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appalachiancowboy99 · 5 months ago

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After Dark

Arthur Morgan x CurvyFem!Reader Established relationship, high honor, grumpy Arthur in desperate need of release, 18+, MDNI (Minors DO NOT ENTER)

Arthur comes back to camp later than usual, with nothing but a bad disposition and a desperate need to release his pent-up frustrations.

Warnings: longer read, sexual content (oral, unprotected p in v, rough sex), mentions of violence, mentions of anger, and dabbles in sensual fluff.

Gif by: @sunwingsunset

A/N: Thank you so much to @photo1030 for not only being my sounding board in the never-ending chaos that is my writing process but also for being such a wonderful friend through it all. So grateful for you, don't know what I'd do without ya, C! <3 Thank you so much to @rivetingrosie4 for being an inspiration for my little works and being so supportive of my creative endeavors, not to mention the kind generosity of your friendship! Forever grateful for to have met you! @tortureddpoett I'm so excited to explore this budding friendship with you! Thank you so much for showing so much excitement for my work, IT MAKES ME EXCITED (EEP!). It means an absolute ton to me <3 @mr-inkslinger your friendship has been an absolute delight to explore! Thank you for posting that toe-curling smut that always has me giggling and kicking my feet! So happy to have met ya! And thank each and every single one of you for liking my first drabble and expressing interest in this next one. I'm so sorry it's taken me forever to publish this post, but hopefully, the next ones won't take me as long. I'll forever be grateful for your patience and kindness <3 But now, enough of my babbling, y'all enjoy yourselves with this one- I know I did ;)

Fuck. From the second he opened his eyes, he knew that the day was going to be fucking awful; his neck had a crick in it, his head was pounding from what little sleep he’s received over the last few nights, and now he had to trudge back out into the goddamn muggy heat to work. One disaster after another had piled up; everything that could have gone wrong, went so terribly awry that he wound up farther away from camp than he originally intended and managed to add a solid fifteen-dollar bounty to the mounting collection resting atop his head. Dutch had sent him out on a wild goose chase, following a lead from Micah that, of course, ended up being a complete waste of time. And that meant he was coming back to camp empty-handed, which almost certainly meant he'd be on the receiving end of another one of Dutch's lectures on the endless responsibilities placed upon his shoulders. He dreaded it, wanted to avoid spiraling down another conversation that would end in Dutch questioning his faith in the ever-evolving plan he’s found himself working on these days.

As if he needed any of that horseshit tonight. All he wanted was a moment of peace and quiet, a chance to catch his breath after the disaster of a day he'd just had, but instead, he was headed back to camp with nothing but bruises, a bloody lip, and a bad disposition to show for his efforts. Trees and other bits of scenery whipped by in a blur as Arthur spurred his horse onward, his surroundings melting together into a muddy mess of shapes cast by moonlight. He passed through New Hanover, his furious pace leading him down the familiar roads of Lemoyne, reaching the clearing outside of camp. Lenny and John are the first to spot Arthur approaching the thicket of trees disguising Clemens Point's main entrance. “Hey, who goes there?” Lenny’s voice echoes through the forest, bouncing off the thicket until it reaches Arthur’s ears.

“‘S me.” Arthur grunts out through gritted teeth, clearly not in the mood for any chit-chat. Even underneath the shadow of leaves and limbs, the scowl etched upon his face is easily distinguishable, a clear sign for anyone with any common sense to give him a wide berth for the rest of the night. Lenny and John, both, had a pretty good idea of what might happen when Arthur steps foot into camp and they don't want any part of it. As a result, they give each other a little knowing glance and stay in the treeline, preferring to avoid the impending shitstorm and let Dutch or Hosea deal with it instead. He strides past them in a fit of frustration, dismounting his mare with a jerky movement before she's even come to a complete stop. Kieran spots him and hesitantly approaches. That poor fool. "H-Hey, Mr. Morgan. Would ya like me to unsaddle the 'ol gal here?" Kieran's question was nothing more than an innocent query, but his expression turned the young man into a nervous wreck. If looks could kill, Arthur’s certainly could; his steely eyes are set ablaze with annoyance and irritation as he casts a hateful glance in Kieran's direction. Even Kieran knew better than to talk to Arthur when he was in this state, knowing that it would only lead to suffering at the hands of his unbridled wrath. Kieran’s eyes immediately darted to his feet, desperate to avoid Arthur’s icy gaze as his fingers trembled with the frayed ends of rope in his hands. Quickly as to not start any trouble for himself, Kieran took hold of the mare's reigns and led her away to the field of horses, putting as much distance between himself and Arthur as he could. A slight pang of guilt runs through him when he sees the way that Kieran high-tailed it out of his line of sight. He doesn't want to be harsh to the boy, he's been a useful asset to the gang, but his temper is just too far gone for him to muster up an apology. As fast as the angering thoughts snapping through his mind, Arthur turns on his heels and storms into camp in search of Dutch. His boots furiously hit the grass and reddened Lemoyne dirt as he passes by a few of the wandering eyes from those still awake at this late hour. Charles casts him a wary glance, and so does Sadie, but neither of them cares to look long enough to entertain what's about to happen. He passes by his own wagon and heads straight to Dutch's tent. Dutch is nowhere to be seen, yet the lamp light inside casts its soft golden glow upon the closed canvas flaps of the tent, indicating that he might be inside. Not wasting any more time than he has to, Arthur approaches the tent, not bothering to stop and think until it's too late. His hand raises, readying to peel back the canvas flap, when all of a sudden he hears the sweet amorous sounds of lovemaking echo through the night air. Molly’s sweet voice gasps out between each movement of their squeaking cot, calling out for Dutch as the unmistakable sound of skin slapping skin penetrates through the thin canvas walls, revealing exactly what’s occupying Dutch’s time tonight.

“Oh, Dutch. Don’t stop,” she encourages through strained, unabashed moans of pleasure. Dutch’s deep, husky voice murmurs back something unintelligible, but the increased squeaking of their bed and the filthy little noises coming from Molly are a clear indicator that Arthur should be stepping away to give them some privacy. Embarrassment washes over him, causing a faint rosy flush to heat his face and bloom across his cheeks. For once, he's grateful for the distraction from his current frustration. On most nights, he'd find comfort in your presence, seeking you out to vent his grievances as a distraction from the ever-present aggravation that seemingly follows him around these days. But tonight, he just wants to retreat to his tent, away from everything and everyone, to try to calm down before he says or does something he regrets.

He strides past the dying campfires and tables that are askew from daily camp activities, and his mind tirelessly races from thought to thought, stealing his attention away from his surroundings. If Arthur had even bothered to look, he would have spotted your sleeping form laid out upon his bed the moment he stepped inside. You had been waiting for him all evening. After working yourself to the bone doing laundry, dinner prep, and other camp chores for Ms. Grimshaw all day long, you wandered your way over to Arthur’s tent in search of a quiet place to sit. Part of you wished to find him seated right there on his cot, wanting to simply have a conversation with the man who has stolen your heart, but to your disappointment, he wasn’t anywhere to be found. So, you waited for him.. And waited until the very idea of waiting became too tiresome and you unknowingly fell asleep.

Sneaking away from the gang for private talks with him has been one of your favorite things to do since you joined the gang so long ago. Y'all have always had a knack for avoiding the company of others. But somehow in the midst of squirreling yourselves away, both of you have come to find that you'd prefer being alone together. Eventually, this led to many nights where Arthur would seek you out just to speak his mind, allowing you to see the world through his eyes for a short while. You have not only embraced Arthur's thoughts, but in doing so, you have captured his heart all the same. If it weren't for you, he's certain he'd have lost his damn sanity long ago.

Arthur takes that dusty old gambler's hat off his head and runs his fingers through his hair, taking a moment to calm himself down. His eyes glance over the things laid out upon his bedside table before catching a glimpse of your figure awash by the pale moonlight in his periphery. Your hair is sprawled out over the small blanket you've rolled up into a makeshift pillow; curls flowing like a roaring waterfall, laying a mess, and finally free from the bun that was atop your head earlier in the day. His eyes rake over your voluptuous figure, noting every dip and curve from your plump waist and hips to the ample swell of your breast hidden by a layer of clothing. The moment his mind registers that your presence isn't a dream, his eyes soften and his mind no longer races with anger. You are his peace, the only thing in this world that he cherishes above all else.

Sighing softly, he finally discards his hat from his hand and places it onto his nightstand before working off his worn leather jacket and satchel, resting them on the back of the chair nearest his shaving mirror. And while he's on his feet, he takes the time to carefully roll down the canvas walls of his tent, unraveling them with the quiet precision of a mouse, and securing them in a few simple knots to hide you two away from the world.

It's quite dark by the time he wanders over to the cot, dark enough not to notice himself brush against your legs as he takes a seat on the edge of the old creaking bed. The familiar, welcomed-warmth of his body pressing against your shins rouses you from your restful slumber. Your eyes flutter open to find his figure perched next to you, shrouded in a darkness so thick that you are sure you're still dreaming. His head and broad shoulders are slumped over as he begins working off his dusty boots, caked with remnants of mud and manure.

"Hmm... Arthur?" Your voice floats through the quiet darkness, laden with fatigue and clearly carrying the lassitude of someone who could fall back asleep at the drop of a hat.

He quickly glances over his shoulder at the sound of your voice, his eyes already adjusted enough to the shadows to see your tired face staring back at him with confusion. He silently curses himself for waking you. "Shhh, Darlin'. Don't wake up on my account. I'll be done in just a minute," Arthur lightly grunts out the last word as he struggles to remove his right boot.

Even in your own weary state, the exhaustion in his tone isn't lost on you. Thinking it best to rouse yourself as quickly as possible to free up his bed for him, you sit yourself up and will yourself awake with a slight stretch. "'S okay. You need rest more 'n me."

"No. You was restin' 'fore I got here. Go 'head and lay back down." He isn't having any of your courtesy tonight. He's worn out, far too tired to argue with you about whether or not it's appropriate for you to share his bed for the night.

The rest of the gang, aside from John, Abigail, Susan, and Hosea know nothing about the true nature of y'all's relationship. Although, the rest of the girls have picked up on the changes you've brought about in Arthur since your arrival so long ago now. Seeing him get all soft and doey-eyed at you over these last few weeks has most definitely tipped them off about what y'all really get up to when you're out running errands together. But they catch wind of you sleeping in his tent tonight, it will all but confirm their suspicions. And yet, you just can't bring yourself to move from the comfort of Arthur's cot with him sitting so close to you.

"What time is it?" The question falls from your lips, carried on the soft currents of a gentle breeze pushing through the tent flaps. Fine sinewy muscles flex beneath his shirt as he leans over to work off his other boot and you are powerless to admire the shape of his body beneath.

A muffled grunt escapes his mouth the moment he finally frees his aching feet from the confines of his boots, "Late," he simply replies.

You take a deep, cleansing breath, allowing the tranquility of the night to settle around you like a soft, comforting blanket. Outside these walls, no sounds of chatter or lively activity can be heard, aside from the gentle hum of crickets by the riverbank and the faint sounds of a squeaking cot stopping abruptly. The gang is unusually quiet, the air filled with repose now that Arthur's returned safely to you. Only a few stragglers tend to the campfires, their focus solely on themselves, interested in anything beyond the flickering flames; not even the sounds of Dutch and Molly or Arthur's irritation can disrupt the peaceful bubble encompassing Clemen's Point tonight.

The plush heel of your palm rubs over one of your eyes as you flit them toward the tent entrance, watching how the wind slightly ruffles the bottom of the canvas. It's only then that you realize that Arthur has tied down the walls for privacy on your account. Normally, he wouldn't bother setting up the walls before collapsing on the cot for a few restless hours of sleep. But tonight, he's gone out of his way to ensure your comfort. Your heart couldn't feel any more full of love for this man by your side, a man who puts your well-being above all else, even above his own. Never did you think that love would have been like this for you: sitting in the comfortable silence of privacy for lovers when that luxury is rarely afforded for women like you. But despite your gratitude for his thoughtfulness, a pang of guilt gnaws at you knowing he made the extra effort while you took up residence in his bed, a cot that's barely big enough for the two of you given your plump frame.

In an attempt to make up for taking up so much space, you roll yourself forward along the thin mattress and quickly slide past him, crawling toward the foot of his bed where his trunk of clothing is kept. You've decided to give him his space for the night, even though in your heart, you'd prefer to stay. Before your foot even slides off the trunk to touch the soft grass below, you're reminded of John stopping by Arthur's tent earlier in the day.

Through a half yawn, you speak, not giving Arthur the chance to catch-on to where you're headed, "'Fore I forget: John stopped by while you was out."

Arthur slightly leans back as his fingertips mindlessly fumble with the buckle of his gun belt. The slight clicking of the metal rings out as he works to remove the clunky accessory from his body. His strong back brushes against you as he moves with the comfortable ease he's come to enjoy over these last few weeks of secretly being yours.

"What about it?" His concentration is split half between himself and the presence of your body behind him.

Your words don't register in his mind until he's completely removed the belt from his body. He figures it was that stagecoach job he reluctantly handed off to John; it had completely slipped from his mind until this very moment, much like yourself. The cool metal filigree atop his trunk moves under your feet as you rest them just shy of slipping off its edge, causing the hazy memory to play out behind your tired eyes.

You were just settling yourself in, resting your weary body on the edge of Arthur's cot, just as you're doing now. Little beads of sweat accumulated on your forehead from working out in the intensity of Lemoyne's miserably humid heat. Grimshaw had you and the rest of the women working on camp chores, which you hadn't complained of, since it usually occupies the time until Arthur's usual return. However, the day was far too hot for you to not complain about the harsh conditions she had y'all in. Eventually, evening came and you were finally finished with the laundry, allowing you a moment's rest to seek out the comfort of Arthur's cot.

In the midst of wiping your brow down with one of his neckerchiefs you'd secretly swiped, the hard thump of boots hitting grass caught your attention. You'd anticipated Arthur's arrival, but something didn't feel quite right. The boots didn't move with Arthur's measured stride; they scuffed the grass and dirt, signaling a different, but familiar presence. The moment you look up, you spot John standing at the entrance of the tent, not at all surprised to see you sitting upon his cot as if it were your own.

For a brief moment, his brow furrowed in a mix of frustration and exhaustion. It was as if he was caught between the two warring emotions, each pulling him equally. Clearly, he expected Arthur to be back already.

"He not back yet?" The gruffness of his voice has you believe the former, rather than the latter.

"Not yet," you say in kind, hoping to ease some of his burden. "Was you needin' him for somethin'?"

John did and the news certainly wasn't going to sit well with Arthur at all.

When the thoughts finally coalesce within your fatigued mind, you internally grimace knowing that Arthur isn't going to like the reality of the situation. Gentleness has always been your strong suit, especially when it came to dealing with half of the bull-headed men in camp. So, you lace your words with the softest tone you can manage, "Said it weren't as much as y'all had planned on: about fifty-dollars tied up in what little him 'n Charles found."

