spirit with a red-hot iron. Damned him to a lifetime of ache, a mortal succumbing to a Mermaid's melody and sailing in search of her on an infinite sea.

 A ruby, squared, soft form. 

It’s your shawl lying on a chair. You forgot it a few minutes ago, but he didn’t say anything about it. He’s still looking at it, hands fidgeting, mind pondering. What’s good and what’s bad. The ugliness of his self and soul. The risks, the benefits. 

He thinks back to the day you and him just shared. A job in Rhodes, “needing to be taken care of by two people”, Dutch’s words. He had sent him, which was predictable —the gang’s workhorse rarely knows rest. But you? It surprised him a whole lot more. Something about the job requesting some “feminine charm”. He hadn’t complained. Not when he had realized he would be able to spend some time alone with you. 

And his gaze had been wandering way more than what common decency was allowing him to. Staring and dreaming were all he had been doing lately, anyhow.

Looking at the delicious cleavage your fancy dress was offering when you got out of your tent and joined him back at camp, your breasts pressed up and round, almost impossible not to devour with his eyes. All he could do was make a sarcastic comment about it as the only defense against his urges. You moron Morgan, just say something nice for once. Luckily -or not- for him, you had wrapped your appealing shoulders in the sophisticated cherry-colored cape to prevent the coldness of the night.

Looking at your back as you both rode into town, looking at your neck when he helped you off your horse once into Rhodes. Looking at your lips as you two were sat in one of the Parlor’s house boxes, the job long-forgotten when he had noticed this little wrinkle next to your lips, that one you have when you laugh and find something funny. He would have to add it to his endless sketches of you.

Looking at your thin, sneaky hands from afar as they were slipping into that wealthy gentleman’s pocket to steal the papers you were both here for in the first place. It all felt distant and insignificant to him now, as a forgettable theater play set in the background. 

Later, you had been the one looking at him when he had come to your rescue. The “gentleman” was being insistent with you. As you both had crossed eyes from across the reception room, Arthur had read your apprehension and silent call for help in just a split second. And here he was, puffing out his chest, look dark and intense, muscles tensed. The perfect look of a man you don’t want to cross, that look he and Hosea had worked hard on building, scars and broad shoulders gained after all these years of intimidation. He was so used to it by now he wasn’t even sure he knew how to be anything else. His pointer finger tapping threateningly on the shiny Deputy Star he had on his jacket and his deep, menacing tone had acted as the final details. You should leave the lady alone and get some fresh air, pal. The fool had dropped the case and returned with his tail between his legs without any clue what had actually happened.

And then, your sweet voice asking for a drink. “Come on, we got to celebrate! Finally, a job well handled without a drop of blood.” How could he ever say no to that? It was almost too good to be true. Spending the evening with you, laughing, talking, philosophizing.

Arthur didn’t know he could be that talkative. Maybe it was the whiskey. Maybe it was your presence. Maybe a bit of both. And he had paid for everything. A good hot dinner for both of you, your drinks, and two rooms the moment you told him you were too tired to ride back to camp. Oh, he could have given you all the Wolrd’s treasure if that meant you would keep looking at him with these pretty playful eyes.

As the evening passed, the gentle flow of your endless conversations had led you from the bar to the stairs, to the second floor, to the hallway, and eventually to his room, naturally and serenely, like a rowboat ride on a summer lake.

And finally, after a few yawns exchanged, some delicate eyelids rubbed by you, you had left him to sleep, completely forgetting about your shawl, hanging on one of his room’s chairs. And you had greeted each other goodnight. As friends. This was all he would ever be to you, he knew it. And it was better that way. Like this, he was preserving you from having a pathetic man and a pathetic life being his. He was like an infertile soil, anyway. Any seed you would plant and try to harvest with him would end up rotten, corrupted. Fruitless.

And now left in the stillness of the room, in this deafening silence without the sound of your voice, his vision fixated on your abandoned piece of clothing, the most sinful of all thoughts is digging its way through the fibers of his brain, fed by need and alcohol, gnawing at his neurons, eating up any rational reasoning. 

A ruby, tempting garment of yours.

He wants to grab it. To smell it. He wants your perfume to completely fill his nose, so much it would be like drowning in your scent. You wouldn’t be coming back for it anyway, considering how tired you looked a few minutes ago. And you’d never know about it. Just like you didn’t know he was watching you all this time through the fabric of your tent. After all, he was already so deep down into this rabbit hole of lust, what would it change?

And just like that, before he can even think about it more, his arm is already extending, his fingers wrapping around the forbidden fruit.

A descent into Hell he is not able to stop nor control. And at the same time, it feels like getting closer to Heaven.

He lays on the bed, back against the coarse sheets that still felt better than his cot back at camp, and brings your stole to his nose, almost covering his face with it. He closes his eyes.

And he breathes in.

Hell. If God wanted him to stay virtuous, why did he create such a temptatious woman like you? Your scent is without any surprise just as irresistible and bewitching as your whole self.

The fruity notes of it remind him of your skin and lips he wants to taste so badly, a mouth-watering gourmet scent. The floral and fresh ones, of this sparkling mischievousness in your eyes. And in the end, as he exhales, warm and spicy aromas rain on him. They fill his mind with a deep sense of comfort, as if scenting directly your hair. It’s intoxicating, spellbinding. Driving him deeper into his madness. He doesn’t try to resist, not anymore, this delightful fresco of fragrances painted just for him.

Naturally and almost subconsciously, his vicious right hand reaches his crotch. He’s already hard. Just by smelling your shawl.

