#He's El Jefe for a reason

[namesisfortombstones]

So at the premiere of Evil Dead Rise with producers Sam Raimi, Bruce Campbell, and Rob Tapert in attendance, some jackass troll decided to make a spectacle of themselves and the following exchange happened: Punk-Ass Bitch: This movie fuckin’ sucks! Bruce Campbell (*does the above*): Get the fuck outta here! Hail to the king, baby. <3

[sturniolos-blog]

can u please do really heavy angst with dad!matt? but with a happy ending ofc

Shot - Matt Sturniolo x Y/n oneshot

warnings - blood, shooting, swearing, violence, guns, angst, death, mid ending

disclaimer: first and 3rd person PoV

—————————

2:55pm

Ding

I looked away from my computer as i heard my text chime come from my phone.

Picking up my phone i read the text.

Esposo ❤️

can’t wait for you to get out of work baby

i love you

I smiled to myself before responding.

Esposo ❤️

can’t wait for you to get out of work baby

i love you

i love you too matt 💗

2:57pm

I responded before shutting off my phone.

Three more minutes Y/n. Three more then you get to go home to your husband and kids.

Y/n finished typing her article as the clock went from 2:59 to 3:00.

She was done for the day.

Picking up her stuff with her phone in her jean pocket, locking her office door and starting to walk down the hallway.

“Goodbye, Y/n. See you tomorrow!” The receptionist, katie said.

“Bye, katie. See you tomorrow.” I said, smiling at her.

I see my bestfriend Josie come out of the staff room with a coffee, I let out a laugh. “Aren’t you supposed to be getting off work now?” I asked her as she took a sip of her coffee.

“Yo soy, pero el jefe quiéreme stay longer.” She told me.

yo soy, pero el jefe quiéreme: i am, but the boss wants me to…

I shook my head, our boss didn’t particularly like us, it’s either because we were of a different race or because he didn’t like woman. Whatever the reason, it sucks, and he treats us differently, the only reason he keeps us is because we are too good at our job to be let go, and the only reason we put up with it is cause the moneys good.

“Cabrón, el es loco, dios mío.” I scoffed.

cabrón, el es loco, dios mío: bastard, he is crazy, my god

She put her hand on mine, basically telling me she wasn’t bothered by it. “Okay, enough about la chupacabra, we still on for Saturday?” She asked.

la chupacabra: weird animal type thing (search it up to get a better understanding)

I nodded, “Yes, Matt has the kids and no work, so we get the night off.” I told her.

She nodded, “Should we invite Chris? Maybe he needs some-”

I laughed, “Josie, stop obsessing over him! You’re crazy!” I said, starting to walk away again.

She followed me, “He’s hot, y/n!”

“Josie, you realize that if you call Chris hot you’re calling my husband hot because they’re triplets!” I said, taking a left into the hallway that had the elevator at the end of it.

Josie stopped for a second, “Oh my god, that’s disgusting.” She fake gagged.

I let out a laugh and pushed her shoulder, “Bye, weirdo. Love you.”

Josie laughed, “Love you too.” Before walking away back to where we had just came from.

I pressed the button for the elevator, waiting patiently.

Ding

My phone chimed again.

I went to check before i heard a BANG.

I jumped at how loud it was.

It was silent before i heard screaming, my coworkers were screaming.

Along with the screaming, i heard crying, my friends from work begging not to die.

Before i heard two more shots.

I was frozen, stuck in place as i heard footsteps coming around the corner, the same corner i just came from.

The elevator door wasn’t opening, so i decided to take a right and run down the hallway.

I knew there must’ve been a shooter, and he or she was right where my office was.

As i run i open a random office door, locking it and shutting the blinds, before i here a cough.

I look down and see Josie covered in blood, and a shot to her abdomen.

I almost let out a scream, but remembering the circumstances i didn’t, i let out a sob.

“Josie?” I sobbed, falling on my knees next to her.

“Y/n..” She breathed out, her holding her wound.

I pulled out my phone, calling 911.

“911, what’s your emergency?” An operator asked, female operator.

I let out a sob as Josie began to struggle to breathe.

“Y/n, s-shh..” She croaked out, putting her hand on my wrist for me to be quiet.

“T-there’s a shooting- the los angeles news office p-please come quick.” I cried.

“Okay, ma’m. Do you have any idea who the shooter is?” The operator asked.

I let out another sob, “N-no!” I said, maybe a little too loud.

Josie let out a cough, one that gathered a lot of blood to spit up on her chest. “Y/n, be quiet or you’re going to get hurt.” Josie said, squeezing my wrist slightly, not hurting me though.

“Alright. Help is on the way, i’d like you to stay on the line with me. Can you do that for me?” The nice lady asked me.

“M-mhm.” Y/n says, her hands shaking as she held the phone, her eyes locked on her bestfriend that was probably on her last breaths.

“Josie- j-josie! Keep your eyes open, p-please don’t die- this can’t happen you can’t die, i- i can’t! Come on, y-you’re my best friend, w-we’re supposed to get really rich and move far a-away together with my family, a-and matt’s gonna have to deal with having you around all the time because i love you. We are supposed to get out of this office, josie, together!” I sobbed as i held her in my arms.

“Ma’m, it’s best to stay quiet, you would not like to let the shooter know where you are.” The 911 operator butted in, i let out a quick mhm.

Josie smiled at me, “We will make it out of here, y/n. Don’t be so dramatic.” She tried to convince me.

I almost let out a laugh but another cry fell out of my mouth, “I can’t lose you, i can’t.”

Josie let out another cough, “I’m getting kind of tired, i think-”

I shook my head, “Josie, no, please, no no, Josie, no!” I held her to my chest as her eyes started to close.

“I love you, Y/n. Tell Ella and Mailo- and even Matt i love them too. You guys were a real family to me.” She said, letting out a few more coughs, before her body went still.

Y/n let out a blood curdling scream, the scream was loud enough for the police that were swarming outside to hear it, the scream was so loud she was going to be next.

“No- Josie, this isn’t funny, wake up, Jose. Come on! Fuck, please! Fucking wake up! We have plans on saturday! Josie please! Come on, i love you!” I shook her body but she didn’t wake up.

I heard sirens and the 911 operator in my ear, “Ma’m? What’s going on? Are you near the shooter?”

I let out multiple sobs, “M-my bestfriend! She’s dead! S-she’s- she’s dead!” Y/n sobbed, hugging her bestfriends body.

“Im so sorry, Y/n.” I heard the operator say before there was a bunch of commotion outside the office i was in, i heard the cops and a couple more shots.

—————————

3:24pm

Y/n was brought outside with a police officer that rubbed her back, bringing her to an ambulance.

Y/n was still, silent.

Death was weird, it’s like one minute you’re making plans with somebody and the next minute that somebody is dead. Isn’t it weird?

Well to Y/n it was.

Right now she didn’t know what to feel, happy she’s alive to go home to her husband and kids? Or heartbroken that the person who understood her the most was taken away from her, in her own arms.

“Whats your name, hon’?” Asked a EMT, pulling Y/n out of her thoughts.

“Y/n Sturniolo.” She croaked out, her throat scratchy from her crying.

The EMT nodded, offering a soft smile, “Okay.. I need someone we can contact, someone who can pick you up?”

Y/n rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands, “My husband is taking care of my kids i don’t want them to see me like this.” Y/n said, swallowing harshly as she pointed out that she was covered in blood, not that it was hers but she’d never want her kids to see her like that, that vulnerable.

The EMT nodded, “Well, Y/n, it appears that you’re still recovering from shock, so why don’t we give your husband a call, is that okay?” The EMT pushed.

Y/n’s ears started ringing, “I just- i need to go home, i’m so tired.” She whispered out.

The EMT placed a hand on her shoulder, “Let us call your husband.” The EMT whispered with a whole lot of care in her voice, taking in and acknowledging Y/n’s state.

Y/n looked up at the EMT, giving a slight nod before pulling her phone out and dialing Matt before giving the EMT her phone.

The EMT muttered a ‘thank you’ and turned her back towards Y/n when Matt had answered the phone.

“Hi, is this Matt sturniolo?”

“Okay, great. My name is Abby gibbons I am an EMT for the Los Angeles hospital, I’m afraid to tell you that there has been a shooting in your wife’s place of work-”

“Mr.Sturniolo, your wife is okay…”

That’s when the EMT’s voice drifted off, Y/n closed her eyes, her head leaning on the side of the ambulance truck.

Falling asleep.

—————————

3:47pm

Matt rushed out of his car, walking towards where all the commotion was.

He looks around before spotting Y/n sitting on the back of an ambulance with her eyes closed as her head was leaned on the side of the truck, an EMT standing with a clip board.

Matt rushed over there.

“Sorry, there was so much traffic and i had to drop the kids off-” Matt’s breathing is quick and rapid, “Sorry, i don’t-” Matt shook his head as he placed his hand on his chest.

Y/n rubbed her eyes as she started to wake up.

Matt had tears down his face.

“Y/n is okay and free to go home, she is dehydrated so i recommend giving her lots of water.” The EMT told Matt.

Matt nodded and went to give Y/n a hug, Y/n didn’t hug back which was weird but Matt didn’t say anything.

“There’s blood- why are you covered in it?” Matt said as he pulled away from the hug.

Y/n shrugged, “It’s not mine.” She said as she got up, scratching her head.

Matt quirked his eyebrows, “Then who-?”

“It’s Josies, she died.” Y/n cut Matt off as she pulled out her phone, starting to go on it as Matt’s face dropped.

Matt let a few more tears drop down his cheek before he wiped them away, knowing Y/n should be hurting, should be crying, should be showing some sort of emotion but she's not.

"I'm so tired, Matt. Can we go home, please?" Y/n asked as she stood up.

Matt nodded as he grabbed her arm to help her, "We can go."

—————————

4:28pm

They both walked in the house, Matt keeping his hand on the small of her back.

"I can run you a bath, sweetheart." Matt said as Y/n rubbed her forehead, she wasn't in a good state of mind.

Y/n looked towards Matt, nodding, "Okay, that sounds nice. I'm just gonna call Josie, we have plans on Saturday. You're still gonna babysit the kids then, right?"

Matt lets out a sigh, flashing a smile, "Yeah, i got them." Matt reassured, making Y/n smile and pull out her phone, dialing Josie's number.

Y/n stands there, picking at her nails, waiting for Josie to pick up, but as expected she didn't.

Y/n let out a 'huh', shrugging before she put her phone down on the coffee table, "She didn't answer.." Y/n says, her face curious as to why her bestfriend didn't answer her.

Matt bit his lip, trying not to cry at his wife's lost state. "She might be busy, n/n. Maybe you should get in the bath and she'll call you back later?" Matt suggests, putting his hand on her shoulder.

Y/n nods, "Okay."

————

"Arms up.." Matt muttered, Y/n doing as he said while he pulled her shirt off her body.

He put the shirt in the bathroom sink before turning back to Y/n, reaching behind her back and unclipping her bra, throwing it alpng with her shirt.

His hands made their way to her pants, unbuttoning the jeans and pulling them down, along with her underwear. "Step." He mumbled as Y/n held onto his shoulders, letting out a giggle as she stepped out of her clothes, now ready to get into the bath.

Y/n got in the bath sinking into the water. Matt watched as she did this, she was peaceful and unbothered.

"I'm gonna go put your clothes in the wash, i'll be right back, sweetgirl." He said softly, leaning down and kissing her head before he walked out of the bathroom.

That's when Y/n closed her eyes, she knew matt was acting different, but after she took a short nap when she was sitting in the ambulance she couldn't remember what had happened just 15 minutes prior.

Ambulance..? Why was she sitting in the back of the ambulance? Y/n thought, her eyebrows furrowing as she tried to remember. Y/n then took a breath, hugging her knees to her chest before closing her eyes.

As i run i open a random office door, locking it and shutting the blinds, before i here a cough.

I look down and see Josie covered in blood, and a shot to her abdomen.

Y/n shook her head and rubbed her eyes at the memory. Closing her eyes even tighter.

“Y/n, s-shh..” She croaked out, putting her hand on my wrist for me to be quiet.

Y/n started to remember everything now.

Josie let out another cough, “I’m getting kind of tired, i think-”

I shook my head, “Josie, no, please, no no, Josie, no!” I held her to my chest as her eyes started to close.

Y/n let out a blood curdling scream...

“No- Josie, this isn’t funny, wake up, Jose. Come on! Fuck, please! Fucking wake up! We have plans on saturday! Josie please! Come on, i love you!” I shook her body but she didn’t wake up.

I let out multiple sobs, “M-my bestfriend! She’s dead! S-she’s- she’s dead!” Y/n sobbed, hugging her bestfriends body.

“Im so sorry, Y/n.” I heard the operator say.

Y/n was now crying, her face buried in her hands as she let out gut-wrenching cries, her whole body shaking.

Matt ran back into the bathroom as he heard her cries from downstairs.

He kneeled next to the bathtub, putting his hand on her wet back. "What's going on, baby? Are you hurt? Are y-"

Y/n cut him off, "She's dead, Matt! She's gone! A-and I couldn't save her, I couldn't do it!" Y/n cried out, her breaths fast and heavy.

Matt bit his lip and shook his head, "It's not your f-fault, Y/n. It's not, sweetheart, it's not." Matt held her close to his body, kissing her head as she sobbed into his chest, letting it all out.

—————————

6:32pm

Y/n was currently sitting at her vanity, looking into the mirror as Matt brushed her wet hair.

She was emotionless, eyes puffy and red from crying.

Matt kissed the side of her head, "How are you doing, love?" He asked softly.

She responded with a shrug, making Matt nod and continue to brush her hair.

As he finished brushing her hair he placed the brush down on the vanity, letting out a sigh as he turned her chair around to face him.

Matt looked down at her as she made eye contact with him. "Y/n, you have every right to feel what you're feeling. It's going to be hard the next couple months, years whatever it won't stop getting hard, but i need you to promise me, that you'll be okay.." Matt said, making Y/n look down.

He grabbed her face softly with his hand, making her look back up at him. "Y/n promise me you will be okay, a-and you won't do anything stupid. Please, baby, please." He begged.

Y/n nodded, "Eventually..i'll be okay."

—————————

How are we feeling guys ?

My heart hurts

tag list: @sturniolosmind @novasturniolo03 @hearts4chriss @vinniehackerslefttoe @christhopersturniolo @mattybswife @streamermattsgf @sturnolio-luvs @sturnioloslurps @marlenafortuna @lovergirl4387 @sturniololovesss @junnniiieee07 @khxna

[the-californicationist]

Excerpt from Gunslinger - "Appaloosa"

OMG!! I commissioned this artwork from the incredible @captain-natey who RETURNED TO ME WITH THIS MASTERPIECE!!!! I just wanted to plug their work (their commissions are OPEN! visit their website here!!) and I wanted to post the chapter excerpt from "Gunslinger" (Price/Reader) that it belongs to. Hope you enjoy! Please go show Nate some love! Thanks for reading. TW: reference to past domestic abuse, Reader has call sign and speaks Spanish

Price sat beside you and pulled your chair closer to his, looping an arm around the back of it,

“Look, love, you don’t have to do anything you don’t -”

“Capitán! Quit whispering your sugary words into her ear. This is the woman who survived Miguel ‘El Matador’ Moreno for diez pinche años. She may look like a little lady, but she’s done nastier work than all four of you perritos combined. She is the reason why the infamous Jefe Luis Villagomez doesn’t travel north of the Rio Grande. Charon doesn’t ferry the living very often, amigos. She only takes the dead. Porfa,” Alejandro waved a hand in the air dismissively, unamused by Price’s coddling tones. 

Ale may have been embellishing a bit, but he wasn’t wrong. You didn’t need your hand to be held.

“I can’t leave the animals,” you said, checking to see how far these men had thought this plan through. 

“Laswell called Tony, and he’ll be here Wednesday,” Gaz told you. 

Tony had watched the ranch for you once before. He was a sharp-witted veteran that had run his own ranch for decades, so you felt good about leaving the farm to him. Tony could take care of himself. He did tend to spoil the goats, but there were worse things. 

“How long?” Your question hung in the air like a balloon losing its air, floating, surrounded by silence. 

Vargas and Price shared a look. Price repositioned himself in his chair, not thrilled about having to answer you,

“Not sure, love. Is that alright?” 

It was a test. What were you willing to sacrifice for this man and his makeshift band of brothers? Your peace? You’d fought so damn hard for that peace. You’d survived a devil of a man in order to sleep warm and safe and knowing you could take care of your damn business unaided. After giving up years of your life to unrest and fear, your reward had been the reconstruction of your independence. Price was asking you for your hard-fought freedom. You weren’t ready to give that up. You weren’t ready for sleeping on floors and reloading guns. You weren’t ready to face more devil-men. 

But what else could you do? Price had you, threatening your heart. If you woke up tomorrow to his empty bed, you didn’t know if you could take that pain. You imagined that Kahlo’s Wounded Deer felt much the same; shot through the chest with nowhere to run, stuck between the cliff’s edge and your lover - your hunter - both promising suffering in different ways. No escape. 

The captain studied you like a heeler dog studied its herd, watching for even the slightest movement to strike, to react. He witnessed the fear flash in your face, and in turn, you saw the despair shadow his. It was so slight, that change in his expression, but to you, it was like he was screaming. You, too, were screaming. 

“Okay, but just for this mission. Then, I need to get back to my life,” you decided, making your limitations known, quietly but firmly. 

The relief that washed through Price’s eyes was palpable. 

Vargas served dinner in his chaotic way, family style, sharing plates. Everyone was eating with their hands, cradling the homemade tortillas like little flowers, using them to scoop up meat and sauce that dripped down their palms like nectar, spicy and sweet. 

Ghost didn’t take his food into the other room this time, feeling secure enough to flip up the mouth of his painted mask to eat. It was like seeing him naked; he was always covered up, so any skin was somehow too much. Soap crowded Ghost from his corner of the table, trying to steal more asada, laughing and joking with Ale. Gaz and Price were huddled, murmuring about something, talking with full mouths in low tones. 