And you were right. The news doesn't sit well with him at all. All of the compiled frustration of working a nothing-lead and now knowing that the other job didn't pay well either boils beneath the surface of his skin until he explodes like a whistling kettle. Preventing himself from lashing out at you, Arthur kicks his boot toward the other side of the tent, knocking it into the chair. The loud thunk of its sole hitting wood claps harshly and causes you to flinch, startling you fully awake from the suddenness of noise and his movement.

"Every goddamn day it's some shit," he spits through his teeth.

Although you know he'd never intentionally hurt you, the anger in his voice sends a cold shiver down your spine and your stomach flips and churns in knots. Usually, you'd blame yourself, reprimanding your big mouth for even opening up to mention something that you knew wouldn't bode well for his weary mind. But you're in too much of a shock to even consider self-deprecation as an option. Your wide eyes search through the darkness, watching the shadowed outline of the man you love heave in a deep breath to steal his nerves. His shoulders slump forward and head hangs low as he rests his elbows on his knees, utterly defeated from the compiled anger and exhaustion coursing through him.

It's at this moment that you remember the job Dutch sent him on earlier in the day; Arthur didn't want to go and had very little sleep after working on yet another lead that barely got them anywhere. If it had been left up to you, you would've made Arthur stay right here in this bed to get some rest like he deserves. You would've taken care of him so tenderly, but, as usual, what Dutch wanted would have far outweighed any of your concerns. You've learned to recognize the pattern of these situations by now, and given Arthur's aggression, assuming that today's job didn't go quite as planned would be hitting the nail right on its head. You test the waters with a quiet question, "Lead didn't pan out today, did it?"

The soft shake of Arthur's head, coupled with the shadow of his palm running over his face tells you all that you need to know: no, it hadn't gotten him any farther than where he had started. Another useless effort. Your heart aches watching him struggle with so much weight on his shoulders. No matter how strong Arthur might be, he's just a man struggling to carry his own burdens, let alone everyone else's. Ever since settling down here, Dutch has placed so much responsibility on him that you've wanted to scold the man for even mentioning Arthur's name in passing. He's worked himself thin and thread-bare, barely having any time for himself outside of the time he spends on the road traveling from place to place at Dutch's convenience.

Empathy for the man that you've fallen in love with so long ago breaks your heart, aching in desperation to relieve some of his pain. Instead of walking away, keeping to yourself, and silently shouldering any of the blame for setting him off, you choose to stay the night. Despite knowing full well that the girls will have their gossip circulating by morning, Arthur's needs are far more important than any snickering comment or playful jest that'll inevitably come your way.

You scoot back where you were and lean toward him with less apprehension than what your words had suggested. Resting your delicate palm between the broad expanse of his shoulders, you feel him tense at the soft slip of your tender touch over his shirt. The tips of your fingers glide over his shoulder and silently take purchase on the taut muscle there. With a gentle, yet firm pull, you coax Arthur back toward you.

"C'mere. Lean back 'n talk to me..." Your dulcet tone pierces through his irritation, encouraging him to rest in your awaiting arms.

Arthur slowly reclines back, allowing himself to unwind in your embrace as his much larger body sits snugly against your plump bosom. Relaxing doesn't come easy for him. Hell, you'd be surprised if it had, given the high tensions between him and Micah these days or the tiresome back and forth between the two rival families in Rhodes. He has every right to be terse and tensed up like a snake ready to strike, but you aim to comfort him even if that means you risk getting bit. Silence hangs in the air between you, aside from the gentle breaths and the occasional strained grunt catching in the back of his throat while he struggles to get comfortable against you, due to the remaining stress insisting on clinging to his tired body. Your loving hands splay out over the firm expanse of his chest, feeling the steady and reassuring thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms as you try your best to soothe your brooding lover. It's as if your mere presence cracks away at the anger lingering in the stiff tendons and taut plains of muscle along his torso until he relents and finally lets go. His body relaxes back into you as if he were sinking into the plush, luxurious drapery and bedding found in the finest hotels of Saint Denis; much like the bedding of the room he'd paid for the very same night he had whisked you away to bed you properly for your very first time.

He's silent for a long while, almost reluctant to burden you with his troubles. So, you take it up on yourself to start the conversation by spilling what had happened to you earlier in the day, thinking it might earn a laugh or two, "Well, I'm sure my day weren't as rough as your'n," you hum. "But I did fall off the dock, landing my hind-end right in that water."

The image would usually cause a humorous snort to escape him, but the irritation still bristling at his nerves prevents him from reacting with anything else other than a huff of annoyance, "I told ya to watch your footin' out there. Ain't no use to nobody if you get yourself drowned."

Fortunately, as he chides you his words begin to lack much of the anger from moments ago. But you sigh softly anyways, relenting to his incessant need to protect you from life's dangers, despite being able to handle your own, "I know, I know..."

With a few buttons of that old blue work shirt popped open by your deft fingers, the smallest opening there is just big enough to slip your hand inside and rest it up on the soft but wiry hairs at the very center of his chest. "You shoulda seen me, though," you murmur as you lean down toward his ear, lowering your tone as you press your cheek to the side of his head. "Was drenched head to toe, clothes clingin' to me like feathers on a wet chicken."

He sulks, trying to stay mad at anything and everything he can to give into the bristling anger at the back of his mind, but he can't. No, not when he can clearly envision you all soaked and surprised from falling into that cold lake. A faint smile curls up the corners of his lips and then, just as he almost chuckles, he clears his throat, holding his laugh back. However, you catch on far too quickly for him to play it off so easily.

You gasp softly in mock surprise as if offended by the idea of him laughing at you, "Arthur Morgan. Are you laughin' at me?"

That's when his temperament breaks, giving way to the huff of laughter rumbling through his chest. "I ain't laughin' atchu, per say..." he counters. "Just maybe at the thought of what ya mighta looked like comin' up outta that water: madder 'n hell, hair clingin' to your head," and as if to illustrate his point, Arthur reaches his hand backward and turns his head to try and catch a glimpse of you in the thick shadows, barely making your face distinguishable to his eyes, as he brushes his fingertips over the bits of hair clinging to your forehead from the muggy heat.

Though you narrow your eyes in mock annoyance, you lean into his calloused fingertips, accepting the gentleness of his touch while a giggle of your own creeps up into your throat, "Oh? Is 'at so? Maybe next time I find you out on that dock, I'll think 'bout pushin' ya in 'n lettin' you see how it feels."

He huffs out a skeptical breath and raises an eyebrow at the very thought of you even trying something like that with him. It'd be a futile effort and one that you truly wouldn't consider without the clear consequence of him pulling you right down with him.

And just as soon as the laughter came, it was gone again, replaced instead with a comfortable silence that settles between you two once more, giving him some space to think about what's happened to himself today. Long before the days of your arrival, Arthur would keep to himself and dwell on the ever-present burdens troubling his mind, brooding for hours. But with you, he feels a safety that men like him are rarely afforded.

"Well, if ya think fallin' in Flat Iron's bad..." he continues, "Try goin' halfway 'cross the state lookin' for a man that don't exist. Then when ya find someplace to get a drink, ya end up catchin' a few stray hits from some drunken bastard."

A soft gasp enters your lungs at the revelation. Another fight? You lean over his shoulder, reaching to take his scarred chin into your hand. It's hard to see through the inky-black darkness of the night, but even in the haziness, your eyes can make out the bruising along his jaw, the harsh scrapes of knuckles cutting over his cheek, and the jagged cut on his upper lip. It isn't a rare sight to have him come back battered and bruised by some job from time to time, but that still doesn't quell the uneasiness in your heart at him going through such pain and aggravation.

Your eyebrows furrow in sympathy for your rugged cowboy, eyes softening to match as you breathe out, "Oh, Arthur."

He's quick to dismiss your concern with a soft sigh, pulling away from you to lean forward and distract himself from your sympathetic gaze, "Ah, don'tchu go 'n worry yourself over me none, Darlin'."

Being fussed over or thought of so tenderly still isn't something he's used to; he's shown you that time and time again. But it never deters you from trying to make things better, to make things easier on him however you can. Whatever turmoil Arthur's got rolling about in his mind is far from the usual and it takes patience to understand; a patience that he finds only you can give.

You reach your hand out toward him. The delicate ends of your fingertips reach up to brush over the nape of his sun-kissed neck, grazing over the ends of his slightly overgrown hair, silently making a note to yourself that you'll trim it for him tomorrow. His body shuffles slightly backward, leaning in to accept your touch while he slips off his suspenders: pulling them down his shoulders heavy with burden, before taking his time to unbutton that tattered old work shirt you're so used to seeing around his muscular frame.

"'Sides..." he starts. "I did have some good that came from today."

"What's 'at?" you hum softly with a lilt of dryness. "Hittin' that feller back?"

He can't help the chuckle rising in his throat at the dry sarcasm touching your words. Arthur shakes his head softly, "Nah, Darlin', " the last word strains from his lips as he rises to his feet with a groan, leaving the safe comfort of your touch as he stands to undo his pants.

He glances over his shoulder, peering down at you through the darkness with a smirk curling up at the right corner of his mouth. Watching as your sweet eyes follow his every movement, Arthur turns to face you, allowing you to gaze at him as he slowly pushes the brass button through the eyelet at the top of his riding pants. The fabric opens effortlessly, revealing the red cloth of his union suit underneath. The sight of him before you, suspenders hanging loosely on either side of his long legs and his pants aching to be peeled from his strong form has your lips parted in awe at the man standing mere inches away from you.

He continues from just seconds before, "Seein' you laid out on my bed, purdy as a dream."

After stepping out of his pants now crumpled around his ankles, Arthur lowers one knee upon the cot nearest your thighs. He leans over you, using his thick fingers to tilt your chin upward, meeting his crystalline eyes. "Was one helluva sight I could get used to seein'."

The low timbre of his voice sends a shockwave of desire straight through your heart and into the aching pit of your stomach. Your lips draw up into a shy smile, and a faint dusting of pink envelops your cheeks just like the moment you'd first professed your feelings for him under that canopy of trees he led you through so blindly. Although it hasn't been long since that fateful night, the closeness of your relationship has escalated so quickly that your head and heart dizzy at the mere mention of his name.

Arthur's calloused thumb brushes over the supple swell of your bottom lip, enticing you to part them just for him. You comply, of course, unable to resist how a ghost of his touch makes you so pliant beneath him. And when he leans down to meet your lips with his own, your heart swells with tender affection. Those warm, slightly chapped, but pleasantly plush lips are heady as they connect with a passion that stokes the burning coals of desire in the very base of your core.

"Been waitin' to use that one for a while, hmm?" You hum contently while blindly guiding your hands toward the flare of muscle encasing his ribs. God, how you could worship this man and never tire of feeling how warm, how strong he is beneath your palms.

"Depends. It workin'?" He murmurs, smirking cockily against your lips.

Your mind begins to spin as the calloused pad of his thumb dips from your chin and swipes over your jawline. His fingers splay out over the side of your neck, fingertips gripping you with tender passion to hold you in place. He could easily break you, bend you with his finger and thumb as if you were nothing more than a twig beneath his rough and weathered hands. Never have you felt so small and fragile, always knowing in your heart that you took up much more room than other women. But, when you're with Arthur, he makes you feel as delicate as the petals on a beautiful flower, something so precious and worth loving; it's so much more than you'd ever experienced in your whole life. He touches you so tenderly as if you were made from nothing more than ash, a veritable pile of matter waiting to slip through his fingers at any moment.

You want to hum your praises to your lover, to let him know exactly how much you've wanted this, how much you've missed him, how well he's kissing you, touching you... But you can't. There are no words. He's stolen them from you, drawing all the air out of your lungs with his lips, leaving you gasping for the air coated in his divine masculine scent: sweet tobacco, wood ash, and mossy earth. He encompasses you, wrapping one arm around your waist as he pulls you close to his body, all the while shuffling himself forward to join you on the small cot. Your back presses against the hard wooden frame of the wagon making up the other half of his tent. He presses against you, holding you close to his strong body as he slides his right hand from your jaw, trailing it down over the soft skin of your neck, and down to your chest, where he heatedly palms your breast hidden just beneath your blouse. To have him touch you like this, like a man frenzied and dying for a taste of intimacy, has your head spinning and your heart on the verge of exploding if it hadn't already; for all you know, you could've died the moment his lips crashed into yours, and all that's left is a heaven you'd only dreamt of.

A low growl of appreciation rumbles through his chest for the plumpness of your body. Most men do not know the fine pleasures that extra curves on a woman can bring. But Arthur sure does. And oh how he worships your full figure, despite your opinions about yourself. His large, calloused palm shifts his attention to your other breast, kneading you tenderly while his lips work from your mouth, and instead, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses over your jawline and supple neck.

His name is a breathless sigh across your trembling lips as you allow your hands to explore his body in return. Touching over the large expanse of his torso and gliding your fingertips over the worn fabric of his union suit, you desperately search for the button that would bare him wholly to you. In the time it takes you to undo one of his buttons, his skilled fingers undo two of yours. Button after button unthreads upon both of your bodies, though his hands are much quicker at ridding you of your layers, leaving them strewn about on the ground until he's stripped you down and laid you beneath him in nothing more than your chemise and bloomers to conceal your decency. Arthur then crawls over you, his movements deliberate and enticingly slow as he cages you in with his hands pressed into the thin mattress on either side of your head. Shadows danced and shifted restlessly, playing tricks on your perception as you try to focus on what little of Arthur you could see through the haziness, making the absence of light feel alive. To feel him above you like this has your stomach in knots, tightening with a firey passion that's ready to snap at any given moment. Hearts are pounding, thrumming wildly against your ribcages like birds desperate to escape the confines of your chests. You hear it, hear how his breath shutters with each wild thump of his heart, and you feel it in his breath as it puffs over your cheek. He's losing himself to you and you him, slipping so quickly that rational thinking is no longer of use. You need him and he needs you.

The flaps of his union suit hang loosely from his body, allowing your hands to reach in and press flat over his heated skin. He shivers slightly at the contact, his muscles tensing and flexing beneath the tender meeting of your palms placed upon his scarred, goose-pimpled flesh. Your fingertips ghost over a scar on the right side of his ribcage, causing your face to crinkle with sorrow for what hardship your lover, this great outlaw, has had to endure in his lifetime. The damaged tissue is the result of a nasty fight he had as a young man: when someone stabbed him with the broken end of a beer bottle; they had aimed to kill him, but he had survived. The spot still aches with the memory of Hosea digging out the shards of broken glass from the angry, bloodied wound. But somehow, the way your delicate touch brushes over that old scar with such love and care causes the outlaw's skin to tingle, and his cock to ache with the pride of knowing that you love him so.

He takes his time with you here, laid out beneath him like a perfect little thing he's captured and kept safe by hiding you away in the privacy of his tent. After the day he's had, he wants to savor every bit of loveliness he's blessed with in your presence, so he can't rush this with you, not now. Arthur takes his time admiring you, letting his eyes rake over what he's able to see, and feeling what he cannot. Leaning down close enough to your face to capture that seductive glint in your glittering, lust-blown eyes, Arthur searches for any change within them as he maneuvers his right hand away from the mattress to trail along your sensitive flesh. The rough pads of his fingers ghost over your thigh, caressing the plump deposit of flesh along your middle, snaking up over your collarbones, and over your neck in search of your delicate face before sealing your mouth with his own in a kiss so tender you whimper from the initial contact.