This time you’ve really hit rock bottom, old bastard.

He doesn’t even bother thinking about it more, he already knows he’s too deep in; already knows he won’t be able to stop himself. 

Ah shit, screw it, jus’ a quick wank.

He quickly unbuckles his holster belt, then unbuttons his pants, and snakes his hand between the folds of his union suit. A silent swift dance he is used to repeating by now. 

He breathes again a long, deep whiff, and wraps his fingers around his cock thinking of you, once more. 

He sees you and your perfect body, and everything blends and blurs in his heated psyche. The form of your breasts and ass through the tent's canvas he knew by heart at this point. Your smirk, your eyes looking back at his, only his during this night spent together. Your heady, addicting scent surrounds him and fuels his fantasies even more, making them more vivid than before, the soft fabric of the stole against his skin a light caress he imagines yours.

He strokes and strokes and strokes, he needs it more than ever, even if, truth be told, every time is more than ever. His pinkish cock’s head is reddened and swollen from having been rubbed so many times lately, sensible and almost pained. But he doesn't care. It makes him feel even more alive. Even more here. Simply better.

He wants his body to feel pleasure. Pleasure, for once, instead of pain. Pain all the time, pain everywhere, bullets through his muscles, knives on his skin, cutting through his flesh, fists against his bones, breaking his jaws, his nose, his cheeks. Broken, used, beaten, ripped, bruised, overworked, abused. Oh, he’s tired of it. Only in those prohibited moments, he can experience pleasure. No matter how wicked and profane.

The room is now filled with those wet, fast-paced sounds, his rustling against the sheets, and the smallest of grunts coming from his unholy lips as he fucks his fist. Your name escapes him from time to time, muffled by your shawl he's still holding all against him with his left hand, and breathing the air from.

As if all the World’s oxygen would never be as good as breathing through it. As if everything else would feel thick and fusty in his lungs. No Mountains, no Oceans, no flowers, not the tastiest food, nothing could ever compete with smelling your scent. 

Stroke, stroke, stroke. Goddamn it, she’s perfect. A big, hard stroke. Oh God, yes, just a bit more…

Too absorbed by his delirious daydream, he doesn't notice right away the creaking of the door as you enter his room again, searching for the very thing he's using to masturbate right now.

“Arthur, I’m sorry to bother you again but I think I forgot my sh—”

You freeze.

SHIT! He instantly curses loudly and jumps from the bed so suddenly that he almost falls to the ground. A stumbling mess, his holster crashes on the wooden floor with a loud percussive sound as he shoves his member back into his clothes as fast as possible, looking like a disjointed chaos of limbs. He is mortified. There is no way in the world you won’t understand what was just happening. He ends up standing next to the bed, after having thrown your cape at the other corner of the room with such force it looked like the damn thing was made of burning iron. And he doesn’t even know why. Maybe to distance himself from his sins. To try and erase this horrible vision from your pretty eyes. His labored breath and fast-beating heartbeat are now ruled by panic instead of lust. For all his life he had never experienced such shame and felt so utterly stupid. 

There is a small moment of silence, heavy and embarrassed. A little time of denying. No, this can’t be happening. But your look turns in circles from the bed, him, and the scarf, circling him like a cornered animal. That’s it, his pride is dead right here in this stupid hotel room. You see right through him, he’s sure of it. Your piercing beautiful gaze lands on his ears a few times, and he knows they’re crimson just by the heat he can feel on them. But the worst thing of all is his bulge, obvious and raised up as a flag right in the middle of his thighs, under his badly buttoned fly. Like a Mausoleum to his Dignity. The damn thing refusing to shrink and obviously screaming loudly his offence to the whole World. All the contrary, your gaze falling on it produces the exact opposite of what he wants, his cock almost twitching in return. 

Damn it!

Damn it, damn it, damn it!-

“Where you… Hum…” You start, before clearing your throat slightly.

“ ‘m sorry, Am… I didn’t mean to… ‘m such a goddamn fool.” This is the best he can come up with. What excuses could he have anyway? Nothing could justify what he did.

You had never heard his deep asserted voice so chagrined. Utter fear and shame. You didn’t even know he could feel that way.

His gaze is fixated on his dirty boots, refusing to cross yours. Just as goddamn dirty as me. 

“Were you pleasuring yourself, Mister Morgan?” You ask, your tone slightly playful. He doesn’t see it, but a mischievous grin settles on your face.

He takes your tone as a mocking one. You would have all the right to mock him. That’s all he deserved.

He tries to answer but doesn't even dare to admit it verbally, as if it would aggravate his situation. He just nods slowly, as seriously as if he was at a funeral. 

“With one of my clothes?” You ask again, your grin widening.

Another nod, his eyes shutting as if he had been hit by something, your sentence making the whole thing even worse. Oh, just a few seconds ago, he was feeling more present and alive than ever, and now all he wanted was to disappear or die.

He hears more than he sees your steps on the parquet. Every stomping sound hurt him a bit more. He doesn't even dare to move. As if everything he would do from now would offend you. Even breathing, no, even existing is too much.

She’s going to slap me. A step. She's going to yell in my face. Another step. I’m dead. A final step.

You’re so close to him now he’s holding his breath, eyes closed, ready to face the well-deserved punishment of your choice for his trespass.

But he's only met with stillness until you speak again.

“Arthur, do you really think I was that hot in my tent, every night?”

