#i cant believe what ive witnessed

[meteora-fc]

Gambit, Pyro, Azazel, Callisto, Lady Deathstrike, Sabretooth, Toad, BLADE, Elektra, Human Torch, Psylocke - i cried in my chair

[theautisticjedi]

Me after watching the FNAF Movie: Haha wow William is kinda hot haha. But I'm only attracted to movie William.

One month later: Okay maybe some fan interpretations of William are hot. But that's it!

Two months later: Why Dave Miller kinda...

Three months later: I think I get why people wanna fuck Springtrap now.

[perfectly-clear-from-here]

body paint extended outro - 25/06/23 bellahouston park glasgow (my video ahhhh!!)

[juniestar]

Oh my god one last thing my ex took me to outside lands and when we tried to watch lana del rey he laid down on the grass and had a “panic attack” (this was after months of him talking about how he didn’t like her) so we went to see foo fighters after a bit and he was FINE

[i-like-gay-books]

i just finished bly manor and wtf that WRECKED me

[orionshounds]

as a fierce enjoyer of shadow and sonic’s dynamic, i am deeply interested in how things will shake out in sonic 3, mainly because movie sonic is so different to any other iteration of sonic before

i could go on and on about how interesting sonic wachowski is comparatively....most of the time sonic struggles with his close relationships because, while he loves his friends, he struggles with wanting to be free and feeling tied down to them. this sonic yearns for that stability, he WANTS to be tied down to other people, he wants almost desperately to have a stable place to call home. this is a sonic that is tired of running

shadow has always had a clearly defined past. even if theyve never played it, most sonic fans know the plot of sa2 by heart. it is an amazing story and gives a clear framework for shadow’s character. sonic...has never really had this. sure, certain sonics like sonic satam or underground have more specific pasts, but largely sonic’s backstory has always been kinda nebulous and ive always found that fascinating. to me, shadow is interesting because of his past, sonic is interesting because of his lack of one. this is yet another thing the movie “breaks” about sonics character and its what i believe is going to make such an interesting change to sonic and shadows dynamic

sonic understands shadow’s loss

sure other mainline sonics have experienced loss before, but sonic wachowski has a clearly defined backstory in which he lost someone TREMENDOUSLY important to him....not even just important, he lost his family which is kind of shadow’s whole deal

longclaw was murdered, violently. maria was murdered, violently. both of them witnessed their loved ones dying right in front of them. this sonic wont just empathize with shadow, he understands him on a fundamental level.

now, obviously, they will still have a lot of conflict. shadow is going to lash out at the world for his loss and sonic refuses to let anything happen to his new family. but i cant help but wonder if sonic will try reaching out on that personal level, and what shadow’s reaction will be (i imagine he would reject it, saying that sonic could never understand, but he does. he so painfully does).

the movie’s story has set up such a perfect reflection of shadow in sonic that i have never seen before and i CANNOT WAIT to see play out

[agp]

cant believe the level of holocaust revisionism im seeing today: 'israel, unlike nazi germany, warns people.' lets not elaborate on what is being warned and dwell for a second about what a warning is. it is a threat. it is an action that suggests the possibility of another, perhaps more violent action.

ive witnessed the glorification of the clarity of these threats increase over the years. but never have i seen it explicitly compared to the holocaust to feed the (also familiar) myth that the holocaust was a surprise to most people (the extent of 'most' varying).

the nazis were famous for their antisemitism long before the first american soldiers were to witness the camps. the genocidal process that ultimately lead to the death of six million jewish people was also a series of warnings in relation to those final actions. it was preventable precisely because it was recognized as a threat.

we should not praise hitler for his antisemitism, but even worse would be to critique him and his party on grounds that they were not clearly antisemitic enough. that they did not provide enough warnings, if any at all. that he could be praised if his genocidal ambitions were better communicated, because when orchestrating a genocide, making your ambitions known constitutes playing fair and is encouraged.

not only does this excuse genocidal policy in palestine today, it treats the holocaust as unforeseeable and therefore unpreventable.

the ongoing genocide of the palestinian people by the israeli state is recognizable and preventable. it is precisely the potential for recognition that develops the potential for preventative action.

it doesnt have to be this way. a better future is possible and we must insist on it. the liberation of palestine is not a lost cause, no matter how much zionism wants you to abandon it.

[sansculottides]

playing disco elysium for the first time felt so familiar because it was made by communists. i kept getting the feeling of - i see you! i know you! every time i came across encyclopedia worldbuilding checks and recognized the tools of historical materialism brilliantly used. i wince when i see people describe DE as just being ironic about communism or whatever - no! this is the most communist game ive ever played!

sometimes i see people point to the deserter's character as evidence that DE isn't truly a communist work, but i don't think the deserter is meant to be a paragon of communism in the game. he's a revolutionary stuck in the past and that is his grave error. "The material base for an uprising has ended," "The historical condition for a revolutionary opportunity has passed. It will not come back anymore. However hard I try, whatever I do." but everything you've seen the game proves his statement wrong. DE's world still has the objective conditions for revolution because the working masses are sick of all the ruling order's shit, and there are plentiful opportunities to develop the subjective forces as we see in the communist quest that young people are willing to continue the communist struggle. but the deserter cant see that from his position and his trauma - ultimately this is what makes him fail as a communist because he has let go of the basic principles: that world is always changing; that change is made by people, through class struggle; that a communist must always be grounded and alert of their own material context.

the scene in the communist quest where you get through to steban and it tells you that "you're witnessing his ironic armor melt before you" - i think that was the devs taking their ironic mask off, too. i believe that because steban's reasons for his communism are the same as mine. we have to struggle even if it's hard and even if they kill us because this is what keeps us human. to struggle for freedom is the next best thing to actually being free. to fight for communism is to fight for the future. it is not about being imprisoned by failures of the past. in fact it IS about failure - because the movement is the working class's school in the struggle for power and we need to learn from each failure and move forward.

i just know that if my comrades and i were somehow in a room with the devs and we had to sing the internationale, we would all know the words. in different languages, but we'll sing the same melody and when we get to the part, the word "international" will be sung in unison. do you get me? i think disco elysium is to some young game-savvy communists of the world today as "what is to be done" was to lenin's generation. something something international communist solidarity...

[shotmrmiller]

Needs must

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

WC: 2.1K

TW: prostitution, explicit fingering, and smut-ish.

ive got 4 other ideas for this goddamn escort au and one of em is MY BOY JOHNNY. oof i cant wait. im mad it took me this long to do this. I wrote this listening to rich sex by nicki minaj.

You had needs. No matter how magical, a toy can only do so much for you. You wanted the praise of another human being—the warm touch of their hands around your waist, your neck. God, you needed to get laid. But after the disaster that was your last relationship, how nasty it ended, you couldn’t even ring your ex-girlfriend up for a booty call. 

Sucking your teeth, you look at your phone. Noon. Well, maybe one of your friends you’re about to meet up with for a weekly Saturday brunch knew someone who would be interested in a no-strings-attached situationship.

—

Flipping the card in your hands,  you chewed on your bottom lip in deliberation and looked down at the business card— the color of bone with raised black lettering. Ghost, it read, with his number on the back. How you ended up with this in your hand made you almost regret having reprobates for friends. An escort. That’s what they had shamelessly suggested. You had almost choked on your eggs benedict when one of them pulled out a contact card from their wallet and placed it by your mimosa. I mean, really. Preparing to argue about their lack of sense, they brought up a great point. It was either this, someone who was there for what you needed whenever you needed it, or your toys which were in a pathetic state from constant use. Your ex called it quits because you simply couldn't find the time to maintain a proper relationship— your demanding job took up most of it. You couldn’t believe you were about to do this.

Ghost. What a name. But you suppose it didn’t matter what his name was, only that he could do his job, and with the way your friend gushed over him— he’d leave you walking side to side. You needed this. You worked too hard for too many hours to not spend your money on some self-care. 

Fuck it. Maybe he will be just a one-time thing, you thought, and sent his number a text. 

—

Closing the door of your car, you briskly walk towards the small cafe Ghost had sent the address to; A cute little quaint coffee shop. Coming to a stop, you straighten your office skirt and run a hand through your hair before opening the door. Breathing in the coffee aroma, you look around for who you’re looking for, spotting him sitting in the back. The click of your heels echoes inside the cafe, catching the attention of your awaiting companion. He looks up and rises to stand, and it takes you aback. It was like witnessing a grizzly standing on its hind legs. Jesus.

He was tall, so tall, and broad. Wearing a black beanie and covering the lower half of his face with a mask, he extends his arm out to shake your hand, and you internally scream at how shapely his arm alone looks over his long-sleeved shirt. 

“I’m Ghost. It’s a pleasure, love.” 

Choking back a moan at his accent, you put your hand in his and say, “No, I’m sure it’ll be all mine.” You can see his dark eyes crinkle at your quip. 

“If we get through this smoothly, the next time we meet I’ll make sure of it.” 

As you let out a playful laugh, Ghost reaches for the back of your chair, pulling it out with a chivalrous gesture. “And a gentleman? You definitely know how to sell yourself.” 

“No, love. This is just a common courtesy. I don’t need t’tell you that I’m good,” and in one smooth motion, he extracts a sleek, forest green matte folder from the leather business bag lying at his feet.

“I need this filled out, just the usual— hard and soft limits. Safewords, nicknames, allergies, and so on.” You pick up the folder and open it, skimming over the contents of the front page. 

“This really is your job.” You flick your eyes from the folder to him and he’s already looking at you, watchful and steady. 

“O’ course it is. I take my clients, and future clients, seriously. I enjoy wha’ I do but it will never be at the cost of another. I will not make you uncomfortable in any way, nor risk your health. I aim to please you, not the other way around. And I cannot do tha’ if I don’t know tha’ you’re allergic to latex or completely against something I might do.” 

He gives a slight cough, and you divert your attention from the paper and meet his gaze. “What’s a pretty thing like you seeking out someone who offers these types of services?” and a lighthearted chuckle escapes you.

“The same reason the one who gave me your card did— just looking for a good time, no commitment.” 

He raises his eyebrows at that but makes no further comment. Smart man. Glancing at your wrist, you check the time. “Right,” and lean forward to get up when Ghost shoots up from his chair to pull out yours. “I’ll have your folder ready for you by the weekend,” and turn your head to face him.

“Is that when you’ll want this, then?” and you give a casual shrug. 

“If you happen to be available.” He reaches out and gently grabs your hand to pull you in for a tight embrace. Softly, he whispers in your ear, “I’ll be seeing you then, love.”