Shivers of anticipation roll through him as your body responds to his touch: back arching off the bed, hands pulling on the nape of his neck to hold him down and assure that his lips won't leave yours, and the way your bloomer-clad hips roll upward in search of some much-needed friction. God how he could spend hours with you like this, letting his hands roam over your body to make you shiver and plead for any ounce of affection that he can give you. Your needy state is only exacerbated by the slight tremble in your thighs as he snakes his hands down over the pillowy flesh, seeking out the waistband of your bloomers. Ridding you of the cloth separating your pussy from his line of sight is an easy feat: the clad, slightly damp undergarment peels away from your plump hips with ease at the help of his precision; the Lemoyne heat causes the clothing to stick to your slightly dampened skin, but dammit if the temperature pales in comparison to how heated Arthur makes you feel. He tosses them down onto the ground, and places his hands upon your knees, spreading them apart as he sits above you to admire the feeling of your plump body beneath him.

His hand is unhurried and exacting, gently brushing his calloused knuckles down over your inner thigh, then lightly petting them over your soaked need covered by a soft thatch of hair. He can't see you fully, but that does nothing to stop his mind from envisioning how your cunt glistens with slick, all for him. The moment he presses his fingertips to your seam, parting you with the practiced precision of a lover, he lets a low, ragged breath escape his nose in appreciation for how wet you are. You shiver and instinctively try to close your knees from the pleasant surprise of his touch, and fuck does it feel good to have him brush over your folds like that.

"Always so ready, ain'tchya?" He murmurs, a teasing lilt to his voice as he takes his time in savoring the feeling of your slick upon his fingertips.

Your hips involuntarily twitch, bucking upward into his hand, seeking out his fingertips to make him swirl them over your aching little clit. You want him to touch you right where you need him, feel him right on that little spot upon that nub of nerves that makes your mind swirl and your body careen into a blissful orgasm. But he doesn't give that to you, not yet. He wants to work you over slowly, savoring every little sound he can draw out of those pretty lips. You're far too shy to answer him directly, instead favoring to cover your face with your forearms as he takes pleasure in taunting you like this. But the moment his fingertips threaten to part your folds, you let out a delicate little noise, someplace between a whine and a prayer to let him know that you're in no mood to endure his teasing tonight, "Arthur... Please."

Oh, how he loves to hear the sound of you begging; he's already half-hard at the idea of you wanting his touch, let alone hearing how desperate you are for it. He answers your prayer with a long, smooth stroke of his thumb parting your puffy, wet folds. You keen at how just a simple touch causes your stomach to flutter and your slit to clench around nothing at all. Your thighs, thick with strength, covered by a layer of squishy softness, part for him, relaxing lazily as he guides his thumb over each of your labia.

It was nearly impossible to get you to lay like this for him a few weeks ago; you'd been concerned about the unsightly appearance of your inner thighs: scarred over with dimples and imperfections, as well as the slight discoloration of having them rub together after so many years of being a larger woman. Most women that you've seen naked, don't have the same ailments upon their bodies as you have on yours. Just the other day when bathing with some of the girls in the lake, you'd noticed that even on Karen's body, a woman closer to your size, still didn't have the scars or discoloration across her skin in the same way that you have. And that night that Arthur had you laid out for him for the very first time, he'd noticed that apprehension in you, taking it as having second thoughts. But once you had explained how you felt about your own body, he hadn't even given the idea a single thought; his own body is mauled up, covered in old and ugly scars, and carrying more than three colors from all his time spent out in the sun. So, he couldn't have cared less about some scars, a little extra hair, weight, or even the discoloration over your thighs. What he did care about, however, was making sure that you felt loved in spite of it all. And now, it feels no different. To have you spread your legs for him like this, without a single worry holding you back, is a goddamn treat.

Fuck how good it feels to have the soft press of his thumb tease over your cunt, tracing the delicate path between your weeping entrance, to your swelling bud with a pressure so teasing and light that you squirm to feel more. Your plush lips tuck between your teeth to hold back any sounds that give away what you two are doing in here after dark, but it's useless; the lewd sounds of his thumb circling over your clit echo throughout the tent: a dead giveaway to anyone that dare walk by. Holding your breath like this isn't easy, not when the pounding of your heart echoes in your ears and your chest feels as if it's being seared from the inside out. A ragged gasp finally inhales through your nostrils, desperately trying to fulfill your body's need for air when you can no longer restrain your breaths.

He huffs out a low chuckle in amusement at the state he has you in: clearly desperate and in need to have your clit rubbed just the way you like it.

"Hmm.. Hear that?" He rasps out before going silent, letting you hear the sounds of your own slick being spread over your soaked cunt. He only continues when he finally reaches your clit, circling over the throbbing little nerve-ending to make you sigh out in pleasure for him. "So goddamn wet. All for me."

In a blur of movements, Arthur's chapped lips and teeth skim over your knee, slowly working their way down over your inner thighs. He nips at you, earning a few little squeaks and giggles until he kisses over your plump mound. His thumbs take hold of either side of your cunt, spreading you open to let the night air hit your wet skin. It's pleasant like this, to feel yourself spread out beneath him like a meal ready to be devoured and dammit if he ain't starved for a taste. Being eaten out has quickly become one of your favorite acts of intimacy in recent weeks; his tongue is so skilled at finding spots on you, making you come so deliciously, that most days it's all you've been able to think about. Hell, it's all you're thinking about now as his head sinks down to your core and his hot breath fans out over your aching need. His tongue slips out of that perfect mouth and flattens out over your seam, lapping at you once to earn him that little sigh of pleasure escaping your throat.

Your hands immediately seek out his head, combing through his slightly sweat-dampened hair as he swirls the blunt tip of his tongue over your clit.

"A-Agh, Arthur.. N-Not so fast," you whine out in protest, yet your hips bucking up into his mouth says otherwise. But he relents, nonetheless, giving you a moment of reprieve before he delves back in at the same pace.

He's aiming to make you cum quick and hard: slithering his tongue over your clit with the precision of knowing exactly what side and spot makes you writhe beneath him. Just left and then a little upward beneath that little hood of skin and he has you singing for him. Explicitves roll off your tongue one after another in between sweet little sounds that praise him for what effort he's putting in just for you. To hear you, feel you crumble beneath him like this is better than any robbery or score he gets out on the road. But just before he lets you come, he pulls his head back slightly and puffs cool air over your clit, making you whine.

"Shh.. Shh.. 'M gonna let ya cum, Darlin'. Don'tchu worry 'bout that none. 'M gonna take real good care of ya," he hums lowly as his lips and bristly scruff brush over your quivering inner thighs.

His promise isn't far off from fulfillment, not when he sinks his tongue into your heat and presses his opened mouth over the entirety of your cunt. He sucks hard, feeling your walls constrict around the wriggling muscle of his tongue as he laps inside your spongey center. Your thighs tremble with need as he fucks you with his mouth and slurps up your slick, drinking in as much of you as he can and relishing the tangy sweetness of your delectable taste. You throw your head back against the rolled-up blanket you had been using as a pillow earlier in the night, all while he eats you out like a man who's desperate to consume you.

But the aching throb of his cock, constricted by the thin fabric of his union suit, is far too angry for him to ignore. He's got to have you, now.

As he shuffles back up to his knees, leaving your cunt longing to cum on his tongue, you flutter your eyes open and snap your head up to try and catch a glimpse of what he's doing. Clearly, you ain't pleased with him teasing you like this, but when you feel his fervent movements, you realize that he's trying to work off his union suit. He wastes no time it peeling it away from his torso, but the moment he starts to tug it down his thighs, allowing his weeping cock to spring free, he nearly topples over and just about slams head-first into your body. Thankfully, he catches himself in the knick of time, grunting out a few curses as he grows impatient with his incapability to slide that damn fabric off his legs.

Amid his struggle to bare himself, you can't hide the giggle creeping up your throat as he curses under his breath, frustrated with how the fabric insists on clinging to his muscular legs. You help him slide the old red union suit off his body by digging your heels against the back of his thighs and pushing it down the long length of his legs until it reaches his ankles. The undergarment hangs loosely off his feet, causing him to kick it haphazardly off the side of the bed, letting it fall onto his trunk to skirt down on the grass below.

The instant his turgid length brushes over your inner thigh it twitches with the anticipation of feeling your tight, wet walls clamped around him, milking every drop of spend nestled away in his balls; spend that he so desperately wishes he could drain right inside of you. For now, however, just a single brush of your fingertips against him is enough. He has to hold his breath as he guides your delicate palm over his velvety shaft to stroke the needy ache away; if he isn't careful, he'd cum just like this. He hisses, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth as your fingers wrap around him and your thumb seeks out the weeping slit of his blunt tip. Arthur is, by no means, a small man: his legs are long, torso strong and wide, feet and hands are like bear paws, and his cock.. God, his cock is big. You could use both of your hands to stroke him and still, there'd be enough room for his tip to be entirely untouched. But you make sure as you stroke him with one hand, you pay extra attention to his tip, smearing his drooling precum over as much of him as you can, even down to the dark and wiry curls along his base and balls.

He's trying so hard to hold himself back, but with each tender pass of your thumb over that sweet spot along the underside of his tip, the last remnants of his patience crack away. You feel him crumbling like this, crumbling into a frenzied mess of low-hummed breaths and grunts through gritted teeth, and you fucking love it. Before you can even think about the desire roaring in the cavernous pit of your stomach, aching to be quelled, he smashes his lips into yours so hard that you're sure one of you is bleeding. The pain of his busted lip splitting back open is an angry reminder of the frustration still lingering at the back of his mind; he's as tensed up, pent-up, as a taut rope ready to snap.

With a quick movement, he swats your hand away, preventing you from jacking him into a fast climax. Then, in one swift motion, he grabs hold of your thighs and forcefully yanks you toward him, making the round swell of your plump ass plant firmly against the hard front of his strong body. Your thighs spread out, squishing over and conforming to the contour of his hips, the intimate contact leaving you both ragged and breathless. Your heart drums a frantic rhythm in your ears, drowning out all other thoughts and sensations that belong to you alone. It's as if your mind has descended into a tangled web of strangled noises and glorious sensations that only Arthur seems able to untangle or soothe. The faint outline of his body nestled between your thighs is a constant reminder that nothing beyond this moment, beyond him hidden away with you inside of this tent, matters.

The hard length of his turgid pride parts your folds, gliding over the slick thatch of curls usually concealing your cunt from his eyes, but with his sight hindered, he can explore every single nook, roll, and crevice without you shying away. His weight bares down on you as he holds your legs into the crook of his arms, nearly bending you in half as he drags his cock over your seam. It feels so good like this, even though you can hardly breathe with the thickness of your thighs pressing against your already plump stomach, but when the tip of his cock knocks into your clit, it makes the strained pain well worth it. The back of your hand flies over your mouth as he continues on like this, pleasuring himself and you with each agonizingly slow thrust. Hearing your ragged, strangled half-breaths, he releases your thighs, leaving them to splay out lazily on either side of his hips as he leans down to steal a tender kiss.

Upon breaking his lips away from yours, the low hum of his voice finds its way through the haziness of your lust-broken mind as he murmurs against the shell of your ear, "Gonna take ya just like this..."

Chapped lips skim over your jawline and trail to your lips, where he gives you another tender kiss filled with gentle affection: polar opposite to the rough sex-driven outlaw you've gotten a taste of tonight, but aligning perfectly with the man you fell in love with all those years ago. Scraped knuckles skim against your slick heat as he slips his hand in between you both and presses flat over the thick, dark curls at the base of his throbbing length. His fingers spread wide over his pubic bone, holding his cock between his middle and ring finger, stiffening himself outward to seek out your clenched entrance. With a slight pullback of his hips, he guides himself to your slit, catching right on the taut muscle before pressing forward and splitting you open.

A soft cry hums in the back of your throat and he shushes you so tenderly, sliding his hands over your knees and down your shins to soothe the ache he knows you're feeling. You're so fucking tight, hardly different from the first night he took you and bedded you properly back at the Saint's Hotel. It nearly shatters him when your walls flutter around him, squeezing and pulling him in inch by inch as if you were carved out just for him to sink into. He stills only for a short moment, letting you feel him nestled up against your cervix before he slides himself out and enters you again with a sharp snap of his hips. Lingering anger and frustration from the shit day he's had still pulsates at the back of his mind, desperate to be released as the tension in his body rises.

The tight walls of your cunt clench onto him for dear life as jolts of pleasure and pain rack through your body.

Behind the shield of your palm, you cry out, "A-Agh, Arthur!"

You're trying your best to be quiet, to still your ragged breaths and hide your whimpers, but he's making it incredibly difficult. Each slow drag of his cock coming out of you with a satisfying pop, only to pierce you with a hard roll of his hips, sends you reeling. You're seeing stars, shaking from the pleasurable burn of the passionate fire he's stirring within you. Strong hands grip your hips, keeping you still as his thrusts guide you into a steady rhythm that makes the old wooden frame creak and groan with every subtle and sharp movement that your bodies make. Being discreet has left his mind entirely, no longer concerned with what sounds are coming out of his tent as he fucks you good and proper. No, he couldn't care less when the sounds of your slick pussy squelches as he presses himself flush against you and groans against the pulse point of your neck.

"Don't want ya hidin' them purdy sounds, Darlin'. Let 'em out for me," he grunts out between slow but hard thrusts.

Usually, intimacy like this is savored in the shaking breaths and whispered little sounds only audible to your ears, but tonight... Tonight Arthur is something else entirely. Primal. A damn, dirty outlaw. You love this new view of him, but you can't allow yourself to let the others hear. What if someone were walking by? Or Hosea or Dutch hear you two going at it? You wouldn't be able to look at them for a week! But he doesn't give you much choice in the matter: snaking his hand down between your bodies, his muscular forearm presses against your plush belly while his thumb immediately finds your clit.

"O-Oh, God," you whine as the pad of his thumb circles over you, followed by his name dripping off your tongue like the sweetest honey. "At's it... Such a good girl takin' me so deep. Mmm.. Gonna cum 'round me ain'tchu? Gonna give me a real good one, baby?"

God damn him if his mouth ain't filthy. The way he croons out those little praises and words of encouragement has your climax building faster than you ever could have anticipated. And the swirling of his thumb? It has you shaking, whining, pleading, practically begging for your release as he talks you through it, "C'mon, Darlin'... I feel ya squeezin' me real tight," he praises, "'At's it. Focus on me."