It was almost too serene. There were times in life where you understood that you were in a moment you could never return to. You may have similar ones in your future, but somehow, you knew when certain wrinkles in time were singular. As you watched your guests, you knew that this was definitely one of those moments. 

Price had his arm draped across your chair, keeping you near him. You crafted a bite for him in your hand, pinching the soft tortilla until it held the perfect amount of Ale’s asada. 

You nudged Price with your free hand,

“Toma, come esto, papi.” Here, have a bite, daddy.

He turned away from Gaz and found you there, his bite of food in your hands, and his face lit up like a flame. Bending his head down to meet your hand, he grabbed your wrist in his huge fist, trapping your arm. Then, slowly, he put his mouth around the morsel, lips touching the pads of your fingers, tongue licking the sauce from them. 

Vargas watched your interaction from the other side of the table, open-mouthed. Soap smacked him on the shoulder as if to cash in a bet.

“No, animales! Not at the table!”

The men shared a lighthearted groan and laughed good-naturedly, giving you and their captain a hard time about your little display of affection. 

You smirked, feeling accomplished. Price had wanted to tell them, so you thought a dropped hint or two would be alright. To your relief, he laughed with them, chewing his food before making a comment,

“Sabe buena.” Tastes good. His voice, still badly accented, was mirthful and suggestive, dragging out another round of playful jeering. 

Then, to your surprise, the captain pulled your chair back away from the table, leaning it on its rear legs, holding it at an angle, and kissed you deeply. You let out a little cry of shock, silenced by his mouth. But, you recovered, kissing him back, wrapping one hand around his jaw and the other running through his hair. 

It was all in good fun. Normal. Just a couple flirting with each other, but for Price, you could tell it meant more. It was one thing to bare your souls to each other in front of the farm animals, or to sneak off and rediscover original sins in the quiet of your room, but it was something else to show the world that you chose him. To show his men that you were committed to their captain. That you weren’t just a rest-stop on their long journey. You got the sense that by committing to him, you were also committing to them: his family. 

The rest of the meal passed in that same warmth, filled with laughter and jokes, stories and questions about each other. Intimacy. The whole time, Price couldn’t keep his hands off of you. Your thigh, your hand, the nape of your neck - he was grabbing you like a lifeline. He shared his food, making you try his chili relleno, giving you sips of his drink when yours ran dry, doting on you. 

“Okay, time for dessert, yes?” You asked the others, picking up dirty dishes as you retreated back to the kitchen. 

You heard exasperated groaning, their bellies full and struggling, but you didn’t hear a no. Vargas followed you into the kitchen, pretending to help,

“Dios mío, necesito un cigarrillo después de verlos a ustedes.” My God, I need a cigarette after watching you two. 

“Cállate, cerdito.” Shut up, piglet. You smiled to yourself, cutting up what was left of the cheesecake, giving Price’s plate the largest piece. 

“¿Estas enamorado, morena?” Are you in love, darling? His voice was a quiet whisper. It felt like a gunshot wound in your chest. 

“I don’t know,” you said, in English, not trusting yourself to tell such a lie in your native tongue. 

Your old friend covered his mouth with his hand, eyebrows heading skyward, giving you an obvious look. He replied in English, understanding the secret you’d been trying to conceal,

“You know better, Charon. We are not men who should be loved. I hope you know what you’re doing, mija. ”

You didn’t reply out loud, but on the inside, you heard yourself say, “Me, too.”

Even though they lived in the shadows, you weren’t sold on the idea that they should be priests for their causes. Men like Price typically followed two paths. The love of a woman, if she becomes his family, could break his heart, making him forget his purpose, distracting him from his quest for justice. Or, she would light a fire in him, turning him into a dragon. You were afraid to find out which path he would choose.

You wondered if he loved you. 

You delivered the cake and poured more tequila into all the little cups that were thirsty for it. 

John was rolling a cigar in his fingers absentmindedly, and you could tell he was aching to smoke it. 

“You wanna come outside with me, love?” Price invited you, rubbing your thighs in big, sweeping strokes, making your blood rush through them, somehow knowing what you wanted. 

Everyone else was chatting, or watching Gaz play that video game of his, backseat driving, telling him where to hide and who to shoot. Which gun to use. You slipped out onto the porch with Price, avoiding any more ribbing. 

You stood against the porch railing, facing the yard, staring out at the darkness of the night, the rain finally dying out to a drizzle, casting little blue galaxies in the flooded grass, reflecting the light from a huge moon. Price stood directly behind you, pressed against your body, wrapping one hand around the railing, closing you in. He held his cigar in the other hand, smoking it in circles, trying to make the ashes burn evenly. 

“You surprised me at dinner,” he commented, obviously looking for a response. 

You feigned ignorance,

“Oh, why?”

“Feeding me by hand like that. Can’t be doing that in public. Makes me go a bit hard, love.” His voice was right next to your ear, gravelly and delightfully threatening. 

You smiled sweetly, your words coated in pretend innocence, playing with him,

“What do you mean? I just wanted you to have a bite. One little bite can’t hurt, can it, John?” 

“It’s bloody mental, the way you make me feel,” he took a long drag from his cigar and let the smoke tumble out as he spoke, leaning over you, “I’d fuck you right here, pretty girl, given half a chance.”

He took a deep breath along the side of your neck, smelling your skin beneath your hair, and when he exhaled, a moan was wrapped quietly inside it.

You pressed your ass into his crotch, finding him nearly hard. Touching his hand gently, you took his cigar and stuck it in your mouth, the wet leaves tasting like him. You curled the smoke with your tongue, locking eyes with him over your shoulder, watching him suffer deliciously,

“I dunno about ‘mental’, John. But it seems like you have an oral fixation.

You punctuated your last two words, saying them with a soft, sultry undertone. His eyes narrowed as he smiled down at you in a sinister grin,

“Do I ever.”

He stole the stick back from you and smiled even wider, teeth gleaming, his incisors seeming like fangs in his wolfy smile. 

“Think they’re watching us?” You let your eyes turn over to the window, covered with a sheer curtain, fully aware that the view outside was more visible than your view into the house. Trick of the light. 

He shrugged,

“Not if they know what’s good for them.”

Price’s cock had fully hardened now, and he thrust it up into your body ever so slightly, rubbing himself through layers of clothes, rocking his hips once and then twice like a promise of things to come. It made you feel a deep, primal lust, understanding his need without his words, your bodies engaging in an ancient art that had remained untainted by eons of time. You returned his invitation, rolling your hips back onto him, your ass pressing soundly into his pinned shaft. 

“We should get some sleep. Early start tomorrow. It’s five hours to El Ojo,” Price groaned, whispering, rutting against you mindlessly, burying his face in your hair, staining your scent with his smoke. 

You turned around to face him; he didn’t stop his idle grinding, looking tranquilized by his heady tobacco. Hypnotizing you with his casual eroticism. 

“You don’t seem sleepy,” you commented, letting your hands roam over his chest and belly, tracing his nipples beneath his smooth shirt. He shuddered at your touch, sighing deeply. 

With his cigar perched carefully between his fingers, he grabbed your jawbone, and you could feel the wet end press into your cheek. You could sense the warmth of the ash on your skin. He began to kiss you, all of the smoke and musky scents of him blended together, and his strong, masculine cologne made your head spin. His kisses were controlling and long, moving your head where he wanted it to be, sucking your lips and tongue, keeping them from exploring on their own. He was the guide for your passion, showing you all the ways he would be able to please.

He broke away, but only far enough to keep your lips from touching, his breath hot as it warmed your mouth when he spoke,

“Early. Tomorrow. We have to get up early. We should sleep.”

“Okay,” you sighed, a little dramatically, easing past his grip, removing yourself from him, untangling his vines from your bones, “if you say so, John. Buenas noches.” 

You walked inside, swaying your hips a little more than you needed to, knowing he was looking, his blue eyes burning into your curves. Just before you went through the door, you glanced over at him. In the darkness of the porch, cast in shadow, the smoldering tip of his cigar glowed in his open mouth, the light from it gleaming off of his teeth and coloring his lips and beard a fiery orange. He was grinning, like a fox in a henhouse. When he saw you looking, he made a small show of readjusting himself, pawing at his swollen rod to release it from where it was trapped, and in the dimness, you could see its threatening outline. 

You shut the door behind you, hands shaking. The other men mostly ignored you, but you caught them glancing your way, trying to sneak looks. Soap was not as sneaky as the rest, staring blankly as if he had a secret he shouldn't have.

As you wished them good night, they returned the sentiment casually, but it was then that you noticed the window. Price was still at the railing - in full, clear view, smoking. Blood rushed to your cheeks, and you could feel the flush tingle against your skin with embarrassment. 

An hour or so later, you were already asleep when Price came upstairs. His heavy footsteps pulled you from your slumber. He was pacing in his room, packing perhaps. You went to the bathroom and pulled open the door. Upon hearing you, he opened his as well.

“Hey,” you whispered, squinting from sleep. 

“Hey,” he was breathing heavily, dressed in nothing but the jeans and boots he had worn that day. 

The captain watched as your eyes feasted upon his skin, gazing longingly at his thick waist where his pants were slung low on his hips, showing off just a bit of hair from below his belt line. One of his giant hands gripped the door frame, high on the plank, stretching his chest into a sweeping display of muscle. His armpit, arms, and torso were covered in the thick, dark hair you had let your hands roam across last night during your joining, and you knew how it would feel to touch. 

Price slid his hand down the frame, making a slow scraping noise, stepping fully into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him with a click, his icy eyes never leaving yours. 

He was enormous in the small space. His body was a powerhouse of visible strength. The meat of him hung heavy on his large bones, and he seemed, in the clean white tile of the bathroom, as if he was a specimen in some sort of display. Some museum exhibit, showing off, in sterile composition, the ideal form of Man. Built to fuck, to kill, to dominate the beasts of Eden from the lamb to the lion. Top of the food chain. 

Still a little shy from realizing you’d given his team quite the show earlier on the porch, you averted your gaze, turning toward the sink. Before you could run the water, he was behind you, quick, crowding your space exactly as he had on the porch.

He positioned himself behind you and, much more luridly this time, began to kiss and lick your neck, grinding himself into you as he did so, slipping a warm hand under your loose top, finding your soft flesh waiting for his touch. You could feel the roughness of his denim jeans through your cotton shorts, and the contrast between his soft, melting kiss and the hard, unforgiving feeling of him trying to fuck you through your clothes was too much to handle. Your body was trying to reconcile the two, splitting your thoughts, making you love-drunk on his ministrations. 

Price pulled off your shirt, raking it over your head, tossing it to the floor. He laced his hand through your hair and began to tug your head back, forcing you to look at yourself, bare to him, in the mirror. There was only the nightlight, more like a small Christmas bulb attached to a plug, so the room lacked any harsh contrast. Your bodies, your faces, the walls - everything began to swirl together, all colorized in the same, peachy glow. 

You felt his hands on your breasts, and you watched him touch you in the mirror. Seeing yourself being pulled and manipulated by such a large man was gratifying. His hands massaged into your softness, leaving warm trails on your skin, the tell-tale feeling of where he had touched and where he still had left to go. The captain saw himself in the mirror for the first time, then, looking up from leaving erotic kisses on your neck and shoulders. 

He sighed, locking eyes with you in the glass. That sigh trailed off into a groan, a ghost of the one he’d given you last night in the midst of his ecstasy. 

“Fucking hell, look at you,” he said in his lowest tone.

Suddenly, he was tugging at the button of his jeans and unzipping the fly, freeing himself and stroking his cock to attention using your plump ass. Through your flimsy shorts, you could feel the burning heat that radiated from him. Reaching behind you, his hardness fell into your palm and you watched the sensation crawl its way through his expression in the reflection. He gasped, resting his head against yours, whispering - yes, yes, yes - into your ear in a hiss through clenched teeth. 

John’s hand found your pantyline and pried it away from your skin with a confident finger, traveling down into your folds, searching for the swelling bundle nestled in the crest of your slit, rubbing it in long, loose ovals.

It wasn’t feverish; it was measured. His was the hand of a practiced man. As he worked, you joined him, rolling your wrist to rub his foreskin up and down in achingly long pulls, letting his wet head graze your skin as you teased him. The thick length was drooling with precome, and you could feel its stickiness on your palm. 

It didn’t take him long to find your particular rhythm, the one you used when staring at Pinterest photos on your phone of Keanu Reeves in his John Wick era; sweaty, bloody, and great with a gun. Price’s movements felt personal, like he’d read about what you wanted in your diary somewhere, as if he was in on the secret. It brought you to the summit very quickly, and he noticed the flush in your cheeks and breasts, only then increasing his intensity. 

You tried to continue to stroke him, but as you began to come in Price’s hand, you could only hold onto his cock, grasping it like the handle in a car driving too fast, careening downhill, rushing to its inevitable crash. 

“Yeah, love, come for me. Just like that, you gorgeous fucking thing,” he watched you tumble over the edge, crumpling in the mirror, reaching for him. 

“John! Please,” you cried.

You felt the tension burst inside of you like a mortar, hot and molten, pouring out of your core and into your body in waves of climactic pleasure. No one had ever made you come that hard, that quickly. It was hard for you to stand. Price steadied you, using his talented hand to hold you to him while you remembered your legs. 

Once you regained your senses, you removed your hand from him to pull down your shorts and panties, letting them pool at the floor beneath your feet. You returned to his cock, now swollen and throbbing, and fed it into you. Your come made his entry smooth and slippery, and he filled you up, your body celebrating his return.

He returned to his slow, grinding dance on the porch, thrusting himself into you rhythmically in aching, rolling motions. It was not the slamming pugilism of two people trying to find release. This was a concerted effort for him to fuck your walls into his memory, rubbing his dick along them to sense every ridge and sweet spot, and to find the ones that made you scream. 

When you let slip a desperate moan, he would pause, reflect, and return, hitting it again and again, watching you writhe and begging for him to help you.

“You feel so good in me,” you admitted, talking to him in the looking-glass. 

His eyes were full of mismanaged control, and his grip on reality was slipping, 

“Bloody beautiful. So warm and wet for me. Goddamnit, I’m not gonna last.”

But, he did. Your beast had stamina. He returned to your clit as he thrust in and out of you, dragging his fat cock through your body, ripping two more orgasms from your lips before he surrendered. 

You watched him come, crying out darkly in his reflection. He had pulled himself from you and was painting your generous ass cheeks with his load. The tacky fluid was searingly hot, and it ran down your skin in drips. 

You smiled, bending back to kiss him,

“Messy boy,” you chided playfully, a naughty tone in your voice. 

“Wanna clean you up,” Price sighed, satisfied and spent.

Do you want 30 more chapters of these two? Read "Gunslinger" here.

Reblogs and comments deeply appreciated!

[bluemoonperegrine]

Those Who Wander

Rated T | Chapter 1/? | 1865 words | ao3 link

Authors: @bluemoonperegrine and @vicarious-rebel

Fandoms: Moon Knight, Werewolf By Night

Tags: Marc Spector/Jack Russell, Marc Spector & Steven Grant & Jake Lockley, mentions of Khonshu, mentions of Layla El-Faouly, San Diego/Tijuana area, alternate universe, fluff, romance, silliness

Summary: The Moon Knight system, now living in San Diego, decides to get back to nature after a mission investigating a human trafficking ring. Hiking in a national park in the mountains east of San Diego doesn't go as planned.

Notes: This is such an alternate universe. Seriously. It doesn't get much AU-ier than this! It's somewhere around 2010, the system and Jack are in their late 20s, and we've done a number on their backstories. Fun! We'll update tags as the story progresses.

-----------------------

Chapter 1: Well-Met

Out of all of the criminals Marc Spector had hunted down in his twenty-six years, he despised human traffickers the most. Although they weren’t the most depraved of those who’d received Khonshu’s justice by his or Jake’s hand, their calculating opportunism made his blood boil. These lowlifes were modern-day slavers. Following Khonshu’s orders regarding them wasn’t a problem.

One such lowlife by the name of La Araña was the reason why Marc had moved from London to San Diego last month. One of the reasons, really. Somehow Khonshu had learned about an explosion in human trafficking in the San Diego/Tijuana area and ordered him and Jake to cease Araña’s operations by any means necessary. The bird had ordered Steven as well, but the Brit has managed to talk his way out of it for the most part. Steven was smarter than the skeletal blowhard, much to his annoyance and Marc’s, Jake’s, and Steven’s amusement.

Rather than embark on a long-term mission, the system had decided to move back to the States. Although a few months had passed after their mother’s death and the Harrow/Ammit mess, they still felt off-kilter. Moreso than usual, anyway. A change of scenery would do them good, Steven and Jake thought. 

Marc didn’t care either way. Life was pretty lousy no matter where you lived, so whatever. Their best friend Layla traveled constantly for archaeological or Taweret-related reasons, so they’d see her often. She and Frenchie were their—particularly Marc’s—rock. Thank god for cell phones.

Despite being at the top of a rocky ridge, Marc’s flip phone had no signal. He withheld a sigh as he swept his gaze around the arid, rugged landscape. He needed to get moving before the morning sun climbed higher in the sky. Somehow he’d forgotten to pack a hat in the small rucksack that Khonshu’s suit could absorb. Steven had wanted to experiment more to see exactly how much mass the moon god’s magic could manage. It sounded like a long and tedious process, so Marc vetoed it entirely. If it could fit in his Army rucksack, it would work. Simple.

After taking a long swig of water from his half-empty canteen, Marc stowed it, shouldered his pack, and started down the narrow animal trail that led down the steep, east-facing hillside and into the canyon below. They’d need water from the stream that had carved the deep, narrow valley by the time they got there. Water purification tablets would make it safe to drink.

A pulse of anxiety washed over him. This time Marc sighed. “What, Steven?”

Kinda steep, innit?

“Kinda. Jake and I hiked worse in the Army.”

Sure did, jefe.

Marc grinned; he hadn’t realized that Jake was awake. “You keeping an eye on things, Jake?”

He felt his headmate’s mental nod. Yup.

We’re not lost, Steven said as if reassuring himself. Marc said he knows where we are. I don’t see how, flying at night after our mission when there’s no moon and there’s hardly anything out here! How do pilots—

“Steven,” Jake and Marc said simultaneously. Marc continued, “Even if we were lost, which we’re not, it’s fine. We’re trained for this. Packed accordingly, and—”

You forgot a hat.