The words reach his ears but his brain refuses them. His mouth opens in astonishment. He closes it to swallow loudly and opens it again as if trying to speak in utter confusion.

“You… I… Wait, really?”

“I never thought you could be that naive, honestly.” You answer, a little chuckle escaping you. One of your hands slowly reaches the side of his face, but he still shivers slightly when it touches him. You guide his head back up for him to finally look you in the eyes.

Arthur's two blue sapphires are topped with anxious brows. A bright confusion and a soft vulnerability. They don’t settle too long on one point of your face out of nervousness, as if they could burn you.

“M-me neither.” He simply whispers, a bashful, nervous smile settling on his mouth. He still doesn’t move.

“Do you really think I wasn’t aware of what I was doing, mmh?” You continue, your fingers traveling from his face all the way down his neck, gently caressing the base of his hair.

You can’t be serious right now.

“I… I don’ know…” And he really doesn’t. This is all so unbelievable to him that he’s persuaded this is all a dream and he’s going to wake up any moment.

The only thing anchoring him to reality is your fingers exploring him, making him slowly let out the breath he had been holding in his chest.

“Let me help you finish what you've started…” You murmur, voice low and obvious to what you’re implying, sultry, suggestive.

He feels his shaft pulsing again instantly in answer, his body once again taking the lead. He’s about to say something, to ask you if you’re sure you want to do this with an old bitter moron like him, but one of your hands is already reaching straight to his crotch, palming his warm, needy erection.

“Anh…!” The moan turning into a groan he lets out duplicates your own arousal.

His hips rock against your hand involuntarily, the need for contact of any sort getting more powerful than his shame. He still doesn’t dare do much to you though, not wanting to cross any more limits. He lets you handle him just like you want. He lets the flow of life take him instead of fighting against it, for once. The only gesture he allows is settling his big hands on your back, sweaty and almost shaking.

Oh, your sneaky fingers. They touch and grope and palpate, and he sighs louder. It feels so much better, to have your hand touching him.

After a few more teasing caresses, you sway in a smooth motion and playfully push him backward, making him fall on the bed. He sits there, looking up at you with those two adoring cerulean pupils, as if you were the Sun itself. A distant magnificent star, impossible for him to reach, condemned to only contemplate.

“Get your clothes off.” You order, his reactions making you more confident and straightforward than usual. 

He is quick to obey. You could have asked him to jump off a cliff and he would have done it without even thinking. His clothes fall one by one on the floor and you feast on every area of skin he’s offering you. He ends up entirely naked for your eyes. This Titan, cascade of virile hairs everywhere, prominent scarred muscles carved into stone by Ares himself, gorged with raw powerfulness and designed to kill. To survive. And between those open thick thighs, his aroused member. The one he thought of as the triumph of his shame a few minutes ago, is now the Apotheosis of his Glory. Thick, long, hard like him, surrounded by a crown of tawny curls.

“Look at you…” You let out, almost licking your lips. But he doesn’t answer. He doesn’t see what you do at all. Instead, he let his gaze wander on your chest, and you can almost hear the silent plea in his gaze for you to join his nakedness.

Standing right in front of him, you begin to strip yourself out of your clothes, agonizingly slowly, your face displaying this provocative grin that turns him on so much. It’s purposeful, and you feel your own arousal rising as you notice the red coming back to his cheeks and ears.

First, your boots and socks, discovering your delicate legs. Then your blouse, showing your shoulder and chest, then your skirt. He stays silent all the while, enjoying your little show more than you could imagine. Your hips swaying, your arms gracefully dancing, each piece of clothing falling on the ground, this is all a trance he's getting hypnotized by.

Seeing you undress just for him after all those nights spent on his cot touching himself watching your shadow is like adding all the missing color from a masterpiece, enhancing and fulfilling.

“That’s what you’ve been thinking about?” You purr proudly, now in your undergarments.

“God yes. Yer a real’ angel.” He praises in a fevered-like whisper.

You smirk as all answer. “Come on now, show me those dirty things you’ve been doing.” You speak while nodding at his crotch in an almost challenging way.

His hand instantly reaches for his cock. It was itching him to since you had looked at it earlier. He presses his fingers hard around it and he grunts softly, the sound incredible to your ears. Obeying you and surrendering fully to his depravation, he slowly starts stroking himself again while watching you intensely. What did he do to deserve such a splendid spectacle?

That’s when you decide to slowly bend inward and undo the last pieces of clothing you still have. Just a few gestures and your breasts are bare and hanging for him to look at. Jeee-sus. You see and hear his hand speeding up. 

Lastly, you reveal your own sex to him, a pearl between those gorgeous thighs of yours, and he curses out loud this time.

“You're so goddamn beautiful. I could... Damn, I could finish right now jus' lookin' atchu.” He confesses, his cheeks, ears, and chest getting even redder at his own words.

“Really, uh? You're quite easy to tease, Mister Morgan.” You tease, before turning around and bending again, wanting him to see your bottom, taking a more than suggestive position with your ass up.

“Oh, for God sake.” He nearly chokes, his rhythm accelerating again; almost frenetic. This is all he ever wanted during those cold lonely moments. All he ever needed to see. And he can’t help but engrave every little detail in his mind; the little scars you have here and there, the different tone and grain of your skin, your hairs, your body’s hollows and bumps. Every little imperfection. And they make it all even better. Better than any fantasies he had ever pictured in the past few weeks. Because they are making you yourself.

You turn again to face him and straddle his lap, unable to resist your own urges that had been building and building since you had found him touching himself to the thought of you.