You leave with a silly little grin on your face.

—

The weekend comes and you’re a puddle of nerves. You can’t remember the last time someone made you this anxious. The knock on your door startles you out of your inner ramblings. It’s time. Taking in a deep, calming breath, you open it. 

Ghost calmly walks in, and starts taking off his mask, and then leather jacket.

“I’ve one absolute limit I forgot to mention,” he says in a firm tone. “I do not kiss. It is not a negotiation.” 

Well, you couldn’t give a damn if he didn’t. Nonchalantly, you shrug and say, “And mine is that we always use a condom.” With a nod and a chuckle, he eagerly grabs the folder from your table and starts flipping through its pages.

“A’right, love. Go get on the bed f’me.” The smirk he gives you is positively wicked. “I saw tha’ you have like to be told wha’ to do.” He jerks his chin towards your room. “And take everything off.” With nervous excitement, you run off, haphazardly tossing your clothes on the floor.

—

Eyes covered with a blindfold, all you hear is your shaky breathing and his footsteps on your plush rug. Your nerves feel exposed, raw. As you lie on the bed, you suddenly feel a firm grip on the flesh of your thighs, causing your skin to break out in goosebumps. The room's cool air contrasts with the warm heat radiating from his touch, pulling a hiss from your lips as he pulls you toward the edge of the bed.

“Atta girl, love. Open your legs f’me, lemme see that pretty pussy.” The lack of eyesight helps you to focus on his touch alone, making you fearless, and your legs drop open without hesitation as you lie on your back.

“Look at tha’. Aren’t you just a dream? Hm?” he puts his hands on your knees, keeping your thighs open, wet cunt exposed. “And you waxed, too. Hope tha’ wasn’t f’me.” You feel a fingertip slide from your hood, down to your clit and hole, spreading your juices around the labia and back up. Your nerves are on fire, your pussy clenching around nothing, forcing juices to drip down to your arsehole.

“A’right, pretty. Touch yourself. Shove your tiny little fingers into your,” he pauses to suck the skin of your inner thigh, “cunt and show me how to make you feel good.” He then moves his mouth closer to where you need it most, and bites. Are you defying me? Did you suddenly become deaf as well, once I blindfolded you?” and you aggressively shake your head. 

“No! No, sir. I hear you, loud and clear.” With a tight squeeze to your thighs, he says, “Then do as I say.” Moaning, you slowly bring your hand down, starting from your chest. Your palms rub against your pebbled nipples, down to your soft stomach, until your fingertips meet your swollen nub, then move in soft, tight circles, mewling at the feeling. The groan that reaches your ears is so lewd, you could come from that alone. 

“Tha’s it, baby. You’re doing so well. Look at how wet you are, fuck, show me just how you like it.” And you do. A vulgar noise comes from your hole once you stuff yourself with one finger, slowly stretching, before adding another. It’s something, but not enough, not what you want. Not thick enough, long enough, and that thought makes you whimper in disappointment. 

“Aw, are your fingers not satisfying? I’ll help you, sweet, only because you look so delicious spread out f’me like this. So vulnerable, bare.” His breath fans over your cunt, over your clit, and it sends a jolt up your spine— but he doesn’t move, doesn’t touch. It feels like you’ve been waiting for hours until he finally, finally, pushes a thick finger into you, and curls it, rubbing against the right spot, over and over, and then pushes in a second, threatening to tip you over the peak. The feeling is intense —your walls clench around him firmly in your rising pleasure.

“Oh, g-god, Ghost pleasepleaseplease,” squealing as you fuck yourself on his hand, and when your hypersensitive nerves pick up on the sensation of his scorching mouth on your clit, with a pulsating suction, your muscles tighten and tremble, to the point of pain, until Ghost gives one hard suck, forcibly pushing you off the edge. The wail you let out is ear-splitting— as ecstasy slams into your body, like waves crashing at shore. Your thighs squeeze Ghost’s head irrationally tight, but he doesn’t care, just groaning into your core, lapping up your juices like a dehydrated man who’s found an oasis. Your body stings— prickles from the vicious high you’re riding—chest heaving with sobs from the sheer force of it, fingernails digging into Ghost’s scalp, yanking on his hair. As your soul melts back into your body, you absentmindedly thank all the bloody gods for having friends who really do look out for you. 

Whimpering pathetically, your limbs go limp, loose, heavy. Ghost easily picks your body up and moves you toward the center of the bed, vertically, the blindfold still robbing you of your vision. 

 With a grunt of effort, his hand firmly settles by your ribcage, sinking into the softness of the bed, and then he slips a folded pillow beneath your hipbones, expertly arching your spine into a delicious angle. His hand firmly connects with your rear, not just once but twice, feeling the exquisite sting of it. The room falls into silence, only to be interrupted by the clinking sound of his belt buckle. Your body tenses as you hear the unmistakable sound of plastic being torn open, and then you feel his thick and warm shaft teasing your entrance. A moan escapes your lips as he penetrates you, his movements slow and sensual, until his hipbones press against your backside. Taking his time, he slowly pulls back his length, dragging it against your slick walls, before pushing forward again, covering your body with his own. His right hand is flat on the bed by your right shoulder, while his left curls around your neck, gently forcing your head to tilt back onto him. The tip of his head grinds against the entrance of your womb. 

He moans softly into your ear, before quietly purring, “Let’s see how many more orgasms I can wring out of you, pet.” The tightening of his makeshift necklace around your throat is your first and last warning of what is to come.

—

He pulled four. Four gut-wrenching, shattering orgasms before finding his own release. He left you a drooling, sloppy, sweaty mess on your bed, completely languid and relaxed. Somewhere, you faintly hear your phone ping with a notification. Hissing as you get up, you limp to your living room, and see it on the sofa. Unlocking it, you see that it’s Ghost, sending you his Cash App information. Holding in a chickle, you send him his money and wait for his confirmation. 

It was a real pleasure, doll. Let me know when you need me again.

Cackling to yourself, you place your phone back on the table. 

Bastard. 

He knows you’ll definitely be seeing him again.

[partycatty]

I have this idea:

Johnny Cage x tomboy (can be gender neutral reader), I see the reader as a introvert, gamer, a bit of a nerd that prefers to wear comfy pants than elegant, tight dresses/skirts. Johnny likes to talk to them cause they can play games together (I believe that johnny being a bit of a gamer is a fact stated in mk1, when we have a Cage's Mansion tutorial?) and so he decided to invite reader to a red carpet event created because of the launch of his new movie. It's first time in their life to attend such thing and they really don't know what to do... (the rest is up to you, they can either fuck before the event while reader is trying to pick a good outfit or just go there and have fun or whatever<3)

johnny cage > zip me up

johnny's not used to seeing his best friend in anything but a hoodie and sweats. what happens when they have to dress outside of their comfort zone?

warnings: nsfw... :3, exhibitionism?, hardcore praising LOL, awkward reader (no rizz ...), reader is written as curvy? LONG POST LOL

notes: i physically cant write dom johnny without it sounding super ooc LOL ALSO!! im so sorry if the formatting is iffy, ive been forced to use desktop and the formatting is completely different than my usual mobile writing

masterlist

honestly, it's hard to gauge what games he'd actually play, so a part of me believes he mainly plays... mortal kombat. and yes, since he is canonically responsible for the franchise existing, he would main himself. or maybe he'd play fortnite, lord knows he'd have his own skin.

"come on, man! you can't keep picking general shao! you can just say you hate me," johnny groans, staring at the character select screen. his favorite thing was to drop tidbits about the characters and compare them to the real life counterparts. "i'm still mentally recovering from witnessing his ugly mug."

you chuckle and lean back in your chair, pulling your headset mic closer to your lips. "would you rather i picked one of your buddies? kenshi, or as you called him, sexy face two?"

"and now you're asking me to beat up my best friend," johnny sighs dramatically. you giggle, and it makes his heart flutter and cheeks redden. thankfully, today was a day your webcams were turned off so you were none the wiser. you make a comment that he's the one that wanted to play a game that features his real friends and actual enemies which earns yet another groan from him.

"if you're gonna be annoying, we could switch to something else?" you offer teasingly. "not my fault you choose to stare at yourself every game instead of learning combos."

"oh hush, you love me," johnny replies, earning a little peep from you out of surprise. he loved to push your buttons and flirt with you. it was in his personality, sure, but because of it you did have a massive crush on him. it was innocent and purehearted, but you just couldn't see yourself risking your great friendship over some silly feelings. "you love it when i'm difficult, don't lie to yourself."

"...shut up," you pathetically try to retort, sinking into your seat and fighting the flush on your face. "are we gonna run another round or what?"

"actually, i had something to ask of you," johnny says, tone suddenly serious and almost unreadable. you feel a pit in your stomach at his tone, wondering if maybe you're in trouble. your mind spirals as you nervously fidget in anticipation. "well, two things actually. could you turn your camera on so i can properly ask you?"

you shakily turn your camera on in discord, anxiously glancing between your monitors and camera lens. johnny smiles to himself, leaning forward get a closer look at you as if you were sitting across the table from him.

"good girl, there we go," he says encouragingly, making your thighs clench as you use your sleeves to hide your face. "no, come on, don't hide. here, let me-" he clicks on his own camera button and his webcam blinks to life. he smiles directly into the camera, and for a moment you're winded at the reminder that you're best friends with a celebrity. "-there. now it doesn't feel like i'm talking to my computer."

"well, you are-" you speak up, ready to go on one of your famous tech tangents. johnny holds up a single finger, shushing you instantly. as much as he'd love to hear your voice for hours on end, he wanted to squeeze out what he was going to say first.

"-hold your tongue, my dearest nerd," johnny quips with a wink. "my favor first." you tense up before he speaks up again. "i've got a movie coming out. finally, right? point is, cris is an absolute no-go, and my assistant couldn't find a damsel to hang off my arm in time for the red carpet. so, next best thing, i was wondering if... you'd be my plus one."

"i-i don't dress up, johnny," you protest, looking away. "all those cameras, all the shouting... not for me."

"it's not all bad," he insists with a smirk. "you'll have me. all you have to do is stay close to me and smile."

you stammer, trying to spill out more excuses for him to give in and stop asking.

"i don't have a dress-"

"i'll buy you twenty."

"nobody knows who i am-"

"eyes'll be on me."

"what if someone laughs at me?"

"doll, have you seen some of these hollywood clowns? you'll look just fine."

you tug at your hair, exasperated. he came prepared with every response, had every reason to bring you to the carpet. you wanted to say no, but truth be told, you missed johnny dearly. you don't get to see him in person often, given your medium distance and his constant work. a meek "fine" escapes your lips and johnny cheers to himself, his excitement painted all over his face. it made you warm how well he was at showing his appreciation at times.