Jake chuckled as Marc grumbled under his breath. “I wanted a relaxing hike, Steven. This right now is the opposite of relaxing.”

Está bien, hermanito. We’ve got the suit, remember?

Steven chuckled. Right. One of you nudge me when we’re not on a cliff or if something interesting happens.

Marc grinned. “You got it, buddy.” He felt Steven retreat just in time for the first switchback. The footing was a bit dicey unless you were a mule deer. He’d manage, and if he didn’t the suit would save their ass again. The suit didn’t dull pain, so Marc focused on the rocky trail and enjoyed the wilderness stretching out in all directions.

Three hours later the sun was directly overhead and felt searing due to the thinner atmosphere at this elevation. Marc was halfway through his canteen of safe but gross-tasting purified stream water. He’d stripped off his T-shirt an hour earlier to act as an improvised headwrap/scarf to protect his scalp and the back of his neck. It was working, but allowing his rucksack straps to chafe on his shoulders. Most worryingly, the canyon floor was now sloping uphill. He’d been walking southwest as planned. Barrett Junction should be a half mile ahead and downhill.

Steven did the mental equivalent of a stretch and a yawn. We there yet, bruv?

“Getting close,” Marc hedged.

Jake chuckled softly.

Wot? Steven asked.

We’re—

“Do not, Jake.”

We’re what?

Marc sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Taking the scenic route.”

Jake laughed and soon was joined by Steven. It’s all scenic, mate!

Hold up, Jake said, and Marc halted. Despite sharing the same body, somehow Jake picked up on things before he and Steven did. 

Marc looked and listened intently. Nothing was moving other than a few birds high overhead, but he heard something, just barely.

Jake stated, Vehicle. East.

Brilliant! Steven enthused as Marc darted behind a stand of pine-tree-like shrubs. What’re you doing? We can get a ride to civilization!

Gotta make sure he’s not a hostile.

Marc felt Steven virtually roll his eyes. You lot are paranoid. ‘E’s—or she, could be a woman, you know—prob’ly just out enjoying nature, but not lost like—

“WE’RE NOT LOST!”

The sound of the approaching engine quieted. “Hey!” a male voice called from the southeast. Maybe the canyon branched that way. “You need a hand? ¿Necesitas ayuda?” 

Yes! Steven replied as if the guy could hear him. 

Marc shushed his headmate so he could continue observing. Footsteps crunched on sand and gravel. Soon a slender man in a park ranger’s uniform stepped through an opening in the canyon wall and into view. His wide-brimmed hat shaded his face.

Feeling foolish, Marc shifted his weight to his other foot and debated waiting the ranger out. Maybe he should just summon the suit and fly off after all. He’d be a lot less sunburned that way.

The park ranger seemed to look right at Marc despite the evergreen shrubs hiding him. He started jogging toward him, calling “¿Estás herido? Are you hurt? I have a first aid kit in the jeep.” His English had a light Mexican accent.

Busted, Jake chortled as Steven snickered.

Wishing he’d never attempted a relaxing post-mission hike, Marc strode around the edge of the shrubby trees. “I’m okay, just…”

The ranger had halted about ten feet from him, close enough to make out his features despite the shade from his hat. He was drop-dead handsome, clean-shaven with tan skin and short dark hair. Seemed to be about Marc’s age and height.

Blimey, Steven murmured. Those eyes!

I thought you liked Layla, Jake said.

I do, Steven returned, but she doesn’t like any of us like that—

¡Gracias a Dios!

—and that’s fine, and I dunno, I’m still figuring things out so—

Shut. Up. Marc managed to say silently, if through gritted teeth. Mercifully, they listened.

The ranger—Russell per his name tag—tilted his head and frowned. “You’re sweating. That’s good.” He resumed walking toward him.

“Good?” Marc echoed, acutely aware that he was shirtless. Why did he care? He’d been in the army for crying out loud!

Russell smiled broadly. “You don’t have heat stroke. Do you have water?” Marc nodded. “Good.” He stretched one arm in the direction he’d come from and reached the other toward Marc’s shoulder but didn’t touch him. “Let me give you a ride back to wherever you’d parked. Was it the main lot, or one of the others?”

Marc found himself walking with the young man. “I, uh, was dropped off.”

Jake snorted.

Russell looked at him askance, then shrugged. “We’ll go to the station. It’s air-conditioned. You can rest, then go from there.” Marc nodded agreement.

They walked uphill along a short, narrow gap in the canyon wall heading east. Marc spotted the ranger’s dusty jeep parked near its mouth.

“Got a name?” Russell asked.

“Marc,” he replied.

Russell grinned. “Nice to meet you, Marc.” He put one hand on his stomach. “Jack.”

Steven chuckled, which made Marc frown. What? he asked.

“Yes, like the dog,” Jack said with a brilliant smile. “It wasn’t intentional.” He stopped walking, so Marc followed suit, abruptly realizing they’d reached the jeep. His situational awareness had gone to shit for some reason. 

Jack’s brow furrowed again. He motioned at the passenger side of the jeep. “Go ahead, get in. It’s a half hour drive on rough roads to the station, so be sure to drink some water. I’ve got jerky and trail mix if you need something to eat.”

Marc nodded again and did so, putting on his shirt after setting his rucksack in the back seat. Jack steered the jeep further east, then turned north on a rutted jeep trail. They were headed in the opposite direction he’d intended to go, not that it mattered. He caught Jack’s eye and waved southwest. “How much further was Barrett Junction?”

Jack’s eyebrows shot up as smile crept across his face. “That’s where you were headed?”

“Yeah.” Marc felt his headmates’ amusement loud and clear.

“I’m glad I found you,” Jack said, now serious. “Eight miles as the crow flies, but with this terrain? No offense, but I don’t think you’re prepared for it. And there’s no backcountry permits issued for this area right now. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Oh.” Marc faced forward, stared out the windshield, and tried to ignore Steven’s and Jake’s laughter. “I’ll be sure to get a permit in the future.”

Jack nodded, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. “They’re for safety more than anything. It’s not good to do this stuff alone. I love it out here, but have to admit it can be dangerous. There are predators.”

“Yeah,” Marc agreed, his thoughts returning to La Araña. With the border only a few miles to the south, the trafficker may have routes nearby. For a moment Marc considered asking Jack if he’d heard of Araña, but decided otherwise. If anything he might seem suspicious, being in a remote area of the park near the border without a permit. So he drank more of the bitter-tasting water from his canteen, and waited to return to civilization.

Look at ‘im, bruv.

Marc didn’t on general principle and to not be weird; Jack was navigating a tooth-rattlingly rough section of road. Why?

‘Cos I want to see him. He’s cute!

Dios, Jake moaned. It’s Layla all over again.

Would that be so bad? Steven countered. She’s brilliant! A good mate.

Marc sighed. Enough. It’s not like we’ll be out this way again. 

Unless we want to go on another relaxing hike, Steven said. I’d say this is the perfect place to go!

Jake drawled, Try not to get lost, jefe.

Marc tried to lean the back of his head against the headrest, but the lurching jeep made that impossible. I hate you guys.

You don’t, Steven returned, affection clear in his words.

Marc returned it, smiling. I don’t.

[xjulixred45x]

I'm pretty sure Lilith is holding the other end of Alastor's leash. Why else would he flip his shit after Husk brought it up?

and it would explain why 1- they both disappeared for the same amount of time (7 years) and 2- it would give a more coherent reason as to why Alastor would help Charlie with his project, it could be that Lilith asked him while she was in heaven as part of of his treatment.

Personally, I don't like the idea of Lilith being a villain, but I'm more attracted to the idea of her being a "voluntary hostage" of heaven for this deal she had with Adam. because it would make more sense.

I mean, Lilith was the one who ruled hell much of the time and cared about her people, we see photos of her and her family being happy together...if they made her a villain just for the sake of it, it would be something that came out of nowhere honestly.

Lilith being a hostage of heaven (or even being replaced by someone as they say on Twitter) and making a deal with Adam that was DONE when HE DIED leaves many doubts (maybe Lilith used to go talk to him as she was the head of the army of the angels and HER the main ruler of hell (before Lucifer/Charlie had to do it) and so they fixed the deal and in between Lilith and Alastor they made theirs?), but it would be consistent with what has been shown so far.

We have to wait for the second season.

______________________

y explicaría por qué 1- ambos desaparecieron por la misma cantidad de tiempo (7 años) y 2- daría una razón más coherente de por qué Alastor ayudaría a Charlie con su proyecto, podría ser que Lilith le preguntó mientras ella estaba en el cielo como parte de su tratamiento.

Personalmente, no me gusta la idea de que Lilith sea una villana, pero me atrae más la idea de que ella sea una "rehén voluntaria" del cielo por este trato que tuvo con Adam. porque tendría más sentido.

Quiero decir, Lilith fue quien gobernó el infierno gran parte del tiempo y se preocupó por su gente, vemos fotos de ella y su familia siendo felices juntos... si la hicieran villana solo porque sí, sería algo que surgió de la nada honestamente.

Lilith siendo rehén del cielo (o incluso siendo reemplazada por alguien como dicen en Twitter) y haciendo un trato con Adam que se HIZO cuando ÉL MURIÓ deja muchas dudas (tal vez Lilith solía ir a hablar con él ya que era el jefe del ejército de los ángeles y ELLA la gobernante principal del infierno (antes de que Lucifer/Charlie tuviera que hacerlo) y así arreglaron el trato y entre Lilith y Alastor hicieron el suyo?), pero sería consistente con lo que se ha mostrado hasta ahora.

Tenemos que esperar a la segunda temporada.

[stellyeddlyn]

With everything that happens on Twitter, I really don't know where to post. Facebook is still my right hand, and maybe Tumblr too.

🌞 SUN & MOON | CONALEP AU🌜

Okay, first of all: Conalep is a school here where I live, every news about it is something very stupid and surreal. I'm serious.

[It's no joke, for those of us from Mexico we know the enormous amount of memes it has, third worldism at its best.]

And this all came to me just because I was bored in class, for some reason it was the most fun idea and I'm surprised how many people liked it.

For now I'm planning to make a separate Tumblr to talk only about the AU.

I'm questioning whether to make a fanfic but I doubt it because it scares me to think that this will have more reach than all my best structured fics.

🌞 MEET THE STUDENTS 🌜

The information will be in Spanish to make it more fun.

🌞 Sunny;

Vato del Conalep, estudia ALBE (alimentos y bebidas, gastronomía para ser más precisos), le maman las caricaturas, y las revistas de adolescentes, colecciona posters de bandas. El posiblemente el morro de apuntes chidos pero a la vez que no hace tarea, lo sobornas con unos cheetos para que te pase el examen, hiperactivo gracias al TDAH.

🌜 Moon;

Es wey del CBTIS, se metió a estudiar administración porque no tenía de otra pero ahora mismo se está arrepintiendo de su carrera. No sabe si darse de baja de la vida o de la prepa, una de dos, ambas o ninguna. Escucha My Chemical Romance, Evanescence, Linkin Park, Green Day entre otras bandas bien edgys de la época debido que el wey es EMO. Se pinta las uñas con plumón permanente negro y posiblemente ya tiene los pulmones llenos de humo de cigarro.

Si, hasta los Glamrock tienen su versión.

🛼 Chica;

Morrita aesthetic del 2008 que siempre está a la mods, lleva todos los accesorios que las revistas dicen, la morra estudia enfermería en el Cona porque quería saber que wea. Bestie de Sunny, le cuenta todos los chismes posibles.

🏁 Roxanne;

Iba a colegio privado pero su padre la castigó y la mandó a uno público, re humilde la morra, lol. Estudia administración porque es una mandona de primera, posiblemente se cree morra de las Mean Girls y su himno son "Las Divinas".

⛳ Montgomery;

Morro pendejo que ni sabe que hacer con su vida, se metió a administración, ni sabe porqué pero lo hizo, lleva su guitarra a la prepa para sorprender a las chikinenas. Esta bien baboso que bullea a Freddy. Nadie sabe cómo no se ha dado de baja.

🎤 Freddy;

En primer lugar ni sabe cómo llegó a la prepa, soy ese. Es jefe de grupo del salón, estudia ALBE junto con Sunny así que ya topa al vato, Bonnie se dio de baja así que ya no es lo mismo, a veces se pregunta porque chucha está aquí. Pero equis, somos shavos.

And yes, I even made a comic.

1.— ”Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit. I will not arrive! Again!“

2.— (It didn't come lol)

3.—

🌞; ”Damn, total, I didn't want to go either...“

🌜; (It was also late for me but he doesn't care).

HE IS IN LOVE.

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

Could we get Vaas sending Liv out of the camp because of Hoyt coming down. She goes out to see the doc and gets some pictures of him and his home. Cue Vaas getting jealous of her pictures of Doc!

A/n: thank you, hun, for sending me this. I had fun writing it. I hope you enjoy it.

Warning(s): Vaas being Vaas (albeit a bit tame), mentions of drugs, language, jealousy.

No Minors Allowed!!

"Hoyt is coming here? Why?" Liv asked, raising a curious brow. 

She tried not to let it show, but she was terrified. Since meeting him, she never wanted to be put in a situation where she'd have to see him again, but of course, things didn't always work out the way she wanted them to - her new life on the Rook Islands was an example of this. 

Carlos sighed. He understood her worry, he didn't much like Hoyt or his Privateers, but her questions were unnecessary. 

"It doesn't fucking matter. We're not going to be here."

Liv was more confused than ever, but as if the pirate knew what she was about to ask, he quickly answered.

"El Jefe (the boss) is sending us on a run to the doctor's house."

This must be a drug run.

The only time Vaas sent someone to Doctor Earnhardt's place was to buy drugs from him, though Liv never went to see him for that reason. She wondered if Vaas was sending her there because of Hoyt's sudden visit. Her stomach was in knots. She wasn't sure how to feel about this. 

"Can I grab my camera before we go?"

"Hurry the fuck up," Carlos retorted in annoyance. 

He honestly didn't mind. As long as she stayed out of his business, then he was content. Giving her back her camera was probably the best idea Vaas had when it came to Liv. At least she wasn't annoying Carlos. 

With her Olympus in tow, she got into the Scavenger and tinkered with the settings as Carlos drove her to the doctor's house. Liv was beyond excited; the land around the mansion was gorgeous. 

She spent hours running around the grounds within sight of Carlos, taking pictures. Doctor Earnhardt was a bit strange, but always so kind to her, sometimes mistaking her name as Agnes, which she didn't mind. It almost saddened her to say goodbye to him and return to the outpost. 

Liv was on cloud 9 as she sat beside Yada at an unoccupied table beneath one of the huts. It was almost time to eat thankfully, so she waited with him as Carlos went to check in with Vaas. 

"Why are you so damn happy?" Yada asked. 

Was she not allowed to be? 

"Good day," Liv uttered. 

"Lucky fucking you. We had to deal with Hoyt and his stuck-up putas (bitches)," Yada mentioned. 

Liv would have felt bad for them, only the Pirates could handle it. She wondered if Vaas was in a terrible mood; she wanted to view her pictures on the laptop. It was probably best if she waited.

After dinner, she sauntered to the trailer that Vaas stayed in and knocked on the door, knowing better than to just walk in. 

"Fuck off!" He shouted in response. 

Liv tightened her jaw. She reckoned that he was in a bad mood. With an uneasy breath, she clutched her camera right. 

"Thank you!"

She turned to walk away, but the sound of the door slamming open startled her, drawing her attention to the pirate. Her first response was to avert her eyes, due to his half-naked appearance; his shirt was missing, and his pants were nearly hanging off his hips. The dark circles beneath his eyes were more prominent, making her assume that he had been trying to sleep. 

Liv felt her face heat up. 

"The fuck are you thanking me for?" Vaas asked in confusion. 

"For allowing me to go with Carlos to see Alec," Liv answered quietly. She lifted her camera. "I took some pictures. Um… I left you a note before I borrowed it from your room." 

Vaas ordered her inside, despite the look of annoyance on his face. He considered turning her away since he wasn't in the mood, but the content and embarrassed look on her face wasn't one he was used to seeing. She mostly tried to hide her fear, remaining quiet in his presence unless spoken to. 

As she walked in, Vaas shut the door behind her and grabbed the laptop, tossing it on the bed before he lay down. He watched Liv grab the cable, sitting down on the edge beside him where he could see the scene. 

One by one, once booted, the images appeared on the screen. Liv was in awe of them, even the ones of Doctor Earnhardt that she took. A specific one of him sitting at his chair by the window made her smile. He looked comfortable, maybe even a little high. 

"You like him?" Vaas suddenly asked. 

Liv raised a brow.

"Alec? He's sweet… Though sometimes he's a bit unorthodox. But I like him enough."

"Enough to fuck him?" Vaas asked. 

Where was this coming from? Liv wasn't sure what to say. She peered over at him, seeing his eyes narrowed on the screen. There was no way he could have been jealous of the doctor. Vaas might be bipolar but she had never seen him show signs of jealousy toward Alec before. 

Is it because of me?

Liv sighed. How was she meant to defuse this? Turning her eyes back to the laptop, she searched for an image and then turned it into a background image, lying down beside him; the laptop rested on her stomach.

"This is by far my favorite picture on the island."

It was a picture of Vaas sitting on the beach with the sun on his back, making him appear almost like an angel. 

Or a demon. 

"The lighting is flawless," Liv uttered as she hovered her fingers over the screen, showing him the way it cascaded over him. "And so are you. Guapo (handsome), no?"

"¡Mierda (shit)! You know how to play the game," Vaas stated with a grin. "Always kissing my ass."

He put his fingers to his lips to emphasize his point. 

Liv snorted in response. 

She wasn't lying. Vaas was the most handsome demon she had ever seen.

Here's to hoping he doesn't attack Alec for this. 