That’s when something finally lights up in his mind. The moment he feels your soft, warm thighs around him, and how you’re soaked in between them, it hits him. You’ve been wanting him just as badly as he wanted you. As odd and surprising as it sounds to him. This new reality is right there against his tip as you start rubbing your entrance against it, teasing, playing, pressing just a few inches in, gently praising how big he looks and how good it would be to have him inside of you. 

That thing inside of him explodes.

Suddenly his hands are all over you. Touching everything they can, discovering, molding your curves under his fingertips. Hands on your thighs, hands on your hips, waist, neck. Each part of you touched is breaking every chain that was holding him back, one by one. These perfect sensations blind him to any reasoning, any sense of restrain, and push him to palm your breasts. God, the softness, the warmth. He sighs in appreciation as he kneads both of them and you join his pleasured breathing.

More.

One of his hands leaves your chest to grab your ass, roughly, and he squeezes, hard, while he sucks on the breast that has been abandoned. “Arthur!” You moan out in return, pleasured and surprised voice, mouth left open in delight. Oh, he will satisfy you. Those renewed vows appear as clear as day between the mess of his head as he keeps devouring your nipple endlessly, almost suckling at it. He will push that voice of you to its limit, break it until you won’t be able to scream.

“That’ what you wanted all this time, uh? Drivin’ me insane?”

You search for something clever to throw back at him but the calloused hand on your breast suddenly reaches your cunt and you gasp instead. 

“That’ what you do? Torture poor devil like me until they can’t help but fall for you?” He asks again, his confidence heightened by your sweet sounds, his tone getting darker and darker. Touching your folds pleasures him almost as much as you, his brows furrowing into a needy and intense expression.

“J-just you… ‘Just wanted you to notice me…” You admit, your hips rolling on his lap and against his hand. His fingers part your cunt and trace their own way through this little Heaven, exploring this place he had craved so much; and it makes him more excited than any thoughts he could have had on his own.

“Well, that sure worked, girl.”

He lets go of your pussy and you squeal in protest, almost ashamed of your own sound. He smiles triumphantly at you, feeling satisfied to give you a taste of your own medicine. He wraps both of his arms around your waist, your chest ending up pressed against his face; his nose is shoved in it and he sighs louder this time. 

He can’t wait any longer. Not when he has been dreaming of this for weeks. Not after discovering your unforgettable perfume. Not after having felt this wet, warm promise of your entrance. He looks up at your face, searching for any trace of disgust or apprehension but you're completely free from any. Mouth agape, breaths deep and hips shamelessly searching for his, you're even more gorgeous than before, and he snaps.

He guides you carefully, his hands warm and hard against your bare skin. And he pushes.

His sex entering you slowly is deliciously hard and hot. His cockhead is big, way bigger than what you’re used to, and feels so good already. His arms hold you in place as he pushes again, wanting to be completely stuffed in, a long, low growling sound accompanying his movement. Oh, Christ Almighty. He had never felt so good than buried like this in your warm, silky, divine cunt right now.

Once fully settled, you both sighs and breath loudly for just a few seconds, your gazes meeting and silently agreeing on how fucking delicious this feels. Then you move up, wanting to ride him, feeling his shaft pull out as you do, but his arms grab you tighter and put your hips back in place.

“God!” You whine as you feel his length plunging again and hitting that spot inside of you.

He starts to buck his hips up against yours, unable to resist anything anymore. His rhythm, he wanted slow and meaningful at first, is quickly turning fast and hard, a remnant of how incredibly frustrated and needy he had been all this time.

“I’m gonna -Ohh, shit- I’m gonna show ya what ya get teasin’ me like that.”

Arthur's southern drawl is even more prominent, his voice hoarse and deep from effort. His thrusts up are more and more powerful, making you jump up and down on top of him and for the first time in days he thanks himself for having pleasured himself so many times lately, otherwise he would have come instantly right there in your heat. Your breasts bounce in this erotic, unresistible dance that he’ll remember for every future night he'll spend alone.

“Oh Arthur, don’t stop!” 

His cock pulls out and shoves into your cunt so fastly it's rubbing perfectly how you want it deep inside and you reach for his shoulders, needing to hold onto him, already so close. “Yes, yes, yes, right there!”

He hears your accelerating breathing, your higher-pitched moans turning into screams and he searches for your lips with his. Your tender petals against his dirty mouth. But he doesn’t care, there’s only your pussy right now, and your incredible smell he’s filled with once again, just like you’re filled with his tongue and his dick inside of you.

Both his hands grab your ass and he fucks frantically, his balls slapping against it with each thrust, making your plump flesh jiggle and those hitting and smacking sounds resonating throughout the room. Again, and again, and Damn it again.

It’s too much for you. 

You cry out loudly as your fingers dig into his shoulders and your head tilts backward, and his big, solid arms keep you pressed against his chest, completely wrapped around you; and he finally, finally feels it. Pleasure, pleasure, pleasure, instead of pain. This irresistible release, your pussy clenching and squeezing all around his cock. “-Ngh, s-shit yes angel, give it t’me!”

You give it all to him without any resistance and in a obscene scream. And it’s too much for him.

“Ah, God…” He hisses as he feels it coming, quickly pulling you up —as effortlessly as if you weighed nothing— and pressing his cock against your clit, well nestled between your lips.