"i knew i could count on you, sweetheart. this means the world to me. i'm getting you tomorrow at three, okay? we're gonna get you a nice dress, i'll get a matching suit tailored... oh, it'll be like prom all over again!" he's gesturing wildly as he hypes himself up over the plan.

"i never went to prom, johnny," you chuckle to yourself, eyes on your keyboard. "i wouldn't know the experience."

"well that's ridiculous," johnny looks surprised at this fact, for a reason you can't pinpoint. "i would have asked you if we knew each other then."

"i'm sure," you agree shyly, turning away to try and hide your blush. "i'll see you tomorrow, johnny."

"see you tomorrow, doll," he smiles at the camera again, and you catch a glimpse of it as you weakly return the expression. then, johnny leaves the call, leaving you huffing and blushing. he just asked you to be his plus one on the red carpet, for his movie, for his fans... all eyes will be on you. the thought terrifies you, but maybe you could push through for your friend. you were a software developer, mostly confined to your dimly lit bedroom. this was a whole new realm!

you roll around on your bed and kick your feet, wondering why you're always so awkward around him. if you fumble at all in public, your world might just fall apart. sleep doesn't come easy for you, but it eventually overpowers your anxiety.

sunlight creeps through your windows. despite your usual tendency to sleep in, your nerves shot you awake slightly earlier than that, and you tried your best to negate your shakiness through games and squeezing in any work projects you could make up - before a firm knock was at your apartment door.

you fly to the door and swing it open, excited to see the only man that gets your heart pumping. he's matching your energy with a cheesy grin, immediately charging at you to embrace you in a bear hug. his cologne makes you tingle as you breathe in his shirt fabric. when he pulls back, he chuckles to admire your attire. you're wearing your usual sweatpants, hoodie, and slippers.

"you clean up nice," he compliments you sarcastically. "it's nice to finally see you, honey." you shrug with a shy smile at his endless pet names. "let's get you into something more flattering, yeah?"

he encourages you to his car, it's one of his nice sports cars with his name printed across the seats. you always felt out of place in his luxurious lifestyle. however, even through the two hour car ride back to malibu, you found yourself familiar and comfortable alongside johnny.

"you didn't have to drive four hours just to see me," you insist quietly, voice muffled against the window as you admire the waters. "it's a lot of trouble for one night."

johnny seems to genuinely seem taken aback by your deprecating comment. he leans over and slides one hand on your knee, patting it gently.

"you know i'd do anything for you," he speaks in that dangerously low tone, stealing quick glances as he desperately tries to focus on the road. "i want you with me."

even after his comforting pat, his hand lingers for a moment, sliding up your thigh with feather touches. you cover your lips with your finger to muffle any whimpers that threatened to escape. you always hated how touchy he was, and by hated, you mean it turned you on embarrassingly easily. as the road straightens out, you realize he's staring directly at you with suspiciously blown out pupils, but snaps back into reality as quickly as you noticed. he clears his throat and removes his hand, settling them both back on the steering wheel.

perhaps he just missed me and wants to be closer, you thought. he's always clingy, he probably just... you're having a hard time justifying his needy glances. they looked off. it's been a stupidly long time since someone eyed you down like that.

after what felt like a thousand years, the city comes into view and johnny parks at a luxury outfit boutique. it's small, but the window mannequins alone make you swallow nervously.

it takes quite some time to decide on a dress, because you internally decide that every possible option is unflattering. each time johnny pulls a dress from the selection, you cringe and shake your head. the sleeves were either too long or too short, the skirt was too flowy or too loose, or the color wasn't quite right.

"how about i pick one for you?" johnny offers, a little exhausted at how difficult you were being. "you just go sit in the dressing room, i'll slide you a couple dresses and don't think too hard about this. you'll look great in anything, my dear."

you agreed with his idea. maybe it'd be best for the celebrity that's known to dress nice to put you in something that'll definitely turn heads and keep you confident. it was unfamiliar territory for you, after all, since the last flattering thing you wore was a one-piece swimsuit on a beach trip with your family.

after some time of fidgeting in the dressing room, johnny slides the curtain aside and greets you with a smile, his veiny arm holding about a dozen dresses. he's got his iconic shit-eating grin as it seems he has something devious in mind for you.

"don't look so afraid," johnny shrugs, nudging you playfully. "i'll treat you right, pinky promise." he holds up the first dress, a flowy one with off-the-shoulder sheer sleeves. it looks like something out of a fairytale, and you're reluctant to deny his suggestion when he's cheesing so damn hard. you smile back and shove him back behind the curtain, giving yourself space to change.

you slide into the dress, catching it on your hips momentarily but pulling it past without tearing it thankfully. when you pull it up to your chest, it takes quite a bit of tugging, seeing as the fabric isn't as stretchy compared to what you're used to. when you fall silent as you try to pull the dress up, johnny assumes you're ready and slides the curtain aside, stepping in eagerly.

"how's it-" he cuts himself off when he gets a good look at you. you're flushed from trying to squeeze into the fabric, and your breasts (that he didn't even know you had) were spilling out of the front. his lips get sucked inward as you witness the gears come to a screeching halt in his head. his eyes may have been hidden from his sunglasses, but you know for a fact he's checking you out. "i like that one." his voice is too monotonous for him to truly be emotionless. it's like it's taking every ounce of his being to be normal.

"i don't," you mumble, continuing your fruitless attempts much to johnny's delight as your boobs ripple with each pull. "i can't get the stupid zipper up in the back, either."

eager hands shoot out to you as johnny takes quick strides to stand behind you. your front is facing the mirror, your hands resting atop your breasts and eyes focused on the man behind you. when his head tilts town to get a good look at the zipper, you notice his eyes are far darker than the typical warm brown.

his hands fumble tremendously as he tries to keep his shit together. he uses one hand to keep the parts together and the other to get the zipper sliding.

the sudden jerk catches you off guard and you're far from balanced. thankfully, your palms press against the mirror to keep yourself upright, and johnny lurches forward as his grip is pulled with you. his hands fly to your waist to ensure he doesn't topple you over.

you would have gotten up like nothing happened, and maybe apologized, but during the scuffle you felt something hard and warm through your skirt. johnny's nose is tucked in the nape of your neck when you fully realize your predicament.

as you sputter out his name to call him out, you feel his lips smile against your back. his hands loosen momentarily, but don't pull away.

"uh, sorry, doll," he mumbles into your skin, not sounding all too apologetic. "pretty girls in dresses just... gets me goin'."

"i'm not pretty," you mutter, averting your gaze. johnny lifts his head and looks at your reflection incredulously.

"you're joking, right?" johnny replies, brows furrowed. "babe, look at yourself." he grabs your jaw from behind and angles your vision on your body. "i didn't know you were carrying all this. i almost want t'take you out and get you a whole new wardrobe just to get you out of those garbage bags you're always in. pardon my french doll, but you're fuckin' hot." as he speaks, his hand snakes down your throat, your shoulder, and then settling firmly on your hip, not even hiding the brief sweep he made against the flesh of your chest.

you're left staring in awe. he was always charming around you, but never outright flirting. you glance toward the curtain; what if someone heard all this? you swallow thickly, moving back to look at johnny apprehensively. he's biting his lower lip, suddenly thrusting more against your body, letting a shaky breath as his face is now buried in the crook of your neck as he tries to hold it together.

"you got me all riled up seeing you in that, you know," he warns you in a husky voice that dampens your panties. "so you can't say you aren't pretty. feel what you did to me." the air feels intensely different than it was when you guys were just friends. he's confessing something he'd implied to feel for quite some time, but you never envisioned the day it'd come to fruition. you can't really say you were complaining when he pulls your hips toward him, letting him use your ass to grind down on ever so slightly. your stillness throws him off for a moment, and he looks up at you through the mirror with concerned eyes. "you don't seem into this. i can stop."

"n-no!" you yelp out, sounding a little more desperate that you'd like to admit. "this is okay."

"just okay?"

"well, no, but - i'm sorry, i don't know what to say."

"do you want me to stop?"

"...no."

"good girl."

he presses a little harder against you, keeping you upright and stopping your knees from buckling with his rough hands. abruptly filled with a primal hunger, johnny tugs the long flowing skirt up in bunches, gripping it tightly to get a glorious view of your ass. this interaction was not prepared for, so you couldn't help but feel flustered when your boyshort panties are fully on display. johnny just chuckles to himself as he grabs a shameless handful of one of your asscheeks anyway, squeezing hard enough to leave red prints behind. you bite down on your lips to stop any noise from coming out, but a moan of surprise slips through.

johnny wraps one arm around your midsection for stability, and the other flies up to your lips to hold his palm over your mouth.

"if you want this, you're gonna stay quiet, is that clear?" he growls into your ear, head tilted toward you but eyes fixated on your reflection's eyes. all you can do is nod. "i'll show you how fuckin' pretty you are."

he slides your panties down with ease, expelling a shaky groan when he watches a trail of your wetness follow the fabric. his cock is swiftly freed from his dress pants and he slides his throbbing tip against your folds, creating a sopping sound to the trained ear. if the store was quiet enough, the entire building would know how soaked you were for your best friend. all you can do is whimper and gasp as your noises are muffled by his hand. johnny leans forward and gently shushes you, lips brushing against your ear.

"you can do it, princess," he assures you in that husky voice before holding intense eye contact in the mirror. "you look so good like this, don't you think?"

your pupils were blown out and your cheeks were stained a deep red as you're bent over for the actor. you didn't feel pretty, still. you felt... needy.

you pressed back against his cock, and it slips between your folds before catching on your aching hole, making you twitch. the sloppy friction makes johnny moan against your skin as he hungrily matches your movements. he slides his hand down and toys with your clit, wetting the area with your own juices which seems to be plentiful. he sticks two fingers inside, not bothering to ease you into the process at all. he needs you now, and if "now" is in a clothing store, then so be it. your pussy burns from the sudden stretching, but you take it because it makes him happy to see how eager you are for him.

"i should've put you in a dress sooner," he mutters, hazy eyes staring right through you as he relishes in the way your walls embrace his fingers. "you look beautiful, my dear. angelic. i wanna ruin you so bad, baby, but i can't. not here." his words already bring you closer, but as you feel the tension building inside he leaves you empty and sopping... but not for long.

his tip slides in with ease, and he has to bite down on your bare shoulder to stop himself from losing it entirely. it's the first time in a long time a pussy has been too good for him. he's stuck his dick anywhere and everywhere, but you take the cake. his bite deepens when he slowly but surely bottoms out, his own knees buckling at your gorgeous insides.