[jackredfieldwasmyjacob]

holaaa 🫶🏼 oye que eso de "razón número 13" ? y el mg de p que le hemos visto? q pasó? 🙀

HOLA ANON MENUDA NOCHECITA NO PARAN DE PASAR COSAS

vale ya sabes que hay algo raro con el número 13 y estos dos, sinceramente yo tampoco sé si es algo preciso o simplemente les gusta volvernos locas con ello. bueno pues el audio que ha subido álvaro duraba 13 segundos, y después al parecer le ha hecho rt diciendo 'mi razón número 13' (referencia a 13 reasons why) pero lo ha borrado??? lo que a mi parecer confirma que tiene cuenta candado donde planea vaciles o lo que sea

Y LUEGO. tinet rubira (jefe de gestmusic que es la empresa que hace ot) ha hecho esto

este señor tiene más de 50 años por cierto.

pero bueno. estaba en twitter viendo las reacciones cuando la gente ha empezado a chillar (yo no lo he visto porque no tengo las notificaciones activadas) y al parecer paul ha tuiteado 'me quedo tiesa' que sinceramente no sé cómo traducirlo al inglés pero es un poco el equivalente a poner este emoji 🧍

lo ha borrado al segundo, de nuevo, probablemente iría a una cuenta candado que ahora sabemos que tiene. la gente ahora está haciendo como que no lo han visto, porque es verdad que podría meterse en problemas por ello.

pero vamos, esto vuelve a confirmar que efectivamente paul solo tiene 3 canciones en la gira, que no está contento con ello, y que hay cosas pasando por detrás. ojalá saque una sesión de bizarrap metiendo mierda de todo ufff

[cerezamii]

Goretober Día 9: Hueso Roto.

Goretober Day 9: Broken Bone.

@jeongggyy no te voy a regalar mis colores ;).

[Español]

"Las niñas valientes no deberían llorar, Grace"

Grace Lucía Demdust, adoptada por IDE Demdust cuando ella tenía tan sólo seis años.

Actualmente es una niña de nueve años. Una chica ágil, rápida y manipuladora. Era perfecta para el tipo de agencia en la que trabajaba.

Aceptó las condiciones de IDE por una razón:

Si él no la adoptaba, nadie más lo iba a hacer.

En el orfanato en el que vivía tenía la mala fama de ser una niña caprichosa y malcriada.

Todas las personas que iban allí en busca de alguién a quien cuidar, eran atraídos por los brillantes ojos azules de Grace y su hermoso cabello negro. Sin embargo, al conocerla mejor y ver como era su personalidad, la cambiaban por otro niño.

IDE era su única esperanza de conseguir un hogar, incluso si tenía que lastimar a otros a cambio de un lugar para vivir.

Quedó devastada cuando se enteró de la muerte de su jefe, ella incluso lo consideraba un padre.

Lo que ella no sabía era que no tenía nada de que preocuparse. Ella era mi próximo objetivo, por lo que no sufriría la muerte de su líder por mucho tiempo~.

La rapidez era su mejor habilidad. Decidí que romperle la pierna sería un buen comienzo para su tortura y posterior muerte.

Esta vez no tengo mucho para decir, así que como recompensa por haberme acompañado hasta el día 9, revelaré otro dato sobre mí:

Soy de baja estatura, específicamente 1,50m.

Al ser una deidad, puedo aumentar y reducir mí altura, pero prefiero mantener una estatura baja. La gente pensará que eres inofensivo con más facilidad si no eres una persona alta. ☆

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Nota del Artista: Me gusta el dibujo, pero siento que no hay mucho gore, el hueso nisiquiera parece uno y apenas se nota.

(Estoy publicando esto en medio de clase)

[English]

"Brave girls shouldn't cry, Grace."

Grace Lucía Demdust, adopted by IDE Demdust when she was only six years old.

She is currently a nine-year-old girl. An agile, fast and manipulative child. She was perfect for the type of agency she worked for.

She agreed to IDE's conditions for a reason:

If he didn't adopt her, no one else was going to do it.

In the orphanage where she lived she had the bad reputation of being a capricious and spoiled girl.

All the people who came there looking for someone to take care of were attracted by Grace's bright blue eyes and her beautiful black hair. However, upon getting to know her better and seeing what her personality was like, they changed her for another child.

IDE was her only hope of getting a home, even if she had to hurt others in exchange for a place to live.

She was devastated when she found out about her boss's death, she even considered him a father.

What she didn't know was that she had nothing to worry about. She was my next target, so she wouldn't suffer the death of her leader for too long~.

Speed ​​was her best skill. I decided that breaking her leg would be a good start to her torture and subsequent death.

This time I don't have much to say, so as a reward for having accompanied me until the 9th day, I will reveal another fact about myself:

I am short, specifically 150cm.

Being a deity, I can increase and decrease my height, but I prefer to maintain a short height. People will think you are harmless more easily if you are not a tall person. ☆

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Artist's Note: I like the drawing, but I feel like there isn't much gore, the bone doesn't even look like one and it's barely noticeable.

(I'm posting this in the middle of class)

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

TRUMP PREYS

TCinLA

AI image posted this morning on Trump’s Truth (anti)Social account:

Reasons to know that the photo above is AI generated:

As always, the big tell is the hands. Trump appears to be missing his right ring finger. And his thumbs are mashed together in a way that defies human anatomy.

The biggest clue it's a fake image might be his right knee. It's directly behind his left foot, showing a super-human flexibility the former president is not known for.

Then there are countless context clues that don't add up. Trump is the center of attention in every room he enters. Yet the four people we can see behind him don't bother to look at Trump taking a knee to pray.

Of course the biggest tell of all that this is fake is the fact if Trump tried doing this, he would be struck by a bolt of lightning.

While the rest of us have been going up and down all week - Will he be arrested? Will he not? Is the grand jury meeting today? - people on Twitter have been having fun showing what GPT4 can do to create a visual image with a word prompt.

But in the meantime, El Jefe Del Merde A Loco is actually diving deeper into the Merde A Loco, which is dangerous for everyone.

The former president posted this ominous message on Truth (anti)Social shortly after 1 a.m. Friday morning:

“What kind of person can charge another person, in this case a former president of the United States, who got more votes than any sitting president in history, and leading candidate (by far!) for the Republican Party nomination, with a crime, when it is known by all that NO crime has been committed & also that potential death & destruction in such a false charge could be catastrophic for our Country? Why & who would do such a thing? Only a degenerate psychopath that truely hates the USA!”

He’s been building to this all week.

This is what he posted Monday:

“Just Out: District Attorney Alvin Bragg received in EXCESS OF ONE MILLION DOLLARS from Radical Left Enemy of ‘TRUMP,’ George Soros. Bragg is also very close to the Clinton Campaign.”

And this on Wednesday:

“HOW DO YOU INDICT A PERSON WHO HAS’NT DONE ANYTHING WRONG, AND

YOU KNOW THAT PERSON HAS’NT DONE ANYTHING WRONG???”

And this on Thursday. (It is fairly certain that the all-caps posts are definitely written by Trump - but just remember that ungrammatical death threats are still death threats.):

WHY WON’T BRAGG DROP THIS CASE? EVERYBODY SAYS THERE IS NO CRIME HERE. I DID NOTHING WRONG! IT WAS ALL MADE UP BY A CONVICTED NUT JOB WITH ZERO CREDIBILITY, WHO HAS BEEN DISPUTED BY HIGHLY RESPECTED PROFESSIONALS AT EVERY TURN. BRAGG REFUSES TO STOP DESPITE OVERWHELMING EVIDENCE TO THE CONTRARY. HE IS A SOROS BACKED ANIMAL WHO JUST DOESN’T CARE ABOUT RIGHT OR WRONG NO MATTER HOW MANY PEOPLE ARE HURT. THIS IS NO LEGAL SYSTEM, THIS IS THE GESTAPO, THIS IS RUSSIA AND CHINA, BUT WORSE. DISGRACEFUL!

He followed that with this.

“District Attorney Bragg is a danger to our Country and should be removed immediately, along with Radical Lunatic Bombthrower Jack Smith, who is harassing and intimidating innocent people at levels not seen before, “Get Trump” Letitia James, the worst Attorney General in the United States, and Atlanta D.A. Fani Willis, who is trying to make PERFECT phone calls into a plot to destroy America, but reigns over the most violent Crime Scene in America, and does nothing about it!”

It is obvious that Trump is terrified of being arrested, of finally - after a lifetime spent getting away with anything he did - being held to account.

This is the kid who should have been locked in a seabag and thrown off the George Washington Bridge when he was caught at age 10 throwing rocks at the toddler in a playpen next door to the family mansion.

This is what he posts to let the Goobers know what he wants them to do, since as a physical coward he would never be able to do this on his own:

Tomorrow night, Trump will hold his first major rally of his reelection tour: Waco, Texas, where religious cult leader and anti-government extremist David Koresh led an infamous clash with federal law enforcement in 1993. This is during the 30th anniversary of the deadly standoff, an event that looms large in the Far Right Calendar of Grievances. This isn’t a “dog whistle” - it’s the fog horn on the old Queen Mary.

When asked about the timing and the location of the rally, a spokesman for the campaign issued a statement that they chose the city because voters there firmly supported the former president in the past. “It is undisputed that Texas is Trump Country after electing 37 Trump Endorsed Candidates and recent polling among Texas primary voters.”

Yes, Trump did win McLennan County, of which Waco is the county seat, by 23 points in the 2020 election.

But Waco has also long been an important landmark for anti-government extremists. There is no other place in the U.S. that could have been picked that would tap into such a deep pool of anti-government hatred, of Christian nationalist skepticism of the government.

It’s impossible to believe Trump doesn’t know what Waco represents. It’s one of the Stations of the Swastika for the Goober Right.

The rally was announced last Friday, then early on Saturday morning, he posted that he expected to “BE ARRESTED ON TUESDAY OF NEXT WEEK” by the Manhattan district attorney. He ended the post by calling on his supporters to protest his impending arrest and “TAKE OUR NATION BACK!”

There’s been a lot of discussion as to whether or not his supporters would listen. Would they consider his arrest for paying off a porn star to be in the same category with The Big Lie, that the election was stolen from him, and them? The media has pointed to the fact that when members of the New York Young Republican club showed up in front of Trump Tower on Tuesday there were more reporters covering the event than there were demonstrators. There was the additional report that fewer than a dozen supporters showed up at Mar-A-Largo to protest his arrest.

According to these reports, Trump is the big bad wolf who has huffed and puffed and failed to blow the house down.

Sorry media, it doesn’t matter if he's playing a role or trying to play everyone for fools.

Inside that lizard brain, he knows that when his more dangerous cult members hear him raving like this, they hear The Master’s Voice.

He may be terrified, he may be quaking on his golden throne when he writes this crap, but he is willing to bring the temple down on his own head. A demented, malignant, psychopathic narcissist like Trump cannot imagine a world where this happens to him, and he is willing to destroy that world in the same way Hitler was willing to let Germany be smashed to ruin - to bring on Gotterdammerung - to avoid facing the truth of what he is and has been since the day he was born: a worthless piece of shit; a lifetime loser.

And he is especially willing to continue down this path while the entire Republican Party gives him support for anything he does. The Republican “leadershit” (typo intentional) who are actually afraid of their “base, but who continue to seek the support of these voters. These “leaders” do nothing to reason with them, to persuade them to abandon their violent tendencies, beyond empty pieties about how “we should not allow violence.” Doing anything to actually take responsibility would take a lot of work and actual honesty - things none of them are capable of.

[Thats Another Fine Mess]

[foxilayde]

this was INCREDIBLE. Like unbelievably good. I read this a few days ago and i swear to you i needed 200 hours to process all that had happened im dead serious.

From the first few lines im HOOKED, and all that stuff about Jake being needed in the adrenal moments, but that shifting into having softer moments now?? Ugh. Amazing.

And I’m pretty sure we know how reader is determining that it’s Jake who is fronting and i think it may have something to do with the attention to the bootyhole lmao, Lockley, all that specified attentiveness is a dead giveaway mate

How… how have you turned a man’s internal monologue about wanting to fuck someone in the spunk-covered ass, into something so artful and endearing? This is witchcraft.

El Jefe!! I fucking cackled. His attitude toward Marc says so much i love it

Pobrecita. End my life oh my goddd pls the degradation from Jake just hits different 😩

“All you ever have to do is ask, and I’ll give you the world” I— I— 😭

“A sparkling clarity descends…” ⬅️ That whole paragraph? The poetry of it? About entering a bumhole essentially? You’re a freak and i worship u.

“Conquer the world so he can lay it at your feet” alksdfjaskdj im yearningggg

“He’s fucked you all the way across the bed” HOW DARE YOU OSCILLATE BETWEEN TENDER TIMESTOPPING LOVE AND FILTHY ASS SHIT LIKE THIS YOU DEMON

Ahhhjhh oh myyyy godddd the the the tha theee the when the FLOOR HE— THEYthey hit the FLOOR? AND and mine eyes can’t handle it it’s it’s im i am blacking out. So sooo sooo good.

“Next time. Face to face next time.” PLEASE HE’S PERFECT

KNOCKS U OFF UR ELBOW? FLAT TO UR STOMACH? Girl. Please leave me with a shred of my decency/sanity. Please.

“Like a knife sliding between his ribs” god i loved that sm for some reason

“Taking root and spreading with every breath until it feels almost too large for the small space of the shower” MY HEART

Fantastic experience. Life changing. 100/10. I feel like I owe you some livestock as payment for this, can’t believe you just handed it over for free. Ty for sharing.

Fic: Closer

cowritten with @astroboots

Fandom:  Moon Knight Pairing:  Jake Lockley x F reader (x Steven, x Marc) Length:  5.6k words Rating: Explicit 🔞 Warnings:  This fic contains explicit sexual content including dirty talk, spitting, anal play, and anal sex. (That's it. That's the fic.)

Summary: Jake checks an item off his bucket list, and you both thoroughly enjoy yourselves.

Notes: Many thanks to @guruan who fixed our my extremely questionable Spanish (any remaining mistakes are entirely my fault) and whose deliciously debauched art is a never-ending source of inspiration. More thanks (and uh... oh god, sorry 🙈) to the poor anon who submitted the prompt that spawned this to Cici last Kinktober and had to wait a whole year to see the damn thing. And, of course, ALL my love to my darling cowriter and 🤡💖🤡 sister, @astroboots, who always makes writing a joy, and without whom this never would have been started, finished, or posted at all.

[ twp’s Masterlist  | boots' Masterlist  ]

Jake hasn’t spent a lot of time in the driver’s seat over the years. For a long time he only fronted on rare occasions. Life or death situations mostly. Those hair-trigger moments when the body is in critical danger and a moment’s hesitation is all it’d take for all three of them to wind up dead. 

Those times when things are too much for Marc or Steven to be able to handle? That’s when it’s Jake’s turn at the wheel. 

It’s why normally the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes, in command of the body, is the source of imminent danger: 

The face of the man who has a knife pressed against the collar of his military uniform in the middle of a desert. 

A panoramic view through the windshield of a truck that is seconds from veering off a winding cliff-side road. 

A long-haired Jim Jones wannabe staring down at him along a glowing walking stick protruding from his own chest. 

But things have been different lately. For one thing, he’s been spending a lot more time fronting, and not just in dangerous situations. 

For another, he’s learning that there’s so much more world out there than he’d ever imagined. There’s Ben & Jerry’s peanut popcorn flavored ice cream, Saturday karaoke nights, Derby Girls and you. 

Always you.

You were just Steven’s girl first, and then somehow against all odds Marc got involved too, and now that Jake’s been allowed a taste, he's never letting you go. You’re his guide to the wide world,  the road map keeping him on the right route, the safe resting place when he’s tired. Su alma, his soul.

And right now you look exhausted. Your thighs shaky and trembling, matted hair glued to your forehead, all of you dripping with sweat and other things. Steven must have really worn you out before he ceded the front. 

Sweet, shy little Steven—Mr. Sunshine—who just fucked you seemingly within an inch of your life before he remembered that he needs to share. 

And Marc thinks Jake is the unhinged one. 

The punch of adrenaline that always comes with fronting is still running through his veins, and he’s already hardening at the sight of you on your stomach, ass up in the air on display for him, Steven’s come just beginning to drip out of you. It doesn’t matter that the body just came, it’s Jake’s turn now. 

He slides his rapidly stiffening cock through your slippery folds, nudging the head against your clit, you and him both slick and sloppy with Steven's come and your own wetness.

“Aaah – Jake,” you gasp sharply into the pillow.

You know it’s him. He doesn’t know how. You haven’t even turned around to look at him, but somehow you just know. You always know. It’s an uncanny magic trick that impresses the hell out of him every time.

Jake grips one side of your ass in his free hand, squeezing hard. You’re all smooth skin and soft flesh under his finger, your cute little asshole peeking up at him. You’d kill him if he’d called it that out loud. So he doesn’t. He bites his tongue, swallowing down the groan that’s simmering in his throat at the sight of you.  

He can't resist sliding his thumb over that little pucker. He barely even brushes over you when you let out a pretty gasp for him. His cock is fully hard now, and it jerks against you at the sound, so he does it again, just to see if you’ll make the same noise twice. You do. 

Then you moan, sharp and keen, and he has to pull back, hand sliding over his slick length once before he leans in and replaces his thumb with the head of his cock. Taking his time, he slides it along the curve of your ass before nestling himself snugly between your cheeks. He makes an absolute mess as he goes, smearing the shiny slick left by Steven all over your bare skin until everything is a glistening sheen under the dim light as he begins to thrust forward, sliding his cock between the valley of your cheeks. 

Jake's dreamed of taking you here. He wants to take every fucking hole you have, fill you up and cover you with his come until it's dripping off of–out of every inch of your body.

Mierda. Even just the thought of it has heat climbing his spine, and his cock jerks in his fist and spitting even more precome into the mess already covering your spine and the rounded curves of your ass. 

He thrusts against you again, fucking himself between your cheeks, and you mewl quietly, pressing back against him. Maybe he won’t even fuck your pussy this time. Maybe he’ll just stay right here and rub his cock on your gorgeous ass until he comes all over it. Add to Steven’s mess with one of his own. He’ll do it. And reach around and rub your clit so you come too.