With one more swipe of his thumb over your sensitive clit and his cock hitting that sweet spot right against your cervix, you're tensing, digging your heels into the thin mattress, and cumming around him so hard that you see white. It takes everything in you not to scream, but the strangled sound coming out of you is loud enough to warrant some head-turning if anyone were awake. The moment your walls flutter and start milking him, he falls forward and drops down onto his elbows to cage you in. His thrusts are relentless as he takes his anger out on you in this way, using every movement of his body to release the bristling anger clutching onto his mind like a damn vice grip. No matter how fervent and frenzied, he's still careful not to hurt you, always thinking about how good he's making you feel while chasing his own release.

Arthur isn't a man of many words, but when you're gripped around him like this, clutching him with your arms, legs, and your fluttering pussy, he is downright mouthy. "Oh, such a good girl for listenin' to me. Shh.. Shh. I gotchu, baby. I gotchu."

His mouth hovers over yours, claiming your lips as he kisses you hard and possessively. Moans spill out of you, traveling through the expanse of his throat until it hums within his chest and he echoes one back. To talk like this with him, in a language only two lovers could understand, is far more intimate and pleasurable than anyone could ever know. Arthur is yours and you are his, no ownership or proprietary claim, but just the pleasant knowledge that both of you choose to love each other is enough.

With a few more rolls of his hips, he's nearing his own orgasm: length twitching and engorging as his balls tighten. In desperation, he quickly climbs off of you and pulls his cock out from your core. His right hand tightens into a fist around himself, and although you can't see it, you hear the lewd, effortless slide of his hand vigorously pumping over his tip like his life depends on cumming for you.

Finally, his orgasm hits him, working its way out of his tightened balls and spurting over your plump mound and belly. If he could see his spend on you like this, it'd be enough to make him cum all over again. But both of you are far too exhausted to even consider that so soon. You're still shaking, panting heavily as he lowers himself down onto you, not caring that his sticky spend is now covering the front of his body as well, as your sweaty bodies come down from such an enormous height.

His touch traces a slow, deliberate path down your leg until his fingertips reach the softness of your hip, where he gives your flesh a gentle but firm grasp. Reveling in the smoothness of your skin and the feel of your curvy form beneath his palm, he lets out a slow exhale through his nose. The heat of his breath spills over your neck and shoulder, doubled by the heavy breaths leaving his lips as he lazily peppers your clammy skin with kisses.

After a long stretch of quiet spent nestled into his hair, breathing in the comforting remnants of campfire intermingled with his musky scent, your breathing finally begins to steady. Slowly, your senses return to you one by one, like pieces of a puzzle falling back into place. Shock and disbelief jolt through your entire being as it finally hits you how easily he manipulated your body with his own strength and skill as a lover. You'd heard of men being rough with women, but never did you think it could be this pleasurable.

Your voice finally cuts through the relative silence, carrying a deep sense of satisfaction and astonishment with it, "Wh-here in the hell did that come from?"

An amused chuckle rumbles inside his chest, slightly huffing out of his nose as he slightly pushes himself off of you to gauge your reaction, "Reckon I were a little pent up. Why? You like it?"

To say you liked it was an understatement, but you'd like anything as long as Arthur were right there with you to experience it just the same. While his right hand slides up over the plump contours of your body, appreciatively grabbing at the plushness of your stomach and breasts, he lovingly brushes a few stray strands of hair off your forehead stuck there by the sweat covering your body. You hum softly in agreement to his question, deciding that you did enjoy this different side of him you hadn't expected, despite his rough exterior.

"Mhmm.. 'S always good with you," the loving words you murmur cling to his heart and earn you a pleasant kiss that tastes like the remnants of his busted lip.

As his lips trail back down over your jawline, his beard delightfully scratches over your sensitive skin, causing you to hum in appreciation for him loving you like a man who worships the very ground you walk upon. Your own body follows his lead, fingertips glide down the entire length of his back, tracing the contour of muscle that hint at the immense strength lurking beneath. You can't help but marvel at his shape, this man you love so dearly, and how his body was molded for love and carved from such a hard life. While your fingertips glide across his muscled frame, you can feel the subtle shift of his body as he adjusts himself on top of you, notricebly more relaxed than before: a clear testamanet to the calming eddect your touch has on him.

Curiosity peaked, you murmur, "You relaxed now?" as your fingertips idly trace the two little dimples that grace the base of his spine, just above the firm and muscular curve of his ass.

An amused smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, obviously enjoying the path your fingertips are carving out over his back. He'd never admit it, but he loves it when you grab him unabashedly, palming his ass like he so often does to you. The warmth of his cock brushing over your leg, hardening much faster than he expected for a man his age, tells you all you need to know.

He agrees with you, humming softly against your chest as he inches himself down to where his mouth hovers over the plump swell of your breasts, "Thinkin' that we just might need a little more time for relaxin', don'tchu?"

A/N: Big thanks for the divider from @saradika-graphics and the beautiful gif from @sunwingsunset, please go send them some love for their work! <3

Other creators that expressed interest and drew inspiration from: @subpopizzy , @cassietrn , @coltermorning , @redwritr, @zae-heeyyy, @twola , @amorgansgal

Please do go check all the blogs I tagged! You surely won't be disappointed!

As always, sending my love - M. <3

#Thank you for reading - from the bottom of my little Appalachian Heart <3 #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x reader smut #arthur morgan #rdr2 community #grumpy #fluff #arthur morgan rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #john marston #rdr #dutch van der linde #molly o'shea #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you

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angelbarelywrites · 11 months ago

Text

♡ slashers scenarios | first meeting

info;

♡ fandoms; The Boy, House of Wax, Halloween, Hannibal, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, slashers (general), DBD

♡ characters; Brahms Heelshire, Vincent Sinclair, Micheal Myers, Hannibal Lecter, Thomas Hewitt

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; mentions of blood/violence

The most random array of characters. All 5 are my bfs tho. Also this is written very very informally because it was originally just for myself lol.

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Brahms Heelshire//

> approximateplotofthe movie. jpeg

> honestly you mind your own business once you realize it’s a doll but assume there’s cameras so mostly behave

> you find yourself naturally coddling his doll like a real child when you’re bored, speaking to him constantly

> even though you’re not doing much to upset him, weird things do start happening around the house

> he mostly wants attention

> you leave a note one day

> “dear brahm’s ghost; i’m sorry if i’m not doing a good job as a nanny. i’m really trying my best. I hope we can be friends”

> he scribbles a smiley face on it and you’re a little freaked out / excited

> when he finally shows himself you’re really stunned. but it makes more sense than a genuine ghost

> you’re in such shock that you just. keep going with the evening and make dinner.

> but even once you come to your senses, you end up more sad than scared

> “…they left you all alone. I’m so sorry.”

> he gives you puppy eyes

> “…I won’t do that to you. I promise. I’m staying.”

> he’s even more in love with you than he first thought. even if you’re going to make him shower six times before bed.

> to his chagrin you don’t help him bathe

> but you do kiss him goodnight

Vincent Sinclair//

> bo brings you to him

> at first he’s making some big deal, “special delivery” and all that

> you’re cute

> really cute

> and bo clearly knew you’re the kind of person vincent would like

> but he’s still got a job to do

> damn it

> “h-hey- wait- i can help you—?”

> that makes him hesitate

> “i’m an artist too. i can help with the sculptures. “

> …

>“i’ll be good. promise.”

> he didn’t need much more convincing than that

> bo is surprised he kept you but makes damn sure you’re not escaping

> but you don’t even try because you just feel so deeply for vincent, and he’s so gentle

> you weren’t lying about being an artist so you’re genuinely helpful

> he falls madly in love when you help him resculpt his mask

Micheal Myers //

> Meet because you wrote letters to him

> Not to interview him or as an obsessive fan

> At first out of curiosity, then as a sort of way to vent, because he never responds

> But as it turns out your letters are the only ones he keeps or even opens at this point

> So his psychologist wants you to meet him to see if you can get him to open up- of course there’s a cash incentive

> He doesn’t say a word from the other side of the glass.

> Obviously.

> But you treat it like a normal visit to a friend and just chat mindlessly a while

> And you’re so much tinier and cuter in person

> He wants to stab you so much

> But realizes that if he killed you, he might miss you

> Ew that’s a scary thought

> Still wants to make you scream tho uwu

> He escapes

> Because he’s Micheal Myers that’s what he does

> After his spree he finds himself in your house, bloodsoaked and honestly not all that sure what he’ll do when he sees you

> You don’t even scream, just give a tiny ‘eep’

> “…Micheal?”

> He regrips his knife so he can get it over with. You’ll just tattle

> “Oh gosh- you’re soaked from the rain. And all that blood-let’s get you a shower? I can get you some fresh clothes too,”

> He’s staring down at you in disbelief

> “…what? You thought I’d try and call the cops? I like talking to you.”

> There’s something very wrong with you

> It’s kind of hot

> He puts him knife away and follows you

Hannibal Lecter//

> you’re his patient lol

> at first he doesn’t have much interest in you outside of work

> but god, you’d be such a perfect subject to manipulate with that little authority figure problem you have

> and even though you’re young

> you do recognize some of the finer things in life

> mostly his artwork and cooking. you’re really good at inadvertently stroking his ego

> he starts diving into darker subjects in therapy

> you’re a bit of a morbid person under the sunshine-y exterior

> perfect

> he’s still chipping away at something big you’re keeping from him

> he could do some digging online and through your files but where’s the fun in that

> he gets you tipsy and then starts with the psycho babble

> you finally crack

> you killed some guy that was stalking you years ago

> god that’s hot

> you liked it, at least a little bit

> even hotter

> you licked the blood off your hands and it tasted good

> he’s in love ; good luck leaving

Thomas Hewitt //

> car trouble! it’s always car trouble

> honestly when you rock up to the gas station alone Luda Mae is thinking that it’s a shame the fridge at home is already full

> but you’re the sweetest little customer

> “your name is really pretty ma’am. ever since i was little i decided if i had a daughter, her name would be Audrey Mae”

> new plan, she’s playing matchmaker

> there’s just something about you that’s so gentle

> and mildly off-putting, like the rest of the family

> she brings you out to the farm to see if they have the car parts you need

> and to stay the night, if you really need to

> you run smack dab into Thomas in his old half mask walking in- even Luda expects you to recoil at the least

> instead you turn a bit pink

> “oh gosh- I’m so so sorry sir-“

> Thomas stares at you

> You just shyly introduce yourself, talking enough for both of you

> Luda Mae is already planning the wedding

> “That’s my youngest Tommy- why don’t you show em around? Alright baby?”

> Thomas is a bit hesitant but you’re so little and cute and smell so good—

> He’s already obsessed oops

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whinypuppi · 4 months ago

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plotline: “ryomen sukuna invites you to his chambers to bathe with him.”

cw: gn!reader , nudity , suggestive , sexual tension , sukuna is obviously harsh but not as much , minor fluff , degrading pet name(s) , hints at sukuna lactating but not explicitly stated , he has two cocks , not proofread , a very short oneshot so please read slow

as you walked to the bathroom of your king's chambers, you couldn't help but feel almost nervous. urame had informed you that sukuna was requesting of you immediately (likely for you to wash him—which wasn't an issue in itself), but you were always anxious to be around him. he was a very threatening being and just had that...unsettling aura? either way, he hasn't killed you yet! maybe he isn't too bad.

when you made it there, the bath was already set up, and he was inside the water—shirtless and crossing his arms. the bubbles were just barely covering his pecs, and the opened bottle of lavender on the counter explained the smell. the mirror was slowly starting to fog up, and the air already felt steamy.

“i waited a long time, brat. don't let it happen again.” his voice snapped you out of your daze—lost in thought when the sweet smell hit your nose.

“r-right, my lord. should i start with your hair?” you were already grabbing for the cinnamon-scented shampoo bottle, his personal favorite, but his voice cutting in stopped you—

“strip.”

“..excuse me?” your voice became meek and you couldn't help but stand frozen.

“you will bathe with me. immediately.” now, you did find your king...easy on the eyes, but he'd never pursued you. you didn't think there would ever be something between you both.

a refusal would likely result in death. you've also been working down to the bone recently, and the hot water would do numbers. “..of course, my king.”

you were still shy—no denying that. all four of his eyes were on you, and you hated to be judged.

“you're wasting my time. i'll look away if i must.”

“i'm sorry!” you eeped, taking your clothes off piece by piece. your hands shook more than they should've when you pulled your undergarments off.

you slowly got into the water and sunk down until it stopped at your neck. it felt hot, but not scalding. you sighed softly as your muscles relaxed. he noticed, but only tsked.

you got to work, considering this would've been your third mistake of the evening. he knew when his servants were unloyal or complete slackers. he never hesitated to take their lives, either.

pouring a glob of shampoo onto your hand, you moved an inch closer to reach his head and gently scrub it into his scalp. he didn't scold you for it, but you saw his adam's apple bob.

daring to strike up a conversation to lighten the tense mood, you thought of the first question that came to mind. “how was your day, my lord?”

“fine.” when you accidentally moved a little too close to his lower half, he held your hip in place with one of his burly arms. you never really got to see how toned he was until now. and in such an intimate situation, too.

when you finished washing his hair, you grabbed his body scrub and applied body wash to it. he didn't take his eyes off of you or your body the entire time, but was quiet for the most of it. you were especially careful of his nipples—a very sensitive part of his body he warned you of.

he knew you were one of the gentlest of his servants. you treated him like you enjoyed serving him and not because you were forced to. everyone other than urame feared him, but you saw him as something more. he didn't know why he enjoyed your company but was annoyed by anyone else's.

you tried not to blush when it came down to his legs, calves, and—

“tell me, brat. am i foolish?”

“f-foolish? of course not, my king. why do you ask?”

he didn't answer, only giving you a 'hm' of acknowledgement before letting you contiue. he didn't ask many questions, so it came as a shock.

foolish for liking a mere human, he might've said, but he'd never admit it. it was simply a thought.

the rest of the evening was quiet. you helped lord sukuna rinse and dry him—remaining professional and not letting your eyes drift lower and lower. though, out of your peripheral vision, it looked like he had two. two sets of eyes, arms, and even his...

you would've gawked if you weren't holding your breath and biting your lip to stiffle the noise that threatened to come out. your heart raced at the intrusive thought of them being in you. would it even fit? probably not, but that made it all the more arousing.

“next time, do not keep me waiting.”

next time?

this didn't come out as good as i wanted it to since i've never wrote for sukuna, so i might rewrite it to add more detail and word-length it if i have the time.

part two at 500 likes guys!! (*≧∇≦)ﾉ (so basically never)

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #ryomen sukuna #ryomen x reader #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #jjk ryomen #sukuna ryomen smut #sukuna #sukuna smut #haha dont read into this #i hardly like the guy give me a break

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eepwriting · 7 months ago

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hi eep!!!

i adored your subby ves headcannons and would like to ask for a subby ves fic!

maybe he was flirting with girls in the crowd and reader decides to punish him by edging him or something🫣, whatever you come up with will be amazing i’m sure

thx for reading eep ❤️

Jealous, are we? ✶ Vessel x GN! Reader

Warnings: nsfw, smut, handjob (m receiving), edging, masturbation

ANONNNN I love you!! I’m eating this up with a fork and knife 👌 thank you for your request!! 🤍 also this is kinda long. I just had a lot of thoughts.