He reaches your lips again, needing to finish while kissing you, both of your bodies almost sewn together, his moans sounding more and more like primal growls and hisses at every rubbing movement against your core, movements getting faster and faster, impossibly faster, So fucking good, Jesus so goddamned perfect, Perfect, perfect!- Until he finally comes, translucent cum leaking all the way down his shaft and spreading on your lower belly, all panting and grunting, a complete mess; a satiated beast.

It’s better than any of the dreams he ever had, waking or sleeping. And it’s not just the release of this one and only time, it’s the pinnacle of all these lonely pleasures shared with no one in regretful secret.

For the second time that night, he thinks he’s dead. 

He falls backward, back against the mattress, and you follow, unable to stand without him. In that silence only disturbed by your exhausted breaths, he turns and grabs the first piece of clothing that he has at hand’s reach, his flannel. He gently uses it to clear your belly from his seed and seeing it, on your smooth and soft skin, makes a wave of culpability crash onto him once again. Shouldn't have done all of this. Should have taken care of her properly.

A dark, glum expression settles on his face and he wraps himself in a deep silence instead of your arms as he finishes to clean the both of you. God, did that man ever know rest for more than a few minutes? At this thought, you bend over to put a small kiss on his forehead, as a thank you for his aftercare.

“Satisfied enough?” You finally break the silence, getting up from the bed –not without stretching your back slightly and swaying your hips before bending to reach for your clothes on the floor.

Arthur cannot help but think of a Nymph as you do all of this still naked. Those irresistible, divine beauties that lure men with a simple move of their finger, as they say in books. He knew it was all stories from another time, but he was more and more convinced they would look exactly like you if they did exist.

“More than in a long time. You?” He replies, voice neutral and features closed as usual. He stays on the bed and put only his pants back, his cock finally softening under the coarse fabric. He never stops looking at you all the while.

“Couldn’t be better”. You assert, your blouse falling back on your upper body. You then roughly fix your hair in this casual, impish way that was yours.

That was driving him insane.

“You’re a little minx, ya know that? Gettin’ naked on purpose every night…”

“Oh, please. You didn’t really complain as far as I know.”

“Nah, but ya did make me insane. Teasin’ littl’ thing y’are.” He says with a fond voice he would have preferred less obvious.

You innocently shrug your shoulders, cheeky grin on your face. The way you're playing with him that easily should have been shaming to him, but he doesn't feel any shame anymore, not after what you have shared.

"Goodnight, Arthur." You throw as all answer, leaving him as you walk through the door of his room. He greets you back, the trimmest trace of longing in his rough voice.

Once again alone, once again cold, Arthur grabs a cigarette from his pocket to smoke before falling asleep; maybe to keep this lingering warmth just a bit longer, the sensations of your body, and especially your sex squeezing around his, still remaining on his skin. Lying completely in the bed, he smiles to himself as he notices you have forgotten your shawl —again. Or maybe you had left it on purpose. Maybe you had both times, now that he is thinking about it. The ruby fabric had landed wrapped all around his old, worn-out leather jacket, like a flame dancing around, enveloping, lapping at a tree.

It looks great that way.

Maybe you were only playing with him. Maybe this was only a one-time thing. But who cared? Tonight, Arthur had been taken care of by a Nymph. And no other mortal pleasure, no other solitaries delights, not even the most lustful and depraved images he could have pulled out of his tormented mind could ever compete with that slice of Olympe you had given to him.

a/n: Yeah, 5K words, I knooow! I'm hopeless. It's quite a lot, but I didn't feel like cutting, nothing felt right. What can I say except thank you, so much, for everyone's interest in the first part, for your notes, comments and reblogs, and for reading all of this! I am in utter PANIC rn because I feel like nothing I could write would be as good or as well received as the first part, but here it is! I really hope it didn't disappoint!

Also, to give Caesar what belongs to Caesar, the holster falling was completely inspired by my dear @zae-heeyyy's Piquancy (II)! I thought it would fit the comical aspect of the scene eheh (go check it out)

And also go check out this amazing piece Moons drew from this fic! Thanks again for this delightful treat! 💙

tag list: @a-court-of-valkyries, @redwritr, @cassietrn, @esquilone, @starlightt180, @narcoticv3nus, @thoughts-of-bear, @emjiroki, @prettyundeadgirl, @eternalsams @amyispxnk @babybatss-blog @ardeniaa @sauvignon-velvet @sweeterlilith (I tried to tag people who had shown interest in a part2, really sorry if I missed anyone!)

[wearetheonesx]

"Shh, you don't have to be nervous" Words whispered in Lottie's ear as she pressed her body closer. "Do you trust me?" Katherine, who was a rich and succesful defense lawyer, had bought this rooftop bar for many reasons. Closing it down for the night so she could tend to a young attractive student was not uncommon to her. There was a lot of space to enjoy one another. "I want you to take off your clothes... Undress for me" she stepped back and licked her lips, glancing at the glass wall that provided a view of the city, in front of it was a couch and a salon table to enjoy one's drinks. During the open hours, this place was thriving, but now a sole bartender was catering them on the other end of the roof, just out of sight. "Don't worry about him, he will only come if I ask him to"

open to : m / f connection : best friend / older brothers friend / sisters friend / something a little ta.b00 if you'd like / age gap welcome / someone she shouldn't be sleeping with / etc

❝N..no! No! I'm excited! I'm just a ... ❞ Voice trails off uncertainly for a moment ands hands wring together before she finds her voice, ❝I'm just a little nervous is all.❞ Cheeks flush at the idea that has been presented and Lottie manages a giggle before she's forced to look away just seconds before her next question. ❝Just uh ... walk me through it again please?❞

[babacontainsmultitudes]

So Will confirmed in the most recent Peach Pit that the option he handed Freddie on the note last episode was for Tony to become a cat again (he would still think like a human), but he wouldn't know how to switch back. The comedic potential of this aside (I do think the 5% smaller thing is pretty funny in its own right), strategically I feel like Freddie passed up a pretty solid shield against death by not taking that deal. You're not gonna kill the cute little kitty cat, are you, Mr. Campos? He's literally just a little guy! It's cuteness armor, people generally don't like seeing animals get hurt, even in fiction, even in horror. Is it foolproof? No, and it's definitely not Freddieproof, but I do firmly believe it would have upped his chances of survival.

