#it’s the man’s theme song and he is the main character | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whowrotethenote · 2 months ago

Note

Write a cm punk x reader x Roman smut but they’re basically Paul Heyman in the situation

Disclaimer // Main Masterlist // Roman Reigns Masterlist // Join My Taglist

A/N // Thank you to the anon for that creative ass request. @novamystxcxox sent me something similar, but I had already started this💗 Hope you both like it!

I did not make this x reader because I'm not good at those. I have to give my characters personality, backstory & physical characteristics. That's just my preference.

Also, the smut is reserved for the OC & Roman because... that's my man and I love him.

I do not take requests yet. Mostly because I barely have the time to write as is and I know they would just be sitting in my asks collecting dust like this one was for so long. This was just too good to not pursue. One day. Just not today lol. Okay, bye.

Pairing // Roman Reigns x Black Fem OC (Paula Heyman) x CM Punk

Warnings // Profanity // Smut [minors DNI] // Toxic behaviors // Age Gap

Word Count // 6.5k

“It’s going to be five versus five…”

Paula watched in the adulation that replaces the smug pride after waiting for his music to play. The entirety of Green Bay, Wisconsin buzzed with every emotion given to the human race as they recognized the infamous theme song.

Nothing feels like this. No amount of alcohol. No drug. Nothing can mimic this feeling of a live crowd giving back tenfold what’s given to them.

He brushed past her, wrapping his hand to meet the rest of them inside the ring. A full on war breaking out the minute he slid inside. Five exceptionally large men, all cleared out the ring by her boys. With ease. It's how she knew she made the right decision. She knew no one else would carry it out like he would.

She made her way to the side of the ring just in time for their stare down. All the faces in the stands losing their minds.

CM Punk! CM Punk! CM Punk!

The pressure of the cheeky grin pushing through was heavy. She couldn’t help it. She hadn’t seen Roman in months. Hadn’t seen Punk even longer. But as soon as she called—he came.

“Why are you here?” She read Roman’s lips as he squinted.

“To save your ass,” was his reply.

He was pissed. His pinched brows. The tension in his broad shoulders. The tightness of his mouth. The flexing of his jaw. His hand, opening and closing in a tight fist. No—he was fuming. But that’s only because he couldn’t see the bigger picture right now. That’s where she came in. That’s what warranted her presence in his life a necessity. If it wasn’t more obvious before tonight—amongst all the chaos that had ensued in her absence— it was now shoved in his face.

“Thank you. Really.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Punk smiled unwrapping his hand. “That was only half the job.”

Her head swiveled slightly watching the hustle of the backstage crew. Gathering equipment, everyone mic’d up and moving with a purpose. She missed this.

She nodded. “He’ll come around. Trust me.” The pressing matter of Roman’s disapproval of his presence was heavy. It lingered above them like a storm cloud. It put the biggest wedge between them. Something that was never there before in their relationship. “I just have to talk some sense into him. He’s emotional right now.”

“I’m not worried about him. I’m worried about you, Paula.” His eyes, sincere—always opposed to his appearance. The tattoos, the foul language, the attitude—none of it ever complimented his kind eyes. “I’ve seen the way he talks to you. The way he talks to everyone he loves.” He raised his brows.

Immediately defensive and strangely protective of her current client, she shook her head. “He’s just…used to betrayal. He keeps everyone at an arm’s length. It's his way of keeping control.”

“It doesn’t make it right.” He stood firm. The affection for his best friend and former manager, overriding any excuse she felt compelled to give him. He didn’t care for any of it.

“I guess I’ll let you go, then.” She scanned him once more, already thinking of her next phase of business. She didn’t have the luxury to sit and tangle in emotions. She was a woman working in sport’s entertainment. They already looked at her as if she was Barbie dropped in the jungle. And they expected her to get invested in her work in a way that was overlooked in men. Flirting and sleeping around and whatnot. But that wasn’t Paula Heyman.

She vowed to never get entangled with clients. It was business first, always. She was about business. That’s what they loved about her. The men—charismatic and dominant as they are—were off limits. But every now and again, she found the lines between client and manager blurring. Things get sticky. Lines get crossed.

Her first blurred line—Phil Brooks. Best in the world. And to the world he was CM Punk. The bad ass that swept the WWE universe off their feet.

They developed a friendship that transcended client and manager. An intimate kiss between the two, one drunk night celebrating another victorious defense of his title reign—almost led to something more. Thankful for the little voice in her head, she stopped it. Things were different after that. She put up boundaries, but it did nothing to ease the ache of what if. That same ache presenting itself right now, like it did every time they found themselves this close and secluded.

“Thank you, Paula.” He held a hand out. A spot in WarGames benefited him as much as it benefited the Bloodline and she made that possible. She gladly took his hand, until he pulled her all the way into him—foreheads kissing. “You think about what I said the other day?” He whispered.

She sighed deeply. “Punk…”

“I know you remember what it felt like. All those years ago. Just the two of us. Young, wild, and hungry as hell. Kicking ass and taking names.” She released air from her nose reliving the memories. She had never felt more alive than she did with him. She’d be a liar if she didn’t admit to missing those days—and him. But that was then. This was now. She wasn’t that girl anymore. So, she kept that sentiment to herself. But he didn’t need to hear it. Because the same way she was now in synch with her current client, she once was with him. He could still feel it. “It’d be just like that. But better this time.” She opened her eyes that were met with his—specks of olive always so alluring.

“Just think about it…Alright?” He pulled away as she nodded. Their hands lingering before he completely turned and left her there.

She looked around, now aware of the world around her again, hoping no one saw their moment. Everything gets back to him here. Him.

Paula swallowed knowing she’d have to face him. She made a menacingly slow stride to his trailer after leaving the arena. She knocked twice. Then three more times, before she heard the familiar voice tell her it was open.

She walked in the small but familiar space as he removed his OG Bloodline shirt with a heavy sigh, releasing all the weight that’s been dumped on him since losing his title. You’d think the load would be lighter now. The saying is supposed to go—heavy is the head that wears the crown. He had given his crown up, or rather it was stolen by the American Nightmare, and yet he still felt like the King. On top looking down at everyone else, even in his untimely absence. And Solo had presented him with an entire new set of weight with this whole New Bloodline mess.

The muscles in his back flexed as he slightly stretched and rolled his head. The silence was agonizing. Gnawing at her because she could already feel whatever he wasn’t saying.

“Where have you been?” He finally questioned. His back still to her. “I’ve been calling.” He took a sip of whatever he poured.

She squinted at him once he finally turned to face her. His chest—one she’s seen plenty of times—still, a distraction as she attempted to just zero in on his static expression.

“That’s funny. Considering you went M.I.A. long before I did.” She crossed her arms, causing her full breast to push up, catching his attention for a split second. “My calls fell on death ears as well.”

“I asked you a question.”

“After Mania you vanished. You left me here. Vulnerable. Alone. Defending you. Fending for myself—”

The cup met the counter harder than he intended, summoning dead silence again as she swallowed the remainder of her rant. He had already lost his Bloodline before all this—then his title. He didn’t need another crash course on all the ways he’s fucked up.

“I’m here now.” She spoke again when she felt it was safe enough to. “You’re here. Jimmy’s back. Jey’s back. Sami’s here. Things are back to normal.” As close to normal as possible without Solo and that belt hanging from his waist.

He gradually nodded. Her words sinking in. He didn’t want to fight. He fought enough tonight. She turned to leave, knowing he preferred solitude at the end of the night.

“Don’t forget who you work for.”

She scoffed. Only Roman would leave her to fend for herself after he lost his little title and decided to tuck tail, just to come back and want to run shit again—as if he never left. But that’s just the kind of man he was. He wanted what he wanted, when he wanted it and he didn’t care who he had to run through to get it. That’s what drew Paula his way in the first place. Her contract was ending and she was looking for some else to counsel on the roster. There was not a single person that housed half as much charisma and hunger as the Roman Reigns.

Their journey has been the epitome of a rollercoaster. By his side in feuds and every climb of the ladder. Reaping the benefits of accompanying such a charismatic figure in his own right. Her life went from great to legendary. Now, she sits on the Island of Relevancy as they call it—pockets as fat as they had ever been, and her life looks exactly the way she’d dreamed.

But no good deed goes unpunished.

“How could I?”

Roman checked the time on his expensive watch again—only moments after the last check. Leg bouncing, jaw ticking, with that infamous stone cold exterior, that screamed he was not to be fucked with. Long fingers smoothed the hair above his plump top lip, until he reached the dark and greying hairs of his chin.

Whatever he was feeling, Paula felt in her bones tenfold. She shifted in her seat, unable to keep still. In the dark room, the only thing they could hear was her irregular breaths and his less than impatient sighs.

She couldn’t explain it if someone were to ask her. It was as if signing the dotted line and agreeing to manage him put a hex on them. This invisible string—this unimaginable force pulling them together in every instance of every universe formed. She felt this burning, unwavering loyalty to him. It was sick and twisted. The lengths she’d go to please him—to carry out his wishes. How empty, aimless and useless her life had felt these past months without him. Not even so much as a text from him. It took every fiber of strength to not answer that call. But she needed him—if only for a second—to feel what she had felt since Wrestle-mania.

His brown eyes pierced her, feeling like another beam of light in place of the one they sat under at the stretched table. Three seats. One at the head where Roman sat of course. Another next to him, always reserved for her. Lastly, a vacant one at the other end.

She knew what was coming next.

“Paula.” His deep voice made her heart stutter. Out of fear, relief and every other emotion in between.

“Yes, My Tribal Chief?” She answered trying her best to keep her voice steady amidst the storm of emotions brewing inside of her.

“Where the fuck is he?”

Turning to meet his hard stare, she hesitated. Raking through her brain to find the words that wouldn’t tick him off. But considering the flex of his jawline, she could tell it was too late and it didn’t matter what she said—he was already at the edge of the cliff.

“He’ll be here,” she assured. Only she hoped. Punk just like Roman liked to play mind games. Toy with his prey before he caught it. Please not today, she thought. She prayed their years of friendship and building a bond outside of their old contract was enough to get him to pull through for her.

“I don't understand. He’s going around calling you his Wisewoman. He’s butting in on family matters. And now he’s got me waiting like I’m some errand boy. As if my time isn’t valuable.” The legs of the chair made a violent shriek as his towering frame began to rise. “Let’s go.” It wasn’t a question, nor was he looking for her opinion, but Paula still placed a hand on his forearm to stop him.

“Roman—”

On cue the slam of the heavy door that granted entry to the empty vast room sounded. Paula’s heart sighed watching him make his way to the empty seat. Looking back at Roman she silently challenged him to sit and he obliged.

“Alright, let’s get this over with.” Punk checked the time on his watch. Paula rubbed her forehead feeling an oncoming migraine. These two men—with the whose dick is bigger games—were going to be the death of her. She had never faced a bigger challenge in all her years in the business. They were going to collectively chase her into an early retirement at the ripe age of thirty-one.

Just get through the weekend, she thought. Then it’ll all be over…right? A dream. That’s what she was selling herself. As long as that hex she spoke about was still alive between her and her current client, she’d never know peace. With the fuck you, pay me attitude he rendered and big bully on the playground persona he carried with him like a purse, pissing anyone within a five mile radius off—it’ll never be over.

“I don’t know what you’re looking at your watch for. We’re on time. You’re the one that’s late, Junior.”

“Yeah, well I’m here. I don’t want to be here any more than you want me here. But you need something from me. So, I’d think you’d turn your asshole down just a little bit.”

“I don’t need shit from you.”

“You sure about that?” A snort pushed through his throat. “Cause the way you’ve been face down on the mat every week at the hands of your family says otherwise.”

Paula sat back like a child witnessing her parents have their first post-divorce argument. It was no point in getting in between these two. She knew better. They had to figure it out.

“Listen to me—”

“No, you listen to me. I came here for two things. One,” he held his pointer finger up, “to make it very clear that I’m not doing this for you.” He nodded in Paula’s direction. “I’m doing it for her. I’m not here for you—it’s all for her.”

Roman smiled so deeply his dimple showed as fine lines creased around his mouth. He sat back in the chair eyeing them both. Paula could feel the heat radiating off his body as she fiddled with the Bloodline ring he gifted her years ago, refusing to return eye contact.

“I’m happy for you two. Really, I am.” Whatever feeling was opposite of happy on the spectrum, was what he was actually feeling inside. “Finding each other again after all these years. The story’s lined up perfectly. It’s beautiful. Poetic almost. But, that also has nothing to do with me. That’s y’all shit.” His hand shifted between the two of them. Paula flinched at the heightening aggression she recognized as a precursor before he usually put his hands on someone. “I don’t want—need—whatever you wanna call it—your help tomorrow night.” He spoke like a dragon emitting fire with his every word.

Over his antics and borderline temper tantrum, Punk adverted his gaze to the only person in the room he deemed worthy of any acknowledgment. She took the deepest breath before finally speaking up for the first time since he entered.

“My Tribal Chief.” She placed a dainty hand in front of where he sat on the table to disarm him first. He looked down at it as if it was a cuff restraining him. “With the way Solo has gone about things—especially after Crown Jewel—it wouldn’t be very wise to turn down a helping hand.” She spoke like a circus tamer trying to calm the big cat before it went rogue. “Now, I can find someone else. But there’s no one I trust to do this as much as him.”

Roman tried his hardest to accept her words, but the smug smirk on Punk’s face was pulling him in the direction of irrationality.

“And you.” She continued only turning her head in Punk’s direction. “You think Solo is just going to forgive and forget what you’ve done?” The smirk vanished. “You speak like someone who has a choice, but let’s be all the way real here. If you don’t help, you’ll just move up on the list of people he plans to run through after he wins. We can do more together than apart. You mean to tell me the two of you can’t put these petty ass differences aside for just one night, to conquer a common enemy?”

Both men regarded one another. A silent battle that couldn’t have been louder in the ears of the woman between them—who knew both like the back of her hand. Punk was the first to come forward as he slid his forearm on the table.

“You don’t like me and I don’t like you. That much is clear. But Paula’s right. We can get through one night. One common enemy. One win. One time.”

“One time,” Roman agreed.

“When it’s all over and done—you and I can have a different conversation in the ring, maybe.” He smiled pushing the chair back.

“What was the second thing?” Roman interrupted his attempt to remove himself from the meeting. The room grew eerily quiet. “You said you came here for two things.” He clasped his fingers together. “What was the second thing?”

Paula’s relief was short-lived as she watched the look he always had when he was up to no good present itself. “To make sure I get what I’m owed when it’s all said and done with,” he revealed.

Roman scoffed with wide eyes. “I’d owe you a favor?” Punk immediately shook his head.

“No—no, you don’t owe me anything.” His eyes flicked longingly to his best friend who he’d been removed from all these years. “My best friend—our Wisewoman will owe me a favor.”

Paula subtly shook her head, hoping her eyes could relay what her mouth feared to speak. She remembered the conversation after he came out to help the Bloodline. How he begged her days before to just consider the idea of coming back home—as he referred to it as. In his corner, supporting him and counseling him. Keeping him on top. Although she never gave him a direct answer, she knew after tomorrow night, it’d go from an inquiry, to something owed—just as he spoke of now.

Oh, but she was so wrong. About everything. While Punk did yearn for his friend to come back and play for his team—he had a bigger picture in mind. One he didn’t plan on revealing until every thing was all over, to eliminate the risk of this said favor not being carried out.