!! mdni !!

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You were no stranger to standing side stage watching Vessel and and the rest of the group perform. Rocking on your heels and quietly singing the lyrics to yourself, a proud smile on your face every time Vessel sounded particularly good.

Although tonight, you couldn’t push down the ever creeping jealousy that filled your chest. The group of girls front and center seemed to be getting all of Vessel’s attention. He’d been pointing to them, reaching his hands out, even gave them a cheeky smile when one of them yelled out to him. You knew he was only acting this way to elicit a reaction. He had told you countless times how amusing it was to get such visceral reactions from simply standing on the stage. To say he knew the power he had was an understatement.

Yes, you had Vessel wrapped around your finger and absolutely got every ounce of his attention whether you wanted it or not, but that looming pang of envy still hung in the back of your mind. You could excuse it as pent up frustration from traveling, not getting much alone time with him or you could just accept the fact that your attention was being handed out to someone else, and you did not like it.

When the last note rang out, ii, iii, and iv having already exited, you watch Vessel bow and clasp his hands out to the crowd. The small group you had been watching the whole night had tears streaming down their faces, all reaching out as if they were having some sort of spiritual release. His final move was the last thing you expected, made your ears ring with pure loathing for the girls in the crowd. Vessel’s black paint was nearly washed away with sweat, but there was just the right amount for him to draw a sloppy heart over his stomach with the tip of his finger. You’d think he just did the impossible with the way the pit cheered as he pointed out at them, staying still on the front row for a second too long.

You felt bad. It wasn’t the crowds fault. You’d act the same way if you were in their position. They didn’t even know you existed, let alone that you were in a relationship with Vessel.

You try to laugh at his little antics but your jaw clenches hard as Vessel strides off stage to you. You give him the biggest smile you can muster and reach out to pull him into a hug. He practically wraps his whole self around you, squeezing tight. Your shirt sticks to his chest and you can already feel the moisture from him seeping through. “What a great crowd!” He says excitedly, pulling away from you with a goofy smile on his face.

“I know, you did great, baby!” You want to add a snide comment at the end but hold your tongue instead. Of course he compliments the crowd.

You barely register what’s happening when he drags you back in for a messy but clearly excited kiss. His hands hold the sides of your face and the same wide smile returns when he pulls away from you. “C’mon, we have to celebrate with everyone.”

You didn’t want to celebrate. You wanted to drag Vessel away and have him all to yourself.

You oblige and have some drinks with the rest of the crew. The energy from everyone is high and makes your skin buzz but you’re just waiting for Vessel to walk up to you with a yawn and extra grabby hands, begging you to leave with him.

Luckily it doesn’t take long before you’re pushing open the door to your hotel room, Vessel wrapped around you from behind you, tired groans coming from him every so often. He only lets go of you to step into the shower you start for him, nestling back into position once you join him. Now that he’s being all sweet and needy you almost feel guilty for the hell you’re about to put him through.

You’re not surprised when you feel him slowly start to grind against your ass. He always got this way when he was tired and relaxed. His head is still buried into the side of your neck, his long arms wrapped around your middle. You let him move against you for a while, long enough that you start to hear quiet hums and feel small puffs of air on your skin. Eventually you’re able to pry him off your back, spinning around to grab your bottle of body wash. He pouts at you, hands grabbing at your sides in an effort to bring you back to him, but you stand your ground, scrubbing the soap over yourself as if he wasn’t even there.

After enough huffs from Vessel you give in to helping him clean up. Since he clearly could only stand there and pout grumpily at you. “What’s wrong, love? You’ve felt off since the show was over.” His voice is quiet as you scrub over his chest and shoulders. You just shrug, haven’t yet decided on if you should bring up your somewhat selfish thoughts. You peek up at him through your lashes, finding that oh so familiar all knowing smirk plastered across his face. He could always tell when something was up, even if you were a thousand miles away. He wouldn’t push you for answers though. He never did, always letting you initiate conversations about your thoughts and feelings.

“I just noticed how enamored you were with some of the attendees tonight, that’s all.” Your sudsy hands move to his stomach.

Vessel chuckles above you and steps closer towards you. “Oh, I see. I think I know what’s going on.” He tries again to press up against you but you keep your hands on his hips, your eyes study the never ending black streaks running to the drain. “Jealous, are we?” That same smirk evident through his words.

You lightly shrug again and fully look up to him. “I have a right to be. You’d be fuming if you were in my position.” Your fingers dip down and brush against his half hard cock. His hips jut forward just a little. “It wasn’t very kind of you to act that way towards someone else.” You wrap your hand around him fully, your soapy fist making it easy to twist your wrist as you move your hand up and down. Vessel makes no sound but his jaw clenches tight as he looks down at you. “But, I only do that stuff because of the reaction, you know that.” There’s a slight whine behind his words and his fingers flex against your hips. “Still doesn’t make it any easier to watch.” Your voice quiet.

You slow the movement of your hand down to an agonizing pace, giving Vessel full opportunity to fuck up into your fist. You finally allow him to drag you flush against him, his mouth coming down to pepper kisses on your neck and cheek. “I’m sorry. I should’ve thought about how that’d make you feel.” An open mouth kiss is pressed against your jaw and he groans against your skin, thrusting into your fist faster. “Shit, baby, I’m sorry.” His hands hold your hips in a vice grip and his mouth moves up to press against your own. He tries desperately to push his tongue past your lips but you wouldn’t let yourself just give in to him. Not after the antics he pulled tonight. He eventually gives up with a frustrated groan before slotting his head against your neck again. You reach a hand up to thread through his hair and help him out slightly by bringing your thumb forward to rub against the head of his cock every time he snaps his hips forward.

It’s not long before his whines get high pitched and breathy against your neck. You let him continue his movements and even squeeze your fist around him before you pull away from him completely. He bucks forward into nothing now and quickly picks his head up to look at you with a whine. “I think I’m done with my shower.” You reach around him to let the water wash away any remaining soap on your hand before spinning around to slip through the shower curtain before Vessel can even register what’s happening. “But…” His voice trails off and you have to stifle a laugh as you wrap a towel around yourself. “Can you please hurry in there, my love, I’m kinda tired.” When you don’t receive an answer you pop your head around the curtain to find Vessel standing there looking like a lost puppy. His chest is heaving slightly and his cock looks painfully hard hanging in the air. “You better not try anything while you’re in here alone.” You give him a knowing nod. “Go lay in bed when you’re done and maybe I’ll give you what you want.” He quickly nods before you close the curtain and move to the bathroom sink.

It’s not even five minutes that he’s in there before the water shuts off and his arm pokes out to fetch a towel. You try not to look at him through the mirror but the way he super speed dries off and practically jogs out the bathroom door has you watching in amusement. “No touching, remember!” You call out.

You knew he wouldn’t. He was always such a good listener.

After taking your sweet time on your night routine, you step out into the adjoining bedroom and find Vessel patiently waiting on the bed. Not even fully dry, hands twitching at his sides, cock standing oh so pretty as he looks at you with pure desperation.

His hands are on you the second you straddle his thighs, raking over your thighs and hips as he holds you tight against himself. “I don’t think you should be able to touch me either. What do think?” He blinks up at you and reluctantly pulls his hands away, tucking them behind his head. “No. Not after what I did.” It’s said just above a whisper. “Good boy, baby. I only have to tell you once, don’t I?” His eyes are wide as he eagerly nods up at you, a low whine slipping past his parted lips. You press your palms flat against his chest and lean down to press a kiss to his mouth. His neediness makes you mewl into his mouth, his head lifting off the pillow to better reach you.

A hand reaches down to shift Vessel’s cock forward so it’s lying against his stomach before you scoot your hips up. He pulls away from your mouth with a breathy moan, clearly grateful to have some sort of contact again after your stunt in the shower. Your hips roll forward and back slowly over his cock, a small bead of his arousal smearing on his stomach. It’s hard not to just give in, reposition and sink down on it but you know that’s all Vessels thinking about right now, and you’re not done with your little game yet.

“M’gonna cum all over myself if you don’t stop, love.” Oh, well how sweet of him to just tell you when he’s close. Makes your job a lot easier. “Oh yeah? We can’t have that happening.” You shift off his cock completely, moving back to your original spot on his thighs. His brows furrow as yet another climax is denied, an almost pathetic whine falls from his mouth as his hips buck up into nothing.

You reach one hand back to rest on Vessel’s knee, your other trails across your throat and chest, stopping to pull at your nipples before crawling between your legs. Your evident arousal under your fingertips makes you moan out, needy to finally give some attention to the ache that had been building. His eyes stay focused on your hand that’s moving quickly between your thighs, snapping up to your face every time you make a sound. His facial expression is blank but you can tell how badly he wants to reach out for you, evident in the way the muscles in his arms flex with how tight he’s gripping the pillow under his head. “This isn’t very fair.” He whimpers out while squirming under you. Your teeth close over your bottom lip as you chase the release that crept closer. “Jealous, are we?” You breathe out with a laugh. His jaw clenches at your words and his eyes bore into yours. You bounce and circle your hips, imagining it was Vessel’s cock working in between your thighs instead of your own hand. Your head rolls back on your shoulders and you lean back heavily on your hand. Vessel’s desperate and needy whines help push you over the edge and your hips still, mouth hung open while you keep up your movements, working yourself through your climax. A long string of moans pouring out. You shudder when it becomes too much and open your heavy lidded eyes.

Vessel’s chest heaves, eyes hungrily raking over your body. You hold out your arousal coated fingers, bringing them up to his mouth, which he gladly opens for you. There’s a deep, grumbling groan from him when he tastes you, closing his eyes as he greedily cleans your fingers. “Fuck, c’mere…please, baby.” You’re surprised he hasn’t reached out to grab you but you give in and scoot up to press your mouth to his. It’s feverish, teeth clashing together, his tongue darting in to lick against your own before his teeth roughly close over your bottom lip. You taste yourself on his tongue and it makes you dizzy. Your hand slips between the two of you to wrap around his cock. It earns you another bite on the lip and a rough bucking of his hips. You swirl your thumb in circles over the tip, collecting the precum that has gathered there before dragging your hand down to the base. You circle your fingers in a squeeze and use your other hand to pump him quickly.

His mouth hangs open against your own, short gasps of air combined with breathy moans are muffled as they flood into your mouth. You move to kiss and nip along his jaw before spending time sucking a pretty mark onto the side of his neck. “My sweet boy gonna cum?” You hover close to his face so you can watch him. It takes him a second to nod and he opens his eyes slightly. “Please…please. Been so good…won’t flirt anymore…wanna cum s’bad.” He sounds drunk and it makes you pump your fist harder. “Don’t pull away, please, baby.” He whines out and his bucking hips falter a bit. “Shh…I won’t, love.” You kiss his cheek before burying your head in his neck. He lets out a grunt before he goes silent, his hips still and you feel the warm ropes coat your hand, fingers and arm. A trapped moan breaks out as he spasms under you.

Vessel hums out a low note and wraps his arms around you in a tight hug as he tries to catch his breath. The two of you lie there for a short while, caught in a lazy but tender kiss. You’re not surprised when you untangle yourself to find Vessel struggling to keep his eyes open. You smooth a hand over his hair before leaving to wash your hands and fetch a washcloth from the bathroom. You clean up yourself as well as the mess on Vessel’s stomach before gently coaxing him under the covers. He wraps around you when you join him, humming against the back of your head while his fingers absentmindedly trace over your palms.

“I was serious about not flirting anymore. I’m sorry, again.”

You just hum out and curl against him more. You knew he’d keep his word.

“But not the guys. I’ll always flirt with the guys.” He lets out a groggy chuckle.

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GUYSSS THIS MAN

Thank you again anon for the request, it was very fun to think about HA

K. Bye bye.

#sleep token #sleep token worship #sleep token fic #sleep token x reader #sleep token smut #sleep token vessel #vessel sleep token #vessel x reader

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butchreg · 1 month ago

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puppyre ! galinda upland headcanons !!

eek !! finally posting wicked headcanons , the first of many to come >P<. i plan on doing puppy ! galinda with little ! elphie and cg / owner fiyero next so keep your eyes peeled tehe. also to come baby ! galinda and kitty ! elphie ehe (*-`ω´- )人 saw this lps and thought oh my gosh that's literally galinda eep ! she's the tiniest little thing at shiz. hyperfixation is hyperfixxing .. losing my marbles atm. anyway ^_< wicked masterlist here , upcoming list here

puppy ! galinda who is the most vocal puppy ever ! barking and yipping in excitement at the birds outside the window , loudly whining and whimpering when she wants attention , perhaps going so far as to howl when she's feeling lonely and can't find elphaba.

she's very excited by the world around her. she's quite curious , cocking her head in curiosity quite frequently. her tail is always wagging and she's quite the energetic pup , always bouncing and jumping to get out her abundance of energy.

she's very obedient and loves to fetch things , often bringing elphaba or fiyero one of her many plushies or ribbons as little offerings or when she wants to play. she'll drop a ball at fiyero's feet sitting there expectantly , giving him her very best puppy eyes until he throws it for her.

although she's typically quite obedient , becoming distressed when she breaks a rule by accident there are certainly times where she acts out to get attention. tearing apart her and elphaba's room if she wants her girlfriend's attention. this usually happens when elphie has a busy day of classes and galinda is left alone for too long. she's cooped up for soooo long with no elphie to keep her company or let her out to run around. it's just not fair !!

puppy galinda who just has so much energy !! running around the courtyards of shiz , leaping at squirrels and barking the whole time. running at fiyero and jumping up so suddenly she nearly knocks him over , panting excitedly at the sight of him. running circles around elphaba , tail wagging the entire time. spinning around or chasing her tail until she falls over giggling , a dizzy mess.

she plays until she tuckers herself out , padding over to elphaba and dropping at her feet , her blonde head in the other girl's lap. her tongue will loll lazily and she's unable to suppress her yawns. her body which typically wriggles with excitement almost constantly along with her wagging tail is still , and she whines if elphaba tries to get her to walk back to their room. "oh , alright ," she'll say with a chuckle , scooping up the puppy with effort. galinda now too tired to bark outright , will give elphaba's green cheek a grateful lick , being careful not to squirm so as not to give her any trouble.

galinda has the most lethal puppy eyes and she is not afraid to use them ! she knows just how to get her way , sighing just so , fluttering her lashes at her target. if she must she'll whine and whine and whine until they have no choice but to give in.

galinda is not a shy little puppy. she'll happily yip hello to the throngs of adoring students and she proudly wears her pink diamond studded collar out , enjoying the clinking sound of her tags. pfannee and shenshen spoil the pup rotten , offering her the most elegant of treats , bringing her little ribbons to tie around her collar and tail. they often coo over her , unafraid to protect her with scathing remarks towards anyone who dares to give galinda a side eye.

she does not stim publically , feeling a touch ashamed and embarrassed to do so but when she's in the safety of her and elphaba's dorm room she's constantly stimming by shaking her head to hear the jangling of her collar tags. she gets lost in the sound , often needing a gentle reminder from her roommate that she has to get some studying done if galinda wouldn't mind.

galinda hardly ever gets in trouble. her earnest giggles and lethal puppy eyes can get her out of it nearly always.

galinda only really gets shy if she's had an accident or perhaps broken something by mistake. her tail maybe knocked into a table leaving a vase tumbling. growing up she was punished for these things , often left to fend for herself and humiliated. she'll hide away from elphaba , tail between her legs , ignoring any of her friend's attempts to say hello or make plans. she's embarrassed and most importantly afraid of her beloved elphaba shunning her or perhaps punishing her for the stain on the carpet.

elphaba who comes home , noticing a faint smell becoming alarmed when she can't find galinda. "galinda ?" she'll call faintly. no verbal response comes but it's not long before the sounds of whimpering and suppressed cries come from the large wardrobe. a very concerned elphaba opens the door quietly bending down to find galinda curled up as small as possible. "what is it , sweet thing ?" she keeps her voice low and non confrontational. a teary galinda motions vaguely toward the stain on the carpet , curling in on herself in shame and fear.