[darija-morgan]

I can't help but adore that there are not one, not two, but six gods of death in FR lore!

Like...

God of Death

In pretty okay grim reaper way

God of Death

In bloody stabby stab way

God of Death

In dominant daddy bbc way

God of Death

In chaotic stupid bullshit way

God of Death

In fair unbiased judge way

God of Death

In insidious alien insect mummy way

They warms my dark soul in an inexplicable way :3

[ersatz-colubridae-888]

also how is cadaver doing :face_holding_back_tears: i miss herrr

she's doing good - well, about as good as you could do in this situation.

[welcometothevale]

starter for @godzexperiment

He'd definitely gone too far, but only because he'd been frightened. No, terrified. The guy he'd been trying to shake all night had followed him out of the bar, which–in his less than sober state–he hadn't picked up on. Normally, people's emotions gave them away far before they could surprise him.

It all had happened to quickly. One moment, he'd been the victim, and the next the man from the bar was crumpled near the dumpster next to the witch. As quickly as the life threatening experience had been, the length of time in which he stood–back against the grimy wall for support–was a lifetime. Either from his intoxicated state or from shock, his legs shook too much to flee the scene.

Most people souls were variations of shimmering colors, like the aurora borealis in a way. But he remembered the muddled, sour-tasting life force transferring from the creep to himself. "Oh, fuck." Time to go before someone comes to investigate the noise from the struggle.

Pulling himself together, mostly, Gael stepped around the building with the intentions of heading straight to his hotel. Only to see a familiar face. Stunned, he managed to utter a slurred, "w-worst timing ever, dude."

[dogboydistortionaladdict]

scrooling trough your blog and low-key want to let you use me as a toy

well get on your knees then and open your maw like good toys do, so i can shove my cock all the way down your tight throat and fucking use you. go ahead, kneel, feel my balls slap against your face as you sputter, feel the air leave your lungs as the sounds of your gagging fill the room. imagine the thick globs of saliva running down your chin as you desperately try and take my dick. and after im done, lick whatever cum didnt end up inside you off it. give my tip a kiss as well, wont you?

[ohmylcve]

closed one liner for @theyareinsatiable !

"i thought you said you never wanted to see me again."

[bubaboos]

.

[badstepsmoving]

okay interesting way to end it but overall i am not terribly upset with the results of the finale.

[notnickj]

hey man just wanted to say checked out red white and royal blue, i know i'm a little late, but being on tour i've had more time to check out movies i haven't had the chance to watch yet. gotta say it was a beautiful film, definitely enjoyed it. also i know you're probably tired of hearing this but.. i saw the tabloids and i just wanted to know how you're doing and if you need anything i know we aren't close or anything but i'm here if you need someone to talk to, i know it's not my business but i can't even imagine what you're going through right now with your business being out there. | @therestayzakhar

[bidolatry]

my friend keeps telling me to do a cat reveal on here. 2 of the idiots

[mabelgiirl]

closed starter @faiirytalcs (phil) location: phil's apartment

mabel was making a very impulsive decision right now. she hated to say that she was feeling very...not mabel-y for once and with candy and grenda being busy she didn't really know how to pull herself out of that funk. with valentine's day being just around the corner at this point and mabel being alone yet again she was starting to lose hope. she knew there were bigger fishes to fry and bigger mysteries to solve but for a moment she just wanted a moment to accept the fact that maybe something was wrong with her and that was why she just...couldn't get it together in the love department. she had been wandering and somehow her feet carried her all the way to phil's apartment and when he answered the door she couldn't help but smile. having a friend like him always put a smile to her face.

"uhh..i know this is so last second but can we bake and be dorks for a little while? unless you got plans..."

[daydrcamerss]

@fcrafcrtnight - ❝ i was afraid they might attack again. ❞

peter nodded slowly, offering the other a small yet sad smile. "i get it. i'm... i'm always looking over my shoulder for those who have hurt me and those i care about. i don't... don't know if that fear will ever leave me." he admitted with an uneasy laugh. "pretty shitty way to live your life, right?" but he didn't know what else to do. many people at this point would probably have no issue in trying to hurt him or his reputation once again, would they? "do... do you think that those who hurt you would end up here?"

[tokuteasings]

Dating - Kido Shinji, Kitaoka Shuichi

Tada~!! For my dearest Ryuki friend~!

I know I said I would do kiss headcanons but as a gift and as a ganbare~ sort of notion, I wanted to gift you dating headcanons~! So keep on going, hun~! You can do it! the bois and I are right here for you!!!