Joy reflected in his eyes as he watched the shift of tension build within the two other parties at the table—but that wasn’t his problem. So, he got up and left them to deal with the mess.

“Wisewoman,” his authoritative voice called to her.

She winced. Her wish that he would just leave it alone until after WarGames, completely in vain.

“Yes, My Tribal Chief?”

She met his dark eyes. “What is this favor he’s talking about?” He pressed.

“Uh—” Paula didn’t truly know and she knew that wasn’t an answer he was going to accept. She was only guessing that the favor had to do with their previous conversations. A topic way too touchy to present to Roman. He was already hanging onto his sanity by the thinnest thread. The contingency of losing his Wisewoman after just gaining her presence back, would sever that thread completely.

“Let’s just get through tomorrow night. Okay?” She flashed that pretty smile. Not at all ready to become the object of his wrath—like she’s been plenty of times before. “We can talk about it after. I promise.”

Again, she twisted the band gifted to her by the man seated next to her. Always by his side. Always the master pulling the strings to ensure him and his family stayed out in front. What she tried her best to conceal, was that she needed him as much as he needed her. It was a two way street. It wasn’t just the inevitable betrayal that she anticipated. It was the unprecedented emptiness she’d feel again without him.

WarGames was its namesake. A full on fucking war. A civil war amongst men of the same Bloodline, which made it that much more brutal—because it was rooted in love in place of hate. But in the throws of the obvious war between the original Bloodline and this new one—there was an equally intense war within what was supposed to be two men playing for the same team.

Every side eye and hateful glare that transpired, she shifted and sighed to herself. Anxiety growing until she had a garden full of concern and angst with her at the ringside table with the announcers. Two bombs that always seemed to be ready to detonate at any given moment.

She paced. She ran hands through her blowout frustratedly. She had to do away with the suit jacket. She was hot with worry. She didn’t know which was worse. Them in the confines of a cage outside the ring, or them inside a bigger cage in the heat of battle. She just kept praying that they made it through the night without killing each other and winning of course.

When Roman wedged a hand out to prevent Punk from entering the match, Paula nearly lost it. She was sure they were going to kill each other before even stepping foot inside the ring, then. Mean ass, she thought as he waved a hand at an exhausted Punk whom he disregarded to help the rest of the Bloodline on their feet.

Proud. That’s what the pinball of her emotions landed on at the end of the night. Her boys fought valiantly and the win was well deserved. Punk and Roman even shook hands. Two of her favorite men, now coming to an understanding. A mutual respect. She did that.

At the end of it all, Roman met her down the steps of the ring—a strong hand cupping her face. His thumb grazing her cheek three times. I love you was the hidden significant message. Something he started years ago. Too prideful to speak it, he’d stroke the words with his thumb. On her wrist, her arm, her knee. Today, her face. It’s when she knew she made the right decision. The war was over.

In the wee hours of the night, she found herself in his trailer. He called her over and offered a bottle of champagne that they popped open together in celebration. Things were finally looking like they were coming together after being abruptly dismantled.

On their second glass now, they stood reminiscing on all it took to even get to this point. How far they had come and how much further they planned to take it. Somewhere in the expensive champagne and the fog of taking a jog down memory lane, Roman was feeling more sentimental than usual.

“You know I appreciate you right, Paula?” Thank you would’ve been too much. But even him extending his appreciation was something she didn’t see often. It had her momentarily melting like ice cream on a stick in ninety degree weather.

He knew he lashed out more than what was needed. Talked to her like the shit on the bottom of his shoe at times. He threw more than enough responsibility in her lap. Threw a fit when things didn’t go his way. Created more problems for Paula to come behind and clean up, instead of solutions. But his worst crime of all—leaving her alone after losing at Mania. He was ashamed. He didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t ready to face the universe of WWE yet. More importantly, he wasn’t ready to face her. She worked her ass off, day in and day out, to guarantee he made it to the top of the mountain—and he lost it all in one night.

“Next phase of business—putting that Ula Fala back around your neck where it belongs.” Already onto the next phase—moving the goal post back. “Only halfway there, Chief.” She offered a half smile.

Always so professional—so well put together. Composed. He always yearned to see her come undone. Touched himself to vivid imaginative flashes of what that must look like. Loose curls cascaded around her, head rolled back and mouth agape. Him beneath her, admiring his new canvas—her. He couldn’t help but to paint a picture of what Paula Heyman would look like as a mess, losing control—just for him. Desperate. Begging.

She was strong. Resilient. But even the most unwavering women—solid as a sculpture in Italy—could always use the reactive force of a stronger man.

Those lips. They were naturally pouty and plump. Every time she talked, he found himself drawn to them and how they curved at certain letters. He deemed them perfect. Only able to use his imagination, he thought about how they’d feel wrapped around him. How’d they look.

“When’s the last time somebody fucked you?” He blurted out. She nearly choked on the bubbling champagne. He stood unmoved, expecting an answer.

“I’m sorry?”

“You heard me.” He placed his glass down. His dick pressed uncomfortably against his pants. He was losing every ounce of patience and composure he had. He was done playing games. He respected her and her hustle, but it did nothing to put out the fire inside of him whenever he watched her interacting with other men—especially that motherfucker Punk.

“And I’m not talking about the last time you had sex—no. I mean the last time somebody fucked you so hard, you forgot to breathe. So good you felt it everywhere. It was all you could think about after the fact.”

Her skin heated up to an uncomfortable degree. The kind that warrants tiny tingles and possible rashes all over your body. Her breathing pattern kicked up at the smoldering look in his eyes. She couldn’t mistake his intentions now. Especially after her eyes flickered to the bulge in his pants.

He made a step toward her. The heavy thud of his giant boot meeting the floor sounding as a doomsday soundtrack for her professionalism. She knew she was in trouble. “Roman—”

“Shh,” he hushed her and smiled wickedly. His sharp canines on display. He relieved her of the glass and sat it on the counter her ass was rested on. She didn’t even understand how he’d gotten so close so fast. She was sure he could hear her heartbeat, as it was booming in her own ears now. “Relax,” he whispered. “Let me thank you properly.” The wicked smile had vanished in a flash and in its place was an intense concentration. His brown pupils blown and trained on her lips.

He was going to kiss her. And as much as Paula’s head screamed no—her body conforming to his and her mouth falling open before he even reached her, told a completely different story.

The air around them was so charged, if anyone else walked in they’d be electrocuted on sight. His fingers found their way into her hair, tangling and fisting it, earning a gasp from her. Leaning in, his tongue swept her mouth fiercely. He didn’t need to test the waters with a timid peck. For what? She was his Wisewoman and he planned on making that very clear tonight. In the sickest part of his membrane, he wished he could sit Punk down and make him watch what he planned to do to her.

Paula’s hands found his muscular and tanned arms as his free one roamed the meaty flesh of her ass though her skirt. Always galloping about in the highest heels, shortest skirts and tightest dress pants. He craved to know what it felt like under his palms. To squeeze and knead it as he was now. His dick was so stiff, it was almost painful.

The eruption of their kiss quickened. It was messy now, as they couldn’t even keep up with their own lust—passionate and scorching with the heat of hell.

“How long?” He mumbled in between the kiss. Still, expecting an answer.

“I—I don’t know,” she admitted. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had blown her mind in bed. She tried for years to make some sort of connection, but it was pointless. This job—governing Roman, had become her life. It consumed her and men could see that. She opted for the occasional fling here and there, but they were all pointless. Always leaving her dissatisfied and half full. So she scrapped the idea of men and dating altogether.

Roman roughly turned her by the hips. Pushing his pulsing member on her ass and growling in her ear at the friction of her writhing against him. She was soaking and he barely touched her.He could smell her and it ignited the beast in him.

This was a new frequency of intimacy for her. No man had ever been so exhilarating and demanding in his approach. He commanded things from her body without even speaking a word. It was sorcery, really.

She felt his hands next. Big, calloused, and firm. They slithered over her thighs as his warm breath and facial hair tickled her ear. Under her skirt, they disappeared until it was bunched around her waist. She got lost in the heat and hardness of his body. Her eyes popped open after hearing the violent tear of stocking material. The cotton of her panties snapped next.

“Ro—Unnh!”

She gasped violently at his entry and he wasn’t even halfway in yet. No condom. Nothing between them except passion and the longing of two people who underhandedly craved each other for years and couldn’t do anything about it. Hatred and frustration, that only two people who loved one another could muster—sprinkled on top.

He eased his length in, inch by inch, watching the pinched look on her gorgeous face. This was better than he had imagined. Crinkle between her curved brows, hands spread on the wall, mouth as wide as it can go. All because of him.

He stretched her out to his liking, until he reached the end and then pulled back. He slammed back in almost losing his nut at the squeeze she granted around his thickness. It felt like the best hug he ever received—warm, wet, and tight as fuck. A small hand slithered between them, to which he easily caught. Using one strong hand to pin both her wrists together above them on the wall.

Leaning back slightly, he admired the view. Her round ass perked up and pushed out. Puffy lips wrapped tight around him, glistening under the lights of his trailer. The deep line in the center of her arched back with a thin layer of sweat.

“You’re perfect. Just like this.”

“Roman,” she whined. Frustrated and helpless to move as he had her trapped.

He smiled against the side of her face. “You feel so good to me.” Another gasp as he began to push in and out at a steady pace. Squishy and sloppy sounds filling the small space around them. “Can’t believe you kept this shit from me for so long, baby.” His free hand came down on her left ass cheek before he dug his finger in her hip, guiding her up and down his massive dick. He let her adjust and find her own rhythm—too fixated on the little sounds from her mouth and the contortions of her pretty face, to do anything himself. “Yeah. Keep throwing that pussy back on me.”

“It's so big,” she moaned. She shouldn’t have been surprised. He talked too much shit to not have the means to back it up. He grinned smugly.

“You can take me. Right, baby?”

Struggling to locate her voice she just nodded against the wall profusely. Afraid he might stop and put an end to this immeasurable sensation he awakened. It hurt so good. He was creating a monster and he didn’t even know it.

“Keep them hands right there. Don’t move,” he instructed. He used his own to grab handfuls of her ass in both palms, stretching her wide so he could get a clear shot of her wetness pulling on him. Every time he withdrew she sucked him back in. A trail of white stuff lingering as evidence to how good he was making her feel. “Making a fucking mess,” he grunted. He let his possessive hold go, loving the recoil of her ass on his pole. It was hypnotizing. He questioned how long he could hold out like this.

Against what his body was advising him—which was to pace himself—he violently pounds into her drenched hole over and over and over again. Beating her up.

“Oh my—fuck! Yesss.” She was a glutton for punishment. His punishment disguised in gratitude. His frustrations took control of the wheel. Her going ghost on him was unacceptable. He was losing his fucking mind. A fact he’d never admit out loud. It didn’t go well with his, I don’t need anybody—head of the table—persona.

Teeth barred down and upper lip curled into a snarl, he continued his assault, but that little pussy packed some power. It fought back. A fight he wasn’t prepared for. She was leaking. Juices running down her toned leg and his balls that hit her clit with every connect.

“Damn, girl.” His head falls back for a second.

“Right there—oh my goddd!”

“He can’t help you right now.” He teased huskily.

“Please, Ro.”

“Please what? Huh?”

She didn’t even know what she was pleading for. Mercy? Release? She wanted more of everything. More of him, if possible.

They found themselves in the space of his bedroom. He wanted to try every position, but he knew he’d have her in here until this same time the next day to fulfill that fantasy. So he opted for the position where he could see everything.

He had her on full display. Button down now completely off, her breast hung freely over the lace bra after he pulled them out. Stockings still obliterated, the hole he made had grown. He could see everything. Her swollen lips surrounding her poking clit. The tight ring of her ass that he vowed to play with later. The wetness smeared everywhere.

He gripped himself—heavy and strong—at the base to ease back in where they both needed him, but not before slapping it down twice, loving how reactive she was to every little thing. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think she hadn’t been touched in years.

She was enamored with his body. The way his smooth bronze skin stretched over every defined line and cut. How his tattoos—reflecting the armor of a Pacific warrior—danced with every flex of muscles. He had the body of a god. If only it wasn’t attached to such an asshole.

His hand found her breast. He pinched the chocolate nub until it hardened again.

“Push ‘em together for me.”

Hastily, she cupped both D cups together. Her chocolate peaks to the forefront as they bounced with every salacious thrust of his hips.

He planted two swollen fists on either side of her head to lean all his weight down. His mouth latched onto her, igniting a tingle in her clit as she clenched around him.

“Mmm,” he hummed like he was tasting the most delicate and richest piece of chocolate straight from the factory. Flicking, sucking and swirling. He was in heaven as she watched in awe. The most dominant man on the current roster, feasting on her. He bit down on one nipple causing her to jolt up slightly. One last suck as he pulled back, releasing her, and leaving her nipples tender. “Tastes sweeter than you look.” He bit down on his bottom lip.

He hooked his hands under her knees and pushed until they met the bed to get a deeper angle. The sounds—loud and erotic slapping of flesh, as he buried himself inside of the softest place on earth. She fit like she was molded specifically for him. And in this moment, you couldn’t convince him that she wasn’t.

“You’re mine.” He growled in between pants. “You belong to me. You hear me?” There it was again. That deadly sense of loyalty encompassing her. The looming of Punk’s claim and this damned favor, hanging above his head.

“Yes,” she barely whispered.

“Yes, what?” He pushed. Thrust growing erratically sharper and more intense.

“Yes, My Tribal Chief.”

Satisfied, he rewarded her with another overpowering, sloppy kiss. His hair covered them both. Her hands came up to cup his face—grabbing desperately at his beard as their tongues tangled. But his mission was only halfway complete. He wanted that nut. She earned it. She made him feel like a winner even in the absence of a title or Ula Fala.

He didn’t want to, but he rose up breaking the intimate kiss. Picking his pace back up. All the way in and all the way out. Hitting that spot that had her pulling at her own hair. Eyes rolled back into her brain like she was possessed.

“I wanna feel you cum on this dick. Come on,” he begged. “Cum for me Paula. Cum for Your Tribal Chief.”

It was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Like an unforgiving flood coming through a broken dam, she exploded on him just as he requested. Forgetting to breathe. Shaking uncontrollably—she felt him everywhere.

Attentively, he ogled at every change in her beautiful face, every shake of her body—as she unraveled on him, shedding every bit of composure she had left. “That’s it,” he commended breathless. Loving the scene before him. His big palms, rubbing up and down the length of her soft thighs and stomach, to help her come back to center.

She was shook. World completely knocked off its axis to the point where tears threatened to spill from the corners of her almond eyes.

She knew working for him came with its perks—but this? This shot straight to the top of the list of all the benefits that came with being his special counsel.

A/N // Of course, if you read it or even a portion, thank you. Feedback is always welcomed💗

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manytoonepoet · 9 days ago

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Whenever I listen to a song, a few lines tend to stand out to me, and Hala CG's "Gambler" was no exception, with those lines being: "But they don't see the hand clutching on for dear life. They don't see the man as he tries, and he tries to stand tall." — with those lines being a brief yet concise summarization of how we view characters and the people around us.