"oh , we can fix that ," elphaba tells her reassuringly. "it was only an accident , hmm sweet girl ?" galinda who sniffles , nodding slightly. "come on out of there right away." her voice is firm but soft. a little "eep" sound comes from galinda. "you can't be comfortable in there , darling." a soft frown on elphaba's face. it takes a bit of convincing but eventually she clambers out , feeling rather icky in her stiff damp dress. she's anxious for a while yet elphaba is there , oh so gentle and oh so understanding.

elphaba who gently wipes the tears from galinda's eyes , kissing the top of her head and helping her out of her icky clothes into a warm bath , helping her into her pink silk pajamas and opening her arms to offer the small girl cuddles.

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cronxl · 2 months ago

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im. so ill. where does one even begin with?? like

// WL FINALE SPOILERS‼️ (finale yap 💔)

ok. firstly: shiny duo (+ cleo :3) things. (totally not bc im so insane abt them. 100% hahahdvav fucking explodes)

WE DIDNT GET MURDER CAMEL. NOOOO WE WERE SO CLOSE TO THEM HAVING AN ALLIANCE. + CLEO (live laugh luv cleo) WE COULD'VE HAD A NEW KIND OF 3 G'S (w/o this blue haired FREAK /aff i need scott to explode) GASLIGHT, GIRLSLAY (or girlmurder. idk man they both fit methinks), AND GIRLBOSS. (ignore this im posting at 2am. very energetic and also eepy)

THEY ARGDHQ GEM CALLED PEARL PATHETIC AND CUTE AND STILL TRYING TO 1V1 HER. PEARL TELLING GEM THAT HER SNAIL IS LITERALLY NEXT TO THEM EVEN THO SHE WAS TRYING TO KILL GEM. ALSO. WHEN GEM SAW THE G'S AT HER BASE SHE LITERALLY SPECIFICALLY CALLS PEARL. GIRL THEIR WHOLE ALLIANCE IS THERE AND YET THE ONLY PERSON THAT YOU TRULY NOTICE IS PEARL. OK GEM. 😔🤨 NOT THEM CALLING EACH OTHER'S FULL USER. UAGH. THEY MAKE ME SICK.

cough she def misses being w pearl. cough (it goes both ways for them. they miss eachother sm trust) she wants that cookie so bad its actually sososososos insanely painful to watch. i should get a degree in studying whatever the fuck theyve got goin awn. the fact its unresolved is an added thing in there.

moving on bfore i get shiny duo severe stage 10 brainrot. secondly: JOEL WIN. ACTUALLY CRAZY. (<- hes crazy. like genuinely.)

i didnt think that he was gonna win tbh. since yk lizzie is his weakness and lizzie wouldve used that to kill him. honestly if grian hadnt killed lizzie she wouldve probably killed him i think. and lizzies advice to joel to not get scott is so sweet actually <3 imagine trying to kill your husband but at the same time your lowk also looking out for him. she noticed the pattern of him always losing when getting scott wjjwbfm jizzie is os.. precious uaghhqphqvsb

ALSO ‼️ HE AND GRIAN MAKE SUCH A GOOD DUO. I THINK THEYVE TEAMED UP BEFORE ON LIKE LAST LIFE?? I THINK. I WAS ALWAYS WATCHING PEARLS POV. ianfbwnbsl life series brainworms r working overtime on this. too bad im on the verge of eeping.

AND thirdly: the wildcard. er wildcards.

the wildcards returning for the finale is great dont get me wrong. its jst. i guess at the end where all of the wildcards are activated its jst. so much?? like everything happening is too much at the same time yk? i think thats mostly the problem. bc. everyone has to deal with all these deadly wildcards adding up gradually causing some of the players their last life. which i think makes it more.. unsatisfactory? kind of? since the finale for others werent going out in pvp or traps and allat but the wildcards.

all of them happening at the same time is a bit overwhelming?? or maybe its jst me but theres too much going on every moment and such. its jst hard to actually focus/try to kill ppl? we have the slow to speedy thingy happening, the mobs dying and changing, which causes a lot of lag and deaths (gem to a vex is an example of this) cus theres a bunch of mobs to look out for, the trivia bot coming down sometimes at the worst possible moment (a snail chasing u n all), theres also the superpower card its kinda not been properly or well used during all this, and snails since they did end some series and caused a bunch of deaths in their past of being the main wildcard.

and: shiny duo again bc i cant not end this talking abt the wildcard(s) and i love them (sadly true)

them both keeping the bit where gem complimented her red skin. gem saying that she loves pearls red outfit sm. pearl trying to douse gem when her alliance tried to kill her and burn her w lava while they were talking. jsksnwnwbqle ims o sick.

lastly: lizzie having cleos superpower. i am having THOUGHTS abt this.

LIZZIE HAD CLEOS SUPERPOWER. ODLWNWNFNBWKFLD didya guys know that i was more of a shadowrot fan when i started watching last life? now you know !!

kqnebwbf fn also. the shadowrot is being revived w this series. no more thoughts abt shadowrot bfore i get forced into a psych ward.

honorary mention: cleo reaction to pearl getting killed by grian (ignoring the heartache bc i love skyblings sm. uaghhh).

when pearl got killed by grian, cleo ran straight for him. she ignored joel who was stabbing her in the back (literal). she tried so hard to blast grian off that cliff. i dont think she was trying to protect ren, who was getting chased by grian. she didnt yell at him, she was jst quiet and absolutely pissed that pearl died. i mean who wouldnt tbf. pearl was the only remaining teammate of the main 4 g's afterall. ohhhhshdbwb my moonrot heart has been revived.

the life series gals should team up next season i mean WHAT WHO SAID THAT.

#wild life spoilers #wild life smp #gempearl #shiny duo #shadowrot #moonrot #<3 #i love love love them can u tell #:3c #im so unbelievably eepy #im gonna eep now

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rubylovessharks · 9 months ago

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Idia Shroud x gn!reader

just you enjoying the view of your boyfriend having fun with your kitties :3 im writing about the future, you are moving in to where Idia lives

Today was a day bot like any other, where instead of Idia coming over to your place, which also doesn't happen often, you were going over to his. With luggage. You have packed everything from your own house so you can move into Idia's home. That means your cats as well.

As you put your cat's cages down on the entrance floor of Idia's house, you make sure your lovely two kitties are fine from the trip. One cat takes it's first step and slowly comes out of it's cage. The more time it spends outside the more comfortable it feels, so the other cat feels just as safe coming outside.

Yet we all know how your boyfriend is, especially with such cute widdle kitties~ not like he hasn't seen them before, it's just that he loves them sooo much he just has to greet them! So the moment your cats see Idia's creepy (yet lovely) smile they puff up, hiss and run away.

"I just wanted to say hello to them.." he says as he gives he's usual disappointed face. "Oh I'm sure they'll come around!" you reassure him, and you were right! Cuz the very next day you get to see your boyfriend and your more friendly cat cuddling together. Idia is sitting so still just so your cat wouldn't wake up and run away.

"I see that my kitty warmed up to this place huh?" you walk over to Idia and your pet and sit next to them. "I uh gave him treats..if that's ok?" he looks at you to make sure he didn't do anything wrong "oh no worries! Both of them deserve a treat once in a while" you look around to see where you can find your other, grumpier, cat. "Oh I couldn't find her.."

"That's alright. I'm sure I can find her, she likes sleeping in closets with many clothes, so I'm sure she's inside our closet or something" for a moment Idia shrieks, 'our closet' sounds so nice but he's still not used to this- "th-then you should go check to see if she's there.." he gives a few pats to your cat. "Don't you want to help me find her?" "nono! She doesn't really like me that much..." if he doesn't want to come and try to befriend your grumpy old kitty, you'll have to force friendship upon them!

"Heyy Idiaaa~ think fast!" he doesn't have much time to react as you bring your grumpy cat and put her on his lap. "EEP!" Idia shrieks loudly waking up your other cat. But it seems that none of your cats got up to leave, the one on his lap sat down and was making biscuits, and the other just went back to sleep while snuggling his arm.

You totally took a few sneaky pictures of them snuggling.

#disney twisted wonderland #twst #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland idia #idia shroud #idia x reader #twst idia #idia shroud x reader

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rory-multifandom-mess · 10 months ago

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My Thad Headcanons

Because I'm so totally autism about him, you have no IDEA

I took this from a fic I read, but Thad runs warm. By this I mean his cooling system likes to malfunction every now and then and he has to throw himself into a bunch of icepacks until it works again. If he overheats, he’ll shut down so it systems can cool down much like a phone would

He's self conscious about his sharp canines, but not in the sense that he’s constantly thinking about it. It’s more like a “if i look at myself in the mirror and see my smile, I’m going to remember they’re there and be like ‘oh. that’s not right.’” Because of his insecurity with his sharp teeth, he refuses to go to the dentist

The fact Uzi had a crush on him before meeting N absolutely flew over his head (he’s stupid)

He likes girls AND boys

Ever since the fight with J and V in the pilot, he coughs up oil on occasion. Basically; Worker Drones are stupid and don’t know anything about their own anatomy, so instead of trying to fix the internal damage, they just welded his wounds closed, so now he’s just perpetually internally bleeding

He heals pretty quickly and has a high pain tolerance (entirely because he’s a sports player, and also he heals quick because of the fact he runs warm)

Sometimes he’ll get nightmares about the attack with V and J and also when Solver yonk’d his ass in episode 2. These fucked him up for a little while after and he couldn’t sleep very well, but they’re not as big of a problem anymore

His room is usually surprisingly neat and full of trophies and medals and other various sports memorabilia

Gets really competitive during football matches, but has really good sportsmanship <3 like he’ll be screaming shit during the match and then he’ll lose and to the other team he’s like “good job guys you absolutely rocked it out there, but we’ll beat you next time i’m sure of it >:)” he likes a lil friendly competition

Thad and Lizzy are twins but he’s younger than her by like 2 minutes. She teases him for this. In retaliation, he teases her because he’s taller (by 1 inch)

Sometimes they get in trouble for ‘bullying” each other, but every time they do, Lizzy just says “Siblings are fair game!” and Thad nods

I think he says “no problemo” a lot. He also says other silly phrases like "Okie Dokie Artichokie" and calling things "Rad" and ironically saying" tubular." Lizzy says "This isn't the 80's" and then he responds with "Well the 80s were sick as heck dude so I don't care"

He's a morning person

Listens to highly energetic songs without paying attention to the lyrics, so he’ll listen to the most like. Innapropriate songs without even realizing it just because they’re bops

Gets dating advice from Ron (the drone at the door from episode 2 for those who forget the bg characters)

Yk how people will throw food like popcorn into the air and then catch it in their mouths? yeah he’s really good at that

Sometimes when he can’t sleep he goes out and plays basketball by himself. tires him out so he can eep

Has a nice singing voice, but he doesn’t think he does (i’m projecting)

He doesn’t like to swear, but sometimes jokingly says “I will swear word at you” to his friends

If he’s holding something, he’ll start idly just flip it in the air and catch it over and over. subconsciously too, he just does that

He also plays Soccer and Basketball

Sometimes when someone grabs him unexpectedly, he’ll flinch a little (thanks solver). This usually only happens if he’s been spacing out or doesn’t see the person who grabbed him at first

Chill until someone messes with Lizzy. Then he will fight. Though she’s one of the popular girls so it doesn’t happen often

Weak to flirting; he gets flustered easily. Yet he’s a total flirt when he likes someone and is comfortable enough around them

I like to think Thad gets hurt a lot because he’s a fucking football player and usually he doesn’t get it fixed because it’s normal, but Lizzy and/or Uzi will yell at him to get it fixed because it could fuck with the strength of his casing

One time Thad said “Bite me” to Uzi and she just looked at him like a smug cat while he had a moment

Sometimes he’ll try to hide in his collar when he’s flustered (it never works)

He, Lizzy, and Doll were a trio of best friends (Until Doll's Solver infection started getting really bad and began distancing herself from the other two)

#murder drones #murder drones thad #md thad #thad #thad headcanons #murder drones headcanons #md headanons #headcanons #uzi doorman #murder drones lizzy #murder drones doll #serial designation n #serial designation v #serial designation j #murder drones solver

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five-rivers · 15 days ago

Note

If you’re still taking soft body horror asks:

I’ve always wondered what would happen to Danny if Clockwork hadn’t untangled him in A Kitten in blinds

Alternate ending, here we go!!

When Clockwork started to unwind loops of chain, Danny thought the ordeal (such as it was) was over. But although Clockwork pulled away a great deal of chain, Danny never seemed to get any looser. In fact, when Clockwork stepped back, frowning, more of the hanging chains were involved than before.

Danny didn't know how that worked, because it shouldn't. Thinking about it was starting to give him a headache.

"Uh, Clockwork?" said Danny. "I'm still, um, a bit tied up, here."

"I am aware," said Clockwork, scowling. "Someone thinks they are being clever."

"Who?"

"You truly do need to read those books."

Long Now ticked again and Danny was both squeazed and stretched. It seemed that, somehow, one of the chains that was actually being pulled down, as opposed to just hanging down, had gotten under his arms, like a sort of harness.

It felt... not bad, actually. But he still wanted out before he was ripped apart or something.

"Cutting it is," said Clockwork. He split off a duplicate, who flew out of the room.

"Sorry," said Danny. "Maybe I can hel-- eep."

The clocks had gone tock again, the chains ratcheting one link in each direction. And-- how many directions was that again? It was definitely more than two... Danny was starting to feel a little light-headed.

"Clockwork," he said, "Clockwork, how many dimensions are in here?"

"As many as time travels in," said Clockwork.

"Time is one-dimensional," said Danny.

"Is it?" asked Clockwork. His scowl deepened. "The cutters have been hidden."

"What? Hidden? By..." Danny hesitated. "Long Now?"

"It likes you, unfortunately," said Clockwork.

The clocks ticked again, and the chains were again pulled tighter, although at least this time it was in a dimension that wasn't quite as tight. Danny swallowed as he swung slightly in that direction, but not any direction he could actually see.