"mmf, so fucking good," he groans into your flesh, eyes clenching shut. "my pretty girl. all mine, yeah?" you nod lazily, too entranced in the fact that his cock is buried inside of you. you'd had sex before, but it had been quite some time. years. and his dick just felt impossibly big.

"i could stay like this forever," he mumbles, almost forgetting to thrust. you remind him quickly when you shake your ass needily. "ah, but i shouldn't. you deserve to feel good."

he pulls out slowly, admiring the thin coat of juice painting his shaft before thrusting back in. he's careful to move just enough to hit deep, but not enough to make the slapping sound too obvious.

"there you go," johnny encourages you as he starts to slowly pump into you. "you take me so well, so pretty with my dick buried in you."

you almost wanted to pinch yourself to see if you were dreaming. just yesterday, he was your duo in your favorite game. and now, he was fucking into you in public. the thought makes you dizzy and you have a hard time keeping your head upright, that is, until johnny pulls your face up to the mirror again, still muffling you with his palm. you want to say you're the one enjoying it most, but that might be johnny. his once cocky demeanor is now down the drain as he fights for his life to not cum with every second of friction. you were just so good, he's already pussydrunk. he seems to be living in his own heaven when he lazily peppers kisses and licks all around your back, neck, and shoulders, breathy whimpers and moans warming your skin up nicely.

his thrusts grow increasingly sloppy as he completely loses himself against you. his eyes are swapping between you and him in the mirror as he admires your wetness dripping down your thighs and splattering against his own front. he would be mad you were ruining his nice clothes, but he's just going to buy another suit with you anyway.

"you wanna cum on me, doll?" he huffs into your ear, letting go of his fear of the slapping noise and now progressively slamming into you harder and harder. "let me feel it, baby, i'm real close."

johnny's arms readjust, one snaking under your armpit and over your shoulder, and the other rhythmically swirling circles against your clit. what once was hungry groans is now turning into needy whimpers from the both of you as you cum simultaneously. your lower half feels warm as he cums deep inside of you, watching it drip and splatter out with every finishing thrust. your vision becomes tunneled as you see stars, head thrown back as each throb from the orgasm makes you forget you're in public entirely.

he holds you both there for a moment, breathing in your damp skin. you both feel dazed, but incredibly satisfied. johnny kisses your cheek from behind, dancing his way to the corner of your mouth and then captures your lips in a messy, brief kiss.

"you know i didn't need a dress to want you that bad, right?" johnny asks against your lips, his fingers brushing against your bare thighs. "i really do think you're beautiful. always have."

you nod, taking in a quick inhale of breath to gather yourself. "i wasn't sure before."

"well, i hope you are now," johnny chuckles, and kisses you again. "at least, i hope so - hey, hey -" the embrace stops as he steps back and notices his semen dripping down your leg. "don't get that on the carpet. and definitely don't get that on the dress. we're buying that one for the red carpet-" he checks his watch. "-that we're late to. shit."

he doesn't really regret it.

[cabaretbabe]

in retrospect, after rewatching and coming back to s4/5, it's very noticeable that the writers were setting up sawyer and juliet. like, maybe from her introduction??

as a kid, (thats how long ive been a fan lmfao) when lafleur premiered i found their pairing to be sudden and a little jarring. but really paying attention to their character arcs (and also just growing up), it's obvious it couldn't have been anything but them.

sawyer spent the first half of his story fighting personal growth at every turn because he believed he didnt deserved good things. and kate, as much as i adore my girl, didnt provide much of an alternative as she felt the same way. she ran from any affection and stability and as a result reinforced sawyer's belief that love was not something he was designed for. she played him like he played others and while it was definitely karmic, he took that as a further sign that pushing people away was the only way to protect himself from his feelings. and when he had the chance to reach out to kate and change things in s3 and s5 he hesistated, because he knew she was never his to begin with.

now bring in juliet, someone who spent her whole life catering to the needs of others while being deprived of her own. someone who has had her agency stripped away by the second man in her life that's exploited her kindness and brains for his own benefit. and she meets jack, and does all shes ever known. she plays the role that he (and ben) want her to even though she knows he loves kate and will always pick her over juliet, because thats who she is at heart. she gives to others what she can't have. in her mind, she also doesnt feel like its in the cards for her. her sister is the only true love she's ever known and that too was stolen from her. she's accepted that she'll keep giving, and never get it in return.

and youd think at first, these two people won't work together. cant work together. sawyer is an asshole who lashes out , who hurts people before they can hurt him, while juliet does the opposite. she's incredibly kind and strong and giving but suffering just as deeply.

and that's just it. juliet is to sawyer what he is to her: an equal. she sees him. really truly sees past his bullshit. she meets him and he's james immediately, because she doesn't buy the act. the cutting remarks, the sarcasm, that's his hurt on full display and it resonates deeply. she encourages him to express his emotions; to talk honestly about how kate has hurt him because jack hurt her too and she gets it. she sees the scared little kid in him and she nurtures that, pushing him to grow and genuinely take care of himself. she wants james, not sawyer, for the first time in his whole life.

and in return he chooses /her/, too. not for what she can provide for him, not as a savior or a doctor or an other, but as a human being who deserves safety and security, and flowers. he holds her trauma; embracing her strength and wit and how she challenges him every day. he loves that she banters with him back until he starts self-deprecating and she calls him on it, because she knows he can do better. he adores her candor. they hold each other accountable and ride for each other and build a life together that neither believed they'd ever get. and even in the end they're terrified of losing each other when the losties return, because they believed they were intrinsically not meant for happiness. that's why their relationship is fated and so beautiful.

because they will always, always have each others back.

[sincerelyverena]

Can you write for sub!Oliver? I'm so desperate seeing him squirming and whining😮‍💨

⟡⁺ RUN, BUNNY, RUN

oh hi guys its been a while ! never thought id manage to get this out but here it is, n i hope u all enjoy. ive missed each n every one of u (sorta) (joking). anyways im planning to lean in on the more multifandom aspect of my account, so youll be seeing a few different fandoms scattered around. nevertheless, give it a read! mybe itll be ur thing :] ty anon for this request, much love <3

. . . OLIVER QUICK X FEM!READER ‘beautiful, violent, vulgar.’ @ajs-222 @michael-loves-chickens @surazim @soocore @fedyascoffin

inbox is always open to requests!

in whichꕀ

✦ ﹒oliver got what he wanted at a price.

tagsꕀ

✦ ﹒smut ﹐sub!oliver﹐dom!reader ﹐y/n catton﹐reader is a cougar ﹐oliver just cant get enough﹐reader is implied to be a shorty ﹐elspeth is a hoe﹐cunnilingus ﹐degradation﹐orgasm denial﹐marking kink ﹐lowkey blackmail ﹐farleighs there too!

ON THE HUNT FOR BETA READERS! MSG ME <3

He reminded you of a bunny, an animal.

Oliver Quick was reticent compared to the hearty, high conversation around the table that night. He was stuck out like a sore thumb in contrast to the Cattons, a family line of the prestigious. High on the grace of themselves and each other. Blissfully unaware of anyone or anything past what they offer to their inflated egos. And who were you, to make such unprincipled claims against family? Against blood?

Mother  – Elspeth, as she insists all the children call her – had always made snide, discreet digs at you. Shielded with a manipulative curl of the whoreish pinks of her lipstick. Underneath those sly comments is a white-hot grudge, directed toward her only daughter of blood and the Catton heiress everybody just seemed to have forgotten about.

‘You only think of yourself.’ She says. 

‘You only believe you’re superior because you abandoned the only people who’ll ever care for you.’

But they never cared for you. Not in the slightest.

You were the only descendant of the new-age family line that didn’t reside under the roof of Saltburn, causing waves in the circles of old money when you took your trust fund (and dignity) in a single palm and vanished to New Mexico. 

Nevertheless, to maintain access to the trust fund, you have been spending the entirety of every summer with your bloodline you inherently disowned. Money was the bottom line, the bottom line of every transaction you make with your parents. Which wasn’t a problem in the slightest, considering in their eyes, how much you were worth was the only thing cardinal about you.

You had stayed summers long enough to recognize the twisted, Catton-branded pattern your brother, Felix, had fallen into. In your eyes, he wasn’t fit to be claimed the bloodline heir. His blood is unsavory and debilitated. During the presidency of his birth, Elspeth had been participating in affairs with men who would’ve directly tainted both the reputation of the family name. As well as the bloodline.

The crimson redness of your dagger-shaped nails clinks along the side of the thin wineglass in your palm. Those morals of clean blood had been hammered into your head for decades, no matter how much your mother preached her modernized values.

Elspeth was still the same harlot she was all those years prior. 

The exact reason why instead of disturbance, thinly veiled amusement is masked between your hues as you witnessed Elspeth’s conversation with Oliver. The wrinkle of her eye crinkled furthermore with maliciousness, masked with honeyed words. Oliver reacts in a manner especially foreign to you. The apples of his cheeks pinken as Elspeth momentarily offers a palm toward the muscle of his arm, a singular touch as Oliver’s lips clamped together. Unable to respond for a beat of a moment. The cogs behind Oliver’s eyes turn and work soundlessly, having to be coorused by Elspeth herself to respond. 

Oliver was a stark difference from Felix’s past pets, brought to the household each summer for the entertainment of all. You observe him thoroughly, without shame. Nobody would question you anyway, especially the Catton children. The food chain of the bloodline stands unquestioned with Felix toppling all competition. But you were there first, and the force of that power still stands. 

All that you knew was that Oliver would be at the very bottom. A stark, white rabbit amongst the lions and wolves. The sheep's clothing they wear? Deteriorated. 

And you’d die for a chance to snap your jaws around his neck.

Even though you were barely a decade older compared to the other descendants of the Catton name, your tastes in sexuality had simmered. You have had your fair share of flings, basking in sensual attention like how your younger relatives are receiving nowadays. 

You’ve made the stark assumption that only a few strains of men and woman could cause that familiar warmth to unfurl within the depths of her core. But you were solely mistaken, as the cobalt hues of Oliver Quick met yours. They withheld the sweetest traces of caramel that caused something to stir. Something that caused the top of your bare thighs to squeeze together absentmindedly.

Oliver’s once-pinkened cheeks redden once again. He was the first to look away.