Example, number one example, is the man of the song himself, Aventurine. I've already talked about this in detail in this post of mine, which I made a while back, and I highly recommend checking it out if you wish to know more, but I'll summarize it here: The way the majority of people view Aventurine is simply disgusting; they only ever care about who he is gay for or what is in his pants, and while shipping and having your own interpretations about a character is absolutely alright, oversimplifying and forcing one's headcannons compromises the true essence of the character — you might as well create a new character of your own with how many changes you've made to this one as you claim that they are this or that, and more often that not, these unnecessary and unwanted changes disrespect the original intent of the source material. A lot of these people forget, or simply choose to ignore, what Aventurine has gone through and mold him to their headcannons and push those headcannons down people's throats because they despise the fact that not everyone sees Aventurine as a submissive, masochistic, gae man for Dr. Ratio and instead enjoy and learn about a character instead of focusing on who's gae for whom and who's not. They despise the fact that people see and admire Aventurine for his resilience, his perseverance, his bravery, his intelligence, his thought process, and his strategy — they acknowledge and admire all that and more, and it is such a shame that too many people don't.

But Miss Poet, I hear you say, if you've already talked about this, then why bring it back again? Can't you just let it go? It's done! Well, Rat Urine is back just in a different outfit → Phaidei.

Again, I will restate it just in case you missed it: Shipping, having headcannons, and having your own interpretations about a character is absolutely alright so long as it doesn't compromise the true essence of a character.

But me, personally, I dislike the notion of shipping in HSR mainly because I believe romance could potentially kill or somewhat lessen the impact of their main story theme of trailblazing. This group of people is made up of the lost, the broken, and the hurt, yet even as they wander amongst the stars, they're never alone because they have the people that they have formed bonds with along the way, and more people to encounter in the future. HSR's journey is that—a journey, one that is symbolic of real life, funnily enough. Because in real life, we love (or at least are supposed to). We love and we uphold hope and we create relationships with that love and hope, relationships that aren't inherently romantic. In fact, I'm quite proud of Hoyo for giving Mydei and Phainon such a deep and emotional bond because what I personally see in media usually involves strong female friendships rather than male ones, and I believe we need more of this kind of friendship and brotherhood as well.

And I believe THAT is what's heartwarming about Amphoreus' story — this group of people is brought together by loss and pain and war and death, and all of that made them appreciate the bond and camaraderie present within their little group. They understand that they will reach their doom soon, sooner than they might think, even. But even then, they still took the time to bond and grow closer to each other instead of shutting everyone out because, at the end of the day, they only have each other, don't they? They only have each other to rely on, and they're the only hope Amphoreus has left. If they crumble and fall apart, what will be of Amphoreus? They are the soldiers sent to the frontlines to protect the innocent and secure even the slightest bit of hope that there will be a future for everyone else, even if they won't be there to see it. In fact, speaking of soldiers, they often form exceptionally close bonds due to the unique and intense circumstances they share. The combination of high-stakes missions, reliance on one another for survival, and extended time together in challenging environments fosters deep trust and camaraderie. Shared experiences—like training, combat, or long deployments—create a sense of brotherhood or sisterhood that can surpass typical friendships. However, the strength of these bonds varies based on individual personalities, unit dynamics, and the intensity of shared experiences. Some soldiers may not form close friendships due to personal differences or shorter service periods, but for many, these relationships become profound and enduring.

Take this post however you want to, call me names, slurs, throw insults my way, but I simply wish to provide another perspective and to bring something new to the table because when I see Mydei and Phainon together, I don't wonder about who is top or who is bottom, I don't wonder about what positions they prefer or what places they enjoy doing it. Because when I see Phainon and Mydei, I see the bond eloquently described by the lovely people in the pictures on top, I see the bond I wish to grow and nurture with my own best friend too.

And no, I'm not criticizing anyone for liking this ship, I'm not acting nor do I see myself as someone above the rest of you, but I simply wish the fandom wasn't so quick to label them as gay or have their entire character be oversimplified as someone's gae submissive malewife or someone's dominant daddy... HSR has such an emotional and nuanced storytelling, one that talks about these kinds of relationships so well, and I just wish the fandom could appreciate it as it is, rather than twist it into something that it is not.

Because, yes, a lot of people here don't see the hand clutching on for dear life. They don't see the man as he tries, and he tries to stand tall.

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twinkkisserrr · 2 months ago

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One thing I love about Armored Core is that it kinda consistently has you massacre characters who should be the protagonist. Because no matter how special you are, some rookie be it through sheer luck or through hellish undertakings one after the other, is gonna wind up beating you.

A lot of games have special people… That you inevitably kill, as some random ass mercenary. Sometimes you too are special, Masters of the Arena had their family killed by Nine Ball, damn if that ain’t an origin story, IDK what else is… Oh wait, now who you played as is the final boss in the sequel… And you just killed him…

I’m not going to pretend I know everything of the series. So I’ll go over the last 2 ish gens for the cases I know well by heart:

- Rusty (AC6): An experienced AC pilot with his own theme song, iconic mech and has a rich story with many other characters in the verse and is himself a turncoat agent waiting for the right moment to turn on Arquebus and help free Rubicon. In the Fires of Raven route, he goes against you, a new mech, his wolf emblem unmuzzled with its fangs bared and he’s coming at you with everything he has, even getting a second wind when all his repair kits are exhausted. You still kill him in the end, even when you play the role as an antagonistic extremist.

- Magnolia Curtis (ACVD): Descendent of Fran Curtis (AC5’s main operator) following the legend of the Dark Raven (AC5’s player character) and quite possibly their descendent too. Doubly whammied, first she’s crippled and loses the ability to fight after being defeated by Reaper Squad Leader, J, after many years of being undefeated. Then, turned into a digital consciousness, literally sacrificing her soul so she can fight again, a very familiar second wind occurring even with her AC’s arm blasted off and in critical condition… You still defeat her.

- J (ACVD): A soldier bred for war, very likely from genetic material from either Joshua O’Brien or Anatolia’s Mercenary (AC4’s player character), he’s even given an all powerful NEXT in the final battle where he (very edgily) states he is made solely for the purpose of warfare. And yet he falls to a lone mercenary.

- RD (AC5): Not much explicit to talk about here other than theoryboarding, RD is implied to have some degree of Lynx pilot in him as there’s suggestions his paranoia is related to AMS capability and furthermore his last name a callback to the “Dominant Theory” in Last Raven, even the AI Chief thinks he has genius talent and potential. He’s the classic case of cowardly young man who has a lot more strength than he realizes… But in the end, in the height of his ego and embracing of his special nature, the player’s character fells him one on one.

All these special characters with blessed genes, great potential or borderline main protagonist built stories are gunned down by an up and coming merc for whatever motives your player character has, your un special player character who often starts the game in a mass produced mech composed of scraps that claws there way to victory.

Unfortunately, being special does not equate to being invincible.

#armored core #armored core ramble #armored core 6 #ac6 #armored core fires of rubicon #armored core verdict day #acvd #armored core 5

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p1utofairy · 2 years ago

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PAC: “i just wanna be your favorite…” ⭐️🎀💍

• which fictional characters is your person most like?

disclaimer ✩: 18+ mature themes. take what resonates, leave what doesn't. i also just wanna say thank y'all from the bottom of my heart for the support <3 it means so much to me. enjoy!

pile 1 💸 —

"i can't wait 'til i get you on the floor, good-looking. hey, going hot, so hot, just like an oven. and ow! burned myself, i just had to touch it. but it's so fire, and it's all mine."

hiii pile 1! let me start off by saying your person is one fineeee m'fer! they look straight out of an old hollywood movie. suit & tie by justin timberlake ft. jay z won't stop playing in my head lol, their vibe is literally that song. they're gonna love taking you out to fun events and showing you off to people hehe i heard "trophy wife." this isn't in a superficial way by any means, they just really love how you look and how bright your personality shines. you have a mesmerizing appearance and an extraordinary personality to match. i feel like your eyes or their eyes is another main focus that will garner lots of compliments. ok, wow. back to the topic at hand! the characters i channeled were jay gatsby from ‘the great gatsby’, lon hammond from ‘the notebook’, and napoleon solo from ‘the man from U.N.C.L.E.’ now of course your person may not exactly look like these characters but the ✨vibes✨ are very much there. you're gonna have the time of your life with this person lol they are so damn fun and charismatic. i can hear them teasing you and and saying "don't be a brat, baby." with a sly smirk on their face LOL they're gonna make you feel so tingly and giddy inside ahhh. i feel like it was hard for them to settle down before you came into their life pile 1. they wanted to have their cake and eat it too. i mean this person could honestly have whatever they want, but you actually make them work for this relationship and they're not used to that. people (romantically and platonically) just fall for them at the drop of a dime because they are just so damn sexy, and it doesn't help that they're good with their words and actions. i just heard smooth operator by sade and ego by beyoncé at the same time lol this person is seriously a charmer! they can't help it though, they just love to socialize and have a good time. on the flip side, this sometimes weighs them down. the constant attention and socializing can make them feel overwhelmed at times. i'm thinking of ‘the great gatsby’ when jay kept throwing elaborate parties and inviting thousands of people to attend them, so that he could eventually catch daisy's attention. i'm hearing "when you're happy, they're happy!" random thought, but for some of you…your person could be from the UK/have a thick british accent. i also feel like your person is funny af, they've got jokes for dayssssss. they honestly take nothing serious…like if either of you had a bad day at work or just in general, TRUST that they will find a way to turn it around. like it'll actually amaze you how they just go through life vibing and you'll just be like how??? and i can hear them saying "i don't know, babe. i just got it like that." lol they're so cocky (but in an annoyingly hot way) you will never be able to stay mad at them. like if you were being petty and giving them the silent treatment for whatever reason…i can see you getting ready and they'd come up all close behind you, arms around your waist, kissing your neck and they'd be like "you still mad at me, baby?" and your brain would literally malfunction like €|>~€\€,\!|!]€]€YESNOYESNO.!:!,&:’ i'm crying this is hilarious. never a dull moment with them, pile 1. i'm telling ya!

other channeled messages:

theme from new york, new york by frank sinatra, gene kelly, tuxedo, her way by partynextdoor, sophisticated, expensive cologne, j'adore dior, pearly white teeth, cartier watch, swarovski crystals, meet me on the dance floor, babydoll by mariah carey, british, sprinter by dave & central cee, love island, damson idris, i'll make it happen, ballin’ by partynextdoor, diamonds are a girl's best friend

pile 2 💣 —

“who wants that perfect love story anyway, anyway. cliché, cliché, cliché, cliché. who wants that hero love that saves the day, anyway cliché, cliché, cliché, cliché.”

okayyyy pile 2, i see y'all with the bonnie and clyde vibes! let's buckle down and get serious though. i already feel like your person is very misunderstood. they might've had a rough childhood growing up or possibly struggled with connecting to their family. they feel like they fuck things up? they kinda think to themselves "why should i even try to be in a relationship, i'm a mess. i mess things up." it's actually sad because i feel like they're a great person (very soft and gentle) and when things go left/don't work out they immediately blame themselves because the blame was always put on them as a child. i'm hearing it's a "trauma response" :( aw pile 2 i feel like crying…your person really takes it on the chin and keeps it pushing. i can see them sitting on porch steps, gazing at the skyline and kinda just shrugging saying "that's just life i guess." they tend to self-sabotage before things even go into motion but before you two meet, they'll be pushed to confront their problems/fears. they have this cool, in-control, idgaf type of vibe on the outside but internally it's the opposite. i'm hearing pretty little fears by 6lack ft. j cole wow pile 2 they'll really have a soft spot for you. the characters i channeled were damon salvatore from ‘the vampire diaries’, luke glanton from ‘the place beyond the pines’ and tyler durden from ‘fight club’ which are some pretty complex personalities whew. your person is a loner by default, they feel like they really can't depend on many people. they've been left out in the cold so many times it's like they had no other choice but to become independent fast. when they meet you, pile 2…you're going to awaken them. i'm hearing j cole's verse in pretty little fears, “i'm loving your light, vulnerable. letting your guard down is honorable. 'specially when the past ain't been that friendly to you, but…there's magic in that.” it's gonna be insane to them how someone like you could display so much love, care and devotion towards them. i can see them keeping a really cute picture of you (or you two together) in their wallet/bag and just staring at it with a small smile on their face. you give them so much hope pile 2. they never knew they were capable of such strong emotions; love, happiness, joy. i can see you two laughing about something…you have this big grin on your face and when you turn your head to look at them, you just see them with a dopey smile on their face and a glint in their eyes just staring at you in awe. and you're just like "what?" but you don't even know how much you really mean to them in that moment. I'M ABOUT TO BURST INTO TEARS PLS I CAN'T. they're not used to anything stable, but you give them hope and anticipation for their future…with you. y'all are going to have to have so many enlightening, deep and forward-thinking conversations. i see them holding your hand and kissing your knuckles, taking random drives at night together while blasting music and going to the movies and talking/debating afterwards about what you hated and what you loved. k i'm crying, bye!

other channeled messages:

west coast by lana del rey, west side, successful relationship, turning tables by adele, cigarettes out the window by tv girl, well my boyfriend's in a band, ultraviolence album, someone like u (interlude) by ariana grande, toxic upbringing, scorpio moon, aries, smoking weed, american psycho, it's a forever thing

pile 3 🐚 —

“every little thing you do got me feeling some type of way. when you gimme that thunder you make my summer rain.”

welcome to your reading pile 3! idk why i wanted to say pile 333 hehe let's take that as a sign that you're about to meet your person soon. your person is so easy-going…like their energy feels so carefree and warm; like a nice summer breeze (i feel like some of you that chose this pile watch/really love the summer i turned pretty) i can see your person adjusting their sunglasses and saying "i'm just happy to be here." they're such a vibe lol. ok and why did i just randomly hear "no you're cute jeans." their sense of humor is so sjhfjdjcjdsn y'all are gonna have a lot of inside jokes together; internet memes especially. that "i'm sorry, i'm just in a silly goofy mood" shemar moore video just popped up in my head LMFAOOOO your person is hilarious pile 3. i channeled johnny storm from ‘fantastic four’, chad meeks-martin from ‘scream vi’, stefan salvatore from ‘the vampire diaries’ and conrad fisher from ‘the summer i turned pretty’ which are all pretty different but i see the vision pile 3…i see the vision. i feel like your person has just gotten back to themselves, because for awhile they weren't this upbeat and silly. i feel like this has to do with a past hurt/betrayal from either a friend or an ex-lover…that person took them for granted and made them feel small. i just randomly heard "katherine pierce" so maybe that person was very sneaky and never had good intentions in the first place. when they're with you though, they feel like a moth drawn to a flame. best friend by 50 cent just came to mind, "if i was your best friend, i want you 'round all the time. (i want you 'round me all the time) girl, i'll be your best friend if you promise you'll be mine (girl, promise you'll be mine)." i see you both posting funny photo dumps of you two together on instagram/instagram stories. i feel like y'all will be a PDA couple, and even if you aren't one of those type of people that likes all that…they're definitely gonna make you so happy that people visibly see the love between the two of you. i can see them kissing the side of your head, you slightly leaning into them…them giving you their hoodie/jacket to wear when you're cold. it's subtle things like that 🥹 so so so cute. you two have a very sacred, beautiful and divinely protected relationship. your person will be very generous with their time, money and love when it comes to you pile 3.