Maybe if he can get you used to the idea of his cock rubbing against your ass, maybe one day you’ll let him put it inside too. 

"You can, you know," you mumble out into the pillows, and Jake freezes, heat streaking down to his balls, and he has to grip himself hard at the base to avoid painting your ass with his come right then and there. 

Shit, did he say that out loud? He’s pretty sure he didn’t. He must have heard you wrong. Or he misunderstood. You can't possibly be offering what he thinks you are. 

"You can try putting it in. I might ask you to stop if I don't like it, but..." you your knees slightly, and the move has your ass practically wiggling at him in temptation, "It feels good right now."

Jake's brain stalls out. His body flashes hot all over. The back of his neck is tingling. He squeezes the base of his cock so hard he thinks he might be in danger of doing permanent damage, but he'll be damned if he comes on your ass right now when he’s just been told he might get to come in it. 

Gritting his teeth, Jake breathes through his body’s urge to come, pushing down the near-overwhelming need to shove his cock into your tight little asshole immediately. He knows he has to prep you if there's going to be any chance of you enjoying this, and he needs you to enjoy it because he wants to be able to do it again (and again and again and...) 

Shit. He needs to get on with it, or he's going to finish before he even makes it inside.

Jake makes himself let go of his aching cock, leaves it bobbing and dripping in midair, and turns his focus on you.

Leaning closer, he uses both hands to pull your ass cheeks apart, and just looks at you for a minute, watching your body clench around nothing.

"You want me to fuck you here, sweetheart?" he demands, sticky thumb sliding down through the mess of your slick and Steven’s come to circle your puckered hole, almost but not quite touching it, "Gonna let me put my cock inside this tight little hole and fill it up with my come?"

You whine, your whole body shivering under him, and he grins, satisfaction buzzing in his veins when your hips cant further up, trying to get him to touch you.

It’s fucking adorable is what it is. He is starting to understand why Marc likes to edge you now. How could he not? You’re always so reactive and needy when you’re denied. You make it so fun to tease. 

Sliding his thumb down, he slicks it around and around, just to watch you whine and shiver and shift, hips chasing his touch. His dick jerks with every noise you make and every time your body visibly clenches.

As fun as this is, a bright delight humming in his chest at your every little reaction, Jake doesn’t have the patience to tease you for long. 

He’s not like Marc. El Jefe seems to have infinite patience when it comes to this, but it’s only a minute or two before Jake can’t wait any longer. He feels like he’s going to jump out of his skin if he doesn’t get inside you one way or another. So he stops, holding his hand still to let you “catch” him.

When you do, he sucks in harsh breath, heat punching through him as he watches you rub yourself against his thumb, heart rate spiking as you lean back, the tip of his thumb pushing inside just a little.

It's barely anything, but the feeling of you parting to let his his thumb slips inside, then squeezing him back out is addictive. He presses harder, wanting more. His thumb slides a bare inch inside, and his groan barely covers the strangled sound you make, body tensing under him. 

Sweat breaks out on his forehead along with the realization that he cannot fuck this up. 

"Alright, mi alma?" he asks, trying to sound sweet and gentle, but his voice, low and eager, betrays him. A starving wolf in a sloppy sheep disguise. He’s not fooling anyone, not himself and certainly not you. 

Reigning himself in as best as he can, his fingers close into a fist with tight tension blaring in every nerve. Then he unfurls his palm to pet his hand over your back and down your side to give your ass a gentle squeeze. 

“Do you  need me to stop?" 

"N-no," comes the shaky answer, and Jake thanks any gods who might be listening, "It feels a bit odd, but..." you squeeze around his thumb, hot and unbelievably tight, and Jake swears under his breath, "It’s a good odd, I think. Just– just give me a moment."

You shift slightly, clenching again, and his cock jerks and throbs like the nerves of his thumb have somehow been reattached directly to his aching length. He really fucking doesn’t want to come before he even gets inside you, but right now he’s not sure if that’s in the cards for him.

Then you push back against him, and his thumb slides in another half inch, and both of you gasp. He pulls out slightly and risks a small thrust back inside. He's rewarded by another gasp and a small moan, so he does it again, a little further this time, and this time the moan is louder.

Fuck, you look so good like this, ass all slick and slippery. Before he even knows what he’s doing, Jake leans forward, spitting onto the curve of your ass right above where his thumb is inside you. 

You jerk when it lands on your skin, and he likes that. Likes that even though he’s done it before it always seems to take you by surprise. Likes how his spit  looks on your skin too, shiny and slick as it slides down the crack of your ass to join the rest of the mess he’s smeared there. Likes that when he pushes it into your tight little asshole, it’s one more way that he can be inside you, make you a little bit more his in a way that will linger after he’s no longer with you.

You whine as he pulls his thumb all the way out, he spits again, hitting his target, directly on your pretty little asshole, then he presses in again, shoving more of his spit into you.

Like most things when it comes to how he feels about you, Jake doesn’t entirely understand why he likes this so much. It’s primal, somehow, a deep-seated need to mark you with himself–his spit, his scent, his come.

His cock is aching, throbbing in time with the way you clench every time he pushes his thumb into you. Jake can't stand it, has to wrap his free hand around himself, gripping as hard as he dares, and stroking slowly. He grits his teeth against how good it feels, red hot pleasure searing up his spine as he leans in to slide the head of his overwrought, leaking cock along your ass, right next to where his thumb is shoved inside. 

"You feel how hard you make me?" he demands, pressing himself against you, relishing the way you shift and moan again, body still squeezing around his thumb, but loosening with every passing moment as you relax. It also has the added benefit of his precome dripping down to lubricate things even more as he thrusts into you a little deeper each time. "Fuck, I can't wait to get inside this tight little hole. You gonna let me in, mi alma?"

"Yes, yes, Jake! Please!" you cry out, only partially muffled where your face is pressed into the pillows, and he damn near loses it again. Has to press his cock against you hard, almost to the point of pain as fire licks out along his nerves, threatening to send him over the edge.

"You want this cock in your ass right now?" he grits out, vaguely aware that he should probably spend more time prepping you, stretching you so you can take him easier, but he can't wait another fucking second.

He pulls back, pulls his thumb out, and you whine out his name Jake, Jake, Jake as you push your ass up and back, chasing his touch.

He looks down to see a blur of movement between your legs, and realizes that at some point you shoved a hand underneath yourself to rub at your clit.

It’s pure impulse. He doesn’t think. Before he even realizes what he's about to do, Jake’s hand flashes out, coming down on your ass with a sharp crack that sends your flesh jiggling in an all-too-appealing way. 

You cry out, sharp and high-pitched, but Jake knows from experience that it's a cry of shock, not of pain, and he quickly follows up on his advantage.

"Naughty naughty, sweetheart,” he scolds, “Who said you could touch yourself?" 

You freeze, obviously caught, and several seconds tick by where he watches approvingly as the mark left on your supple skin from the impact of his hand shades into a darker hue before you whine again, "Please, Jake. I need– I need–"

That's more like it. 

"Pobrecita," he croons to you, enjoying the way you relax at his gentle tone, "Do you need more?"

You nod into the pillow.

He leans in and smacks his cock against the same place his hand struck. You jolt, letting out the hottest fucking sound, so he does it again, and has to grit his teeth against the noise that wants to escape him at the sensation.

"You want this cock, mi alma?" he demands, voice harsh,  "You want me fuck your ass with it right now?"

"Yes. Yes, Jake. Fuck, please. YES!" you pant out, sounding as desperate as he feels. You’re pressing back against him, hips shifting so you can press that pretty little hole right against the tip of him, acting for all the world like you're going to fuck yourself back onto his cock if he doesn't give it to you fast enough.

It's a heady feeling, to hear you beg for him, and part of him wants to hear you do it again, and again and again. To leave you there, begging for him as you struggle to fuck yourself on him. Lucky for you, he is nothing like Marc. 

"All you had to do was ask, mi alma," he grates out as he begins a slow press forward, "All you ever have to do is ask, and I'll give you the world."

Your body yields to him, the head of his cock slipping inside, and he has no more words. Only a strangled groan to match your whine as you clamp down hot and impossibly tight around him.

A sparkling clarity descends, time dilating, stretching out the way it does when he's in the middle of a fight, and he can only be grateful because he's barely clinging to his composure by the tips of his fingers here.

One truth stands out above everything else: he can't hurt you. 

He has to go slow, keep control, make it good for you. 

Jake wraps an arm around you, fingers tangling with yours to rub desperate circles around your clit, and he breathes a sigh of relief when you relax slightly under and around him. Still he doesn't move, not sure if he can without losing it and pumping you full of his come right then and there.

It's only when your hips start to move, hitching forward against his fingers, and then back to fuck yourself a little farther onto his aching cock that he dares draw in another breath, dares to meet your movements with small thrusts of his own, fucking in a little further each time.

And you take him just like that, little by little. One slow press, one torturous inch at a time, until he's buried as deep in you as he can go. 

"Fuck. Jake," you gasp out, clenching hard around him, and he groans. 

He makes the mistake of looking down at where you’re stretched tight around the base of his cock, taking every fucking inch he has to give, and the sight hits him like a punch to the gut. His hips stutter forward involuntarily, and somehow you take him even deeper.

You make a strangled sound, clamping down so tight it borders on the painful, and he freezes, shuddering behind you.

"¡Mierda! ¿Estás bien?" he demands, has to stop and mentally scramble for the words before he can ask again in English, "You okay, mi alma? Shit, did I hurt you?" 

"N-no. I'm okay," you pants out in response, "You can– You can move, Jake. Please. Need you to mo–"

Before you even finish the sentence, he’s already pulling out and easing back in. It’s a tight fit, your body hugging him so snugly that nothing else would fit. 

Lento, he reminds himself, gently. Not too fast. Gritting his teeth against the demands of his body, he presses himself in and out of you as slowly and carefully as he can manage, and he tries to keep his fingers moving on your clit. His free hand grips your hip, fingers digging in until he’s sure it must be painful, but he can't make himself let go.

You whine, writhing under him as he inches back into you.

"Jake," you pant out, nearly sobbing his name, "Jake, Jake," and he slows further, worried that it's too much.

"No!" you cry out suddenly, and Jake freezes on instinct, holding still as you prop yourself up on one elbow, turning your upper body sharply to one side so you can glare at him over your shoulder, "Don't bloody stop. I want you to fuck me."

The words hit him like a blow, knocking the air out of him, and the determined look on your face stabs him right in the heart, his whole chest pulling tight. 

"You've been so patient, Jake,” you cajole him, “and it's good. Better than I thought it would be. I want you to stop holding back. Fuck my ass for real. Let go, Jake."

Fuck, he loves you so fucking much. The feeling is so big, he doesn't know how his body can contain it. He wants to move mountains, conquer the fucking world just so he can lay it at your feet. He'd give you anything. 

But the only thing you're asking for right now is his cock, and that he’s just as desperate to give you as you are to take it.

He pulls out slowly, one… last… controlled… withdrawal, then he slams into you so hard it drives you forward across the bed away from him. Digging both hands into your hips, he yanks you back to him, back onto his cock.

"Like this?" he asks as he pulls out and slams into you again,  "You want it hard? Like this, mi alma?"

"Yes– Fuck– Yes–" you gasp out between harsh thrusts, "Ja-Jake!"

His name breaking on your lips is the sweetest fucking sound he’s ever heard in his entire life, and it severs the last threads of Jake's control. He lurches forward with a roar, driving himself into your tight little ass over and over again, as hard and fast as he can go. 

The force of it knocks you off your elbows, flattening you into the bed, but Jake just yanks you back, repositioning his knees as your hands scrabble uselessly at the sheets.

Every thrust is deep and relentless, burying himself inside you as deep as your body will let him, giving you as much of him as you can take. Until his hip bones are pressed flush against your ass, until his cock is buried inside you to the root, until every inch of him is enveloped by you. 

He's so lost in the feel of you, he doesn't realize he’s fucked you all the way across the bed until you're precariously balanced on the edge of the mattress.

Your knee goes first, slipping sideways off the bed mid-thrust, and it's enough to pull him off balance and send you both tumbling to the floor. 

Instinct takes over, and before Jake even has a chance to consciously register what’s happening, he’s already twisting, shielding your body so that he takes the brunt of the fall. He winds up hitting the hardwood ass-first before coming to rest with his head against the nightstand and you in his lap. 

Miraculously, you’re still connected, the force of the fall shoving you down on his cock farther than ever before, the feeling of being lodged so far inside your tight ass more than enough to overwhelm the slight pain in his tailbone from the fall.

There's a moment of stunned silence, then you start shaking, trembling in his arms, shoulders vibrating against him. He has half a second to worry that he’s fucked up badly enough to make you cry before a loud, bright sound rings out in the room. 

You’re laughing. Oh thank fuck.

"Oh my god, Jake! You just fucked me off the bed, quite literally. That's definitely a first!" you exclaim, twisting around to giggle down at him, eyes crinkled with amusement, mouth curved in an open, full-toothed smile. Jake has a handful of seconds to marvel at how beautiful you are before you shift in his lap, your body clamping down around him, and any last lingering shreds of control he might have been clinging to are gone.

Jake lifts his hips, fucking up into you, and watches your eyes go wide, a gasp falling from your lips.

It's not enough.

He grabs your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh and rolls to his knees, and your gorgeous laughter dissolves into a broken cry of surprise as he drags you with him. The sound melts into a long drawn out moan that has the tip of his ears tingling. He can’t think, all he can do is keep going as he fucks forward into you again, his chest tight against your back as he forces you down onto all fours so he can keep fucking you. 

Fuck. The wood floor is hard and uncomfortable under his knees, digging into his kneecaps. He knows it must be worse for you with his weight bearing down on you, but he can't make himself stop. 

He's been dreaming about taking you this way for so long, and now he finally gets to. He knows, he knows he should stop and check on you, should move the two of you back up onto the bed where you'll be more comfortable, but that pretty little ass is stretched around him so perfectly, tight and hot around him, and his need is riding him hard.

Heat prickles from the tip of his fingers, spreading along the nerve endings along every patch of skin, fuck. It’s everywhere, expanding across the span of his chest, pooling in his abdomen, gripping into his lungs. He can’t breathe. Can’t stop. Can’t–

"Lo siento," he stutters out. "I'm sorry, mi alma. I can't– I have to–" Words leave him, and all he can do is pant against your neck as his hips jerk into you with increasingly sloppy thrusts. 

His end is approaching fast, whether he wants it to or not, and he barely has the presence of mind to shove a hand underneath you, rubbing desperate circles over your clit with fingers gone clumsy with need.

He has to make it good for you. He has to. He has to– 

Por fortuna, it only takes a minute for you to tense underneath him, sobbing out his name and tightening around him so forcefully that he can't keep thrusting, his cock locked in place by the tight clench of your body.

The lack of movement is enough to stave off his own orgasm, but just barely, the pleasure is overwhelming, teasing at the tip of his tongue as you shudder underneath him and you flutter rhythmically around his cock. It's so similar to being inside your pussy when you come, but it's different too. The pulse of your pleasure there squeezing him so tight it's nearly painful, but its so, so fucking good.

He breathes through it, pressing open-mouthed, panting kisses against the skin of your back. Does his best to keep his fingers moving on your clit, trying to prolong the moment for you, to draw you pleasure out as long as he can. He wishes he could see your face. 

Next time, he promises himself. Face-to-face next time, so he can watch every expression you make as he fucks you full of himself and see the pleasure break across your face when you come with his cock lodged deep inside.

All too soon, you're collapsing forward onto one elbow, your other hand shoving at his where it's buried between your legs, and he lets you push his hand away, planting his palm on the ground next to your head. 

You turn weakly to look up at him, pulling partially off of his dick as your body sags like you can’t keep yourself up. 

"Are you ready, mi alma?" he grits out, dimly aware that he's shaking as he braces himself above you, "Ready for me to fuck this tight little ass full of my come?"

"Mmm," you hum, sweet and contented under him, "yes, please."

That's all Jake needs to hear.

He slams his hips forward into yours, and the force of the first thrust knocks you forward off your elbow, your chest meeting the ground as you half-collapse under him. 

Jake follows you down without stopping, fucking into you hard. You sink a little further towards the floor with each thrust until you're flat on your stomach, but Jake still doesn't stop. He can’t, though he's sure he must be flattening you. Doesn't think he could stop if his life depended on it

He's grinding into you now with increasingly sloppy thrusts, burning heat burrowing into the base of his spine as he holds back his orgasm by sheer will, slurring out endearments against the back of your shoulder.

“Mi alma. Mi vida. Reina de mi corazón.”

And you are. His soul. His life. The queen of his heart. You are all of that and more. His gorgeous, perfect love, taking him, all of him, exactly as he is.

"Do it," you say from underneath him, and reality seems to recede, his vision tunneling in on your lips as they shape the words that just might kill him.

"Fill my ass up with your come. Fuck it into me as deep as you can. I'm yours, Jake."

Jake's orgasm crashes into him like an unexpected switch. Like a bomb going off. Like a knife sliding between his ribs, sharp and sudden. Pleasure sears though every inch of the body that has never felt more like his than it does at this moment, his forehead pressing against the warm skin of your back as he empties himself inside you in pulse after pulse of aching release. 

By the time the last shuddering spasm subsides, Jake feels wrung out like a bloody rag. He barely manages to avoid collapsing on top of you, mustering just enough strength to roll the two of you to the side so that he’s no longer squishing you. Pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder, he carefully pulls out, then pulls you back against his chest, curving his body around yours, and the two of you lay cuddled together like that for a long moment.

Eventually, his strength returns, along with the awareness that the floor he’s holding you on is both hard and probably not all that clean given Steven’s penchant for pouring sand all over. You deserve better. He gets up first, and carefully helps you rise to standing, waiting a moment to be sure you’re steady on your feet, before guiding you gently into the bathroom. 

When he flips on the bathroom light, the shadow of his reflection in the small round mirror transforms into a flushed, wide-eyed Steven who mumbles, “That was… God, that was… ” 

He doesn’t seem to be able to find the words. Jake’s not sure he could either, but Mr Sunshine doesn’t need to know that, so he just shoots the mirror a smug smile and tips an imaginary cap in that direction before he moves to turn on the shower.