Run, bunny, run. The words bounce around your skull aimlessly, as if the density of your head were hollow. Your only set intention was the young man across the cherry-wood table, and how your lips curl upward at the thought. 

An unmistakable atmosphere of tension ridged itself between the two. Unmistakeable enough for Oliver to virtually scramble from his chair with a lowly hinged creak as soon as the black-tie dinner was to be dismissed, disappearing into the estate’s foyer without another word. In the process, silencing the remainder of the table as they escape the metaphorical weight of their chairs.

‘Someone had to go.’ Farleigh snarks, expression feigning boredom.

Elspeth offers a scoff in turn, though the weariness of her hues twinkle with stuffed amusement. ‘Don’t be silly, Farleigh.’

On the other hand, Felix’s brow wrinkles. You tune out the roar of masculine voices and a battle of ego as the two relatives bicker over the treatment of their guests. The hypocritical bounds and leaps of their voices were enough for your meal of fancy, fickle steak and fluffy, mashed potatoes to churn in your stomach.

As much as Felix preaches for his adoration of Oliver Quick, the entire household – even the thinness of the estate walls – knows that he’s only a temporary fix to his hunger for the disadvantaged. Viewing himself as a saint, veiling the sin that reverberated inside. Even Felix is willing to slip unsavory words about Oliver’s history before their friendship, especially his mother’s drug addiction. 

You shortly realized you were the only one who hadn’t uttered a single word about Oliver. Yet, at least.  You were the only person under the Catton's roof. You’ve maintained formality, and politeness in the scarce cases of passing the salt along the length of the table. But there was nothing polite in the way the relentless azure of his eyes bored into your own, obstructing every value and moral you’ve ever known.

They always said curiosity would eventually kill the cat. The claws of your nails threaten to dig into the hitch of your thigh, deep to the point of drawn blood.

You needed to know about him.

The soles of your crimson-sheathed heels click against the top of the blemishless floorings. The space between your shoulder blades bur without missing a beat, bound to be from the hawk-eyes of Elspeth Catton and her descendants that followed. Nevertheless, you push past the judgment and persevere forward toward the same foyer Oliver had vanished into.

The double-storied entrance room was as grand as the rest of the estate. Dark 

strains of oak are the main attraction, revealing the old-money origins of Saltburn. Jars of incense sticks decorate the occasional corner, the passionate white musk filling the atmosphere, tickling the back of your throat as you inhale.

The peace-brimming silence is sliced with a stressed rummaging from the door placed offside, shielded behind the wood-trimmed stairway. You prided yourself on minding your own business, but you couldn’t help but shuffle a tad closer. Enough to catch a glimpse of a singular bead of light, trickling out of the gap the door had made.

You cursed the thrum of your heels as you ventured closer. Hand strained against the top of the engraved door, sending strained words to the universe as you threaten to inch it wider and wider open.

All that secrecy disappeared from your body at the sight of Oliver Quick. It took you a few, prolonged seconds to recognize the young man amid the shadows. The sight of his scruffy, pale knees pressed against the ground. A crown of wavy, brunette locks shielded the focused curve of his eye as he rummaged through something. You couldn’t help it, fingers curling to widen the door a little more.

Creak.

Nothing could prepare you for what you witnessed before you. Even the panicked alarm that flares in the cobalt of Oliver’s hues goes ignored as he virtually snaps his head toward you. Amid his hands, various Catton heirlooms have gone untouched. Useless to some, priceless to others, and you guessed Oliver had made his mark on that.

‘What in the world are you doing with Aunty Start’s Apollo earrings?’

The words escaped you in a rush. Who knew that that your snow-white, innocent bunny had nefarious means within the Catton family? You exaggerate aunty’s last name, a slight teetering edge of glee trickling into you at the sight of grieving recognition that filled Oliver’s eyes.

 You stepped fully into the doorway.

‘I wonder what Farleigh would think about that.’

Oliver didn’t take the threat lightly, notable by the slight shake in his voice. “You wouldn’t.” He insisted. His hands scrambled, and the box propped between his fingers slipped and clattered across the oak of the storage room’s grounding.

The sole of your heel slams against the bottom of the door, widening it entirely. You entered the room with a click of the underside of your shoes, reverberating throughout the suddenly too-cold, too-hollow room you found yourself in. The only sense of illumination is the light from the foyer, trickling into the suddenly too-compact expanse.

You crouched down. Knees hitting the base of the flooring similarly to Oliver’s own, barely a foot or two away. You could hear the tameness of his breaths. The sharp, panicked gasps and swallows that only made your lips twist upward. The threat was there, looming over Oliver’s head, choking him by the throat.

‘Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t. You decide, Ollie.’

‘How–’

The length of your fingers curled around the curve of his cheeks, pressed into the slight hollowness that would follow. Silencing him in turn. The splinters of illumination from the doorway behind them manage to offer an iridescent glow toward the plumpness of Oliver’s lips as you squeeze half of his alluring face. 

You hadn’t expected the first, proper interactions with Oliver Quick to wind up in his manner. But you have no intention to stop. The fashion in which his eyes bore into your own, gaze hawk-like as he stared down at you. Eyelashes fluttering. Pupils dilated.

A wave of awareness rolled through you at the sight. Those same splinters of warmth unfurled in the base of your abdomen.

‘What are you doing here, Oliver?’

Your digits eased around the sides of his face to allow him to speak. The cheeks you once grappled somewhat pinkened once more, face glowing under your undivided attention.

Oliver’s breaths grew slower and slower. As if your touch drunken him.

‘Felix invited me,’ his words were borderlining a whine, scrambling to explain himself. ‘For the summer.’

The base of your eyebrows drew together darkly. The amusement reverberating in your eyes dissolved into a slight annoyance. Your fingers traveled toward the curve of his chin, taking it into your possession in a rough matter it sends Oliver’s eyes to rounden in response. He was a sick, sick liar.

He corrected himself, in seconds. ‘For revenge.’

‘Revenge?’

Despite your concentration, you hadn’t realized the lack of distance placed between you and Oliver. The proximity is intoxicating. To the point in which you felt the soft exhale of his breath fan across the form of your painted lips. His scent disturbed the twist of white musk and dust in the air, catching you off guard.

You dipped your head further upward. A single breath away from his own. 

Oliver’s words scrambled from his parted lips, each syllable trembling. ‘Revenge.’ He confirmed with a singular breath.

That singular breath that was virtually snatched away from him as you captured those plump lips with your own. A warm hum of pleasure buzzes throughout your body, sensations setting your nerves on fire as your mouth brushes across his.

You retreated into yourself momentarily. Ears perked up as Oliver drew in a sharp intake of breath, eyes half-lidded and glazed over with a glimmer of euphoria. He inched forward. A small movement that confirmed the lust that sparks behind his hues. 

Honeyed heat circulated throughout your body as your lips locked with his own. Threads of that same heat were found within each movement of their mouths. Your cheeks burnt with stuffled anticipation. 

A soft, strangled noise reverberates toward the back of Oliver’s throat as your hands enter the proximity of his caramel-like locks. Soft to the touch, feathery. The pads of your fingers curled against his scalp. Curling. Tugging. Kisses growing with heat and passion, further and further until Oliver was a mess between your two palms.

Oliver virtually whined as you pulled away. The lipstick you had carefully applied the hour prior smeared across the edge of your oh-so-swollen lips.

The pad of your thumb ran across the form of your mouth, the crimson red dirting the length of her digit. She pulled a single finger along Oliver’s lips, smearing the remnants of the lipstick.

‘And what are you doing with my family’s heirlooms?’ You inquired, words soft with sensuality. Masking it with a casualty as you press onward. Thumb pressed immensely into the dimple of his cheek, ruddiness staining the ivory of his skin.

Oliver leaned into her touch. ‘I was just curious, that’s all.’

You knew that there was a nefarious nature in his intentions. You removed your hand entirely and raised to your feet on two heels. The sound of your soles meeting the oak floor echoes out, bouncing against the walls as you approach an ancient, traditional desk. Draped with a translucent cover. It was considered to be as old as the estate itself, yet you had no problem sitting all over it. 

Oliver watched in the process. Eyes rounded a remnant of a bashful doe. A spark of recognition appeared behind those eyes as you inclined a singular fingertip toward the space before you.

‘On your knees.’

You took a bound of pleasure watching as Oliver dropped before you. Those knees strained against the ground. Trickles of arousal unfolded in your abdomen, nerves set alight and anticipation fluid within you as he came eye-to-eye with the satin fabric that shielded your cunt. And it was hard to miss the stained wetness.

‘Y’know what? I don’t think Felix would be too happy if he–’

‘You can suck off my brother later, but you’re serving me now. Or everyone will know whatever betrayal you’re planning against them.’

Oliver choked back any other remaining protests. Witnessing as your undergarments rolled down your hips, down the curve of your thighs, sliding along your calves, and dangling from the top of your ankle. Exposing your womanhood entirely to him, your legs widened a little further. 

At the sight, Oliver leaned forward. Willing to comply. A foreign, almost animalistic thirst reflects in the light of his hues. Only halted by a singular palm. Your fingers propped atop the strewn locks atop his head, restraining him from reaching the wetness he yearned for. 

‘I’m gonna ask you this again, and this time you’re telling me the truth, bunny.’

Your words were slow. Diligently pronounced and purposeful with each syllable.

‘What are you doing with the heirlooms?’

‘I just need–’ His words escaped in fluent gasps. Your skin prickled as Oliver’s trembling breaths fanned your womanhood. ‘I just needed some dirt on Farleigh.’

‘Oh yeah?’

The length of a singular leg of yours gradually intertwined around Oliver’s shoulders. Your hand eased up as you nudged him closer toward you. He willfully allows you to guide him, nose practically touching the top of your mound. 

His words continued with a shuddered puff, eyes virtually glazed over.

‘Something that’ll disappoint your parents.’ Oliver dwells upon his reasonings further.

‘And Felix?’

He nods.

‘You dirty,  dirty dog.’

Those words only fuelled Oliver further. And before you could even consider knowingly degrading him once more, the searing heat of his tongue is pressed against the slickness of your folds. He works his mouth against your cunt, movements growing sloppier and sloppier as he basks in the sexual validation he receives. The length of your fingers find themselves in his hair once more, fluffed, brunette strands coddled around your fist as you squeeze your legs around him.

The pleasure that you receive from his mouth alone is indescribable. Honeyed, warm ecstasy maneuvers throughout you. That familiar space between your thighs aches, even as Oliver’s lips latch onto them. Merely fuelling the fire that runs hot underneath your skin, alighting your nerves on fire.