other channeled messages:

there goes my baby by usher, one in a million by ne-yo, connie baby, it's your world i'm just living in it, positions by ariana grande, unlock it by charlie xcx ft. kim petras & jay park, right my side by nicki minaj ft. chris brown, long walks on the beach, forever boy, vintage camera/digital camera, breakin’ my heart (pretty brown eyes) by mint condition, taylor swift, peter parker

pile 4 🌹—

“moment of honesty. someone's gotta take the lead tonight, who's it gonna be? i'm gonna sit right here and tell you all that comes to me. if you have something to say, you should say it right now.”

heyyy pile 4. i'm kinda stunned rn cause your person is sooooooooo captivated by you. like they wanted to skip all the bullshit and get right into it, and honestly…i #respect it. they think you're an absolute badass, you handle tough situations with so much grace. i'm hearing "you're better than me." lol they play no games pile 4, especially when it comes to you! i'm hearing that you've been through a lot, and it hasn't been easy for you to get to the point in your life that you're at now. they just wanna kiss you and make everything better. kiss it better by rihanna just started playing, "kiss it, kiss it, better baby." yeah your person is sensual af pile 4, it's givingggg taurus vibes. this is random af but i feel like they really love your back? if you wear a backless top or a backless dress, they will go absolutely FERAL. like fingers ghosting down your spine, their lips kissing down your neck…and don't get me started on the eye contact. their gaze is INTENSE. i’m hearing lyrics from nobody by selena gomez, "no kiss, no lips, no feel, no rush can keep me high, i swear no one…can love me like you do. can love me like you do, no." the characters i channeled were tobias eaton from ‘divergent’ and anakin skywalker from ‘star wars prequel trilogy’ which is so on brand. those 2 did not play about tris and padmé, ok?! you are their whole world pile 4. if it's not you, they don't want it. they feel so relaxed around you…like they can finally breathe. i can see them standing in a serious stance (obviously tense af) pondering about something and you just come behind them and wrap them in a big bear hug and they just…melt. they finally take that deep breath that they didn't even realize they were holding in for so long. they usually keep their feelings to themselves, but you create such a great safe space for them to be so open, honest and vulnerable; and vice versa. i'm also hearing that they are a very hands-on type of person, so whatever you need done/fixed, they sure as hell will find a way to do it for you. i can also see you two chilling/relaxing together a lot. don't get me wrong this person will always find something for you two to do, but there's something about that downtime (watching a movie while cuddled up with you on the couch, spending time with you and your loved ones/friends or taking a late night drive with you) that makes them think to themselves, "damn i really love life." 😮‍💨 you've got them locked in pile 4. it's so sweet & amazing.

other channeled messages:

1 of 1, peppers by lana del rey ft. tommy genesis, skywalker by miguel ft. travis scott, adore by cashmere cat ft. ariana grande, it's us against the world baby, 90210, pisces, dream guy, sauvage cologne, miss dior, sagittarius rising, virgo's groove by beyoncé, 1:11, best i ever had (remix) by drake & nicki minaj, all i want is you by miguel ft. j cole, bouquet of flowers, tennis bracelet, wild thoughts by dj khaled ft. rihanna & bryson tiller, cpr by summer walker

#pac #pac reading #love pac #pick a card #love reading #intuitive reading #tarot reading #pick a pile #energy reading #tarot pac #pick a card reading #p1utofairy

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dragonnon · 2 months ago

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why does it feel like sometimes Kazuma's themes could just be from the perpective of Ryunosuke? which is interesting considering the line Kazuma says, "i'm not the one who's changed Ryunosuke, you have."

Kazuma's first theme sounds like a downright heroic folk hero, someone you look up too and can depend on. the meter is focused and stays on point, every individual instrument waits for their perfect intervals. the bass instrument keeping them all steady. then an arpeggio comes and the original melody instrument stands aside and only plays as an accompaniment before coming back as lead with fanfare playing as it leads back to the main melody. there are a lot of japanese instruments in the song which go away in later themes. there is a kagura-suzu which is japanese bell! i really like it's sound!!!

in Nocturne, instruments are overlapping more but are quieter for the main melody which i think is the koto. it's no longer so steady, the bass is gone and i interpret the bass with his life/passion. no longer feels like a force always by your side more like a tun playing in your mind. the determined and steadfast arpeggio is gone and never comes back. and there are these contemplative plucking violin(?) strings in the middle section. they give me of the feeling of reminiscing. i feel like the last part before it repeats is Ryunosuke remembering all of the good times they've had, and then once it repeats that's him remembering he's gone. in this theme, all the other instruments take a real backseat to the main one. it's Ryunosuke remembering the best part of him, his main melody so to speak. the Kagura-suzu is still here.

In His Glorious Return, it starts out like a very triumphant and yearned for version of samurai on a mission (if that makes sense) until the brass section rests and it becomes almost exactly like Nocturne, something i find extremely interesting because of that part where susato was talking to kazuma in the departed soul scene, ryunosuke was looking towards the ground lost in thought around the same time this part plays i believe? it's almost as if he's remembering all the times he's grieved him.... thus the nocturne version playing.

the Kagura-suzu is now gone :( it is now "replaced" with snapping.

A prosecutor reborn, oh my god a prosecutor reborn, if it didn't have the same melody i almost wouldn't be able to tell it's the same character. most of his original japanese instruments are gone, and have been replaced with ones that are more associated with britain's characters. almost as if he seems more alien to Ryunouske. he borrows several instrument's from barok van ziek's theme, like the violin, and harpsichord. and yeah, the harpsichord absolutely haunts this song. it's EVERYWHERE. someone told me once the harpsichord represents the professor, so that's FUN. it's not like the professor absolutely haunts this guys life (,:'D)

i think the only thing he keeps is his bass which is used way more sparingly than it is in SOAM. and interestingly, the kagura-suzu is back, but it is only used like twice i think. (☹️), its still kinda replaced with the snapping

The opening almost sounds like an unveiling, as if seeing the man for first time and he's utterly terrifying. and then it jumps straight into this unfamiliar melody not heard anywhere in any of his other themes. it's reminiscent of barok van ziek's theme. ...because Ryunosuke barely recognizes him. he's nothing like who he's known... right? and it just keeps getting grander and grander! it then comes back to this more familiar part kazuma's iconic motif, but the notes are now in legato, and the melody's been changed by one note, and though it's only one it is NOTICEABLE. it distracts from how everything else about that section was so familiar. (when i first heard it i was actually taken aback)

now for the part that i'm crazy about

THE MIDDLE SECTION HAS THE GATEWAY TO THE TRUTH

THEME WHICH IS THE SAMD MOTIF THAT PLAYS IN THE PROFESSOR THEME! IF YOU LISTEN TO THEM BACK TO BACK YOU'LL HEAR THEM! Kazuma could've BEEN the professor if he didn't turn his heel and left! if he had killed gregson in pursuit of his mission, he could've become that! and the fact that motif is in this song is so important in showing that. just WOW. this song is Ryunouske finally seeing a different side to kazuma. him in his grief and rage, him at his 'worst' it's quite unlike how ryunosuke sees him in nocturne where it seems he is remembering only the absolute best parts about him like it's so easy to do when in grief.

listening to his themes with all that in mind has been a tear-filled hell for me, but it's always how i've thought of it basically.

#ace attorney #the great ace attorney #dgs spoilers #kazuma asogi #ryunosuke naruhodo #dgs2 spoilers #dgs #long post #i have a lot of thoughts about this apparently.#kazuma and ryunosuke in 2-4 and 2-5 be like “I DONT KNOW WHO YOU ARE ANYMORE!” (if youdunno the ref search up trapped in the drivethru)#this game has the most theatrical soundtrack ive seen in ace attorney with leitmotifs and specific instruments dedicated to characters.#it's a big deal when a characters sound dramatically changes like this!!#btw did you know a bit of ryunosuke's theme is present as a motif in susato's serenade theme! that's REALLY COOL RIGHT?!?#my days of watching music theory videos and being a epic the musical fan have trained me for this!!!#also just wanna say #knowing now that mikotoba is a master tapdancer i subscribe to the belief the entire song “Omen” is just him tapdancing ominously while #sholmes play the violin twice as ominously.#and that mental image does wonders for my life.#also kinda ironic that a guy who hates barok so much made his theme sound just like his.#ALSO LOVE THE FACT A PROSECUTOR #REBORN PLAYS AS A OBJECTION THEME #THATS SO COOL!!!!#me rambles

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rosenclaws · 8 days ago

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Ok Rose. I gotta ask you the big question. Since I know we both love Logan AND Disney…how would each Logan act during a trip to Disney (can be Land or World) with their SO?

Gotta combine our two loves together 🤭

Hi lex!! omg I love this idea sm and I am picking disneyland bc thats my home park and i love it sm

Origins Logan -

He's pretty much your bag carrier lmao. He's got your bag, your jacket, pretty much anything you don't wanna hold he will. He's seen some disney movies like Snow White and Pinocchio but the park is a whole lot different in the 70's. He really likes Country Bear Jamboree low key and the main street electrical parade. I don't know why but I feel like he hates drop rides or that feeling on rollercoasters so he's such a wimp when it comes to Space Mountain. He loves the turkey legs and he will NOT wear a mouse hat. You try and try but he won't do it. He doesn't really like the fireworks but he sticks it out for you. The two of you hang back down main street and you try and help soothe his overstimulation by rubbing circles into the back of his hand.

Trilogy Logan -

Could you imagine a like, X-Mansion field trip to Disneyland. The chaos omg. Logan is a chaperone forced to go by Charles and you and him are in charge of his favorite students because they're the only ones he can handle. They drag him on every ride and beg him to buy them snacks and even though he says he's not a bank or that they only get one souvenir but he so caves and buys them whatever they want. Jubilee buys Logan beast themed ears and makes you wear the belle ones and they totally call you their parents the whole day. He hates rollercoasters but gets dragged onto at least thunder mountain. The matterhorn hurts his back and he fucking HATES small world. That is literally his worst nightmare. Stuck in a dark slow moving boat ride with an annoying song playing on water where he cannot escape. He's this close to clawing those demonic looking dolls to shreds. I think he likes to eat the most. He can wolf down some good Disney plaza chicken and a churro. He so dances with you on main street during the fireworks away from the prying eyes of everyone else. It's a fairytale day <33

DOFP Logan -

He's old he doesn't really enjoy Disney theme parks lmao but he goes because you two really need a break and you really wanted to go to Disneyland. He's such a grump but a cute one. He holds your hand and gets annoyed when someone bumps into you. He'll wear that stupid hat because you give him your best puppy dog eyes. He goes on most rides. Not small world and no drop tower. He really loves to eat though. The cheesy garlic bread from red rose tavern is his favorite. Also dole whip and mickey ice cream. He likes the fantasyland rides because they're dark and he can sit. That's also why he really likes any live entertainment where he can sit in a nice cold room. So he really likes the great moments with Mr. Lincoln. He also hates meeting characters. Especially Gaston. Gaston flirted with you once and now Logan is grumpy about it.

Old Man Logan -

Disneyland might be his worst nightmare LOL. It's hot, full of people. expensive, and incredibly over stimulating. Still ever since Laura found this old VHS tape of a Disneyland sing along she found at a garage sale, she's been dying to visit. So he packs you guys up in the car and you guys drive to Disneyland. He's basically the one to sit out of the rides and just hang out while you and Laura have fun. You do manage to get him on some rides like the teacups which he hates and jungle cruise which he also doesn't like because the skippers are not funny in his opinion. He does enjoy the food at Tiana's though and will happily sit in the shade and eat beignets while you guys ride tianas bayou adventure. I think he favors the old stuff more than the new tech. Like fantasy land stuff or old tomorrow land. He doesn't like galaxy's edge but he does like that they sell alcohol over there now lol

Worst Logan -

So it's all Wade's idea. He wants his ultimate disney vacation and drags you and Logan with him. I don't know if you saw but for a while Avengers campus had wolvie and deadpool and you KNOW he'd go and watch it. He'd so flirt with the wolverine face character too poor guy. Anyways you and Logan get to sneak off while Wade is distracted. I think Logan doesn't really like theme parks but he does like to see you smile so he goes along with all the silly things. He wears the damn ears and he'll take pictures with the characters you want. He likes Pluto and does not like chip and dale and I don't know why it's just the vibes. He really hates toon town low key and likes frontier land and adventure land more. He likes the old west decorations and really likes the golden horseshoe. He loves the food sooo much. His ass doesn't go to disney for rides he's going for the food. If it wasn't so expensive he'd clean out every restaurant in the park. Not alien pizza planet. Sorry. He calls you his sweetheart though and when the dapper dans sing he asks you to dance with him <3 always the cutie.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett headcanons

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eleventeeny · 8 months ago

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Joker: Folie à Deux -- A Misunderstood Movie About a Misunderstood Man

What is Folie à Deux?

Folie à Deux, also known as shared psychosis, is a disorder in which delusions are shared between people. The term is French for "madness of two" but can involve more than two people. In this movies case, the delusions are shared by Arthur and Lee.

This movie brought something new to the story, a musical. The Joker sees himself as a star and believes that he is a spectacle, kind of like he has Truman Syndrome. In this movie, I believe the musical aspects play a part in the shared delusion of the two characters.

Before I get into the music and its role in the delusions, I want to talk about when we first see Arthur at the start of the movie.

After the animated introduction, we see the asylum that plays as a main setting for the movie. When Arthur is walking around, his surroundings reminded me a lot of the 1967 documentary, Titicut Follies, which shows the treatment of patients in Bridgewater State Hospital. The patients running around naked or in their underwear, being taunted by the guards, and just the atmosphere feels very reminiscent of the footage in Titicut Follies.

(This may be a little off topic, but while I was researching Todd Phillips projects other than the Joker films, I discovered he also directed a documentary on GG Allin in 1993. Just thought it'd be cool to share.)

So, when the story begins, Arthur is very quiet. He doesn't talk and even the guards of the asylum point out his uncharacteristic behavior. I think it would be safe to assume his life behind bars was getting the best of him.

But when Arthur sees Lee for the first time, he's suddenly back in shape and willing to be his normal, everyday self again. When they meet officially at the singing group, that's when the musical portion of the movie starts. That's part of the reason why I believe the music represents their delusions, after they first talk, the delusions are passing through them both and then they begin to sing with each other. Arthur also seems hesitant to join her, which I'll get into my interpretation of the reason later.

I've seen all the poor reviews for this film, seemingly only because of the fact the movie is a musical. I think the musical theme fits well with the story, but maybe the fans just weren't ready for it. I think the people who disliked the movie for the musical aspects just think musicals are goofy or childish and don't fit in such a mature movie.

I found all the songs to fit perfectly with the scenes they were placed in, and it made the movie so much more interesting to me, it was a unique change from what you would usually see.

Whenever Lee and/or Arthur sing, it's always when they're with each other or when one of them is mentioned.

Toward the end of the movie, after Arthur tells the court that there is no Joker, he sees Lee again and when he tries to talk to her, she starts singing. He tells her to stop singing and just talk to him. This is another reason why I believe the music represents their delusions. After he breaks his delusions and comes back to reality, he doesn't want to sing anymore. He's not telling her to stop singing, he's telling her to stop believing the delusions.