"So that, uh, that liking me. Is that like, friendship liking me, or more like a dog with a new favorite chew toy?"

"For lairs, liking someone generally equates to wanting to keep them."

"Is that why you hardly ever g-- ouwww," groaned Danny. The tension wasn't really painful yet, not even in the weirder directions, but it was still tension his body didn't like to be under.

It was times like these that Danny would have really liked to deform his body on command, rather than as some weird ghostly reflex.

"Can't you," panted Danny, "freeze me or something? In time, I mean? Or just-- Stop time? You know?"

"You, I could stop," said Clockwork. "Long Now is a different story."

"Because, um, because it also does time stuff?" asked Danny.

Clockwork sighed. "If you must put it that way."

Some internal descision-making process must have happened on Long Now's part, because Danny abruptly found himself hoisted an additional ten feet in the air. And ten feet closer to the gears.

While being yanked upwards, one part of the chain had wrapped around his neck.

"Clockwork," said Danny, "you can still get me out, right?"

"Sometimes," said Clockwork, grimly, "the only way out is through."

"I-- Clockwork, I'm still half human. I can't survive that." As soon as he finished the sentence, Danny was jerked higher.

"You will," said Clockwork.

"I can't." Higher.

"You can."

"Clockwork--"

Up again. How was it that the earlier ticks and tocks had so much time between them and these so little?

"I will wait for you on the other side," said Clockwork. "And, for your earlier question, yes, I think you can."

"What?" Even closer. It was hard for him to tell, but he thought he was only inches away. The gears were loud, up here, but not louder than the frantic beat of his heart.

"Help me with the repair work."

Danny was so busy staring at Clockwork that he almost didn't realize he'd been pulled in. He was, however, relieved to discover that his ability to deform did reflexively activate under pressure. His bones went rubbery, his muscles flattened. He was crushed into the chain, squishing around it. It was... The closest thing he could compare the feeling to was a very rough, deep, massage.

The gears turned. He passed back into a larger area - he couldn't tell much about it, with his eyeballs pushed flat - and tried to return to his regular shape, but he was quickly pulled back into the gears.

Again and again, he was pressed between gears, wound around chains, and passed around stranger machinery, clockwork bits he couldn't even name. He went up, down, around, in, out, back, forth, and in directions that his brain couldn't process. Each time he had enough time in enough space, he tried to reform, and each time he started to reform more slowly. He started getting softer, too, his body turning from rubber, to dough, to putty, to goo, to ooze, to slime, to oil.

He was spread thin in the interstices of Long Now, and pulled in a dozen different directions, separated from himself and flowing into himself. He felt time passing in a regular rhythm beaten into him through the turning of gears, the twisting of chains, the ringing of bells.

Every so often, he caught snippets of broader awareness. Moments of vision, of hearing, of color, light, sound, smell. He heard Clockwork, for just a moment, say, 'There were easier ways, if you needed to be oiled...' He tasted metal and sugar. He saw jewel-bright bearings as big as his head sparkle in half light.

Then he was, slowly, pulled back together. Not all of him, but a great deal, and he was dripped, bit by bit, into a receptacle, a mold. Into two molds. Three. Into many molds.

The molds were closed, then, the largest of them was spun and chilled, and Danny solidified on the inner walls. When the mold was opened, he just laid there, not used to having a solid body anymore.

This was a good thing. It meant that he wasn't moving when he was opened up.

The other molds were opened, and their contents placed in the huge cavity that took up most of his new body. Gears, chains, rods. Metal gears, rods, and chains were put inside as well, made of the same stuff as Long Now.

They were placed carefully, their movement tested, and then more of Danny, still liquid, was poured inside to help. It felt so natural, but so foreign, and Danny was still paralyzed, overwhelmed by all of it.

He was closed with a click, and the last mold was picked up and broken open, revealing a key. It was pressed into his chest, making a keyhole, and then turned, locking everything with a heavy, meaty click.

Danny flailed.

"Breathe, Daniel," said Clockwork.

How, when he didn't have lungs? When he wasn't entirely sure he had an esophagus?

"Breathe," repeated Clockwork. "It will help."

He sucked in a breath of air, and as it moved through him, the clockwork inside him changed, smoothly morphing back into human-like organs.

He panted, drooling, until Clockwork wiped off his lower lip.

"There's still parts of me in there," said Danny, pointing at the mass of industrial machinery he'd emerged of.

"And there are parts of Long Now in you," said Clockwork, tapping Danny's chest.

The key was still in there. "If this is it liking me, I don't want to know what it does to people it dislikes."

"No," agreed Clockwork, "you don't." He took the end of Danny's key in his hand and smoothly pulled it back and out. It disappeared somewhere in Clockwork’s robes.

That distraction taken care of, Danny could look at the other changes he’d suffered. Dark lavender-gray, almost black, robes and cloak unfolded from his shoulders, stitching themselves as they unfurled, slowly, gently, like a set of wings. His skin was a pale, snowy blue, and his fingertips blushed purple-blue. The surface of his nails had a metallic sheen. His hair was longer, shaggier, falling in front of his eyes.

He reached up to brush it out of his eyes and encountered-- Were those ears? Were those his ears?

"You have a tail, too," pointed out Clockwork, unhelpfully.

"Clockwork, why?"

"I suppose I should not use metaphors or similes so freely," said Clockwork, in lieu of an answer.

Danny felt his face screw up and his begin to prick. He his his face in the folds of Clockwork's cloak.

"How much of me has changed?" he asked.

"Less than you would think," said Clockwork, patting Danny's head.

To Danny's abject horror and embarrassment, he began to purr. It felt exactly as satisfying to do so as he'd always imagined, which somehow made it worse, not better.

"I can give you an accounting of alterations, if you would like," offered Clockwork, "before we get started on putting all the chains to right."

Right. Because Danny had messed them up by getting stuck.

"Are they going to grab me again?"

"No," said Clockwork.

Danny gave a small nod. "Okay."

#danny phantom #body horror #ask #answer #prompt #prompt fill #prompt work

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otomiyaa · 8 months ago

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Ticklish For You

Marcille x Falin

A/N: I COULDN'T STOP MYSELF AAAAAA SORRY. I'm literally posting this right after I said I'd prioritize the x reader fic requests but it just spawned in my drafts like how falin's tits spawn on everyone's dashboard and I had to post it.

Summary: Marcille discovers Falin has an admirable trait. (Also on AO3)

Word Count: 1.2K

"And so, and so, we ate them. I didn't want to, but Laios and Senshi said we should eat them. They tasted delicious, but I didn't want to eat more. Yet I kept eating. That's what happens when touring the dungeon with this lot. I swear to you I -"

It wasn't that Falin wasn't listening to Marcille's stories. But the moment Marcille glanced at her, she could see the smooth skin of Falin's arm beside her, and she couldn't help but stop talking, just to touch her.

"And then? You swear what?" Falin asked, sounding interested in hearing more. Marcille was a little distracted though.

"So it tasted good? I do want to eat it," Falin said. She was always interested in Marcille's horror stories about eating monsters in the dungeon.

Falin didn't really react much when Marcille traced the soft skin of her arm absentmindedly.

"Falin..." Marcille mumbled, interrupting her own story and continuing to trail her finger along the inside of Falin's arm. She scribbled her wrist lightly and sensed no reaction at all.

"There was something I wondered when we were looking for you."

Falin cocked her head. "What is it?"

"It's something I don't know about you, but I think I should know."

"What?" Falin asked again, curious and interested as always. She was so sweet.

"Are you actually ticklish?" Marcille asked after a short pause. Falin stared at her.

"I can be."

.... What sort of answer was that? "Huh?" Marcille gaped at her. Falin nodded.

"I can be ticklish. Not always. My brother used to be a little annoying when we were younger so, I learned how to not be ticklish."

Marcille frowned. Now even for a magician like herself, that sounded like an impossible skill.

"You just un-ticklish yourself? How?"

Falin shrugged. "I don't know. It just happens."

"You are incredible Falin! So if I tickle you now, you can just decide whether you want to feel it or not?"

Falin nodded slowly. "I guess I always feel it. It just does not always tickle and make me laugh, if that makes sense. Why, do you want to tickle me?"

EEP! Marcille blushed and quickly turned away. "N-n-n-no i-it's just, t-the s-subject would c-come up sometimes dududuring our journey and -"

Marcille stopped her babbling when Falin gently took her hand and placed it on her side. She smiled.

"If you tickle me, I can be ticklish for you."

Marcille almost fainted. What kind of new romance thing was that! Breathing heavily, she stared at Falin in disbelief. Her hand that was now placed on her side froze. This was something she couldn't turn down, so...

She slowly started to move her fingers, wiggling slightly against Falin's side. She could feel Falin twitch.

"Ah, it feels ticklish. If you do it a little more, I think I will laugh."

Pffft! She was unbelievable! Marcille still couldn't comprehend how someone would be able to control such a sensation, and she curiously sat on her knees by Falin's side and started to scribble her fingers up and down both her sides.

"H-hehehe, ahaha- it hahahas been a whihile," Falin laughed sweetly. Marcille's eyes widened. It was the first time she heard her laugh in such a tone.

To experiment, she used a little more pressure and squeezed Falin's lower sides playfully. Falin jerked slightly and she let out the cutest little squeak.

"Aheh! It hehehe it ticklehehes!" Marcille could see that indeed! Admiring her reactions, Marcille wiggled her fingers from her sides to her tummy, and she poked her curiously.

"Ah wahahait!" Falin caught her hand, and she looked at her with a blush on her face.

"If it tickles too much, can I stop- WAhh!" Marcille suddenly flipped Falin underneath her and started to tickle her tummy mercilessly.

"No you may not, Falin! You are too powerful. Don't you dare stop being ticklish now~" Marcille said, no longer feeling shy, but just determined to make Falin laugh more. Why she never had tickle fights with Falin before was a question she couldn't think of an answer two. Perhaps they were always just too busy with other things.

"Mahaharcille hahaha!" Falin kicked her legs and squirmed, but Marcille pinned her down firmly. Her tummy, her sides, ah... her ampits?

Falin threw her head back and laughed beautifully. It was a truly unique sight and sound.

"Spahahare mehehe Mahaharcille!"

More and more giggles, squeals, laughter and then....! Silence.

Marcille blinked and watched curiously how Falin caught her breath. She was breathing heavily but no longer laughing, even when Marcille hadn't stopped tickling her yet.

"Sorry Marcille. It's, hehe, it's getting late and I am tired. I can be ticklish again for you tomorrow."

She wasn't lying, she wasn't joking, what!!! Marcille's eyes widened and to make sure, she tested everything. She poked her tummy, squeezed her sides, scribbled her neck and under her chin, tickled her armpits. No reaction at all.

"You really are not ticklish anymore," she sighed. "What a power and control you have, Falin."

Falin smiled. She took Marcille's arm and gently pulled her closer.

"Wait w-w-what?" Marcille sputtered, losing her balance as she fell on top of Falin who still seemed a little tired.

"Well. Is it my turn to tickle you now, Marcille? Only for a little."

Marcille gasped and immediately started to struggle in Falin's arms. "HAH? No no no, it's not fair. It wouldn't be fair. I'm way more ticklish than you are- I don't know how to stop it. I actually can't- waaa!"

Maybe not that tired after all, Falin was suddenly on top of her, smiling gently while she wiggled her fingers.

"That's alright. You only need to ask me to stop, and I will."

That was kind, but the thing is, Marcille wasn't a person who could communicate properly when tickled! She was about to explain this little problem, but Falin already started to tickle her.

"FAHAHAHa-OOOHOho EYahahaha!" Even her attempts at saying things like 'Falin, no!' simply drowned in a hysterical laughing fit.

"I never knew you were so ticklish Marcille!" was Falin's sweet comment. Meanwhile Marcille sounded like some sort of newly discovered monster, wailing in the dungeon.

"EADHAHhaaohouhahaa!"

"What are you saying?"

Falin kneaded Marcille's stomach in a way that reminded Marcille of Senshi making dinner. Ah see. She was already thinking weird thoughts. Getting tickled just did crazy things to her.

In the end, Falin did not seem to realize that Marcille was simply too ticklish to have a fair tickle fight, and too ticklish to ask her to stop. It wasn't until Chilchuck banged on the door to complain about the disturbing noise, that Falin stopped and let Marcille catch her breath.

"I'm sorry Marcille. You didn't ask me to stop, so I thought it was alright. Did I go too far?" she asked with concern. Marcille smiled weakly and shook her head. Exhausted and out of breath, she took Falin's hand in hers and kissed it.

"I'm fine - it's fine. T-thank you, Falin." She had no idea why she was thanking Falin. She may have been a little high after laughing so much.

"I really missed you," Marcille mumbled tiredly, and when Falin took her in her arms and cuddled her comfortably, Marcille could only close her eyes and enjoy the feeling of Falin's love and warmth.

As she drifted to sleep, Falin's words "I can be ticklish for you" ringed through her head, and she couldn't help but giggle. She really was special, and Marcille loved her so much!

#dungeon meshi #farcille #tickling #tickle fic #fluff #marcille x falin #marcille donato #falin touden #otomiya!writes

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sandyca5tle · 2 months ago

Text

Mimic Meets Slime

I sipped my drink carefully, the hot chocolate within slightly altering the colouring of the slime it passed through as my body took it in, before my gel absorbed it, returning to its natural amber colour. I let my body relax, careful to not let myself pool too much, but glad for the warmth this cafe and drink provided, given the cold outside. I didn’t come to cafe’s often, but I needed something to warm myself up, stave off any ill effects of the chill weather the city was having.

By sheer coincidence, I had ended up in a somewhat familiar cafe, in fact it happened to be the cafe where I had met another slime who was also starting her transition once upon a time….argh what was her name Dae? Maymay? May-

“Coffee for Mayday!” I heard the staff at the counter call out.

Mayday! That was it - wait, they’d called out that name? Was she here? I looked up and over at the counter, seeing who went to pick it up. It didn’t take long for my view of the cashier to be blocked by a sky blue, and kind of gooey looking, creature collecting her order from the counter.

Excited to reconnect with her, I stretched up and over the table, splashing down on the other side, my clothes quickly being rearranged back into position as I reformed back into a humanoid shape - with the usual inhuman accouterments - rushing over to the other slime

“Mayday?” I asked, suddenly worried I might have mistaken her for someone else… although ‘Mayday’ wasn’t exactly a common name

The blue bubble creature let out a sharp eep as her name was called an unexpected second time. Several bubbles of her hair seemed to glint, as the outside light almost made them look like blinking eyes. She turned around and started shaking severely at the slime in front of her. “Um, hi!” she squeaked.

“That is you right Mayday?” I asked her, squinting slightly at the entity before me “You’ve, well, uh, changed a lot since we last talked, so it’s kind of hard to work out from a glance - although I suppose the same is true of me,” I explained, gesturing briefly to my own appearance

She nervously shuffled her feet, staring at me like a child being scolded by a parent. She eventually looks up to take a sip of her coffee. Accidentally locking eyes with me. Her voice scratches out the words. “Wait. Oh! Oh wow I haven’t seen you in forever! Look at you now. A full on slime, with such a unique build too. How’ve you been?”