Warnings: Ryuki spoilers and general angst lol

Kido Shinji

Shinji, first and foremost, is quite the endearing partner. He’s naive, yes, but he isn’t stupid (...most of the time) but he’s earnest and sweet. He’s the kind of partner that just never leaves the honeymoon phase because he cares about you oh so much~!!! It’s so obvious to see and in a way, he’s always nervous around you. It’s like going on your first date all over again and sure it may be awkward but he’s YOUR AWKWARD LITTLE DORK!!! But the thing is with Shinji is that he tends to wing things most of the time. Sure he may have asked his coworkers for help and maaaybe Ren as well but listen, this man goes into each and every interaction with you with this bundle of energy that honestly is just so infectious that you can’t help but become swept up into the thing.

It’s also hella obvious whenever he’s thinking about you too. It’s not a bad thing, but his coworkers at ORE Journal are lowkey sick and tired of him sighing and longingly looking at his phone while waiting for texts from you...Shinji swears he isn’t super clingy though. Right to their faces. They just sigh and roll their eyes and shrug their shoulders like they fucking know. Whenever Ren sees him like this, he rolls his eyes and honestly...he is a bit jealous. Since he misses the days he and Eri were together and could act like that. If anything, Ren is like the begrudgingly helpful wingman who tends to give Shinji advice for how to deal with you and relationship advice in general. 

If there’s anything that makes Shinji happy, is eating lunch with you. Shinji isn’t...a bad....cook...? Just...spontaneous. In the best way! He tends to make random foods like a whole onion sandwich because he has nothing else in the damn fridge and somehow claims it tastes good. He doesn’t really eat super balanced meals and eats out more often than not. He’s gotten better since you two have started dating, actually buying groceries and cooking. If you happen to cook, he’s over the moon and will happily not only help cook but do the dishes without questions. He’s not super house-husband material but lord is he trying. He loves it whenever you visit him at work with lunch during his break! It’s literally the highlight of his damn day.  In return, Shinji will do his best to cook your favorite dishes! He’s trying...okay????

Speaking of spontaneous, it’s the dates with Shinji that has this energy to them you cannot put your finger on. It’s not high-paced, spontaneous, and yet homey at the same time. He doesn’t have many ideas for dates (this is also when he consults the people around him for ideas) and he tends to let whatever happen, happen! If he had to pick a date, he’d probably go out to eat something with you, to treat yourselves to something nice!!! Though, most of the time, he’s happy to do whatever you want to do. He’s happy if you’re happy and just to be spending time with you!!

Shinji’s love language is verbal, physical, and acts of service. It’s not at all grand but subtle little things tinged with nervousness that slowly melts into a comfort. He’s forgetful and an idiot but he’s YOUR idiot!!! That being said, Shinji isn’t against PDA at all! Maybe not around the office but it’s really fun to tease him in public because he’s gonna get all blushy and super pouty. Like, “Don’t do that here! My coworkers will see and make fun of me!” but his blushing face is so cute and will eventually accept it anyway. He enjoys hand kisses the most and holding hands in general! He doesn’t really mind showing you off to people because, well, you two love each other!

But here’s the thing, if you are not aware of the fact he is part of the Rider War..there is this underlying sense of clinginess to him. He doesn’t want to lose you so he will make every moment he has with you count. He is selfless in this aspect, doing more things catering to you just to ensure you keep on smiling. He fights harder than ever once he’s with you and sometimes you notice him limping or in general pain. Of course, he never tell you, but Shinji assures you that it’ll be okay. He’ls here with you, and that’s all that matters.

If you happen to be a fellow participant in the Rider War, you and Shinji most likely have similar goals...ish. He wants to stop this Rider War, maybe you do as well or maybe not. It’s a...strange situation you find yourselves in. But there’s this still general sense of “not wanting to let go” and whenever you two are alone he...doesn’t leave you alone. You two may argue here and there but you two have your own needs, your own desires. They may not see eye to eye half of the time but it’s something you two agree on. Whether or not you two can afford to fight each other when it comes down to it...

Arguments with Shinji are not at all explosive, most of the time.  He does have a bit of a temper but it will die as quickly as it flares. The arguments between you two are going to be centered around if he’s keeping secrets from you or your Rider War status. There is no doubt that killing is going to happen, and it’s going to become down to the two of you one day. If you do not know of his status in the Rider War, you’ll argue that you’re worried about him and Shinji just breaks. He may have no other choice but to tell  you about the war and the Mirror World and Shinji has this guilty sort of look and it hurts to see him like this. You support him no matter what, however.

Shinji never fails to tell you that he loves you, more so texting than verbally and through his gestures. It’s the little things for Shinji and when he does say, “I love you.” for the first time, it’s this moment when Shinji is watching you interact with the life around you. You’re probably just reading a book or something and Shinji is washing up the dishes and he looks over at you covered in sunlight and lets you know how he feels. “Hey...” he trails off when you look up at him and he smiles this goofy smile, turning away from the sink to walk to you and press a kiss to your lips, and hold you close. “I love you.” is whispered against your lips and sometimes you wonder what spurred this on. But he will only smile and say, “Because I love you and want you to know.”

Loving Shinji is...tragic. Because this war takes and takes, it’s a hellish and ugly thing and Shinji definitely has like...letters left behind for you. We all know he dies in the end but it doesn’t hurt any less. But then the world is reset and you two forget about each other. You two only pass each other and perhaps there is this...lingering spark between you. You glance at each other and share a smile before continuing to walk on...the world is not a kind place to either of you. But if you have passed before Shinji...oh he’s not going to take it well. He’s going to end this damn war to ensure no one else will go through this same feeling of loss. 