When Arthur was committed, he finally began to stop believing in himself as the Joker, that's why he stopped making jokes and being all Joker-ish. But when he met Lee, she convinced him to enter that delusion once again because it's what she wanted of him. She didn't want Arthur, she wanted Joker. And when he stopped giving into it and told the world the Joker doesn't exist, she left him.

I think this movie is amazing and I enjoyed it despite my lack of knowledge on the DC universe. I hope whoever may read this can use my writing to find better understanding of the thought process behind the choice to make it a musical.

#joker #joker folie a deux #lady gaga #joaquin phoenix #dc comics #dc universe #movies

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atopvisenyashill · 8 months ago

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king bran

so i’ve lined up my theory on how bran will be king in harrenhal but i was a little lax on details about king bran foreshadowing. there’s the “bran in harrenhal” stuff i’ve outlined which includes-

bran’s connection to the weirwoods & the magical connection the isle of faces has

the whent connection

bran being a metaphorical heir to robb by ruling over the lands robb was born, fought, and died in

the importance of harrenhal as a symbol of both the wasteful excess and hope for the future

but why king bran specifically? well…

ATTEMPTED SLAYING BY THE KINGSLAYER

for one thing, bran is our introduction to the entire series (barring the prologue, rip to 3 icons). he introduces us to the brutality of this world, to the themes of justice, kingship, leadership, to the Others, and to magic. that very important lesson about how the person to pass judgement must swing the sword, and must be sure that the life they're taking is one that deserves to be taken? That comes to us not through Jon, or even Arya, but Bran:

Yet our way is the older way. The blood of the First Men still flows in the veins of the Starks, and we hold to the belief that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. If you would take a man’s life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die.

That last sentence in particular is a belief that really sticks in all the kids heads as they go about their journeys, and it is through Bran that we learn it.

But in his second chapter, Bran also introduces us to jaime, cersei, and the main plot twist of the first book which kick starts the war of five kings. before he's pushed from the tower, this is all we know about Jaime-

He’s blonde, he’s named Jaime, and he killed the king.

Then the first thing he does is attempt to slay Bran.

AEGON VI AND THE PISSWATER PRINCE

What’s most interesting to me regarding King Bran foreshadowing is that the story of how Bran survives the sack of Winterfell is very similar to Varys & Illyrio’s story of the pisswater prince. Here is Tyrion’s summary of it-

"And when the pisswater prince was safely dead, the eunuch smuggled you across the narrow sea to his fat friend the cheesemonger, who hid you on a poleboat and found an exile lord willing to call himself your father. It does make for a splendid story, and the singers will make much of your escape once you take the Iron Throne…

and some reminders about Bran, helpfully color coded-

It was not Bran we killed. It was not Rickon. They were only miller's sons, from the mill by the Acorn Water. "I had to have two heads, else they would have mocked me… laughed at me..."

Three times he had sworn to keep the secret; once to Bran himself, once to that strange boy Jojen Reed, and last of all to Coldhands. "The world believes the boy is dead," his rescuer had said as they parted. "Let his bones lie undisturbed. We want no seekers coming after us. Swear it, Samwell of the Night's Watch. Swear it for the life you owe me."

“Hodor must stay with Bran, to be his legs," the wildling woman said briskly. "I will take Rickon with me." “We'll go with Bran," said Jojen Reed. "Aye, I thought you might," said Osha.

Another interesting thing about Bran, the Reeds, and Aegon VI here-

“He has a song," the man replied. "He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire."

I swear it by earth and water," said the boy in green. "I swear it by bronze and iron," his sister said. "We swear it by ice and fire," they finished together.

BRAN, THE REEDS, AND THE FISHER KING

Now first of all, quick rundown with more color coding. The Fisher King is a character in Arthurian legend, involved in a story with Perceval and the Holy Grail (so you know we’re already cooking here bc Holy Grail stories are baller). The Fisher King is the last in a long line of kings tasked with guarding the Holy Grail. He is injured at some point, usually in the groin, and is rendered barren by the wound, and his land is a barren wasteland where nothing will grow because he is connected to the land. Only when a prophesied hero comes seeking him will the Fisher King be healed. Perceval, of course, comes seeking him, heals him, and gets the Holy Grail.

Now some of the beats of that story should sound familiar-

Thousands and thousands of years ago, Brandon the Builder had raised Winterfell, and some said the Wall. Bran knew the story, but it had never been his favorite. Maybe one of the other Brandons had liked that story. Sometimes Nan would talk to him as if he were her Brandon, the baby she had nursed all those years ago, and sometimes she confused him with his uncle Brandon, who was killed by the Mad King before Bran was even born. She had lived so long, Mother had told him once, that all the Brandon Starks had become one person in her head.

He was going to be a knight," Arya was saying now. "A knight of the Kingsguard. Can he still be a knight?" "No," Ned said. He saw no use in lying to her. "Yet someday he may be the lord of a great holdfast and sit on the king's council. He might raise castles like Brandon the Builder, or sail a ship across the Sunset Sea, or enter your mother's Faith and become the High Septon." But he will never run beside his wolf again, he thought with a sadness too deep for words, or lie with a woman, or hold his own son in his arms.

The stone is strong, Bran told himself, the roots of the trees go deep, and under the ground the Kings of Winter sit their thrones. So long as those remained, Winterfell remained. It was not dead, just broken. Like me, he thought. I'm not dead either.

What was he now? Only Bran the broken boy, Brandon of House Stark, prince of a lost kingdom, lord of a burned castle, heir to ruins. He had thought the three-eyed crow would be a sorcerer, a wise old wizard who could fix his legs, but that was some stupid child's dream, he realized now.

No," said the pale lord. "That is beyond my powers." Bran's eyes filled with tears. We came such a long way. The chamber echoed to the sound of the black river. "You will never walk again, Bran," the pale lips promised, "but you will fly."

Now what’s interesting is in twoiaf we learn about some ancient rulers called the Fisher Queens-

From such we know of the Fisher Queens, who ruled the lands adjoining the Silver Sea—the great inland sea at the heart of the grasslands—from a floating palace that made its way endlessly around its shores.

The Fisher Queens were wise and benevolent and favored of the gods, we are told, and kings and lords and wise men sought the floating palace for their counsel.

And what do you know look at who Bran is traveling with-

“My father taught me. We have no knights at Greywater. No master-at-arms, and no maester.” “Who keeps your ravens?” She smiled. “Ravens can’t find Greywater Watch, no more than our enemies can.” “Why not?” “Because it moves,” she told him.

Jojen Reed was thirteen, only four years older than Bran. Jojen wasn't much bigger either, no more than two inches or maybe three, but he had a solemn way of talking that made him seem older and wiser than he really was. At Winterfell, Old Nan had dubbed him "little grandfather."

When they died, they went into the wood, into leaf and limb and root, and the trees remembered. All their songs and spells, their histories and prayers, everything they knew about this world. Maesters will tell you that the weirwoods are sacred to the old gods. The singers believe they are the old gods. When singers die they become part of that godhood.

I like to say this about Theon, when he sees Bran's face in the weirwood and thinks, "The old gods, he thought. They know me. They know my name." that this is partially true - Theon is beloved by the gods but what he doesn't realize is that the old god he is beloved by is in fact Bran Stark. When the old gods weep for Theon and Jeyne, it is Bran weeping for them! So similarly, the way the Fisher Queens in their moving castle were thought to be beloved by the gods the Reeds in their floating castle are beloved by the gods because they are beloved by Bran. This reinforces Bran's connection to the Fisher King imo - just as the old greenseers and singers/cotf are quite literally connected to the land because they have become part of the the weirwood hivemind, Bran has this same connection to the land.

AND what’s more is that the Fisher King story is likely to trace itself back to a Welsh story, of a magical King who gives his sister's hand away, only to learn that she is being mistreated, and musters a host to go save her. During a battle, the King is mortally wounded by an injury in his foot, and as he dies he tells his men to cut off his head and take it to London so he can protect their people from invasion, and for several years after he "dies" his head continues speaking. If that also sounds familair, do you want to know what that man’s name was?

Bran the Blessed.

MELISANDRE'S VISION

Now staying in the realm of magic, we also have this very interesting passage from Melisandre, emphasis mine-

Show me Stannis, Lord, she prayed. Show me your king, your instrument. Visions danced before her, gold and scarlet, flickering, forming and melting and dissolving into one another, shapes strange and terrifying and seductive. She saw the eyeless faces again, staring out at her from sockets weeping blood. Then the towers by the sea, crumbling as the dark tide came sweeping over them, rising from the depths. Shadows in the shape of skulls, skulls that turned to mist, bodies locked together in lust, writhing and rolling and clawing. Through curtains of fire great winged shadows wheeled against a hard blue sky. A face took shape within the hearth. Stannis? she thought, for just a moment … but no, these were not his features. A wooden face, corpse white. Was this the enemy? A thousand red eyes floated in the rising flames. He sees me. Beside him, a boy with a wolf's face threw back his head and howled.

THE REGENCY OF AEGON III

So warning this is part parallelism and part prediction

The Dance of the Dragons was done, and the melancholy reign of King Aegon III Targaryen had begun.

As he was still but ten years of age, the new king’s first act was to name the men who would protect and defend him, and rule for him until he came of age.

This was a council of which Septon Eustace heartily approved, “six strong men and one wise woman, seven to rule us here on earth as the Seven Above rule all men from their heaven.” Mushroom was less impressed. “Seven regents were six too many,” he said. “Pity our poor king.” Despite the fool’s misgivings, most observers seemed to feel that the reign of King Aegon III had begun on a hopeful note.

So many lords, both great and small, had perished during the Dance of the Dragons that the Citadel rightly names this time the Winter of the Widows. Never before or since in the history of the Seven Kingdoms have so many women wielded so much power, ruling in the place of their slain husbands, brothers, and fathers, for sons in swaddling clothes or still on the teat.

The smallfolk of the Seven Kingdoms speak of King Aegon III Targaryen as Aegon the Unlucky, Aegon the Unhappy, and (most often) the Dragonbane, when they remember him at all. All these names are apt. Grand Maester Munkun, who served him for a good part of his reign, calls him the Broken King, which fits him even better. Of all the men ever to sit the Iron Throne, he remains perhaps the most enigmatic: a shadowy monarch who said little and did less, and lived a life steeped in grief and melancholy.

There is also a big focus on the “tax policies” aspect of the story through these two child rulers. Much of Aegon’s regency centers around him butting heads with his guardians while Bran’s ACOK arc sees him as the ruling Stark in Winterfell and learning how to lead with mentors in Maester Luwin & Ser Rodrik Cassell. EYE also think it’s interesting how both Aegon & Bran get some focus on having a lil gaggle of companions around. Aegon has Gaemon, Jaehaera, Viserys, Daenaera, and Larra Rogare, while Bran has the Big Walder, Little Walder, Rickon, Jojen, and Meera. They both feel like very similar groups of kids that are thrown together & running amok with adult supervision that is more lax/not coming from their parents.

There's also just like, a lot of parallels between Baela, Rhaena, Jacaerys, and Aegon with Arya, Sansa, Jon Snow, and Bran. There are several good breakdowns of the Sansa/Arya parallels as well as the Jace/Jon Snow ones, so I won't dig into that here, but I think when you put all this together what you have between Bran and Aegon III is-

Two boy kings who will have a long regency

Both orphaned due to a brutal succession war

Both referred to as "broken" - aegon by munkin, and bran referring to himself

Younger - but not the youngest - brother coming into his seat after his older brother is killed

Both have names that are important in their families & frequently re-used - and in fact both share a name with their uncle

A very rare "winter of widows" where most of the houses are ruled by women due to all the men being dead and their heirs being babies is coming up in the main series

This anti parallel of Aegon being a very melancholy person & Bran being known to be “quick to laugh and easy to love.”

As for his relationships, we have-

His bastard born brother With Some Secret Paternity Going On, who is likely not going to be in the running for King at the end of the war (hopefully um, Jon Snow actually lives unlike poor Jacaerys)

His oldest brother dying at 16 during the war

One sister who is more adventurous and "tomboy"ish, who is associated with ships and travel

Another sister who is more ladylike, who has a largely political arc in the Vale

Both sisters are likely to take leading roles as political players in the aftermath of the war - I do suspect we will get some sort of “Hour of the Wolf” parallels here, just before or after Bran is crowned

SOME CHOICE QUOTES TO LEAVE OFF ON

Bran could perch for hours among the shapeless, rain-worn gargoyles that brooded over the First Keep, watching it all: the men drilling with wood and steel in the yard, the cooks tending their vegetables in the glass garden, restless dogs running back and forth in the kennels, the silence of the godswood, the girls gossiping beside the washing well. It made him feel like he was lord of the castle, in a way even Robb would never know. - Bran II, AGOT

Ahead he glimpsed a pale white trunk that could only be a weirwood, crowned with a head of dark red leaves. - Jon VII, ADWD

#valyrianscrolls #lawyering for bran #bran stark #king bran #the king in harrenhal #rani attempts meta #jaime lannister #aegon the unlucky #aegon vi targaryen #the fisher king #the fisher queens #meera reed #jojen reed #melisandre of the shadow

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fern-thefox · 1 month ago

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its headcanon time. this is mostly all characters because i havent thought of new two time headcanons yet

bluudud has a celebrity crush on guest 1337. guest knows and does not like him back.

noob is a big cat lover. he seems like a dog person due to how happy he always seems (this is after getting used to the forsaken realms and he just started to make the best of it) but hes prefers cats alot more. theyre much calmer and are just cuter

noob really likes vodka. like they arent an alcoholic or anything but if they can drink vodka they will. they just like the taste

guest 1337 treats some of the survivors like his own kids because how much he missed his daughter. what he would give to see her again

007n7 is double jointed. the killers can kinda tell if its a clone or not due to this because the clones arent for some reason

taph makes nests out of blankets. this man is pigeon coded so i know those nests look horrid to. (this is influenced by the fact taph mains make the most diabolical tripwires sometimes)

most of the survivors know asl. the few that dont are two time (the cult didnt teach many things), noob (he could never focus or remember what meant what), and chance (that man focuses on gambling and gambling only

john doe usually cant do anything except kill, but sometimes he has times where his corruption lessens and he can make conversation. these dont happen very often but him and 1x can get along quite a bit when this happens

azure and 1x complain about two time and shedletsky together. their hatred towards their ex partner and creator fuel eachother

c00lkidd cant swim. the killers have had scares due to c00lkidd trying to jump in the pond near their cabin. they have locks on the doors now and hide the keys.

c00lkidd has been getting raised by the killers ever since he got there. the killers dont get why the kid should suffer more then he does (i like to think c00lkidd has chronic pain. the spectre didnt provide medicine for a long time as well so he was just constantly in pain.)

the killers theme songs actually play during rounds. no one knows how they play but they do. if the survivors werent being chased around almost getting murdered everyday they would actually enjoy the themes

alright thats all for today. i hope you enjoy these headcanons that i have provided. im going to go cry in a corner now because i really want chick fil a and still havent gotten it. someone bless me with chick fil a. i beg

#bluudud forsaken #guest 1337 forsaken #noob forsaken #007n7 forsaken #taph forsaken #two time forsaken #chance forsaken #john doe forsaken #1x1x1x1 forsaken #azure forsaken #shedletsky forsaken #c00lkidd forsaken #forsaken headcanons #roblox forsaken #forsaken #roblox

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last-words-ofashootingstar · 2 years ago

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Cornflower Blue

SPOOKTOBER SPECIAL

❥Yandere Outlaw Song Mingi x fem reader

➯a/n: this is my darkest fic yet imo, be sure to read the contents and take care of yourself! also im super proud of this, it took like three months tbh and i still didn't get to fit in everything i wanted to. enjoy some yandere minki 💙

✃The moonlight seeps in through the sheer curtains and paints your skin in a haze of blue. The bruise on your temple like a water color bloom.