I beamed up at her, holding up a hand to show off the changes, as if my gooey body didn’t already showcase it enough “I’ve been goo-d! Bit slimier than the last time we met though,” I continued to grin “How about yourself?”

“We're look good. I mean you doing well. I mean… I'm good.” Slowly, she catches up to the rhythm of the conversation. “I'm sure it's a bit of a surprise to see us looking like this now. The actual medication has been fine, but it's certainly been a journey.”

“Given my own transition I’m sure I know some of what you’ve been through,” I told her with a sympathetic nod “Wanna catch up and talk about it all?” I offered “Don’t know if you’ve really met any other slimes, if not, might be nice to talk to someone who’s been through a similar process,”

She stumbles a bit. Seemingly scared by my suggestion. She takes her time tumbling the thought back and forth in her brain. “Ok. It would be nice to talk about it. We can walk and talk. I know a good park nearby.”

“Walk and talk, ah, okay, one sec then,” I hurriedly rushed back over to my table, my abandoned drink still there, and shaped my arm into a tendril the rough size of the cup before plunging the appendage in quickly absorbing the contents. A satisfied ripple coursed over my body as I took a moment to enjoy the drink, before bouncing back over to Mayday “Ok, good to go when you are!” I said, gesturing to the door.

Mayday smiles as I drink my cup. She seemed to find it charming. She held up her own cup and inspected it for a second before her hand wrenched open and swallowed the entire thing whole, paper and plastic included. I saw small bits of sharp teeth swim from the outside of her body into the hand that continued munching on her quote on quote, food. She let out an innocent smile before leading the way outside, politely holding the door open for me.

I watch the display, initially with a bit of surprise, but that is quickly replaced with an impressed smile, which remains as I leave the cafe, waiting a moment for Mayday to catch up “Well, first things first - teeth? Didn’t think slimes really did those, not that I’d be against having some like that,” I nodded towards the hand that had just devoured the cup “But-” I shaped something teeth-like in my mouth and ‘gnashed’ them a little, the slime just kind of squishing against itself- “I don’t really have bones, or anything hard enough to really work for them, especially recently. So how come you’ve got ‘em?”

“I had a feeling you didn't know, I'm not actually a slime.” She sped up to gain a bit of distance and twirled in front of me. “The treatment I received ended up being the wrong medication. I'm a mimic now, I just prefer to appear as the soap slime I wanted to be… And before you worry! It's technically not Erian’s fault. Well I mean, he was pretty negligent, but also he didn't know it would happen. It's sort of like being a shapeshifter, but it feels a bit more, crude? Rough? Something like that. Toothy. We'll go with toothy.”

I scanned my eyes over her as she twirled, her form looking no less slime-y even knowing she was apparently a mimic “A mimic huh? Well, definitely mimicking a slime super well, couldn’t even tell you weren’t, even knowing,” I said, hoping that that would be a compliment “Your doctor was negligent though!? I mean, I’m guessing it’s fine given how you are about it, but still, that doesn’t sound fun, were you able to do anything about it?” I asked

She let out a soft yet strained chuckle. “Define anything? I guess I became his assistant. But directly payback like suing him? No. I've had enough legal cases for the rest of my life. But overall it's been nice. Being a mimic has actually been perfect for me. I don't think I would have been all that happy as just a slime, y'know?”

“Yeah, that’s fair, I’ve never even done one legal case and I’m fine with never doing any if I can help it,” I sympathized. I had more questions, but given what and how she’d said it, I figured she didn’t want this to be all about that “Glad to hear mimic worked out for you though, woulda sucked to have ended up as something you didn’t want to be after everything,” I remarked “And I’ll try not to be offended by the ‘just a slime’ comment,” I added, playfully feigning offense, a hand to my chest

“Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to make it sound bad!... But are you going to stay a slime? Slimes are generally used as the starting point for another species. Do you plan on becoming anything else” She walked backwards, staring at me, eyes leveled with mine. She seems genuinely curious with a question she doesn't have an answer to.

“Well, I mean, I do kinda wanna stay as ‘just a slime’, or at least, I have no plans to abandon being gooey, but I have started taking shapeshifter meds, since that was the whole reason I started this journey, the slime was merely a stepping stone I fell in love with,” I replied, holding up a hand which quickly changed into a mallet “Been practicing this the whole time I’ve been transitioning in anticipation - actually has gotten easier to do over the past couple of months too, at least the taking shape has,” I paused for a moment, looking at Mayday as we walked “Actually, do you have any tips - I mean a mimic is a kind of shapeshifter, and I’m guessing you’re more experienced at certain things than I can be as a slime, like textures and materials?” I asked, excitement rising in my eyes.

“I'm still learning, there's a lot I don't know about mimics. Textures and materials are sort of possible. It's more like making a shell or a carapace, and coloring is a matter of trapping light to get the color you want. So I'm not actually blue right now. I'm just letting blue light bounce off of me. Same thing as most blue birds. There's a certain bit of knowledge you need. Just the general idea of how something works, then instinct fills in the gaps until you get what you want.”

I listened carefully to what Mayday was saying, my brain whirring as she spoke “Oh that’s interesting, didn’t know it worked like that!” I said once she had finished speaking “Interesting that you kind of describe textures and materials as a shell/carapace thing, that’s super intriguing, although I will confess I kinda hope it doesn’t work like that for me, unless I want it too,” I paused thinking “The colour/light thing is interesting though, guess I’d never thought so much about it but that makes sense, although not sure I know how to just ‘reflect blue light’.... Something to work on I suppose, and hopefully those instincts you mentioned will come along too, already noticed something in that kind of area,” I finished, suddenly realising I had been rambling a little

I also noticed that Mayday was considering my mallet hand, before she proceeded to do her best to copy it. It came out a bit off. “It's surprisingly hard to shapeshift only a part of myself. Mimics seem to prefer a whole body transformation, otherwise it gets too obvious to onlookers.” She explained

I took a moment to eye Mayday’s comparatively crude mallet-hand, trying not to frown a little “Makes sense that mimics would prioritize an accurate disguise over… well a hammer hand,” I concurred

The mimic retracted the arm back to her default shape. “I’m sure you’ll get there. I wouldn’t recommend being a mimic though. It’s a very difficult road. I didn’t even go down a crossroads for it either. I think this will mark my 24th month. What about you? How long have you been on slime hrt?”

“I didn’t have any plans to be a mimic, kinda want a little, uh, more than that,” I said, semi-grimacing “No offence.” I paused for a moment thinking about her other question “Uhhhh, 27 months ish Slime, 2 Shapeshifter,” I told her “Last few months have been very fun, actually getting to be a full slime has been… amazing,”

She wraps her arms around herself. Slowing down to trail behind me. “Sometimes I miss it. Being a slime. It was pretty brief. But it was nice. There's definitely still a part in here somewhere that would prefer to be a slime over a mimic. It's why I keep my appearance up. I think I'm a little jealous.”

I noticed her trailing and turned around to face her, subtly making an extra eye or two to keep track of where I was going “This may be entirely wrong, or insensitive, but is being a mimic really that different - I know you’re choosing to look like a slime at the moment, but I can’t imagine it’s much different?” I asked

“It's…” she pauses, her face suddenly caught in a stream of thoughts. After a while she spoke again. “I guess it's pretty similar. Yeah. It's really not that different. Anyway let's talk about something else.”

I frowned, Mayday’s reaction had been anything but ok…. But I hardly wanted to press a topic that was clearly sensitive for her “Sure… uhhh you mentioned instincts? Anything cool there?” I tried, not sure if that would still be too close to whatever she clearly didn’t want to talk about “I’ve noticed a couple myself, but I’d be intrigued to know what kinda instincts a mimic has?”

“Bitey for a start.” Mayday gave a nervous laugh. “I don’t like breaking my form at all, and crowds freak me out a lot. Really being a mimic just makes you a giant introvert.“

I let out an involuntary chuckle “That’s one way of putting it,” I replied “I have to say, the idea of like, sticking to one form just feels unpleasant to me - like it get it’s a part of the whole disguising thing, and so breaking it’d be bad, but,” as I spoke the slime on my arms rippled a little “makes me antsy thinking about it, heh. Wonder if that’s a me thing, or an early shapeshifter thing?” I pondered aloud

Mayday smirked, unable to help but find those sorts of questions calming. “It’s good to know I’m not the only one constantly wondering those kinds of things. Maybe we could talk about it? Personally I think that shapeshifters might have the instinct to change into what’s the most helpful at the time. How that affects a slime or human mind is something we have very little data on. We could spend some time speculating on this more and… Heh, sorry, didn’t mean to start rambling on like that.”

“Oh no, no, I like that thought - I’d kinda hope it isn’t super environmentally driven, I mean, of course I’d choose something beneficial for whatever I’m doing, but I don’t really want it to be ‘forced’ as it were. I just wanna be whatever I wanna be,” I responded “I suspect there definitely will be some kind of instinct like that - self preservation will probably entangle with my body’s new ability, so I suspect in life or death, or just dangerous situations I’ll end up sort of reflexively shapeshifting to stay alive, but hopefully outside of that there’ll be no instinctive coercion,” My hand idly shifted from a hand to a ball and back again as I talked “As for how the medication will affect my mind going forward… I guess I also hope not too much, crossroads stuff still kinda scares me, but at the same time, unlike slime, I do want to be fully shapeshifter - I am a shapeshifter, body just missed the memo and is catching up.” I paused for a moment, my face scrunching in thought “Actually I don’t know if I’ll have a crossroads with this new stuff, since it’s an additional… will have to note that down to ask the doctors when I get a chance,”

“I can always check the records we have to see if we have any data on shapeshifters. It definitely won’t be one to one, but it could help you prepare.” The mimic offered

My eyes widened a little. “Oh, uh, that would be lovely! I’d love that!” I told her excitedly “There’s only so much info I’ve been able to find, so if you could pass on anything else, it’d be nice to be prepared - I’d rather not lose any more bones from surprise jelly legs…. well, not that that particular incident can happen again, but, well, you get my point,” I said with a chuckle “Had enough transitional surprises over the past two years- y’know they didn’t tell me I was gonna get chlorophyll/chloroplasts, I never remember which it is, they only mentioned it after I asked about it at a checkup!” I gave an exasperated gesture “So yeah, any info you can find would be much appreciated - I can keep a lookout for mimic stuff too, but uh, I probably won’t be able to find much that doesn’t come from video games,”

She doesn’t even try to hide the frown at my offer. “Don’t try too hard… Look, I’m offering a charity. I don’t want anything in return. I’d offer advice but I can’t say I know anything about Jelly legs. Most of my experience with slimes has more to do with hair care, and I only got about two months with it before the mimic side of me took over.” Her smile picks back up. “But, I at least know a couple other slimes and shapeshifters in Erian’s records, I can always contact them for more info.”

I frown a little back at her “I only meant it to return the favour, you’re doing something kind for me, ‘least I do is reply in kind,” I said, a little softly “And the jelly legs is past tense,” I added, my tone returning, gesturing to my gelatinous legs “Just a surprise that came with this all and I’d rather avoid similar surprises going forwards,” I clarified “But yeah, either way, would definitely appreciate that, plus would be nice to hear others’ similar experiences,” I finished, pausing for a moment before speaking again “Actually, on that note, how was your transition, mimic may not be quite where I am or am going, but it’s like a cousin, and even regardless of that, it’d still be interesting to know how it was for you,”

Mayday takes a step back. But then grows inquisitive and shrugs her shoulders. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt. It might be nice to recount everything. Most of the transition was actually just two months spent in a cocoon. That’s how the major biological changes happened. Before that there was the memory loss, Mimic HRT has the brain start changing pretty quickly compared to a slime, and afterwards it was the slow process of slime leaving the body before I fully became a mimic. It just about wrapped up a few weeks ago actually. I’m 100% Mimic.”

“A cocoon!?” I replied, shocked “That’s certainly unique,” I added “Memory thing fucking sucks though - I had all that change about 3-4 months ago when brain was turning into my core-” I gestured at the green sphere that resided within the centre of my torso “It was not a fun time. Kinda interesting how fast Mimic’s change - although I suppose it makes sense for a creature who can alter how they look,” I paused for a moment, thinking “Wonder if that means things’ll be quick for my shapeshifter changes,” I added “But yeah, brain changing was really not a fun time - as much as I would love to compare and contrast notes, honestly most if it is super fuzzy at best, just straight up gone at worse, as you said, memory loss,” I remarked “Was worried about losing more, or myself entirely, I’m not going to lie, honestly it’s kinda impressive your whole brain can restructure and you still retain who you are,”

I got the sense I just dealt psychic damage to Mayday with that last sentence. She spent some time thinking, the teeth on her body swirling as if they were chewing on something while she chewed on the sentence stuck in her mind. Eventually she looked at me and let out a sigh. “That's not entirely correct. Retain is a strong word. I think, for myself... I'd have to go with lost.”

I frown for a second, confused, my eyes running back and forwards as I mentally run through the words in my head. Then I pause as I realised… “Oh…” I looked at her solemnly “I guess that’s maybe what you meant with the whole ‘negligence’ thing earlier” I remarked, before stopping again, a slightly hopeful “Wait, but, I mean, you remembered me, no? So I’m guessing you didn’t lose everything? Just a few things?” I asked

“Look, you're two months into your shapeshifter medication.” She said, dodging the question. “You might end up changing in ways you never expected, and in ways that will hurt others.” She takes a long time to say anything. She clearly wanted to say something but didn't know the words for it. Finally, she sighed and stuttered out her words. “H-hello… My name is Mayday… um, w-what's yours?”

I blinked a couple times, processing what Mayday had said, before my face fell as I realised what her final words actually meant. I paused for a moment, before holding out a hand, a soft smile on my face, that hopefully covered the sadness I felt for the mimic - As much as we had bonded that first day, we’d only known each other briefly, so her forgetting me didn’t hurt as much as it could have, but I knew that for her, forgetting everything would have been horrific. “Hi Mayday, I’m Sandy, nice to meet you.”

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This was our second collab with @scrubbinn who wrote this with us! As ever love working with 'em and love what we came up with. If you haven't already, do go and check out their Mimic HRT (First - Latest) it's really great and you can learn more about Mayday's journey! The next side story for Slime HRT will be coming out (hopefully) soon (which technically takes place before this), and then I might do the first part of Shapeshifter HRT after that, or another Slime Side story, we'll see. First - Last - Next

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@calliecwrites, @friedsputnik, @now-entering-the-goop-zone, @scrubbinn, @lilacinthefog

@mint-and-authoress, @losttodreams, @redroversendjayover, @ariathelamia, @kanithedemoncat

#slime hrt #slime girl #non-human hrt #species hrt #therian hrt #otherkin hrt #humanity replacement therapy #transgender #my writing #mimic hrt #collab #others' writing

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