Kitaoka Shuichi

Shuichi may seem like a man who has his head stuck up his ass but Shuichi cares about you in his own way. It’s unorthodox and strange at times but it’s evident in the things he does for you. His main love language is gifting. It’s materialistic as he is at times but it’s the best way for him to show that he cares. He is a greedy man for sure but he is going to ensure that his partner is just as well off. You have a debt to settle? Nah, he gotchu. You got someone who’s bothering you? Say goodnight to them lol. They’re sued to hell and back. 

However...Shuichi knows he won’t be able to live as he is going to die. Perhaps this idea of buying you gift after gift is a sort of compensation. He’s not going to be by your side in the end, and so he wants to give you something to remember him by. Sure he buys like expensive shit like clothing, jewelry, vacations up the whazoo but...Shuichi’s most preferred gifts to give you are things that remind him or you and what remind you of him. He wants something that can last for you so he tends to lean towards practical items. Probably a jacket to keep warm or a personalized mug. Shuichi presents them in a simple fashion, sliding them over to you while at dinner at your fave place.

Oh Goro-chan ships you two to the fucking moon~!!!! He’s so happy that Kitaoka is happy and he tends to help make dinner for the two of you. He’ll go the FUCK OUT on making the date nights PERFECT and even teaches you some of Shuichi’s fave dishes and things if you want. Goro is like your homie and bro so expect him to always be around you whenever Shuichi isn’t. Shuichi thinks its cute that you two are bonding but he can’t help but be a weee bit jealous that you two are close lol. But you shut him up with a kiss anyway and Goro is offended even thinking that he would be interested in you. You’re already taken and Goro is like super respectful about it. 

Shuichi does enjoy like dates out and about, sure! He loves showing you off and there’s this sense of pride within his chest whenever people look on in envy. Because he has you in his arms, his arm around your waist, his hand on the small of your back, or you holding his arm. It’s like a picture perfect couple. Shuichi seems to enjoy like high and fine dining of course, the finer things in life and ensures complete privacy for the two of you. However, his fave dates are not really homey ones but ones where you two are out but are simply together no matter where you are. It’s sometimes like cafes and coffee shops, where he’s working on things and you two are sharing some cup of coffee and you’re also working on things. Sometimes you two just cuddle in the same booth and share each other’s foods while thinking to yourselves...that this is perfect. 

He doesn’t mind PDA all that much but inside, he’s rather giddy about it. He’s lowkey very clingy because he isn’t....sure when he’ll die. So Shuichi as stated before, he will have his hand or arm around you at all times. He’s a gentleman at best and the type to open doors for you, pull out your chair, and let you order first before doing something himself. He’s traditional in that sense, and always picks you up from your work with flowers, a kiss, and maybe something to cheer you up with if you had a bad day. His favorite kisses are hand kisses and kisses that are against one another’s pulse. It’s...a lingering reminder that you two are alive. The gentleman that he is, he starts his kisses from the tips of your fingers, then your knuckles, to the back of your palm, to the pulse against your wrist, up your arm, the pulse on your neck, and finally your lips. He’ll melt (and maybe inwardly try not to shed some tears) if you do the same to him.

Without a doubt, Shuichi will never tell  you about his condition. He is going to die and he’s not sure when it’ll happen. He’ll spare you from the details and there are moments he will stay quiet and brush things off when it is clearly bothering him. These are the main causes for arguments, truth be told, because he is...not truthful with you. You know something is wrong with him but he won’t admit it. This will...turn into a bit of a maybe a screaming match. It’s rare for Shuichi to lose his cool in any aspect so seeing him like this knows...it means he won’t budge. But he promises to tell you as you two make up. But he cherishes you more, not trying to distract you from the problem but because...he doesn’t know if he’s ready. 

It’s gonna be worse if you’re a Rider. You two know you’re going to kill each other one day but honestly, Shuichi would have been even more hesitant to enter a relationship. You two are enemies and even if you make a temporary alliance, it’s going to be shattered within a millisecond. But here? Now that you know you both are Riders?? Time becomes more...precious. Either one of you could be killed at any moment and Shuichi’s case even more so. You two are going to make every single moment count damn it. No matter what. 

Shuichi never hesitates to let you know that he loves you. It’s verbal most of the time but like Shinji, he tends to show it through gestures more than anything. While it is true that Goro takes care of the housework, Shuichi has learned various ways to help you relax. It’s massages most of the time because he wants to remember the feeling of your skin and your presence. He would always ask if he’s doing alright and how’re you’re generally doing. Texting as well, he doesn’t do it much but he at least sends you a “i love you” text at least one a day.

Shuichi’s kisses linger longer than ever and become passionate hella quickly. He doesn’t want to forget you. Forget the contour of your lips, everything else that he could...ya know...lose. And he doesn’t want you to forget either. He just holds you close every time your lips connect, hands wandering to try and be with you in every step of the way. He ends each kiss with resting his forehead against yours and smiling this wistful smile, it’s his way to tell you that he loves you.

Loving Shuichi is beyond fleeting because when he dies, it’s Goro who has to tell you the news with tears in his eyes. You can’t believe it, and as you two hug, Goro tells you of the journal that Shuici had left. It’s full of things he loves about you, notes about you, pictures you two have taken and wormed their way into the pages. But at the end there is a letter from him. He’s not greedy but jokes that he’ll cliing to you as a ghost...but in the end...Shuichi wants you to move on. He wants you to live out your life as you want it, and for you and Goro to take care of each other. Most of all....he ends with that he’s sorry he didn’t tell you. And ends that he will forever love you.