You shiver a little when he steps away from you, so once the water is running, he wraps both arms around you, encouraging you to lean against him while you wait for it to get warm. You do, wrapping one arm around his waist in return and curling into his chest like there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

Jake just watches you. Tilting his head back and slightly to the side to get a better angle, he lets his eyes roam over your face, taking in the soft curve of your cheek, the eyelashes feathered against the soft skin there nod that your eyes have fluttered closed, the hand you’ve settled against his chest, right over his heart, the way your lips curve up into a slight content smile. 

You’re beautiful.

You always are, but right now, something about this moment makes Jake’s chest tight. It steals his breath as surely as if there were hands wrapped tight around his neck, choking the life out of him.  But instead of stealing his life, it’s as if you’re giving him more of it, pumping him full of its essence, filling his chest until he doesn’t know how his body can contain the feelings you inspire in him. 

The bathroom is getting warmer, steam starting to form on the mirror, but Jake is loath to relinquish his hold on you. You seem equally uninterested in leaving him. You’re snuggled contentedly into his chest, but the way you slump lower and looser with each passing second tells him that he needs to get you moving fast, before you fall asleep standing up. “Water’s warm,” he tells you, and you hum sleepily against his chest. It’s so, so tempting just to carry you back to bed, but he knows you’ll be happier if you’re clean.

“C’mon, mi alma. Into the shower. Vamos.”  He herds you gently backwards until you’re standing under the spray.

You hum sleepily up at him without opening your eyes, and he’s worried for a moment that he’s lost you to sleep already, but you stay standing when he cautiously releases you.

Reaching for your soap, he quickly lathers up a washcloth. The smell of the soap—the smell of you—quickly permeates the small space, and he breathes deep, letting the familiar scent wash over him.  He runs the cloth gently over your shoulders,  taking extra care with the still-visible bite mark one of them left there, then down over your chest. The skin of your breasts is soft and warm under his fingertips, and he’s half tempted to try for another round, but he feels strangely protective of your soft sleepiness.

Instead he dutifully rinses you off, letting the water cascade over your body. 

You blink your eyes open long enough to shoot him another warm, sleepy smile, and the contentment in his chest seems to expand, taking root and spreading with every breath until it feels almost too large for the small space of the shower. 

He steps out, reaching for a towel, and drys you off gently, before doing the same to himself with much less care.

Then he carries you back to bed and tucks you in, doing his best to straighten out the wrinkly covers before pulling them up over both of you. Curling his body around yours, he holds you tightly to him. There are a lot of things in this world Jake can do without, has done without. But this– you are no longer on that list.

In the cozy warmth of the bed with your body pressed against his, his eyes feel heavy. Jake never used to fight to stay in the driver’s seat, not once the excitement was over. But he clings to consciousness now. He wants to prolong this moment when his vision is filled, not with yet another threat to body, life or limb, but with something altogether perfect: the sight of you drifting off to sleep, your head nuzzling into the pillow, a slight smile on your face… safe. 

It’s the last thing he sees as he falls into a deep, restful sleep. .

Thanks for reading!

—

Want more to read?

from @astroboots: Masterlist ...or follow astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when something new is posted .

from @thirstworldproblemss: twp's Masterlist | Author, Fic & Fanwork Recs ...or follow @thirstworldproblemss-writes to be notified of new fic

[waitingformyfavoritesongs]

6:34 am pdt 21 April 2023 Friday viernes kinyoubi? 🔥

6:35 am pdt vag cutting pain . Please read the last part of previous post. (Left hip pressure and pain 6:36 am pdt this is probably to kill my hip? Nausea ) I’m glad incubus is NOT my husband! I NEVER 👎 want my name tattooed on his thigh! 6:37 am pdt (left shin pain 6:37 am pdt ow hot acid butt bones 🦴 right 😞😖😭😫😭 6:38 am pdt nothing I say will win me my bones 🦴 back. Pain stabbing left side of bellybutton left hip bone 🦴 broken 6:39 am pdt I knew it! 6:39 am pdt he’s never going to stop 🛑 which means child rape will continue FOREVER ♾ and he’s admitting he’s saving all child rapists by tearing me down (acid throat pain 6:40 am pdt) hope you all happy with the bed 🛌 you made. Bcz he sang that in I wonder 💭? 6:41 am pdt

6:50 am pdt don’t they call ☎️ it the one eyed snake 🐍????

7:43 am pdt ≈2 am pt I had showered 🧼 left knee pain 7:44 am pdt. Maybe 🤔 about 5 minutes into it a cloud ☁️ of awful smell 👃 met my nose 👃. Then ≈ 2 minutes after (sting butt cheek 7:45 am pdt) a different cloud ☁️ of different smell 👃 met my nose 👃. It is strange. Incubus walks in and plants it in the bathroom 🚽. I thought 💭 it was coming through the fan. Keep asking my mom to ask to clean it. Hasn’t been done. Incubus keeps telling me my mom is going to kill me Bcz her name has Abel in it like the Bible who sacrifices lamb 🐑. So that’s another cross over sign 🪧. Bcz my sun 🌞 sign 🪧 is Aries ♈️. R in Japanese is pronounced L. 7:50 am pdt ram 🐏-> lamb 🐑 7:51 am pdt

cousin Jeremy cop 👮‍♂️ when I was 7 years old = Jeremiah Bible slavery. Chinese year zodiac sign 🪧 = ox 🐂

my bday is Thomas Jefferson’s bday I think 💭 he tried to free slaves?

acid throat pain 7:53 am pdt. I guess it was all a fake out to me. And if everyone did not believe it would be different after covid, if they thought 💭 that there will still be bad people around, then I guess you weren’t deceived. By incubus saying apocalypse! On the voice in 2018? That was weird. He did seem very sinister wicked. I guess he really did be the bad guy (Brain pain skull 💀 hot 🥵 7:57 am pdt) Bcz all the rapist who want free young vag is still around. El jefe? Restaurant won’t tell even though they know who it was? Probably Bcz of incubus. 7:58 am pdt those rapists aren’t even trying to be good they 💭 think they can trick people with bogus reasons. 7:59 am pdt 😖😭🥵felt like acid with heat 🧠💀😖😭🥵 they’re really breaking into my hip. They started touching it inline midthigh.😰 he’s going to force me to go commit suicide. He came to visit me to show me he hates me but he’s too lazy to get his hands 🙌 dirty with my blood 🩸. 8:03 am pdt I dare you to do it yourself incubus! Cut off my head!

8:05 am pdt after the (right back ribs pain 😖😭) incubus tickled my vag when I was 4 years old I got the urge to take off all my clothing and hug 🤗 a pillow. 8:07 am pdt (Brain 🧠💀 acid hot pain 8:07 am pdt) and one other thing. Remember I mentioned Mickey Mouse 🐭? 8:08 am pdt I humped Mickey mouses plush toy 🧸 head when I was 4 years old. Is that NORMAL? Why? HOW? Would I get that idea 💡 after incubus tickled my vag????? Bcz !!! Incubus wanted me to!!!!!!! 8:10 am pdt I was being groomed?!?!?! To be a victim!!?!???? Of child rape?!?!?!! So incubus had to keep me shy 🙈 ☺️ and quiet 🤐 my whole life!!!!!!!! So I would be an easy 🎯 target?????? To be raped!!!!!? 8:11 am pdt

8:29 am pdt if the guy at the pool 🏊‍♂️ was a s*x offender interested in children s*xually, maybe he rejected 🙅‍♂️ me? Maybe all the guys like that guy rejected 🙅‍♂️ me?? So Bcz they rejected 🙅‍♂️ me and god had only one plan for me to be a rape victim, Scott put in my name 6 backward 7s (acid throat pain 8:32 pmpdt) I guess I’m not entitled to an opinion? So Bcz they wanted me to be a rape victim and they wanted me to take the blame they labeled me “whore.” Bcz they already cursed me by training me in that way. And made me extremely h*rny that it became troublesome for me that sometimes it distracted me in classes. And at home 🏠. So they needed an excuse to get rid of me. Make me take all the blame. Make me feel weird about myself. Abuse me. Trashed me to call me trash 🗑. Acid mouth 👄 pain. 8:37 am pdt

8:38 am pdt they will never admit to it Bcz they don’t have to Bcz they’re all powerful.

8:39 am pdt somehow I stayed (acid pain brain 🧠 flesh 😖😭). Left hip bone 🦴 pain 8:40 am pdt Virgin until 19 years old. I guess they had change in plans Bcz all the rapists rejected 🙅‍♂️ me? Plan B. They probably always have a plan B. Bcz what if you screw up 🆙? Is it possible for god to screw up 🆙? 8 billion people? I think it might be. Very easy. To screw up 🆙 something. 8:42 am pdt

8:43 am pdt how many John smiths are there? But how many people are there in the world 🌎 that has my name? Am I the only one???? The wonderful thing about tiggers... 8:44 am pdt

9:11 am pdt pain brain 🧠 back right. Even garrido himself admits that his god is demonic = demon angels. And his wife who is a home 🏠 care person? Does what garrido’s demon angels wants. My aunt is a home 🏠 care person. Was a pharmacist 👩‍⚕️. Connect the dots. Pharmacist 👩‍⚕️ to nurse 👩‍⚕️ to doctor to garrido to police 👮‍♂️ to incubus/demon angel 😇. 9:14 am pdt everyone is virtue signaling and fake. They don’t mean what they say. The are all frauds. The police 👮‍♂️. The doctors 🥼. The nurses. The pharmacist create date rape drugs. The home 🏠 care workers. All frauds. Child rapists enablers. Incubus henchmen/lackeys. And they’re all smug and proud 🥲 and showing cut off the leg 🦵 gestures which is the backward peace ✌️ symbol gestures. Look 👀 at them all. In pictures on tv 📺 now they’re changing it and touching they’re marriage ring 💍 like Mario Lopez on extra. 9:18 am pdt they are all very proud to make people suffer and run it in our faces even though they side with child rapists. 9:19 am pdt

9:36 am pdt my Twitter October 28? 2022 (tummy ache 9:37 am. Pdt) I found the pre Xmas tweet 🐣 with the Santa 🎅🏾 Claus 🤶🏽 Sagittarius ♐️ sweater. 9:38 am pdt

9:39 am pdt nananan65672 ....? 979 . I did NOT pick those numbers. It was auto generated and then the internet was weird and it went through w/o me being able to edit it. I blame incubus 😑. 9:41 am pdt arm hot acid pain right lower arm. 😖😭 difficulty breathing 😤🥵😤🥵😤🥵🥵😤🥵 9:42 am pdt I currently cannot paste . Memory full 🙌 9:43 am pdt

9:44 am pdt Adam.Levine.my.love Instagram account 9:46 am pdt

9:46 am pdt December 2020 post (hot acid left butt cheek pain)

9:46 am pdt to fight for a cause means to be killed piece by piece for a cause. Bcz if you are fighting child rapists how do you win when incubus demon lord enables them? Let’s them live in luxury? Healthy? Happy? And incubus tears down their victims? Shannon Ruth was 17 years old? Technically a minor. And if autistic she was behind socially? Mentally? Mentality? Even if she looked like an adult 🧑 9:51 am pdt acid brain 🧠 skull 💀 pain. She was probably behind in maturity? Bcz if autism? Back street boys were listened to by 11 year olds? “Normal” teens usually try non-boy bands, maybe not mainstream? And try to find edgier sounds to show they’re tough! Maybe indie sounds bcz they want to be more interesting and set themselves apart from the rest. 9:54 am pdt

9:57 am pdt what’s with the sparkly chime sounds? What ever it’s called. All I have to give Backstreet Boys. They trying to sound like magical 🧙‍♂️ princes (right hip bone 🦴 pain stabbed 9:59 am pdt) autocorrect: feet dead dying. 9:59 am pdt I don’t have any spare bone 🦴 left this is it. The renewal of the apocalypse. Apocalypse continued. Whole 7 bowls cycle. Starts again. With my death ☠️. Bcz I am the thrown lamb 🐑 slained. Lamb 🐑 on the thrown. Jesus Christ. I keep telling you he’s been bugging me and giving me signs 🪧. Usually I tried not to think 💭 it Bcz I was afraid 😱 to pay attention to it Bcz it would probably make me look 👀 crazy. But I can’t ignore it anymore! 10:03 am pdt no one believes in any other way. Even though everyone has been doing what he says to do anyway, so why not just take it verbally? Idk 🤷🏻‍♀️ 10:04 am pdt

10:22 am pdt if child rape only happens Bcz god wants it to happen, a male god, then males gods are twisted? Left ankle bone pain 10:23 am pdt. So then it’s futile to fight for a good cause? Bcz it’s all incubus’ doing? Makes sense that they’re saying if you fight/ro? Ru? Then you die! Makes sense makes sense!!!! Spine pain 10:24 am pdt Bcz if we only can exist this way it’s a surreal fake peace ☮️ Bcz everyone is fake. And everyone is bad. 10:25 am pdt

[animeangsteng]

Camilo Madrigal

▂ ▃ ▄ ▅ ▆ ▇ █ █ ▇ ▆ ▅ ▄ ▃ ▂

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Camilo Madrigal zombie

.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎… ⋙

Warning: None

.

Camilo Madrigal x fem! Reader

Hi!

This is a zombie I created.

It’s basically pieces I had in mind mended together somehow.

Hope you Enjoy!

.

█ █ █ █ █ 100% *Tuning complete*

.

-Ella es muy bonita, ¿verdad? (She’s really hot, isn’t she?)- whispered Camilo to himself, letting out a small whistle.

-Tu también eres muy bonito y gracias por el cumplido pero, por favor, repítemelo en mi lengua (You’re really hot too and thanks for the compliment but, please, repeat it in my language)- she said, winking at him before going into the house.

-Oh, feisty, aren’t we?- he said, following her a bit like a puppy.

Leaning against the handrail of the stairs, right before her, he smiled mischievously: -I like it-.

~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~

-Tío Bruno?- he repeated.

-Yes... what’s his deal?- she asked, moving some packages into the house.

-Seven foot frame with rats along his back, when he calls your name it all fade to black. Yeah he sees your dreams and feasts on your screa- he began saying.

-Yeah, yeah, sure. That sounds much more like a kid’s fantasy, rather than the description of a real person-

-What?! He’s just like that!- he protested.

-I’ll believe it once I see him. Anyways care to help me or not, shapeshifter?-

-Si, jefe (boss)- he laughed, turning into a more useful form.

~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~

-So... you love mi primo (my cousin) Camilo?- asked the curious Mirabel, elbowing her a bit.

From outside the older cousin’s door was Camilo, who started eavesdropping after he heard his name coming out from Mirabel’s room.

-Well... yes. I love him a lot- she admitted and Camilo felt his heart pumping crazily and all the blood going to his head, making him blush and smile like a fool.

Slowly he slid down the door, smiling and sighing: “She loves me! I’m in heaven! I’m the happiest human being alive!”

As if struck alive he began to run excitedly around the house, sharing his happiness to anyone willing (or not) to hear.

-Casita! Y/n loves me!-

-Luisa, she really loves me!-

-Abuela, Mama, Papa! She loves me!-

-Y/n LOVES ME!-

-Oh, I’m the happiest boy alive! Y/n loves m- he said, finding himself in front of said girl.

-Yep. I do- she smiled, as he began turning into a bunch of people out of panic.

Grabbing his ruana she pulled him in for a kiss.

-Now you can be the happiest boy alive. And I... can be the happiest girl alive-

~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~

-Mi amor, mi vida (my love, my life)... we’ve been together for so long and day after day I fell more and more in love with you. You’re the best I could ever ask for and I don’t want to lose you in any way, for any reason so... will you make me the happiest boy alive and marry me?- Camilo asked, down on one knee.

-That was done muy bien (very well), mi hijo (my son)! She’ll say si por cierto (yes, for sure)!-

-Gracias, papa (thanks dad)- he thanked, running up to their shared room, ready to propose.

-Mi amor (my love)!- he knocked.

As he got permission he entered the room, his courage beginning to let nervousness take the best out of him.

-Mi vida (my life)... marry me!- he just exclaimed while taking out the ring, bidding goodbye to all his practiced speeches.

Months and months working on them and he threw them in the trashcan like that!

Luckily for him she was in love with him, speech or not, and to his greatest joy she said: -No-.

As his face dropped she laughed a bit: -Just kidding, mi amor-

-Te quiero mas que mi vida (I love you more than (I love) my life) and I’d be honoured to become tu mujer (your wife/woman)- she added, tending him her hand so that he could put the ring on it.

-No more jokes like that mi amor, por favor (my love, please)- he chuckled, leaning in for a kiss.

-I’ll try to avoid that for future proposals-

-I don’t think you’ll receive any more proposals for I won’t let you-

-Possessive, aren’t we?- she smirked, remembering one of the first things he told her when they met.

-I like it-

~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~

Bonus

-Bruno... we need to talk!- said Pepa.

The poor man stared at the rest of the Madrigal family surrounding him threateningly, all but the soon to be wedded Camilo and Y/n.

-Oh, well yes! What, hermana (sister)?- he stuttered.

-Hey tío (uncle), I want not a word out of you!- said Isabela.

-I heard he gave them a prophecy already!- smiled Dolores.

-What!!!- they all exclaimed, Bruno included.

-And?- they asked, some turning to Dolores and other to Bruno.

-Well... - joined the bride, appearing behind them.

-... He told me that the man of my dream is already in my grasp and we’ll live happily!-

-Really?- asked Bruno, a bit perplexed because he didn’t remember saying anything like that.

-That’s how it is going to be. I guess your prophetic tendencies rubbed off me a bit- she smiled, as Camilo picked her up by the waist, pirouetting a bit with her and then kissing his soon-to-be wife.

Oh, how he couldn’t wait for the wedding to be over and finally have some time with his by-then wife!

And to be honest all his family was waiting for them to go on honey moon, Abuela (grandmother) even more than all the others: she couldn’t wait for grandkids.