♫ "You love me 'till you wear me out, then you love me more." -Cornflower Blue, Flower Face ♫"Love's never been more than pain, so Baby, show me how bad you hurt." -Dog Days, Ethel Cain ♫"My Babe would never fret about what my hands and my body done- if The Lord don't forgive me, I'd still have my Baby." -Work Song, Hozier ♫"I just wanted to be yours. Can I be yours? Just tell me I'm yours." - Strangers, Ethel Cain ♫

✫彡wordcount: 14k

♡'･ᴗ･'♡(ಡ‸ಡ) (>ᴗ•) genre: plot heavy smut, yandere, angst

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: GOOD LORD WHAT HAVE I DONE ??? wild west au, HEAVY yandere themes, murder, reader near death experience, mingi is CRAZY, bribery, manipulation, threatening, gun violence/shoot-out, injuries, invasion of privacy, 'off-screen' death of main characters, kidnapping, NSFW; multiple sex scenes, masterbation, unprotected(BOO), first time, head(reader receiving), size difference, spit, breeding kink, overstim, biiiiiig dick mingi (i'm a sucker😞), praise, dirty talk, soft sex turned rough, extreme possessiveness

not edited, definitely grammatical errors 🥲

⁂taglist: @stvrfir3 @tunaasan @marievllr-abg @nini4m @senpai-of-doom

MATURE UNDER CUT MDNI

"Ellis~" Your sing song tone echoes out through the alleyway, crates of stored food blocking your view. "Oh, my! Is that a corn snake?" You yelled out dramatically, crouching down behind a crate.

"Where?!" The young boys voice gets closer by the second until he runs up to you and you snatch him up.

"Wraa! I got you!" He laughs loudly, an heart-full sound that rings out in the dead town. Everyone has gone besides very few to a new market up North. "I've caught you, and I'll eat you up!" You pull him up as he yells and laughs and swing him around as you twirl to the main road. "I'll have ye for supper," you laugh with your best witch-like voice.

"No, I'm not tasty!"

"No? Well... I guess I shouldn't do this then!" You playfully nom at his sweatered shoulder, tickling his ribs.

"Auntie, please, I'll do it! I'll sweep!"

You stand up like nothing ever happened and smile, "great, Miss Carmen will be most pleased." You had recruited multiple of the youngsters left behind to help you maintain the vacant homes while the market took place, and some off them were less than happy to have been roped in. "Would you like me to carry you?"

"Ye' , please!" His smile is missing a tooth, and it makes you chuckle.

You place him over your hip and begin the short walk, planning out the rest of the days chores in your head when he screams, "horsie!"

You follow the path his chubby fingers points to, and find a large figure riding in past the town sign on a similarly large white horse. His face is obscured by his large droopy hat, but that isn't what makes you suspicious at first.

The man riding into town has multiple guns on his figure.

You scramble to the side of the dirt path and hold Ellis' head to your shoulder, looking up at the stranger as he slows his horse to come to a stop right infront of you.

"Hello, Si-"

"Auntie, I'm scared." Despite your best efforts, the young boy had caught a glimpse of the towering and dangerous-looking man, shivering in your hold.

You crouch down and set him down carefully, rubbing his back for a moment before you turn him in the direction you want him to go, "run off to the schoolhouse, tell Maria to come and cook up our guest a meal. You can do that, right?"

He rubs his eyes and peeks at the man before looking back to you, nodding eagerly. "Go on and get, then." You pat his shoulder and watch him run before turning to the man.

"Room and board, Sir?" You speak formally to the hidden man.

"Yes." He speaks simply, swinging his leg and jumping down from the horse.

He's no less intimidating now that he's technically level with you. He looms over you like a shadow and places a chill in your bones. "Is this place a ghost town?" He has an accent that you can't place, but you lock onto it anyhow because it's quite clear he isn't from around here. You look away from him, trying to hide your nerves at the fact that he's the first real stranger you've ever met.

"No, Sir. Most are away to sell our spring crops." He hums shortly in response, watching you closely from under the shadow his hat casts over his eyes as you grab his horses reigns. You can feel the way his eyes bore into your every move as you begin waking, "follow me, then."

It's a silent and most awkward walk down the deserted main street, and you can still feel his gaze burning into your back as you lead his horse into the stables.

"So, where are you from, stranger?"

"Away." Your feeble attempt at small talk is shut down by the man immediately as he stands in the large doorway, broad shoulders nearly touching its sides.

"Very well," you step back out of the horse's temporary home, and are put in the shadow his large frame casts. "Uhm, my name is (Y/n)," you extend your hand, trying to remember your manners despite the fear in your gut.

He takes your hand, roughly. You can't tell if he means to- or if he's just that strong. "Mingi."

His hand is cold. It shocks you. You pull away from his grip and push past him, head lowered. You've quickly found that you don't enjoy strangers. "Miss Maria can help you get settled, show you around if you like. Nothin' much to do 'round here besides drink or play ball." You ramble on as you head to the bar, just down the road. You don't have to look behind you to know he's following. You can feel his gaze locked in on your back, that same feeling you get when men at the bar have one too many or that time when a wild boar almost got you.

The bar isn't anything special, though nothing in the town is really. He looks around, silently. A few wooden booths and rickety tables. A pool table. A small island that separates the main floor and the bartenders area. Beyond that, he can see a kitchen. He almost thought his luck had run out when he rode into the seemingly deserted town, and then he saw you twirling the young boy into the main road.

He nods his head, maybe subconsciously, to say he's pleased enough to stay. "Up this way," your voice echoes in the empty space, and you touch his arm ever so lightly to get his attention. The staircase is hidden by the corner, and he has to crouch to ascend them. When he does, he's pleasantly surprised.

The room has a homey, lived in feel to it. Well, most of it. It's a large space, walls decorated with dried flowers and boxed in dead insects, chalk drawings of all kinds of things on the dark oak walls. There's a slanted shelf that's adorned with carved wooden trinkets and toys, most of which have a small layer of dust if he looks hard enough. A large open window is on the back wall, facing the town, and a dresser that fits perfectly under it. The bed on the left side of the dresser is messy, a large fur blanket that's bundled up to expose pristine white sheets.

The part that doesn't look as lived in is on the right side of the dresser. An fresh lantern candle placed neatly on the made bed, dark red sheets and grey comforter.

"I hope you don't mind a roommate... I'm not here for the most part, I won't be in your hair." You're shuffling around quickly, hiding a few things that he didn't get to inspect into the left side of the dresser. "You can," you gulp, clearly uncomfortable with the silent man, "you can put your things away in these drawers if you like."

He stands, like a scarecrow, holding his rucksack tightly. When he moves, you flinch, sliding closer to what he now placed together is your bed. He chooses to ignore that, sitting down on the other bed and feeling the soft fabric. "You own this place?"

You're taken aback by his unprovoked speaking, gathering you thoughts as you sit across from him on your own bed. "Uh, no. A man named Louis owns this and the bar."

"Hm. And you?"

"I work down in the bar, bartending and such. So he lets me stay."

A small smirk plays at his lips, hidden by his hat as he looks around again. You've clearly lived here a long while. There's more to your story than just working downstairs. "Kind of him."

"Very. You may be able to thank him for his hospitality, he gets back in a few days." You pause for a moment before you ask tentatively, "how long will you be staying?"

He stands and turns his back to you as he takes off his hat, beginning to unpack his bag. "Few weeks maybe."

"Ah," you draw quietly, anxiety growing in your gut. The very few visitors you could remember stayed for only days, if that. Even then, they weren't total strangers. They were people that others in town knew from the market or city.

"Hope you don't mind a roommate," he turns back around and tosses a look your way as he starts to fold his clothing into the unoccupied drawers. And if the air wasn't gone from your lungs by now, it is now. This stranger, Mingi, is the most handsome being you've ever laid your eyes upon.

His eyebrows are softly arched, beautifully curved nose and lips. And his eyes- oh, his eyes. You swear you could get lost in them. And it seems you do, staring at the man despite the fact your intuition is telling you to look away. "Handsome, I know."

A heat flushes your face and you force yourself to look away as he smirks your way, "w-well, you know, uh- let me go and fetch Miss Maria, you must be famished!"

With that, you're down the stairs and out the bar. He watches as you speed walk away through the window, blissfully unaware that he's opened up your drawers to have a deeper look into his roommate.

༄

You dodged the handsome stranger until you no longer could, the sun was setting and there were no more excuses to be found to avoid going back home. He wasn't in the room when you returned, but the bathroom door was closed and you could see the flickering of a candle from the cracks.

You lit a few candles on the dresser before the sun fully set, taking some deep breaths as you heard him moving around. You remove your boots, a groan of relief settling behind your lips as you wiggle your toes.

As you're unfolding your night gown, the door to the bathroom creaks open. "Hello, Miss," he greets, much warmer than his earlier aura.

"Mingi," you greet back with a small smile, "have you found your way around well?" You shift your weight uncomfortably as he tilts his head at you, as if he's trying to read you.

"Mhm, this ghost town isn't as bad as I thought," he sits down on his bed, rolling his head with a groan.

"Very good, maybe when the other return you'll find it even better." You can't wait for the day. His presence makes you... uneasy, is the best way to put it. You know he could easily over power you and the others. Elderly, young, and women who don't have a single idea of self defense. Maybe that was stupid on your towns part- but you needed all of the hands on deck to sell the bountiful harvest.

You excuse yourself and lock the bathroom door behind you, double checking before you begin to remove your day clothes. As you change, you start to wonder if maybe Mingi was just uncomfortable around strangers as well. He's seemed to have warmed up quite a bit to you. You'll have to ask Maria in the morning about their encounter.

Perhaps he won't be as bad as you expected- "Oh, dear me!" You stumble as you re-enter the room, covering your eyes with your hands. "Uhm, Mingi?"

"I'm just cleaning my wound," he chuckles, watching you with a glint in his eyes.

You peek through your fingers, keeping your hands to your face to hide.

Indeed, he's shirtless. Your eyes hadn't played a trick on you.

You swallow the gathering wetness in your mouth as you peer at his naked torso. He's slim, toned in all the right places. His arms are something of a dream to you, and you have to force yourself to look away from them as sinful thoughts begin growing in your mind.

Instead, you take a look at the wound he referred to. A shallow gash going from his hip around and around to his back. The edges of it are already scarring, leaving only the middle of it as a wound.

You slowly approach the end of his bed, hands resting on the metal bed frame. "May I ask?"

"Every man his enemies. Mine happen to be good with throwing knives."

"Is that why you carry all those weapons?" The question has been nagging you. He has so many. And you don't like them. You don't like that they are in your home. He's left them on his side of the dresser.

"Perhaps." He groans as he tries to reach around and clean the part of the cut that stretches onto his back. "Would... would you be so kind, (Y/n)?"

It's your turn to be the silent type. You move to sit beside him, taking the damp rag and jar of salve with shaking hands. You haven't been this close to him until now. You haven't been this close to any man, really.

He smells shockingly good.

He shivers as you begin cleaning up his wound, and you apologize under your breath.

Unbeknownst to you, that was not a shiver of pain.

He's always been the nosy type. He couldn't help himself but try to get to know you through your belongings while you were gone. And he struck a pot of gold when he found your diary.

The entries dated back seven years. And he read through all seven of them. With every word, he became more and more infatuated with you. And your touch on his body solidified that infatuation. It felt right. Your innocent, helping touch turned his infatuation into something more sinister.

So, no. It was not a shiver of pain.

"There you go," you can't help but stroke the large expanse of his back once you've finished, it's a work of art. Thankfully, he doesn't seem to notice.

But, oh, does he. He has to bite his lip to hold back a moan, looking down at his lap. His member twitching to life from the smallest, most pure of your touches. "Thank you kindly." He forces out, breathily.

You're in your own bed much to quickly for his liking, hiding under your blanket. "Goodnight, Mingi. I shall see you in the morning."

༄

"Hello, stranger," you smile at him as steps out of the building, earning one back. "Slept well, I hope?"

"Very, thank you." He takes a seat on the steps of the bar next to you and watches the sun grow higher in the sky. "May I ask you a personal question, (Y/n)?"

"I suppose so," you shift slightly, toying with the strings on your boots. While your knees are pulled up to the step just below your bottom, his feet stretch all the way off of the steps and onto the dirt.

"Where is your family?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Well... it's just, you're a beautiful young woman. Don't you have a husband and a couple of rug-rats?"

"Rug-rats," you repeated with a chuckle, shaking your head. "No, no rug-rats."

"And a husband?"

"The closest I have to a husband is Castle... my mutt." You look to him with a bigger smile, your nerves and anxiety around him unwinding. When he laughs, you feel a flutter in your stomach that makes them disappear completely.

You turn back to the sun as it rises, trying to convince yourself that the heat you feel on your cheeks is from the warmness of it. "Why do you ask?"

He hums, leaning back on his elbows and allowing his eyes to flick up and down as they observe you. "Wanted to know my chances."

"Oh!" You look back at him, his eyes shining with that glint once more, "the cow boy is a flirt? I see."

"I'm not a cowboy."

"No?" You lean back and join him, crossing your legs. Maria had told you just earlier that he was strange, that she sensed a darkness about him. But you only felt warmth and light. "What are you then, Mingi?"

"An outlaw." The smirk on his lips makes you think he's joking, and you let out a laugh.

If only you knew that Mingi was being truthful.

༄

The wagons roll into town the next morning, bright and early. You're still asleep when the first one comes, but the happy hollering from Maria wakes you and Mingi both with a start.

He's dazed and confused, rolling around and glaring at at ceiling above him. While you, well you nearly jump out of your skin to run downstairs.

Still in your nightgown and soft socks, you almost slip and fall as you jump off of the last stair and slide into the main area. "Lou!" You collide into him and sway happily as the older man lifts you up in his arms.

"There's my girl! You been holdin' us down?" He sets you down carefully and inspects you, making sure you've been kept safe in his time away.

"You know I have," you give him a wide and toothy smile, "how was the new market?"

"Oh, it was wonderful, dear! Next time I should take you both with me, so many new things," he reaches into his satchel, handing his wife something small and shiney.

Mingi, in his own sleep clothes- a loose pair of pants, slowly descends the stairs, silent as a mouse as he watches the three of you.

Miss Maria, the older woman with a scarf permanently affixed to her head, looks down at the ring with a teary smile. "Oh, Louis, you shouldn't have." You lift yourself up and sit on one of the tables, watching the two kiss with a small smile.

"Why shouldn't I? A man is meant to spoil his wife, isn't that what I always say? Besides, we made quite the profit this time around." His wrinkled hand cups her cheek, and you can't help but coo at their affection.

"Y'all are too stinkin' cute." Maria looks away bashfully, admiring the ring on her hand. While Louis turns to you with a smile, which fades as quickly as it came.