“Fuck…” You can feel him grin around you.

A finger shortly accompanies the consumption of his tongue. And Oliver’s fingers are undeniably long, pale fleshed worked down to the knuckle with the force of a few pumps. He adds another. Then another. Stealing a moan or two from the depths of your throat, forcing you to clamp your lips shut. If anyone walked in. Your cheeks burn at the thought.

You bucked your hips into his fingers as Oliver worked you open, curling into you without faltering. Plunging his digits into you, again and again until you were breathless. Calves curled around him, guiding him further and further toward your sensitivities. Welcoming his mouth back onto you once more.

Oliver’s lips latched longingly onto the little pearl lining your entrance. He murmurs sweet nothings into you, fingers easing their pace until you can only hear the subtle quickness of your heaving breaths. And his whispers. Whispers of how wet you are, and how much he longs to quench that thirst. Again and again. On his knees, basked in his most vulnerable state.

Just for you. Oliver both in time, curls his fingers and squeezes your bud. Unleashing a wave of fire that takes you by the throat, walls squeezing around the length as you come undone. Shockwaves virtually gripping you. Tremors guide you back from your high as both grunts and moans of approval escape you.

Oliver glows under the attention. He peers up at you, through the intensity of his thick lashes. Doe eyes blinking occasionally, innocently, as he pops those fingers into his mouth where he once tasted you. Suckling. Tongue flittering around the pad of his digits.

‘You’ve done that before, haven’t you?’ Your words were more of a statement than an assumption. The pulsing of your newfound arousal doesn’t show in the slightest, only glimmering behind the intensity of your eyes.  You weren’t done with your bunny, not yet anyway.

Oliver’s fingers escape his lips with a reverberating pop. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

You reach downward briefly. Taking the lace of your panties with a single hand, guiding the garment around the base of your heels. Abandoning them on the dust-soaked floor. Those same heels meet that same grounding.

‘I didn’t take you for a fuckboy, bunny.” You practically spit, taking pride in how his eyes wobble slightly at the force of your filthy, filthy words. A short snap fills the room as you indicate your hand towards the oak tiles. 

‘On the floor.’

Oliver doesn’t say anything less, finding his body sprawled out before you. Essentially submitting himself to you in the process, something that ignites that oh-so-familiar heat in the pit of your belly. You stand over him, relinquishing in how he stares up at you, willing for you to do anything to him.

‘Pants off.’ Your words are snappy and insistent. You almost feel like that spoiled little one you used to be as a child, one who would get anything you would desire. ‘You don’t need them.’

Oliver’s fingers work to untangle his belt, loosening the dark fabric of his pants.  The material rolls down his hips, his hardness is immensely visible through the thinness of his boxers. The bulge accompanying the arousal that burns throughout your entire body, abdomen unfurling with that oh-so-familiar heat. 

You drop down toward him, legs clamped down on either side of Oliver’s thighs. You are squeezing them somewhat. The curve of your palm cups the fabriced nature of his manhood, causing a soft moan to escape him. 

‘[Y/N]...’ The broadness of Oliver’s hands grapple the frame of your hips, the warmth of his fingers curling around you. He virtually buckles up into you, against your bareness. A motion that causes your lips to curl up into a lazy smirk. 

‘Repeat my name, bunny.’ The pad of your fingers tease the rim of his boxers.

Oliver’s breath shudders. ‘I’m begging, [Y/N].’

A gradual, mocking roll of your eyes overtakes you nevertheless as you tug the thick material down. They roll and crinkle along the bottom of Oliver’s thighs, allowing for him to spring out for full reveality. For you and you alone. A low whistle fills the emptiness of the room as you observe his girth. Oliver is virtually trembling under the intensity of your gaze as you curl a fist around the length of his shaft, taking delight in how he buckled into you.

‘Be patient now.’ The words escape you with a scoff as you feign annoyance.

Oliver quietens in your demand. Alas, as you position yourself above him, you can still hear the raspiness of his breaths and the pleasure you take in the stink of desperation high in the air. He buries himself into you with a singular thrust, merely forcing a soft groan at the initial discomfort at he fills you. Stretches you out. Your hips slap against his own as you buckle up and down across his length, Oliver mimicking your movements to a tee.

You arch into him, soft noises of pleasure escaping you as he manages to claw ecstasy from you with every singular thrust. Your inner walls clutched around him, causing Oliver to drop his head back, gasping your name out as if it were a prayer. As if he were on the verge of life and death.

‘[Y/N]?’

‘Yes?’

It’s odd how the two of you presented the conversation as if you weren’t rutting your entire life and soul into him. Onto him. Oliver continues to writhe around some more, arching himself into you, again and again. The whiteness of his cheeks is notably flushed with arousal.

‘I’m about to –’

You slow down your pace until you’re merely mounting him, the lack of movement causing a groan of sexual frustration to claw from Oliver’s throat. The side of your thighs squeezes around his hips for extra exaggeration as you proceed to speak, merely unphased, even as you are reaching your release.

‘Jesus, Ollie, don’t be so fuckin’ greedy.’

You scold through hitched breath and hushed moans. His girth is warm inside you, and something about that is so utterly pleasing.

‘You aren’t to come unless you’ve pleased me enough.’

The demand causes Oliver’s head to loll back with esteemed annoyance, but he doesn’t say anything. It merely prompts the width of his hands to press into your hips, beginning to rock himself into you. It steals a moan out of your lips, but the sight of his desperation is a sight of see indeed. You arch further into him as he ruts against the exact spot that causes you to see stars.

The length of your hand folds around the back of his neck. ‘Right there, bunny, oh, you fuckin’ beast!’

Closer now. Closer now.

‘Say my name, [Y/N].’ Oliver heaves with strained breath, holding back on his orgasm has done numbers on him.

You wack him across the back of the head.

‘That’s my line, dickhead.’

Alas, the words barely escape your lips as the boiling and bubbling dam within you snaps and crashes. You dissolved into nothing but pure pleasure. Nevertheless, whatever you had said, Oliver’s name played on your lips in something that bordered screams. Tremors of ecstasy fill you as Oliver continues to pound into you, guiding you throughout your orgasm in your most vulnerable moment.

Aftershocks spark within you as you go limp, pulling yourself together with heaved breath and glazed eyes.

‘Have I pleased you enough, then?’

Oliver’s voice is hoarse, tearing you out of your orgasm-fuelled trance.

‘It’ll do, bunny.’

But before, Oliver can even consider his release. You rise from your previous position, his girth sliding out of you with ease, glistening with your slick. You tug the fabric of panties around your hips and back in place, glancing in a dust-covered mirror as you adjust your appearance. To make it seem as if you haven’t spent the past half hour having the life sucked out of you.

‘[Y/N] –’

Oliver’s protests rise in the air, falling upon deaf ears as you proceed to exit the room itself. The bottom of your heels thud against the wood-slicked tiles as you reenter the dining room, hope in hand. Your wordless wishes are fulfilled at once at the sight of Farleigh, who is window-watching, wine in hand.

‘Farleigh, thank God, I found you.’

Farleigh turns his head, bringing his glass to his lips.

‘What now?’ He’s waving away your presence entirely, it is clear.

As much as you despise this half of the family, you maintain a clear mind.

‘Oliver was rummaging through your mother’s heirlooms. I suggest you go, now. Heed my warning or not, I don’t care.’

A look of suspicion flashes across Farleigh’s face. His lips part momentarily in question before he thinks otherwise. Smart boy. Setting his wine down and immediately dashing past you. A yell or two sounds out a moment later, and your painted lips quirk upwards in pleasure.

You knew what Oliver was up to. It was clear from the first day you laid eyes upon the household’s guest. But no. It wasn’t up to Oliver to wipe out the Cattons from existence, even though he’d be doing the filthy work for you. It was admirable yes.

But it was your job. A job you strived to complete.

You slip your hand into the slight pocket in the fabric of your dress. Pulling out a small capsule. Your eyes narrow down on the glass of wine, vacant on the table. 

Starting with Farleigh. 

WORD COUNT: 4K MASTERLIST REQ ME!

[lovableapocalypse]

an encounter

bassist!remus x fem!reader

wc- 1.1k

warnings- alcohol, jealousy, sirius being a twat

a/n- i was listeing to t1975 and m.o.n.e.y played and the line "and i cant believe that were talking about him" played and inspired something in my brain. also writing last night motivated me again a bit. buttttt once again this is not the long chapter (their love confession) that ive been working on. this is just a silly pre- together fic of them being stupid. love u all and i appreciate every one of u.

Remus’ glare was burning into your spine. For once though, you didn’t seem to notice him. You were leaning on the local bar’s counter talking to the new bartender. You had been sent to get the next round and what had started as a friendly conversation had turned quickly into flirting. 

You all had been studying for your upcoming exams and decided a much needed break was appropriate. How you ended up at the pub was out of your control, you’d suggested a quick coffee run. But you’d lost the last round of pool and were therefore sent to get refills. 

The bartender was cute. Not exactly your type, seeing as your type was currently sending dirty looks to the guy. Remus was oblivious to your feelings for him, yet you rarely let yourself talk to other guys because you were so focused on him. When the guy across from you sent the first flirty remark your immediate reaction was to shoot him down, but for once you acted on your second instinct and decided to flirt back. 

Flirting wasn’t exactly a skill you had mastered, but it was fun to banter with the guy and you were honestly into it at this point. He had placed your drinks on the bartop but continued his conversation with you while there were no customers. He was talking about some crazy order he had to make earlier in the night and you were laughing along.

Remus had witnessed the whole encounter. You were shit at pool so it was no surprise you had been the one to get the next round, he was just curious when it was taking twice as long. He didn’t mean to shoot daggers at the guy, but when he saw your face heat up and your laugh grow louder he couldn’t help it. 

Sirius noticed his irritation right away and huffed a laugh as he leaned closer to him, “Are you gonna do something?”

“What?” Remus shot back. 

“Are you going to do something?” Sirius reiterated. 

“About what?”

“Jesus. That.” He waved his finger between you and the bartender. 

“Why would I do something?” Remus tried to play his obvious discomfort off, but Sirius saw right through him. 

“Because you’re quite literally in love with her.”

“Shut up.”

“See. No denying.”

Remus lightly shoved Sirius and shook his head, “What would I even say? ‘Oh hi can you please stop flirting with the girl I have no right to get jealous over’?”

“You should add ‘because I’m too pussy to ask her out even though she clearly returns my affections.’” He smiled and Remus gave him a blank look.

“Piss off. For fucks sake.” He returned under his breath.