[bad-dog-byron]

Byron leaned on the bar, wiping it down while making sure to give Raph his full attention. He blinked with apparent polite confusion because how could he possibly have seemed not to like his work? "I promise, nothing I do is because I don't like working here." Once he figured out what his boss was talking about, he nodded regretfully. He was mildly disappointed in whoever had mentioned it to El Jefe but alas, that was what capitalism did to people. "Hand to Satan, I never duck out of here without a reason." He held his hand up to demonstrate that he was willing to swear such an oath. "Occasionally, personal business interrupts my work day, but I make sure never to leave the place without coverage. And I always make up the hours." As far as bar staff went, that made him golden. Though of course, demons tended to have unrealistic standards. Hell had that effect on some people. "What can I do to assure you?"

"Thank you," Raphael replied as he took a sip from the glass and set it back down. He wasn't here to drink so he didn't touch it again, instead smiled once more and stared at Byron intently. "Then I would think you'd act more like you enjoy working here, Mr. De Wolfe," he stated ever so casually. A hint of danger lurked in his tone despite the friendliness he currently exuded. "I've heard you often duck out for no rhyme or reason during your shifts here, which is not something I condone here in my business."

[spanishskulduggery]

Hi! I'm very curious about something regarding the Spanish language. I'm currently studying A2 Spanish but I had this question and my teacher did not seem too willing to discuss it. Here it goes:

I know that Spanish has, something my Spanish teacher says, linguistic gender. I was wondering how do the people who don't align themselves with the gender binary (masculine and feminine) speak/write in it? I have read this article about Spanish speaking people from US adding "x" Or "@" and people from Argentina using "e" to make the words gender neutral.

Thank you so much for responding, whenever you get to it. Also love your blog. ❤

Short answer, in general speaking terms people are tending towards the -e now because the other two are very hard to actually speak, and because Spanish-speakers feel the -e is more authentic

What you're most likely to see in Spanish is masculine plural as the default, or in written things you might see todos y todas or like un/una alumno/a "a student", or like se busca empleado/a "employees wanted" / "looking for an employee"

If it's something official or academic you typically include both [todas y todas] or you go masculine plural [todos] unless it's specifically feminine plural

-

Related, linguistic gender applies to all things, not just people. Why is la mesa "table" feminine, but el libro "book" masculine? Just linguistic gender. I can tell you that most loanwords (that aren't people) in Spanish are masculine, and that there are certain words that come from Greek are masculine, and that -ista words are unisex most of the time... And I can tell you there are some words like testigo or modelo that are unisex and don't change for gender. Aside from that, speaking about nouns and grammatical gender... those particular things are harder to parse for regular people, but if you go into the field of linguistics you can explore that more deeply. Some of it is source language (i.e. "it came from Latin this way") or things like that. And in general when talking about nouns it's unimportant and not considered sexist, that's just how it is.

There is such a thing where it gets a little too far the other way and people will say "history? what about herstory" which is a nice thought but the etymology has nothing to do with gender there

When it comes to people - and when it comes to gendered attitudes - that's where it gets more confusing and more complicated.

I believe there was an experiment where people had French and Spanish speakers [I believe it was Spanish] try to identify how a "fork" would sound. French people gave it a more feminine voice because "fork" is feminine in French, while Spanish speakers gave it a more masculine voice because it's masculine in Spanish.

Whether we like it or not, certain gendered things do influence our thoughts and feelings and reactions. A similar thing in English exists where the old joke was something like "There was a car accident; a boy is rushed to the ER and the surgeon but the father was killed. When they got to the ER the doctor said 'I can't operate on him, he's my son!'" and it's like "well who could the doctor be?" ...and the doctor is his mother. We associate "doctor" as masculine and "nurse" as feminine.

There's a gender bias in our language thought patterns, even though the language changes. And that does exist in Spanish too, to different extents.

There are certain cultural and gendered stereotypes or connotations attached to certain words, many tend to be more despective or pejorative when it's women.

For example - and I know this has changed in many places or it isn't as prevalent - el jinete "horseman/rider", while the female form is la amazona "horsewoman/rider". Because la jinete or la jineta was sometimes "promiscuous woman".

There were also debates about things like la presidente vs. la presidenta or what the female version of juez should be, whether it should be la juez or la jueza

Most languages with gendered language have varying degrees of this, and all languages I'm aware of have gendered stereotypes related to professions or cultural attitudes in some way, and not just for women, and not all in the same way with some of them being very culturally based

-

The longer answer involves a bit of history, and I'll be honest, some of it is contested or considered a little controversial in Spanish-speaking countries particularly in the conservative parts (which honestly should come as no surprise)

The first symbol that I know of that came about was the X

First piece of contested history: As far as I know, it was the trans/queer and drag communities in Latin America who started the trend of X. When there were signs or bulletins that had the gendered endings - specifically masculine plural as the default plural - people would write a big X through the O. This was a way of being inclusive and also a very smash the patriarchy move.

Some people attribute this to women's rights activists which may also be true, but a good portion of the things I read from people say it was the trans/queer/drag communities in Latin America doing this.

I've also read it originated in Brazil with Portuguese; still Latin America, but not a Spanish-speaking country.

Where it's most contested is that some people will say that this trend started in the Hispanic communities of the United States. And - not without reason - people are upset that this is perceived as a very gringo movement.

That's why Latinx is considered a very American-Hispanic experience

-

The arroba (@) is relatively new. I remember seeing it in the 2000s. I don't know if it existed earlier for gender inclusivity.

People used it because it looks like a combination of O and A, so it was meant to be cut down on saying things like todos y todas or niños y niñas in informal written speech

I remember quite a few (informal) emails starting like hola tod@s or muy buenas a tod@s or things like that

I think of it more as convenience especially in the information age where you never knew who you were talking to and it's easier than including both words, especially when masculine plural might be clumsy or insensitive

Still, it's practically impossible to use the @ in spoken Spanish, so it's better for writing casually. You also likely won't be allowed to use the @ in anything academic, but in chatrooms, blogs, or forums it's an option

-

I love the E ending. And the gender neutral form in singular is elle... so it's él "he", ella "she", and elle "they (singular)"

The -e ending is I think became more common within the past 10 years though it might have existed longer than that. These sorts of changes tend to come from the queer or trans communities and tend to be more insular before becoming more of an outside thing that then the general population finds out about

It came about because there are some adjectives in Spanish that end in -e that are unisex. It's not an A, it's not an O, but it's something grammatically neutral for Spanish

It's not as awkward as X, and E exists very firmly in Spanish so it's not perceived as some outside (typically gringo) influence

The good news is, it's pretty widespread on the internet. Not so much in person (yet), but especially in Spain and Argentina at least from what I've seen, particularly in the queer communities and online culture.

The only issues with it are that for non-native speakers, you have to get used to any spelling changes. Like amigo and amiga, but to use the E ending you have to add a U... so it's amigue.

That's because there are certain words where you have to do spelling changes to preserve the sound; gue has a hard G sound like -go does [like guerra]... but ge has the equivalent of an English H sound [gelatina for example]. Another one is cómico/a "funny" which would go to cómique. Again, because co has a hard C/K sound, while ce is a soft sound more like an S or in some contexts TH/Z sound; like centro is a soft sound, while cola is a hard sound

Unless you make it to the preterite forms where you come across like pagué, alcancé, practiqué with those types of endings... or subjunctive forms, pague, alcance, practique ... Basically you'd have to be exposed to those spelling rules or you'd be really confused if you were a total beginner.

It all makes sense when you speak it, but spelling might be harder before you learn those rules

The other drawback is that the E endings are sometimes not applicable. Like in damas y caballeros "ladies and gentlemen" there's not really a gender neutral variation on that, it's all binary there. And while la caballero "female knight" does exist, you'd never see a male variation on dama; the closest I've ever seen is calling a guy a damisela en apuros "damsel in distress" in some contexts where the man needs rescuing, and it's feminine una/la damisela, and it's very tongue-in-cheek

There are also some contexts like jefe vs jefa where I guess you would say jefe for "boss" if you were going the neutral route, but it's a bit weird because it's also the masculine option.

I can't speak for how people might feel about those if they're non-binary or agender because every so often you kind of get forced into the binary whether you like it or not

I totally support the E, I just recognize there are some limitations there and it's quirks of the Spanish language itself

Important Note: Just to reiterate, E endings are the ones most Spanish-speakers prefer because it's easiest to speak and doesn't have the American connotation that X does in some circles

-

Where it gets very "Facebook comment section" is that you'll see many Latin Americans traditionalists and conservatives claim that "this is just the gringos colonizing our language" and "grammatical gender doesn't matter in Spanish". They'll say that the "gender movement" is an American feminist movement and that it's a gringo thing and doesn't reflect actual Latin Americans or Spanish-speakers

Which on the one hand, yes, English does have a lot of undue influence on other languages because of colonization, and American influence and meddling in Latin American politics is a big important issue

But as far as I'm aware of the X (and especially the E) were created by Latin Americans

The other issue I personally have is that any time this conversation comes up, someone will say something like somos latinOs and claim that masculine plural is gender neutral

To that I say, first of all, "masculine plural" is inherently gendered. Additionally, there is a gender neutral in Spanish but it's lo or ello and it's only used with "it" so it sounds very unfriendly to use on an actual person... and in plural it looks like masculine plural and everything applies like masculine plural

Second, the reason masculine plural is default is because of machismo. It's more important that we don't possibly misgender a man, so it has to be masculine plural. It's changed in some places, but growing up when I was learning Spanish, if it was 99 women and 1 man you still had to put masculine plural

I'm not opposed to there being a default, and I understand why it's easier to use masculine plural, but some people get very upset at the idea of inclusive language

...

In general, my biggest issues with these comments come when people act like non-binary/queer/trans people don't exist in Spanish-speaking countries, like English invented them somehow. So it's nice to see linguistic self-determination and seeing native speakers using the E endings.

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

Where the Tainted Kiss [Chapter Nineteen] Where the Tainted Kiss [Vaas Montenegro]

A/n: Liv has been dreading this moment. Though it doesn’t go the way she expects.

Warning(s): Vaas being Vaas, suicide mentions, rough sex, use of marijuana, dirty talk.

No Minors Allowed!!

Liv could hardly sleep.

The outpost was quiet for once considering most of the pirates were elsewhere but with so many distracting thoughts circulating through her head, it was no wonder she was tossing and turning so much. She tried to ignore them but after so long it was driving her insane. Liv sighed in annoyance and sat up, leaning against the bars of her bamboo cage. Perhaps she just needed to wear her brain out first.

There was much to consider.

Like what the fuck I'm going to say once Vaas returns.

She couldn't even come up with a lie if she wanted to. It was her fault; she initiated it. She may not have kissed him on the lips, but the idea was there. And he was going to ask about it. Liv could never tell him the truth for fear that he'd kill her, but perhaps she could sway him with part of the truth.

What is the truth?

It was time she admitted it. Vaas was horrifying; he was an unhinged murderer who seemed to have no empathy for humankind, besides those he commanded. And for some reason, he kept her alive. This alone intrigued her. Liv was sure he was using her to satiate his boredom like a fucked up side project, but the attention was flattering. He used her pictures; he allowed her to do her job despite it being utilized crudely. Her mind was filtering his attention in a positive way when it was nowhere near healthy.

But she wanted it.

Liv would rather have Vaas treat her the way he was than an object. If he wanted a pet, then she honestly didn't mind giving him one. So long as he didn't sell her or put a bullet between her eyes.

And then there was the other matter; the situation that brought on the one-sided kiss. Barto and Yada were key players in her plan to escape, though to be honest, Barto was the one Liv needed. She wasn't certain he'd even die, but Jason was tearing through outposts and pirates like he had infinite lives, and the chance was there.

I'm overthinking this. I have one shot and I am so scared of messing up that I'm panicking for no reason.

It would honestly suck for Barto to die, but that didn't mean Liv wouldn't find another way. She'd just have to play her role with Vaas until she formulated a new plan.

Don't get scared. That's how you mess up.

Once again, her entire plan rested with Vaas. After she realized this, she knew that she could shut off her thoughts long enough to fall asleep. And she did.

By morning Liv was tired, but she could function. She was escorted from her cell and handed over to a pirate named Arief who spoke with an accent unlike Vaas and the others she had met. He had no particular job around the outpost other than guarding the perimeter, but he didn't seem to mind her joining him, so long as she didn't bother him. She stayed silent the majority of the time, following him like a dog from one end to the other.

Nothing interesting happened the entire time until mid-evening when the sun began to set. A voice came over the walkie that Arief kept on his belt signifying that some pirates were approaching. He and Liv were standing around the back, so she didn't see who came into the compound, but minutes later, Carlos came to fetch her; it was nearly time to eat.

"El jefe (the boss) is back," the said man mentioned suddenly as he led her to the hut where the others were gathering.

Liv hummed in response. Her heart began to hammer in her chest.

"What sort of mood is he in?"

"A good one, it seems," Carlos replied.

That's good.

She said nothing more to him.

Entering the hut, Liv noticed a large group of the men who went with Vaas had returned. The pirate in question was nowhere to be seen, but two men she was not expecting to return were standing to the side.

Liv widened her eyes and approached them, leaving Carlos to do whatever he wanted.

"You both are alive."

"What sort of fucked up welcome is that, princesa (princess)?" Barto asked in annoyance.

She sneered at him.

"It's not like I was going to run into your arms and hug you for managing not to get shot. You owe me money."

Yada snorted.

"Fucker is lucky."

Liv raised a brow. What did he mean? Noticing the tear in the pirate's shirt and the bloom of red on the fabric, her eyes widened, and she snorted.

"I can't believe you got shot."

"¡Bésame el trasero (kiss my ass)! I was grazed. Not like you give a shit," he retorted with a glare.

Of course, she did. Her plan would have been set back if he would have died. She was relieved to see him alive.

"Believe it or not, I do," Liv argued.

Yada snorted.

"She only cares because severed fingers have no value."

He wasn't wrong, however, that wasn't the exact reason. She didn't refute the comment either, which earned a glare and a rude remark from Barto as he shoved past her and sat down at the table behind them.

"He's a cranky fucker," Yada teased.

No doubt he was.

"Did Jason graze Barto? Snow White... or whatever you like to call him," Liv asked.

"Doesn't matter; he's dead now. We lost a hotel in the mess, but it was abandoned," Yada answered.

Liv widened her eyes in shock.

Are you honestly surprised? He stepped on Vaas' toes. It was a matter of time.

Her heart went out to him, however. She had high hopes that he'd escape the island. It certainly put a damper on her mood, but she was relieved that her plan was still in motion.

"The fuck have you been doing while we've been away?" Yada asked, motioning her towards the table.

Liv sat down beside him, across from Barto. She hummed in uncertainty.

"Not too much. I walked around with Arief for most of the day, but honestly, you guys weren't gone long."

"Vaas caught that fucker pretty quick using his little gringa (foreigner) girlfriend as bait," Barto mentioned.

Liv hummed. So, Jason did have a reason for staying. He was trying to save someone close to him.

But he failed.

She understood his reasoning; she too would have done the same, but Liv had no one close to her on the island; she had no one to save and no one to drag her down. Her chances were much better.

After dinner, Liv asked to have a shower. The sun had already set, but she didn't mind the late bath; it might even help her sleep a bit. She only hoped the water wasn't too cold to enjoy. With Carlos at her side, she retrieved a floral romper decorated with white lilies and her keychain from the bag that Vaas allowed her to use, then quickly cleaned up. As she stepped out of the makeshift room and approached the pirate who was standing watch, she heard music playing in the distance; the sound of men chatting and laughing permeated the air.

"Everyone sounds lively tonight."

"El jefe (the boss) is having a party," Carlos mentioned.

Liv raised a brow.

"For what?"

"For killing Snow White. He's festejando (celebrating)," he answered.

She wasn't sure if she wanted to be a part of it, or if Vaas wanted her to, so she opted to return to her cage. As Carlos led her across the outpost and past the hut where the pirates ate earlier, Liv heard her nickname being shouted. She turned her curious blue eyes toward the caller and noticed Yada sitting with three others she didn't recognize, playing dominos.

"Come join us! He shouted as he motioned her over.

"I don't know how to play! And besides, I'm––"

A hand on the back of her neck made her lose her train of thought. She jerked in fear and glanced over her shoulder to see Vaas standing beside her. When did he sneak up on her?

"She's busy, fuckers!" He exclaimed.

Liv widened her eyes. Busy? What the fuck was he talking about?

No one argued back with him, and as Vaas took her by the arm and led her away from the others, she noticed Carlos give her a concerned look.

What does that mean?

Liv's heart was hammering in her chest. She was extremely worried that Vaas was going to take her somewhere and choke her ass to death, or something equally as bad. Her concerned eyes stared at the gun at his waist as he led her to the wooden platform where she and Barto first met, ushering her onto it.

What the fuck? Is he–– He's actually going to kill me.

"Vaas?"

The pirate hummed and sat down on the platform, peering at her in question. When she didn't speak or make a move, he glared at her.

"Sit the fuck down."

Liv tightened her jaw and sat down beside him, watching in fear as he reached into his pocket and took out a bag. In it was a rolled cigarette and when he opened the bag, the scent of strong cannabis permeated her nose.

"A joint?"

Vaas grinned.

"It's strong shit, though not as strong as the drugs Dr. E makes."

Who was Dr. E? Vaas never mentioned a doctor on the island before. Liv watched the pirate light the joint, slowly rotating it to ensure the extra paper at the end would burn and then take a hit, offering it to her.

"You said you smoke on occasion; we're celebrating. Smoke with me," Vaas recalled, blowing the smoke from his mouth.

Liv wasn't sure she should, considering the reason the pirates were smoking was that Jason was dead, but she needed something to mellow her out. She took the joint, grunting as Vaas stuck out his tongue in excitement and took a hit. He was right, the pot was strong. She nearly coughed in protest as she inhaled the smoke, handing it back to him.

"Carlos said you were a buena chica (good girl) while I was away," Vaas brought up.

Liv hummed and released the smoke from her mouth. She assumed he meant that she was well-behaved, though she was certain chica meant girl.

"I behaved. Is this a reward or something?"

"You want a reward, querida (darling)?" Vaas asked as he passed the joint.