"And who is this?" His hand is on his belt, twitching at his pistol as he spots Mingi coming up behind you. You turn, and then back, moving his hand away from his weapon.

"That's Mingi, he got here a few days ago. A traveler." You don't know if that last part is necessarily true. Mingi never did tell you why he was passing by your isolated town. "He's quite alright."

"He's half naked- and so are you! Young lady-"

"Lou!" Maria is flabbergasted by what he seems to be implying, while you don't seem to see the innuendo. Of course you are? You just awoke.

Mingi stays silent, and simply extends his hand to Louis. When he doesn't take it, he puts it back to his side, joining you at the table. It seems to you that Mingi is indeed weary of strangers. He seems only comfortable with you. Yesterday, he followed you around almost like a lost dog. Insisting that he wanted to help you with your daily chores.

His eyes flick down to your chest. Sure, he's seen you in your nightgown. But that was in the moon or candle light. The sunlight from the many bar windows exposes just how sheer it is. He can see your nipples if he looks hard enough. And, oh, he's looking.

And Louis notices, ears flushing red with anger as the strange traveler looks you up and down. "Alright, dear, go get dressed."

"Oh, but I wish to hear of the market! Unc-"

"Now, (Y/n)."

With a sigh, you slide off of the table, patting Mingis exposed shoulder as you pass him. He goes to follow you back upstairs when Louis grips his wrist. Hard.

Maria is fiddling with her new ring, almost cowering behind her husband as she feels Mingis aura once again. She can't seem to pinpoint why. But she doesn't like this man one bit. He's done nothing to her, to anyone for that matter. But she feels an evilness seep from his gaze.

"Have a seat, Mingi." Louis doesn't seem to like him either. Maybe because of his silent demeanor or the way he was ogling you.

He does so, with a bored expression, plopping down on one of the wooden booths. Louis slides into the booth seat across from him, waving Maria off. She doesn't need to be told twice. She doesn't want to be near that man for one second more than necessary.

Alone in the seating area, the two men stare silently at one another. As if sizing each other up.

Louis is the first one to break, reaching into his pocket. A rusted old locket is slid across the scratched table top, and Mingi catches it before it falls into his lap.

As he opens it up, he sees a picture of two people in either of the slots. One, a woman with a wide smile. The other, a man looking down at the baby held to his chest. Their features seem... familiar.

"Her parents."

He looks up slowly, and sees the older man leaning back, "I'm sorry?"

"Those are her parents. My little sister and her husband. Died seven years ago. Train crash. Hit a cow on the tracks. Hate those damned things. They can't slow down quick enough to avoid hittin' something."

It's silent again, save for the sounds of Maria cooking up a storm in the back of the kitchen.

He looks down at the pictures again. Seven years ago... that's when your diary entries start. But you never mentioned the crash. Did you just decide to forget about it? Move on?

Louis can almost see the cogs turning in his brain as he looks at the worn photo. Before Mingi can ask, Louis is answering. "I seen the way you looked at my little girl. The same way I look at my Maria. So Imma tell you," he points to the locket, "I made a promise the day that train crashed. You know what that promise was?"

"No."

"That I'd gut anyone who ever laid an evil finger on that girl."

"Maria!" They hear you coming back down, and Louis snatches up the locket from Mingis hands as he stands. You stop briefly and look at them, but move on when you see Louis smiling down at him. "Have you seen my vest?" Your voice grows distant as you join your Aunt in the kitchen, unaware that the smile was followed by a threat.

"Don't make me gut you, boy."

༄

"You're so soft," you mutter as you brush the white mare with your fingers, stood just outside of her stable. She neighs loudly at you. "Oh, I know. So many strange horses, you must be frightened."

The once empty stable house was now filled again, everyone was back in town by high-noon. She seems like her owner, and like you. She doesn't like strangers. She nearly kicked the short door down when you approached with a handful of hay.

A few minutes later, she's letting you pet her. You're stood on a stool, bent over the edge of the door to dust the dirt off of her white coat. "You're a sweet girl, huh?" You smile at the animal, receiving more neighs in response.

"Who you talking to?"

The abrupt interruption makes you stumble, nearly falling off of the wobbly stool. You steady yourself on the door and look back, throwing a smile his way when you see it's Mingi. "Your horse."

He joins your side at the door, holding his hand out to his mare. "You know she can't talk back, right?"

"Don't mean she can't listen."

He smiles at your response. You really are a kind soul, giving affection to an animal that can't give you anything in return.

"Busy, Miss (Y/n)?"

You shake your head. Nobody has come by the bar yet, and you don't think anyone will for a while. They're all spending time with their families.

"How about a ride, then?" He's opening up the door before you can respond, making your upper body follow it, legs outstretched to stay on the stool.

"Oh- I don't... I don't know how."

He keeps putting the saddle on the horse despite your words, a smile playing at his lips. By the way your smiling as well, he knows you want to. "I can teach you. Are you afraid?"

"I must admit... a bit."

"Don't worry, I won't let you fall."

"Really?"

"Mhm."

You hop down from the stool and move it out of the way as Mingi walks the mare out of her stable, following close behind him with a wide smile. You get a few strange looks from townspeople as you and the towering stranger stop in the middle of the main dirt road.

One pair of eyes watches you even closer. Louis stands from his rocking chair on the porch of the bar, staring dumbfounded as Mingi picks you up and helps you onto the animal. Jaw dropped as he hops up and sits in the saddle right behind you, hands guiding yours to hold the reigns. Before he can even get off of the porch, the both of you are galloping out of town.

The cool October air against your face as you slowly gain speed feels freeing, like it's washing your very soul. Your nerves are still shaking a bit, and you lean your back into Mingis chest, holding onto the reigns tightly. You jump ever so slightly when one of his hands rests over your stomach, gently holding you.

"Don't worry," he says, "I've been riding since I was a child."

And so, you don't worry. You let the freeing feeling wash over you, relaxing into him and letting the mare take you where ever she pleases. Which just so happens to be the furthest you can ever remember being from town. You nearly forget that Mingi is even with you until you feel his hand move away from your stomach.

He grabs the reigns, his hand over yours as he pull her head back carefully, slowing her to a stop in the middle of a field. He pulls your hands back with his and settles them in your lap, atop of your bundled up skirts.

She lowers her head and starts chewing on some of the green grass. You look up at the sky, clear and bright.

"Not so scary, right?" Mingi speaks up gently, his hands never leaving your own as he looks up at the baby blue with you.

"Not at all, though maybe it's because you did all of the work," you let out a small laugh, turning your hands palms up and letting him weave his fingers into yours, enveloping you in warmth. "Is this what your life is like?"

The endless expanse of nature staring back at you, birds chirping their lovely songs.

"For the most part." He doesn't want to tell you about the other parts of his life. The bloody and harsh parts. You don't need to hear about that. Not when you're so pure and soft in comparison.

"I like it. I can see why you don't settle, cowboy."

"I'm not a cowboy."

A grin on both your faces, a comfortable silence overcomes you for a moment. He leans and slowly, almost nervously, rests his forehead on your shoulder. When you don't make a move to lean away, he absolutely melts into you. His heart beating loudly in his ears, he's shocked you haven't looked back to look for a marching band with how loud it is.

"I think I may stay a little while longer," he whispers tenderly into your back.

"I think I may like that."

You revel in each others touch for a few more moments before he moves, scooting back away from your backside. "Let's stretch our legs." Before you can complain, he's jumped off the horse and is holding out his arms for you. Deciding 'why not', you lean over and let him essentially pull you off her back.

You stretch your arms over your head as you wander, smiling back at him.

Oh, he could get addicted to that smile.

Directed at him, and him alone.

He watches with a flicker in his eyes as you start gathering wild flowers, folding up the rim of his hat to get a better look. You start braiding them together, fingers working nimbly. The song of nature overcoming you as you work, and he admires from a few feet away.

You look like an angel, the sun beaming down on you and shining from behind you like a halo as you turn and face him. "Crouch down, big boy," you tease him softly, a heat creeping up your face as you see him blushing.

He leans down, letting you affix the flowers around his hat. When he comes back up, he does a small twirl, "how do I look?"

"Pretty!" It slips your lips before you have the chance to think, and it makes him blush all the harder.

"Let me see," he takes his hat off, short hair wild and blowing with the breeze.

He pulls the hat over your head in the next second, and the large accessory falls over your eyes. He laughs, hand over his mouth as you tilt your head up and peek at him from under the rim. "How do I look?"

"Like a doll," he exclaims breathlessly, eyes not leaving you for a single second as he takes in the sight of you in his hat. The wind blowing your loose hairs and skirts. A shy smile stretching your lips as you look away, admiring the sky as he admires you.

"Oh, hush."

"It's only true." He comes behind you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders loosely.

You have to remember how to breath as he looks over your shoulder at you, shit-eating-smirk on his lips. "Doll~"

"We should head back!" You squeal, ducking out of his arms as heat overwhelms your body. He only laughs, and the melodic sound echoes in the field.

"Alright then, up you get," he hoists you back onto the saddle, hands lingering on your exposed thighs as your skirt pools around your hips while he hooks his boot into the stirrup.

And you're off again, this time slowly. Like he knows that you crave to spend time with him as much as he does you.

༄

It's a few days later when he awakes in the night. The moon his only source of light. His breaths uneven and heavy.

Why did he have to wake up? That dream was ethereal, it nearly made him ascend to the heavens.

He groans as he flips onto his stomach, not a atom of shock in his being as he feels his hardness pressing into the mattress. Not after he just experienced the wettest dream of his life.

You looked like a Goddess below him, head tossed to the side and exposing all of the marks he left on your neck. The bed rocked in time with the yells of his names that left your bruised lips. Over and over. Louder and louder. Your eyes rolled back, your chest rising and falling as you tried desperately to keep up with his pace.

He's certain that's your rightful place, taking his cock and calling his name, soul intertwined with his. "Fuck..." Just six days and you have him wrapped around your little finger. He's never felt like this. You must be the one.

He can't help but look over at your bed across the room as his hand travels into his pants. His eyes nearly flutter shut, but he forces them open once again.

You're a restless sleeper, he's discovered. Your torso is pressed into the mattress while your hips are rotated slightly up, one leg hiked up and making your nightgown slip past the round of your ass.

God, your subconscious must know what he's doing.

That's the only 'reasonable' conclusion Mingis lustful mind can come to as you moan in your sleep, rolling onto your back and spread your legs to get comfortable. It takes every fiber of self control in him not to pounce on you and take you right there.

He's content to fuck himself silly for the moment, and he's almost ashamed at how fast his release comes- but he can't help it. You look so fucking delectable and he hasn't touched himself since before he rolled into town.

He bites into his pillow with a growl, eyes never leaving your peaceful form until he's overstimulated himself into oblivion. His arm sore and cock even sorer, he finally lets up, breathing heavily into the quiet night.

As he slinks to the bathroom and cleans himself up, he wonders what it would be like to feel your body close to him after such a release. Well-

Why not find out?

He leans over your bed with tears in his eyes, gently grabbing your arm and calling out to you.

"Min?" The nickname that you utter while half asleep almost has him ready to go again, but he pushes it away as you sit up groggily and look at him with concern written on your face.

"I don't feel too well, Doll... Can I sleep with you? Keep me warm?"

You feel his head with the back of your hand, a frown on your face as you feel his heated flesh- unknowing of the true cause.

"Mh, come on, big boy," you scoot to the wall that your beds on and lift your fur blanket, a sleepy smile on your features as he dives into the bed. The metal frame creaks under both of your weight but neither of you pay it any mind.

He melts into your body heat, wrapping his arms around your waist and keeping you close.

It's so much better than he imagined.

༄

That's the best sleep you've ever had. You felt so safe and warm. And Mingi doesn't feel any different, he hasn't had a restful sleep like that since he was only a boy. You seem to have kept his reoccurring nightmares of his past away.

All the damage he's done and all the pain he's endured, wiped away as you rested your head on his shoulder.

Your legs are tangled together, arms wrapped around one another. Your head in his neck and his chin resting gently on top of it. Soft, gentle breaths as the both of you wake.

Rain beats down on the roof, creating a soft and steady melody.

Neither of you can tell how much time has elapsed, but it doesn't seem like it's ever enough. So when you finally sit up, a pout forms on his features.

You feel his forehead, a smile on yours. "No fever."

"Hm, maybe a night bug." He sits up and swings his legs over the bed, facing into the room to hide his growing blush as the memories of his dream flood his mind.

He feels the bed shift under your weight as you crawl up behind him. "I had a dream last night," you whisper as you gently rub up his back.

"Mh?"

"Mhm." Your heart flutters as you muster up the courage to continue speaking, "a dream of you and I."

"Oh, do tell."

And tell, you do.

"Well... it began with you and I, sat in the bar. A few too many drinks in our bodies. A few kisses... A few touches... and then we came up here." His breath hitches in his throat, surely he's still dreaming. This is an elaborate trick of the brain. "Mingi?"

"Y-yes?" He wants to both explode with joy and collapse with embarrassment.

"Will you touch me? Will you kiss me? I'm sorry if that's wildly inappropriate- oh it is, I'm so ter-"

Your rambling is cut off as his lips collide with yours ever so softly. One of his hands cups your cheek, the other finds purchase on the small of your back.

He slowly pushes his weight onto you, laying you down on your back as your lips meld together. A curse falls past his lips as you ghost your fingertips over his abs.

He kisses down your jaw, savoring every inch of your skin until he reaches your covered breasts. He looks up, and the look in his eyes makes the heat in your belly grow ten-fold. "Can I see you?"

With the slightest nod of your head, he's slipped the straps of your nightgown down and tugged it down past your chest. His mind is racing. His heart is about to beat out of his chest. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." He whispers, voice rough and barely heard over the storm raging outside.

His calloused hands trail down your chest, ghosting over the pebbled flesh on your breast and down to your skirt. You can't help the gasp that escapes you when he lifts it up, letting your entire nightdress rest in a bunch on your stomach. He's already panting, and he hasn't even touched you.

You're just so beautiful. You're a Goddess in his eyes.

He smiles up at you as he lowers himself, your legs spread by his wide shoulders. "I'm going to make you cum your brains out, Doll~"

Before you can even question what he means, his tongue is darting out and swiping up the length of your cunt. "Ah!" Your back is arched off the bed at the simple motion, and it solidifies his theory that you're a virgin. Your keening at the littlest bit of attention, your poor neglected pussy is begging for more.

You slap your hand over your mouth at the noise, looking shocked that it even came from you. He can't help the chuckle that vibrates in his throat- that is, before his taste buds register the most delicious, mind blowing juice he's ever had the pleasure of putting in his mouth. "Oh, fuck..." Then he's just as flustered as you are, diving back in between your thighs like a man starved.

The little noises that manage to slip past your hand urge him on even more than the way that your wetness just keeps coming and coming and coming as he slurps it all up. His tongue darts and licks and rolls all over you, and you can't even register all of the pleasure you're getting from it- it feels that good.

He slips his arms under your thighs and grips them tightly to ground himself as he allows himself to drown in you. He lets his instincts do all of the work, enjoying himself more than he ever has. His nose nudges against your clit as he slurps noisily.

The way you taste. The way you smell. The way you sound. The way you feel.

All of it. All of you. He's going mad with lust. With love. He's going to explode, he truly believes it. And then you call his name.