“No, I'm serious. She never shuts the fuck about you. Just go over there and offer to help her with the drinks or something. I want my beer anyway.” He pointed at you again and nudged his head in your direction. 

“Fine.” Remus sighed, placing his pool stick down and moving towards the bar. 

His steps were quick and he glanced back at Sirius who made a shooing motion at him. Remus itched the back of his neck as your frame got closer and closer. He made his way to your figure and your laugh quickly made him regret his decision. Who was he to stop you from flirting? But you spotted him and turned towards him, touching his arm. 

You smiled and turned back to the bartender, introducing him, “This is Remus.”

“Ah, nice to meet you.” The guy nodded at him. 

“Uh, yeah. Hi.” Remus awkwardly smiled. 

“Rem this is Liam. He just started here this week.” You raised your brows, making conversation. You left your hand on Remus’ upper arm and neither of you acknowledged it, even though the touch was sending similar butterflies up your spines. 

“Oh nice,” Remus replied, “Like it?” 

“Yeah, so far it’s alright.” Liam smiled at you when he said that and Remus had to restrain from visibly cringing. You returned the smile and giggled. You actually giggled. He looked between you and Liam and tried to let it go, but couldn’t. 

“Right. Well Sirius wants his beer so,” He tried to end the conversation and was scared you would tell him to just take the drinks, but luckily you went along with him. 

“Right ‘course.” You laughed and moved your hand from his arm to reach for a few drinks. 

“Thanks, Liam.” You sent him a small smile as you spun around. Remus sent him a tight-lipped one and followed you. 

Sirius was smirking as you approached and patted Remus on the back when he handed him his drink. Remus glared but couldn’t help but huff at the whole situation. 

Lily rushed over to you and as you handed her the drink she ordered, she spoke, “That guy was so into you. He stared at your arse the whole time you walked back over here.”

You grimanced, “Lovely.”

“No, no. That’s a good thing. You could get your mind off you know who.”

“Lily, kindly, shut the fuck up.”

She put her hands up in false surrender and you turned, giving James his drink. You heard her whisper again, “Remus was so jealous though, it was hysterical.”

“He was?” You spoke too quickly. 

“Yes, badly. He was squinting so hard his eyebrows were literally touching.” She motioned between her own brows, laughing.

You glanced back at him and he caught your eye, blushing. You smiled and turned away. 

“He was actually jealous?”

“Yes, love. Very,” Lily smiled, “You two are the most oblivious people in the world I swear.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes. 

James and Peter started the next game of pool and while you were waiting you stood next to Sirius.

“The bartender was cute.” He said. Remus was on the other side of you and spun his head towards Sirius at his words. 

You nodded, “Yeah he was alright.”

“I think he’s really into you.” As he spoke he looked at Remus and smirked knowingly. 

“Really?” You asked. “I don’t know, maybe he’s just being friendly.”

Remus cleared his throat, “Probably. Didn’t he just start working here? Just making friends with the customers, ya know.”

“I don’t know Moony, that looked pretty flirty to me. Y/n/n?” 

“I- I’m not good at gauging these things- I mean flirting is not my thing so I wouldn’t know.” You looked between the two boys shaking your head, oblivious to Sirius’ instigating. 

Remus mouthed Fuck off when your head was turned and Sirius laughed. It was his turn to go and you spoke to Remus as Sirius played, “He’s not my type anyway.” You glanced up at him and he nodded his head.

“That’s good.” He answered. 

His response made you shy. ‘That’s good’ is it? You turned, hiding your smile and flush. God you two were idiots, he was jealous. And you were secretly glad he was.  

[tossball-stick]

heyy i saw your latest post about john's aromantic trutherism and i didn't exactly understand what you mean by that... could you explain? i too don't think he is actually in love with abigail if that's what you were saying...?

hiii!!! 1: thank you for asking about this im excited to write and analyze him in this way

2: plsplspls get the idea outta ur head that aromantic people cant love. noooo i couldnt have been misunderstood more. i wanna clarify that i do think john loves abigail. i just dont think that love is all that romantically motivated and ive got a few reasons to believe so.

3: uhhhh uhhh this ended up being like 2.5k words of analysis on john im sorry. no one on tumblr has asked me my thoughts about him before so this is the first time im talking about a lot of the stuff here and theres so much ive thought about johns character and its all messy and intertwined. itll be a little all over the place. i am deeply sorry.

okay. first reason? hes otherwise not much of a romantic. whether he wants to be or not, he falls flat on his face every attempt there is at being romantic with abigail (rarely do we see him be romantic with other women) is usually met with disdain, if there even are many to begin with. its rare to hear john say something pleasant about having a woman, and its rare to ever witness them having a good time together while in the gang. 

...up until the epilogue and john gets his shit together. but by that point i could argue further analysis as to how john isnt wholly himself by that point. hear me out.

john and arthur are two halves of one whole to me. its clear theres some sort of void in john after arthur dies, and he still holds the memory of arthur very very dear. he does his best to keep the memories alive, in fact, in a way to keep arthur alive. 

this starts extending to some kinda interesting parallels, though. writing and drawing in arthurs journal like he did, the hat being placed on johns head, john proposing with marys ring, the phrasing and tone of johns proposal is also shockingly familiar to arthur telling john that itd make him happy if john went to his family... after arthurs death, i find john taking on many of his traits even. he becomes more quiet and closed off, we see it even in rdr2 with arthur telking him to "knock it off with the whole being mysterious thing" or whatever. arthur claims its to act like dutch, but ill do you one better, its clearly just john idolizing his older brother and trying to be like him to be a proper man. this brings me to my next point...

the time period of rdr2!!! yayyy cowboys, the victorian era, Did u know. being a man was something you had to do in previous american and european cultures? this slowly started fading as we roll over into the 20th century, but there was a lot of emphasis placed on performing your role as a man. to be a good man, you must do xyz. otherwise, you are seen as immature, as a boy, as a child. 

throughout the entire series of red dead redemption, both 1 and 2, theres a lot of stuff pointing towards jogns struggle to Be A Man. arthur and dutch frequently refuse to let him grow up, still calling him "little john" and still treating him like hes a rowdy unruly boy that needs to learn better, not a man who should know better. hosea is the only man treating john like hes a man, and even then id say hes fairly lax with the guy. only as the story of rdr2 progresses do we see arthur start to shift his view towards john. not as a boy to stay a boy, because the gang isnt gonna be around forever. john cant keep being a boy. he needs to become a man, take care of his family. 

working off a distinctly gentleman influenced view of masculinity, johns inability to be a man is almost directly tied to his inability to be a proper romantic for his wife. compared to arthur, who is seen taken women on dates and flirting with them just to make them laugh at times. hes dancing with the ladies and helping them up and down the coaches, wagons, and horses. john like. just barely remembers to do that for abi in the epilogue. again, his failings to be a true romantic are tied with his failings as a man. 

in rdr1, this even extends to bill having the bit of dialogue, "you always were a scared little boy!" continuing to imply that john is not a man, hes never been a man. the only reason we can read him as a man Now is because we are going by arthurs definition of manhood. we can extend this further and say bill still views john as a boy because john does not live up to bills expectations of manhood- while arthur may view being a man as something chivalrous, more gentlemanly, bill clearly views masculinity as power and violence, without much to do with women. john does not live up to that, to bill, until the end.

if you read "masculinity" as "being romantic and chivalrous towards women", then, as john fails at being a romantic, he too fails at being a man. there are a lot of other ways john is immature and childish but this is a really easy one to point out if you know the time period and just how much emphasis was placed on both romanticism and manliness, and how they intertwined.

third reasoning for aro john: his family wasnt his for so much of his life. this one is another one that needs a bit of elaboration i fear.

the story of john and abigail getting together is simple enough. she joined the gang at 17 as a sex worker, slept around with some of the gang, then for one reason or another, very clearly believed that the pregnancy was johns. john runs away for a year.

in this time, we dont know a whole lot about what gang life was like without john. however, with arthurs comments about marrying abigail himself and loving her, and his close relationship with jack, i think its pretty clear arthur was the one being a man in johns place. when john left, there was a john shaped hole arthur had to fill. (i also like to think this because the potential misery of arthur having to lose his family a second time once john returns is fun to me.)

even in the story of rdr2, we see john Love and Care For his family, but its never in the same, romantic way arthur seems to involve himself in abi and jacks lives. john will defend them with his life, but when it actually comes to pulling himself up by his bootstraps and being a father or a husband, he kinda just drags his feet and gets lost. he has to be told to reunite with his family at jacks party, despite, in my eyes, his love for jack being very clearly displayed while they were looking for him. 

this is only bolstered by the conclusion of rdr2, with john and arthur on the mountain. arthur, in all his holy parallels, like jesus passing the virgin mary off to john the beloved, arthur tells john it would make him very happy if [john] went to be with his family and left. arthur is passing his family off onto john, the same as jesus passed his family onto saint john. (this one hits harder if you know the rest of the "arthur is jesus" parallels and symbolism but i feel like those would be more impactful as a web weave, and i cant make one right now haha. most obvious one i can think of to support this though is arthur being a scapegoat, dying for the gangs sins.) remember these points they are the most important and will come back later.

reason number four: "but javier-!" shhhhshshsh lemme talk. yes. john is infinitely more intimate with javier than abigail. however, again, we must take the time period into account.

not that far off from many disgusting redpill communities today, back in the 1800s it was typically expected for men to socialize with men and women with women. there was a certain level of bonding you only had with your wife, as well as a certain level of bonding you only had with the men who were close to you. 

i have got to grab this fandom by the shoulders and say rockstar did not make these men as affectionate as they should have been with each other, and thats completely platonically. this is taking romance out of the equation, these men considered each other brothers and family. they were all in a cult together. they would have been very close, and also very affectionate! they would confide in each other and hold each other and cry to each other. they would make gifts for each other and sing and dance together. you can at least see them all pass around beer bottles between each other.

do i think john and javier are closer than most? yes absolutely. do i think javier is in love with john in some way? yes absolutely. do i think its romantic? ehhh maybe. do i think john loves javier? yes absolutely. do i think its romantic? ....noo not really. their whole dynamic reads as one sided through and through to me. even if they ever got together im sure they were quickly apart again, and i doubt the relationship would have been fulfilling in the ways javier would want, leaving him longing still.

the "ive always loved you, even now" immediately funneling into a crate being shoved onto john to knock him over can also be metaphorical- javiers love is disarming to john Because he does not know how to react to it. hes never known how to react to it. hes never known how to react to love from anyone, because "love" seems to feel so much different for everyone but him.