Liv felt her face heat up. She shook her head no and leaned forward, flicking the ashes away from the platform, taking another hit before she passed it on.

"What would you ask for?" Vaas questioned with a grin.

She would ask to go home, but she knew that was out of the question. There wasn't much else she wanted, maybe a bed; the ground was starting to put a kink in her back. Liv shrugged her shoulders, opting not to answer.

"What would you ask for?"

"Look around," Vaas ordered. "I have my island, drugs, money, and all the mujeres (women) I could want. I have fucking respect and bullets for those who show no respect."

Liv hummed. She reckoned that he was right. It was his island, at least the north region was, Hoyt controlled the south region. But what about love? Or to meet a goal? It had to be lonely at the top, and boring as hell.

"I guess I'd ask for an answer," she uttered, taking the joint back.

"To what?" Vaas asked with a snort.

Liv took a hit and then leaned back until she was resting on the platform. Yes, people were murdered where she was laying but at the moment she didn't care. Her head was in the clouds. She stared up at the stars and grinned.

"If I asked you a question, would you answer it?"

"That's what you want? To ask me a fucking question," Vaas asked, grunting as he rested on his back beside her.

Liv reckoned that it wouldn't hurt to ask.

"I want to know about you. About how you came here."

"I'm from here," Vaas corrected her. "I was a warrior, but that's another fucking story."

He took a hit, then another before he turned on his side and faced the woman beside him.

"No more fucking questions about me," he added.

That answer alone was enough to throw her a curve ball. She wasn't expecting Vaas to be a native of the island, especially one who was at war with the others. He didn't seem to like talking about his past either.

"So, now what?" Liv asked.

"Do you like me, querida (darling)?"

She widened her eyes, coughing on the smoke that she blew out. Turning her eyes to him, she couldn't control the warmth that spread across her face.

"I um–– W-why do you ask?"

Vaas snorted.

"You know since you kissed me, I've been wracking my fucking brain about why you'd do that. I thought, 'maybe she's scared of you Vaas, you tonto (dumbass) motherfucker. Maybe she did it because she wanted to confuse you; to turn your head into a fucking mess', but then you said sorry, and it made me want to tear that pretty little tongue of yours out."

"I... thought I had exacerbated the situation. I shouldn't have done it while you were talking; it was rude," Liv admitted.

Vaas laughed.

¡Mierda (shit)! Are you fucking serious? You meant to kiss me?"

Liv took an uneasy breath and shook her head.

"It crossed my mind and I acted stupidly."

"It was estúpido (stupid)," Vaas agreed, shutting his eyes.

She held the joint in her hand, staring at him a moment, then turned on her side to face him. Her free hand reach over and traced the scar on the side of his head.

"Are you ever going to tell me where you got this?

Vaas remained silent, just lying there. For a moment Liv thought he had fallen asleep, but his breathing was slow and deep. Perhaps he was lost in thought about what she had said. It left a lot to consider, and it wasn't how she wanted this to go.

"I do like you, but... it's like a craving; something I don't understand. I'm so––"

Her sentence was caught on the tip of her tongue when Vaas grabbed her wrist and sat up. He pressed her arm against the wooden platform, keeping her from moving it, and yanked his gun from the holster, pointing it at his head. Liv widened her eyes.

"What are you––"

"You want to fuck with my head, querida (darling)? Go ahead, tell me to do it," Vaas ordered.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

"I c-can't. I'd never."

All she could see was the aftermath; the blood and the skull fragments staining the floor. All she could see was her father. Liv shivered in protest and tears filled her eyes.

"Tell me to do it! Fucking TELL ME!" Vaas shouted.

"STOP IT! I'M NOT GOING TO ASK YOU TO KILL YOURSELF! I'm not a fucking monster... I'm not," Liv screamed. Tears poured down her face.

I never wanted him to die for me.

With her free hand, Liv reached for the keychain and sobbed. Why was Vaas doing this to her? She already said that she wasn't messing with him.

"I don't w-want you to die. Please stop... please. You're scaring the fuck out of me."

Vaas stared at her a moment, gauging her expression, then put away the gun, leaning down to kiss her tear-stained cheek.

"You had your chance to kill me, querida (darling). Now dry your fucking tears."

He had no right to tell her to dry her tears when he was the reason for them. Liv had a good high going on until Vaas pulled this shit, whatever it was. And now she was pissed.

"Fuck you! I have every right to cry. You drive me fucking insane."

"I drive you insane?" Vaas asked with a laugh.

He brought her arm down between them and pressed her palm against the crotch of his pants allowing her to feel how hard she had made him. Liv widened her eyes in response.

"You're depraved."

"Agh, but you like me, no?"

She hated how right he was. And even more, she hated how he made her feel. Liv shook her head in agreement. To emphasize her claim, she stroked his cock through his pants, earning a groan in response.

"You didn't have to put a gun to your head for me to prove that."

Vaas grinned. He released her hand and buried his fingers in her short locks. Turning her head toward him, he roughly pressed his lips on hers. Liv met him with the same intensity and didn't resist when he parted his lips, allowing him to slide his tongue into her eager mouth. She shivered and continued to stroke his cock as he made out with her.

The only time he parted from her was to sit up and yank her into his lap. Vaas tugged on her hair, leaning back her head to kiss the pale skin at her neck, sucking on her to rouse a moan that he felt vibrate through her throat. Her body was humming with arousal imagining how good he was going to feel inside her; how rough he was going to wreck her. Liv eased her hips forward, hoping to feel him against her clit through her shorts. It was both hot and infuriating how desperate she was.

"Vaas," she whined.

Holding her bare leg at his side, tossing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Up we go!" Vaas exclaimed.

Liv squeaked in protest as she hung from his arm. She gripped his shirt in fear, dropping the joint. It fell through the cracks and onto the ground below. What was he doing? Taking her down the stairs, he walked her across the outpost to his temporary house, tossing her on the bed once they were in the confines of his bedroom. She sat up but Vaas met her halfway, kissing her a second time.

So, this is what he was doing. She half expected him to fuck her on the platform where his men could potentially see. At least he was acting like a gentleman; she hoped that didn't fuck like one.

Leaning back, Vaas glanced at her swollen lips; the bruise on her cheek from her fight with Carlos almost matched the hickie on her neck that he left. Her expression screamed desperation.

"You crave me? That's what you call it, no? Tell me what you want from me?"

An embarrassed heat spread across her face as she thought about what she wanted him to do to her. The foremost thing that came to mind was the lewd dream she had; the one where he buried her in the sand and fucked her mouth. Goosebumps littered her skin as she thought about it. But was it what she wanted? After what he put her through the last thing she wanted was to give him what he wanted, at least not at this moment.

Vaas ran his mouth so much she considered it a waste not to utilize it.

"I want you to go down on me," Liv voiced.

He snorted in response.

"You want me to lick your pussy, querida (darling)? Ask as I taught you."

Vaas grinned and stuck out his tongue for a brief moment.

Liv took a deep breath as his thumb rubbed against the crotch of her shorts; the inseam pressed teasingly against her clit. What an ass.

"Por favor y gracias (please and thank you)."

"¡Vamos (come on)! Remove your shorts," he ordered as he playfully smacked her thigh.

She was annoyed that she chose to wear a romper, though it wasn't like she knew she was going to fuck him when she got dressed after her shower earlier.

I knew I shaved for a reason.

Untying the belt around her waist, she undid the clasp at her side to loosen it. The romper was backless with no sleeves, so all she had to do to remove it was undo the back tie and shimmy out of the shorts; her keychain clanked on the floor as she tossed the fabric aside.

She opted not to wear panties choosing to save them for emergencies – shark week for instance – a decision she was sure Vaas noticed but chose not to comment on. Now that she was bare, Liv rested on her back and took a deep breath; her blue eyes nervously peered up at the pirate as he spread her legs. His arms curled around the back of her thighs, keeping them down as he rested on his stomach between them.

Whatever worries she carried, vacated her mind quickly as his warm wet tongue slid up her outer lips, teasing her clit before he repeated the action, then entered her pussy. Her nipples hardened in response and her walls tightened. For a moment he teased her insides before he replaced his tongue with two fingers, thrusting into her eager hole. With a turn of his head, Vaas ran his tongue up her inner lips to her clit, lapping it into his mouth before giving a gentle tug. It felt almost like a wet kiss and Liv wanted more.

She clutched the sheets beneath her, arching her hips off the bed. It was so hard not to moan with Vaas quickly flicking his tongue across her clit. Liv could hardly take it. The pressure was building fast and if not for the hold on her thigh – the other hand was busy stretching her walls, she would have closed her legs around his head.

Of course, he'd be good at this. Why not make the ruthless sociopath good at eating pussy.

Perhaps the aspect of being wrecked by a man capable of ending her life was turning her on more than she thought it would. Regardless, she was at an end. The icing on the cake was when he hummed against her and slid his tongue from side to side; paired with fingers thrusting inside her and his warm breath, she couldn't control herself.

Liv tightened her hold on the sheets as an intense orgasm washed over her. Warm tears filled her eyes and she had to close them to keep them from running over. Her head was a mess of bliss and raw emotions as her high began to slowly wane, eventually fading into a soothing warmth that spread across her tense body. She could not believe how good this was. Her chest heaved in exhaustion as she lay there.

Vaas removed his fingers from her and leaned up, wiping the mess away on his pants. His lips were wet with saliva and her arousal, a look that blew her fucked out mind.

"How––" Liv had to pause to wet her throat. "How do you say handsome in Spanish?"

"You think of me that way, querida (darling)?" Vaas asked.

Liv hummed.

"For a pirate, yeah."

She was being honest.

"You are kissing my ass, no? Wanting mi pollo (my cock)," Vaas mentioned as he rubbed his erection through his pants.

"Is that what it would take?" Liv asked as she sat up. Her hands grabbed the suspenders attached to his tactical belt and pulled him closer. "For me to flatter you. Or can I just ask nicely for you to fuck me?"

Vaas snorted.

"I thought you were a modest and unpretentious woman, querida (darling)."

"That was before I knew I wanted you," Liv retorted.

She could not believe she said this, but it honestly was the only answer she could come up with to counter him. No, she wasn't in love with Vaas, but she strangely did like him. She wasn't sure if the pirate would be turned off by her declaration, but she was sure a part of him knew based on her answer earlier that she thought of him as more than her captor, as twisted as this sounded.

Vaas took her hands and led them up to his belt, allowing her to unclasp the double buckle, and then slid down his zipper. He wore boxer briefs under his pants, a pleasant sight. Liv took his silence as a means to continue and lowered her fingers beneath the waistband, pulling them down.

Chris was wrong; his cock wasn't small. Her face warmed up as she stared at him, wanting nothing more than to taste him. But he had other plans.

"Lean over the bed," Vaas ordered as he got up.

She scooted over to the side, turning her ass to the pirate as she rested on her forearms and stomach. Liv was extremely anxious; her attention remained on the far wall, waiting in anticipation for Vaas to do something or nothing at all. And when two of his fingers slid into her, stretching her open, her walls tightened around him. She hummed as the pirate explored her briefly, then removed them. His warm cock pressed against her opening and with an uncontrolled thrust, he was inside her.

In protest, she groaned in pain as her walls burned. If she wasn't already wet, then this would have hurt so much more. Vaas was a bit girthier than her ex.

"You want this, querida (darling)?" He asked with a soft groan. "Your coño apretado (tight pussy) is squeezing me so fucking good."

An embarrassed heat spread across her face. Was he not supposed to ask this before he shoved his cock into her? Liv made it this far. If she didn't want him to fuck her, she would have never asked him to go down on her or kiss him for that matter.

"I do... I want you."

Hearing these words come from her mouth regarding Vaas felt so taboo. She wasn't supposed to want him, but after everything she had gone through; every second beside him, she couldn't help it. Her morals were starting to slip and honestly, at the moment, Liv didn't care. To emphasize her point, she arched her hips and pressed her ass against him.

Vaas bit his bottom lip and groaned.

"I'm not a man to play games with, querida (darling). Has sido advertido (you've been warned)."

Liv wasn't sure what he meant, but she took it to heart. She wasn't given much time to think about it before Vaas thrusted his hips, filling her again and again. His pace was sporadic, switching between fast and rough to slow and deep, but even unrestrained he was managing to hit every angle that sent sparks of warm pleasure surging through her body. Liv could hardly keep her moans contained, hoping that the music outside was enough to drown her out. She was never the vocal type but perhaps she had never been fucked like this before.

There couldn't have been a god.

No god would allow a man this ruthless to fuck so good. If Liv hadn't already renounced her faith, she would have tonight. Her bare toes slipped on the floor a few times as she struggled to keep up with Vaas' pace. Each thrust hit her cervix in a way that knocked the breath from her lungs; it hurt, but she wanted more, so much more.

Sliding a hand between her thighs, Liv began rubbing her clit. Her walls tightened in response, earning a growl from Vaas.

"Esa es una buena chica (that's a good girl). You feel fucking increíble (unbelievable)," he uttered.

Liv turned up her eyes in pleasure. There was a deep pressure in her stomach, quickly escalating. She wouldn't last much longer. Matching his pace the best she could, an orgasm washed over her, causing her to tense up. She felt Vaas' short nails pierce her hips as he held on tightly, fucking her through it; the orgasm wasn't as intense as the first, but it felt remarkable.

Slowly coming down, Liv felt worn out. Her pussy throbbed in protest as she lay there, keeping her back arched to give Vaas a better angle. His grip on her faulted. One hand slid up her spine, making her skin break out in goosebumps as he tangled his fingers in her short locks; the other remained on her hips to keep her in place. Pulling back her head, she squeaked out a moan as he hovered over her; his warm breath fanned out across her back.

"Soy tuyo (I'm yours). Say it, querida (darling)," Vaas ordered. His tone almost sounded like he was pleading with her.

"Soy... Soy tuyo (I'm... I'm yours)," Liv repeated.

She wasn't sure what it meant, but Vaas seemed to appreciate it. He pulled out of her tight heat and pumped his cock until he came, spurting cum onto her pale skin. Liv shivered as it slid down her ass, leaning forward on her hands to catch her breath; her throat was dry and sore.

"¡Mierda (shit)!" Vaas exclaimed.

He dropped on the bed beside her, lying down on his back. His pants were back around his hips, but they were unbuttoned, showing his V-line. The silence between them was awkward, and as embarrassed as Liv felt, she had to break it.

"I, um... need to use the restroom and clean up."

"In a moment, querida (darling). Come here. Fucking relax," Vaas ordered as he motioned for her to lie down.

Liv was hesitant to, considering the mess on her skin, but she didn't want to annoy him. Lying on her side, she faced him.

"I was right about you," he stated. "Tu coño está apretado (your pussy is tight)."

She raised a brow unsure of what to say. He knew she didn't understand Spanish.

"It's a fucking compliment," Vaas declared as he noticed her curious expression.

"Um... Thank you," Liv uttered.

She averted her eyes in embarrassment and stared at her hand as it rested on the sheets between them. With an uneasy sigh, she chewed on the inside of her jaw.

"Where the fuck is your mind, querida (darling)?" Vaas asked suddenly.

"Nowhere. I was just spacing," Liv admitted.

She wasn't lying for the most part. Snorting, she covered her face with her arm.

"I dropped the joint when you picked me up."

"You can have more later," Vaas mentioned. He grunted as he stood up, leaving his belt undone. "Come on. Let's go. You need to get cleaned up before you make a mess on my bed."

Liv snorted and stood up, picking up her romper off the floor. She hummed as she looked at it, knowing that once she put it back on, she was going to get semen on it.

"Do you have a shirt I can borrow? I don't want to get your um... cum on my outfit.

Vaas removed the one he was wearing and handed it to her. She noticed the scarred puncture wounds on his chest almost like someone had stabbed him but opted not to mention them. Liv slid on the shirt and frowned as it barely covered her ass.

"Of all the times not to wear panties," she remarked.

"You're needy, querida (darling)," Vaas remarked with a snort. "Just piss outside the door and clean off with the shirt."

She wasn't about to do that. As he slumped back on the bed, Liv frowned. He was being serious; go figure.

Fuck it!

She didn't care much for the romper anyway. Taking the keychain off the belt loop, she used it to clean the mess off her skin, then slinked outside to use the bathroom, using the romper again. It wasn't like she had never been camping before and had to use the bathroom outside. Once she was done, she walked back in, seeing Vaas on her phone.

"Come here, querida (darling)," he ordered as he smacked the sheets beside him.

Liv walked over to the bed and sat down, leaning over to see what he was looking at. Her face heated up in embarrassment as she noticed an image of her and Noah on the screen; a familiar image of her kissing him on the cheek as they stood in front of Lotta's fountain in San Francisco. This wasn't the first time Vaas had looked at this; he mentioned it once before.

"You fuck him?"

"Yeah," she admitted. "He was my first; the one I thought I was in love with."

Vaas hummed.

"You kept his picture."

She knew how it sounded. It was true she didn't love him anymore, but something about the image reminded her of the person she was fighting not to become; the version of Liv who was constantly drinking and going to parties instead of becoming someone.

"I was... a hot mess back then. This picture just reminds me of that. I could delete it at any time, but I guess I like to torture myself sometimes."

It's silly, but it works.

Vaas pulled her down beside him, letting her lean on his arm as he turned the camera on and pressed the red record button. What was he doing? She shied away from the camera.

"Say hello, querida (darling). Look at the screen."

Was he going to make her do this? Liv didn't like to be recorded or have her picture taken, which was humorous considering her occupation sometimes involved taking pictures of others. Regardless of her insecurities, she leaned her cheek on Vaas' arm and turned her eyes toward the camera seeing how worn out she looked; her hair was unkempt, and she was certain there was a hickie on her neck.

"Hi," she uttered.

Turning her toward him, Vaas leaned over and kissed her on the bottom lip. Liv responded by opening her mouth, tongue kissing him slowly, knowing the camera was filming them. Her face was red from embarrassment by the time they parted.

"I fucked your girl, you motherfucker. And she loved it," he stated as he looked into the camera.

Liv was mortified, but his comment was no less true. She did love it and if she wasn't such a nice person, she would have sent the video to Noah just for the hell of it.

What have I done?