reason ff. fiiiiive. dear god. im sorry for this being this long: john loves. he clearly loves very hard. he was clearly wrecked by arthurs death, he would clearly crawl through hell for his family, he was clearly hurt because his love for javier eventually stabbed him in the back. however, to me, a lot of this love feels similar to the love john has for dutch, or arthur, really. its familial, its platonic, it sure as hell isnt romantic. (even if the games themselves like to joke about it being so lol.)

its just clear to me that he loves. he cant not love jack and abi after everything hes done for them. he cant not love javier after being so close for so long. but in the same vein, he cant not love dutch for the same reasons. ysee what i mean? his devotion to his wife and child feels identical to the devotion to dutch, compared to arthur, whos devotion to eliza and isaac directly went against his devotion to dutch.

much like with dutch, where john was still seen as a boy, he will ferociously do the big things for his family (saving jack, defending the ranch, tackling gangsters and robbers). he will almost always fail to do the little things that would make him a true man, though. yknow. winding down, relaxing, just working, not getting involved in fights. spending some time with his family maybe. 

he can shape up and be good, he just never does. 

and i think thats why hes so torn between leaving on his own, leaving with his family, or staying with the gang. theres no difference between romantic, platonic, or familial love for him. when arthur tells him to go be with his family and john replies "youre my brother" its not only announcing arthur as family, but i think it only reinforces that blurred line of what love is for john. "i love you the same as them, why must i leave you behind? if they are family and i love them, then you too must be family, for i love you."

point six: i hope you remembered the first few points like i told you to. you did remember right

this brings us back around to john not being a man by not being a romantic, arthurs family being passed off to him, and also john not wholly being himself later on. in the epilogue, between 1899 and 1908, we hear about how john has been unable to avoid trouble and has them on the run still. whenever abigail asks something of him, he instead goes and does what he wants. its only after she leaves him (ultimate failure of being a man) do we see him start to shape himself up again, and i would argue this shaping up increases substantially after he reunites with charles. charles sets him on the right path and reawakens that memory of arthur. i imagine being close to blackwater also helps here. id argue due to charles' apparent closeness with arthur, and then sudden closeness to john due to john being all thats left of arthur... it makes john also feel like hes all thats left of arthur. i believe after speaking with charles and thinking to himself, he decides to fulfill the one dream arthur had, seemingly, at the end: take care of the family he had lost. well, eliza and isaac are six feet in the dirt so next best option: abi and jack. 

john starts to become quieter and more in his own shell- by rdr1 hes struggling to even really ask people for help with the most basic things. he becomes a lot more of a romantic speaker. he had always used fancy words with the gang, but never with charismatic purpose in the way i feel he does in rdr1. he starts making the decisions he thinks arthur would make. as a result, the hole that arthur left behind when he died, does not get filled by john. instead it simply gets filled with whatever arthur john can muster from within himself.

id also like to bring up john being the favorite, but not the golden boy. he was the youngest and most spoiled, but he was not the one dutch turned to for just about everything. he was still living in arthurs shadow, so i imagine all of that also plays a role in johns choice to live like arthur to get his family back, to be a man. he failed at being a man by his own merits. arthur was a real man by his own merits, lets just do what we've always done and look up to our older brother about it. copy what he does. clearly hes got it all figured out, even though you know he didnt, after reading the journal. 

this all is finally bolstered by john making the choice to kill micah and repeat the VDL cycle of violence, which ruins the perfect life he made for himself. he makes another decision HE, not arthur, HE would make, and thus has to deal with the consequences. 

in conclusion: i think john loves a lot and very hard. hes passionate about these people. but in his own words towards javier that start to become readable as projection, "hes a cynic that wants to be a romantic" and "hes all passion, no love ('no love' being how he perceives it, due to the views of those around him. he loves abigail and jack, he loved arthur, though because his version of love was different than theirs, its not read as love. therefore, he has none in his own eyes)." 

all of this coupled with a detached attachment style that leaves him cold and distant leaves him being tugged along in romances he truthfully does not feel the same about. he says he does, because he loves, but he doesnt know why the love isnt the same. so, clearly, since he loves, he must want the romance. he has to perform it for love regardless of if he truly does want romance or not. if he loves, he must be a romantic, and hes failing at being a romantic, so he cant be himself. he must be someone else in order to convey his love to his family.

i hope i got everything across alright ^-^ feel free to ask questions or send more asks ive got plenty more where that came from

[i-cant-stop-fandoming-help]

Lmao just had the idea of writing a warrior cats au for drdt. I only have a few name ideas, such as;

Teruko: Sourgaze

Xander: Fierceheart (bcuz i probably cant name him braveheart or loyalheart)

Whit: brightbounce

David: stormshine

.

Idea so far is that theres a rebellion. Against what? Probably a leader or multiple leaders. Xander leads it, believing his cause to be just, and david is his right-hand cat.

There'd also be a side plot focused on whit and charles. Perhaps charles was able to become a warrior, because his brother was still alove, but he witnessed Elliot get killed in a gruesome manner and it sparked his fear of blood.

Whit finds him and his brothers carcass on patrol, directs his clanmates to get elliot to a medicine cat, and tries to comfort charles.

In a battle sequence between their clans, whit would probably go after charles-- not draw blood, just tackle him and drag him towards shelter, so he does not have to witness the bloodshed nor risk getting hurt. Maybe charles becomes a mediator, a kittypet, or a barn cat at some point. Who knows.

Thats all ive got so far for the idea lol

[whitemancumslut]

harrystyles

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yourinstagram October weather this year is…🥰

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harrysupdates FIRST LOOK AT HARRY’S OUTFIT FOR LA NIGHT 4! VIA TWITTER

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harryfan3 HES SO SHIRTLESS WE WON WE WON

harryfan4 THE NIPS ARE OUT

harryfan5 our threats to lambert worked!🤭

harrysupdates

liked by ynfan1, harryfan1, and 23,332 others

harrysupdates HARRY SMILING AND POINTING TO Y/N AND THE TWINS TONIGHT!!😭😭😭

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ynfan1 MY HEARTT

harryfan1 AWW

harryfan2 WHAT THE HELLL

harryfan3 THE FACT THIS IS HAPPENING RN

ynfan2 the boys witnessing their father make history

harryfan4 stop because 😭😭

harryfan5 ima cry stop

harrysupdates

liked by harryfan1 and 7,228 others

ynupdates Y/n was seen out at Harry’s show last night!

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ynfan1 she looks so young!!! ugh love her such a milf

ynfan2 HER SKIN 🤭🤭 SO CLEAR

ynfan3 she needa drop the skincare routine

harryfan1 SHES SO PRETTYYYY!!!!

harryfan2 she experienced an amazing show

harrystyles

liked by yourinstagram, harry_lambert, and 4,910,628 others

harrystyles Love On Tour. Los Angeles IV. October, 2022.

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yourinstagram Yummy

ynfan1 BRO😭

harryfan1 you’re so real for this yn

harryfan2 yummy indeed

harryfan3 HARRY 😩😩😩

ynfan2 so so fine

harryfan4 i moaned

harryfan5 forreal

ynfan3 😭😭😭

yourinstagram

liked by harrystyles and 13,233,001 others

yourinstagram: i don’t know who this man is but he’s hot…

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harrystyles 😅❤️

harryfan1 not even harry knows how to reply to this

harryfan1 AINT NO WAY

harryfan2 so real for this

harryfan3 LMFOAOA NO WAYYY YOU POSTED THIS

ynfan1 honestly so real

ynfan2 😭😭

yourinstagram

liked by harrystyles, gemmastyles, and 8,980,944 others

yourinstagram 🫦

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harrystyles 🫦 indeed

harryfan1 HAROLD WHAT???

harryfan2 OMG HARRY😭😭

ynfan1 bye who taught him to use emojis other than ❤️ and ✌️

ynfan2 BYE

harryfan3 😭😭😭😭😭

harryfan4 GIRL YOURE GLOWING

ynfan3 SKIN CARE ROUTINE NOW???!!!!!!!

madisonbeer Youre so breathtaking

arianagrande Mommy!! 🥲

harrystyles

liked by annetwist, florencepugh, yourinstagram, and 10,008,920 others

harrystyles Always doing the impossible, i love you gorgeous

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yourinstagram Baby🥲

yourinstagram I love you baby

annetwist This woman❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

harryfan1 AWW ANNNEEE😭😭❤️❤️

harryfan2 Anne loves her :((

ynfan1 THIS IS CUTE

yourinstagram

liked by harrystyles, dovecameron, and 7,009,728 others

yourinstagram Cozyyyyy🥰

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harrystyles 😍😍

dovecameron You do it so effortlessly

harryfan1 damn.

harryfan2 you’re so pretty

normani Gorgeous babe

ynfan2 your natural is so beautiful

ynfan3 no like literally her curls are so !!!!

yourinstagram

liked by sabrinacarpenter, madisonbeer, and 8,710,636 others

yourinstagram Date night💛

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annetwist So beautiful😊❤️❤️❤️

harryfan1 HARRYS HAND!?!!!!!😩

ynfan1 literally so hot

ynfan2 i’m obsessed with you

harryfan2 you’re so mommy fr

ynfan3 this.

harrysupdates

liked by harryfan1, harryfan2, and 17,091 others

harrysupdates FIRST LOOK AT HARRYS OUTFIT FOR LA NIGHT 5

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harryfan1 OMG IM DIGGING IT

harryfan2 LAMBERT DONT BREAK THIS STREAK

harryfan3 ITS CUTEEE

harryfan4 IS YN THERE?????

harryfan5 THE PURPLE AND WHITE UGHHHHH

harrysupdates

liked by harryfan1, ynfan1, and 10,000 others

harrysupdates SOME DIFFERENT VIEWS OF HARRY BEING CUTE AND ADORABLE TONIGHT!!! VIA TWITTER

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ynfan1 IS YN THERE OMG

harryfan1 YES SHE IS

harryfan2 how do you know??

harryfan1 she’s been spotted by a fan on twitter

harryfan3 HES SO BABY

harryfan4 THIS IS SO HES SO CUTE

harryfan5 hard to believe he really has kids of his own

harrystyles

liked by yourinstagram, lizzo, and 3,992,333 others

harrystyles Love On Tour. Los Angeles V. October, 2022.

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yourinstagram Great view!🤗

harryfan1 HAHAHA

harryfan2 I LOVE HER 😭😭

harryfan1 what a view

harryfan2 MY SHOW MY SHOW

harryfan3 last night was so good

yourinstagram instagram story