"Mingi—"

So sweet and desperate, absolute music to his red hot ears as he sucks the bundle of nerves above your sopping wet heat. He doesn't even register that you've cum all over his chin until youre tugging at his hair roughly and forcing him away from your throbbing pussy.

He moans out loud as you harshly pull him away, jaw dropped as he pants. "You taste so good, Doll," he slurs drunkenly. Your essence has gotten him drunker than any alcohol ever could.

You're panting even heavier, chest rising and falling quickly as you tremble in the aftershocks of your first orgasm that's come from another person.

He rubs his finger tips over your thighs gently, luring you back down to Earth as he gawks at you. You swear that there's hearts in his shining eyes.

"W-" your attempt at words comes out as jumbled whine, and you let yourself fall back into the pillow.

"It's okay, Baby," he coos, licking his lips as he sits up, folding his legs under him and pulling your limp hips into his lap.

The new nickname makes your cunt twitch, and he catches it. "Oh, you like that, hm?" His index and middle finger spread you wide, and he purses his lips- spitting directly onto your sensitive hole. "C'mon, talk to me, pretty Baby."

"G-god!" You cry out embarrassedly, forever thankful for the angry storm outside that hides your sounds from any neighbors. "Yes, I do, I really do," you draw out, grabbing the sides of his thighs as he teases your entrance. You're still hyper sensitive, twitching with every small movement he makes.

And he absolutely revels in it.

"Yeah? I bet no one ever made you feel that good before," he smirks, letting another wad of spit hit your hole.

"Nuh-uh," you shake your head, peering up at him, and your next words make it hard for him to keep his composure. "Stay. Stay here and- and fuck me."

Little do you know, after that first night- he lost any plans he had of ever leaving.

"I will never leave you," and he means it. He has no plans of ever letting you go. And he's about to let you know that.

He slides you back off his lap and lays over you, holding your head with one hand as the other guides his leaking tip into you. "Oh, ngh," you whine, holding onto his biceps tightly. He bites his lips as he feels your walls for the first time. So warm and tight around him. So soft. "M-min, be gentle," you whimper, leaning up and hiding in his chest.

"Don't worry, Doll, we'll go slow" he strokes your head gently, slowly -oh, so slowly- sinking into your tight core. "Such a pretty little thing, so fuckin' tight f'me," he growls, and again as the noise makes you clench around him. "Gonna have to stretch your little pussy out before I can even move, you've got me in a fucking vice, Baby."

"Mingi, d-don't talk like that, it's dirty," you pant into his chest, the warm air making goosebumps form.

"Well, look at you," he nearly purrs, pulling your head back from his chest gently, "look." You blink a few times, taking in the sinful scene.

Your legs spread around his slowly moving hips. His thick monster of a cock gradually disappearing into your stretched folds.

"Can't not be dirty while we're breaking in this cute little cunt," he says matter-of-factly, looking down at said cunt while it clenches around the half of his cock that's he's managed to sink in. A lewd moan leaves his parted lips, looking back to you as you whimper and fidget. "Hey, hey," he coos, cupping your face in his palms. "Half way there, Doll. How's it feel?"

"Like you're gonna split me in half," you ramble out, looking up at him with the softest eyes he's ever seen. "Please, c-can we take a break? You're jus' so big..."

"Of course, sweet girl," he leans down, careful to keep his hips locked despite how badly he just want to slam into your welcoming heat, and kisses you. Stroking your cheek bones with his thumbs. "You feel so good, like heaven."

The praise makes your rapidly beating heart skip a beat. "Mingi?"

"Yes," he moans in response, looking deep into your eyes.

"I think I'm falling in love with you." The sudden confession makes his cock twitch, his heart jumping into his throat. "Is that silly?"

He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, which are admittedly a chaotic mess.

"If it is, we would be silly together."

"You mean-"

"Yes."

You grip his shoulders and lean up, pressing your lips to his in an act of pure desire. The both of you get lost in each other, tongues darting out and lapping at one another like a lifeline.

Sufficiently covered in each others spit, you pull back. "Keep going, I want to take all of you." You have a newfound confidence after your short trade of admissions, demanding that he go on and fuck you.

A few more moments of excruciating stretching pass when you suddenly feel his pelvis flush with your clit, both of you panting like wild animals as you feel each other completely.

"Holy shit, Baby," he sneers, resting his face in the crook of your neck, taking in deep breaths of your scent to keep himself from jack hammering into you. You are truly the best thing to ever happen to him, and your cunt molding into the shape of him is just a bonus.

There are no words that you can find in your brain. All if it is wiped away as you feel his rock hard cock stretching you out, filling you wall to wall. When he breaths out, a content sigh into your neck, you feel the veins on his length pressing into your gummy walls. "Hah~" Is all you can manage, thoughts turned into mush as he begins to slowly pull back out- just an fraction of an inch. Before sliding back in quickly. "Fuck!"

"Doll, please, please," he whimpers, holding onto your waist tightly as he rolls his hips, "please say you're ready, I don't know how long I can take it."

"Y-" the second the first syllable is utter from your lips, he's already pulled out half way, "yes!" He thrust back in, steady and slow at first.

Words are lost between you - minds absolutely flooding with hormones as he begins thrusting harder, faster. Moans, groans, loud whimpers. The slapping of your skin is so loud that even the rain pounding at the window can't drown it out.

He's stuffing you beyond your wildest imagination. His cock was made to stretch you so deliciously, and your pussy was made to take it.

It's his dream coming to life, quite literally, as your eyes roll back to the depths of your head and you're squeezing him tighter than before. It's almost impossible for him to keep thrusting, but he finds a way.

He grips your hips tight and is making you bounce on his cock effortlessly, all the while pounding his hips into yours. He's so deep inside of you, it feels like he can feel the same coil in your gut that you do. And it's about shatter.

He slips a hand down and begins swirling his fingers over your clit, pushing you off the edge roughly, making you cream over his member with a broken yell of his name. He leans in, all of his weight on you as fucks you through it harshly. His lips right next to your ear.

"You. Are. Mine."

And with that, a warmth like no other spreads inside of you.

༄

Nearly two months passed like they were nothing, days seemed to fly with you by his side.

He felt he finally had a place where he belonged.

He found himself work cleaning peoples guns in the bar, even selling and trading some.

He had a bed to go to at the end of the day. After that first time together, you both rearranged the room. Pushing your beds together under the window and putting the dresser on the wall.

He had the other half of his soul. You. He knew everything there was to know about you, and you knew everything there was to know about him. Well- all he was willing to tell. Sometimes, there was a dark glint in his eyes that made you feel like you didn't know the full story of the man you shared your life with. But all doubt faded away when he smiled at you.

All was well- more than well. It was perfect.

Until a group of strangers rode into town. Strangers to the town. But strangers to Mingi, they were not.

He walked into the bar and Mingis heart stopped. He saw all of his hard work to get you, to settle, to make a life- all of it- vanish. It disappeared.

"Fuck me," he groans, keeping his head low and cursing himself for not wearing his hat today. He hopes that he'll go unnoticed. But that hope is squashed when the man slides into the booth across from him.

"Well, slap my ass and call me Pamela. Song Mingi!" The rowdy man immediately catches Louis' attention from behind the bar.

"Why are you here, Buck?" Mingi keeps his tone low, hostile.

"You know why I'm here. You want in?" The man, Buck, has a smirk playing mischievously on his lips.

"No. You, and whoever else you drug into this town are leaving. This town is off limits."

Buck lets out a shrill chuckle, "says who?"

"Says me. This is my town. Get the fuck out before I shoot you." Mingi growls, placing his pistol on the table, finger twitching at the trigger.

That gets Louis' full attention, his hand immediately unlocking the safety on his gun as he makes his way over. "Mingi, who's your friend?" He hates to admit, but he's grown fond of Mingi over these long winter days.

"He's leaving. Ain't that right?" Mingi tilts his head at Buck, who takes a look around. Multiple patrons of the bar have their hands on their guns, ready to draw.

He isn't stupid. Mingi is apart of these people now and they'll protect him.

"Yeah, that's right." He slides out of the booth, giving Mingi a seemingly innocent smile. But Mingi knows him all too well. "I'm glad you finally found yourself a nice girl to settle down with."

With that finally threatening congratulations, he's back out the bar the way he came. Mingi watches from the window with wide eyes as he joins the posse of men outside. As soon as they start wandering away, looking into shops and other such buildings Mingi has come to be so fond of, he snaps into action.

He runs up the stairs, nearly bumping his head. They've been casing the town, that's the only way he'd know about you.

"Mingi!" Louis follows after him, slowed by age.

He finds him reaching under the bed, staring bamboozled as he places gun after gun after gun into the mattress. "Mingi!"

He ignores the panicking man, loading all of them up. "Son!" His head snaps up, tears threatening his waterline.

"Louis, they're going to raid the town."

"What...?"

"I don't have time to explain, I have to go- go get (Y/n). You need to gather everyone who knows how to shoot. I n-"

"Boy, I don't care much for nonsense."

"Listen to me, Louis!" He clearly panicked, an expression he's never seen from him before. "What reason do I have to lie? This is my home too! This is my home and my woman, and I'll be damned if I let Buckey fuck-face and his thugs ruin it!" In his panic, Mingi doesn't notice the ring that falls from his bag as he gets out more ammunition.

Louis bends down next to Mingi and picks it up, puzzle pieces falling together in his mind.

Mingi snatches it back and shoves it in the bag.

"You're gonna propose to my little girl?"

"Not if we all die," Mingi responds shortly, shoving an armful of guns into Louis.

They share a look.

It seems Mingi made a similar promise to himself about you.

"Go and fetch her, don't raise any suspicion. If the townspeople know what's coming, it'll start a panic."

Mingi gives him a short nod. To say yes, sir. To say thank you.

He keeps his head down, hat covering his face as he weaves his way to the very back of the town. Trying his damnedest to avoid everyone from his past.

When he successfully makes it to the river, he spots you and is filled with relief.

You hum quietly to yourself, bundled up in his large poncho to protect yourself from the frigid January weather as you clean your clothes.

The harsh winds whip your loose hairs around, makes the clothes on the line flap loudly.

"(Y/n)!"

"Hey, Darlin-" He pulls you up, holding you close to his side as he drags you away, "what're you doing?"

"Just keep your head down, when we get back to the bar, go to our room, lock yourself in the bathroom. Okay?"

"Min, you're scarin' me..."

"Do you understand?" He asks firmly, stopping at the edge of town, turning you to face him.

He looks deadly serious. You haven't seen this kind of look since the first day you met. So you nod, committing what he said to memory.

"I love you," he kisses you deeply, shortly.

And then he drags you through town, and into the bar. But he pushes you right behind him when you walk in.

Buck has Miss Maria and Louis tied up, pushed to the floor. The few patrons are gone, and the yelling outside tells him Louis' plan to keep things calm has failed. Multiple men are rummaging around the bar, cleaning out the register. He can't hear any noise above them, and he's thankful that the entrance to your small home is so well hidden by the corner.

He feels you grip the back of his leather jacket, and he's about to turn and tell you to run when he feels you get ripped away.

Your scream echos in the building as one of Bucks men tears you away, and Mingi has to stop himself from shooting the man the second he puts his hands on you. Doing that will just get you all killed.

He's deadly silent as he watches the man toss you to the floor. His gun was drawn the second you got tore away, and he's itching to use it.

You try to scramble away, but Buck comes up behind you and places his boot on your back, shoving you back down with a thud. Maria is sobbing uncontrollably into her hands, Louis' jaw is locked in anger as he looks away.

He bends down, putting more pressure on your spine. He grips your hair and turns your face to the side. "Well, well," he smirks, "you're even prettier up close, ain't you?"

Everyone stops in their tracks as you spit in his face. "Fuck you!" One of the men closest to you has a gun to your head in the next second, but you refuse to break.

"Feisty, I like that," he shoves your head to the floor, hitting it against it roughly. Mingi is seeing red as the world around him resumes, men ransacking the bar and chortling at your family. His family.

"Buck."

"Oh?" He turns, leaving you on the floor, "got something to say, pansy?"

"Yeah." His eyes flick to yours as you push yourself up dizzily, and over to one of the booths before Buck even realizes he's looked away. "You need a key for the safe. I gonna give it to you, and youre gonna take it and leave."

"Is that so? That's what's gonna happen?"

"That's what's gonna happen."

"You really lost your guts, aye? Found a nice girl and a cozy town and decided you're too good for this life, I see."

Mingi slips his pistol back into its holster on his hip, sauntering over to the bar with all eyes on him. He stands infront of Maria and Louis, shielding them from what's about to come. "You see it how it is, then." He lifts up the pot of dying chrysanthemums in the middle of the wooden island and scoops up the key. His eyes spot you curling up under the booth he glanced at. Thank goodness you got the message.

Cause shit is about to hit the fan.

He tosses the key to Buck, and as his hands raise up to catch it-

He puts a bullet in his brain.

You can't help the scream that rips past your lips, covering your ears and hiding your face in your knees.

As the men behind the bar start shooting at him, he ducks, shielding the older couple as the men infront of them begin firing. But he's too quick. Only one of them gets close, grazing his shoulder and stunning him briefly. He drops his pistol and takes the larger gun off of his back, propping it up over the island blindly and spraying the rest of the men in a hail of bullets.

And then all is silent.

With a heavy heart, you look up from your lap. The building is covered in blood, light seeps in from the holes in the walls caused by stray bullets. Maria is crying silently. Louis is looking at Mingi in shock as he falls onto his backside, holding his bleeding shoulder.

"What the hell was that, boy?"

"That was me saving your ass."

༄

Mingi and Louis, with the help of a few good samaritans, cleared the bodies out of the bar and drug them to the outskirts of town. Leaving them for the coyotes and bears. If it were up to him, Mingi would have hung them up as an example.

Maria, seemingly in shock, scrubs the floor with a blank face as you fix up the register and dig out all of the bars belongings from the bandits bags.

You feel a roll of papers at the bottom of one of the bag. A silent hum of amusement leaves you as you see what it is. They kept their own wanted posters. Proud of what they've done. You flip through them. Maybe out of morbid curiosity of who your boyfriend just gunned down. And then you get to one who you know wasn't a victim.

Because he was the gunner.

Mingis face in a sketch stares up at you.

WANTED.

DO NOT APPROACH. ALERT THE AUTHORITIES.

DANGEROUS FUGITIVE. SONG MINGI.

The door to the bar swings open.

The world spins around you as you look up from the drawing. And come face to face with it, brought to life.

"Mingi..."

"Are you okay, Doll?"

You can't seem to find any words that describe the way your heart is breaking. Louis approaches you first, his own heart stopping as he sees what's held in your trembling hands. He tears it from you, glaring down like it's a hallucination.

"Who are you?" Is all you can manage to whisper, backing away with a grip on your uncles sleeve as Mingi steps forward.

"What is that?" He nods to the paper, although deep down he has an idea of what it is.

Maria snaps out of her trance, joining your side, a gasp leaving her lips as she looks back and forth from the paper to Mingi.

"You get out of here, you never show your face in this town again," Louis grips the man's collar and pulls him to his level, "You're lucky my girls are watching or I'd hold true to my promise."

Mingi shoves him away and grabs the paper from Maria, his worst thoughts come true as he sees himself staring back at him.

"Wh..." He trails of in a whisper, heart breaking into a million pieces as you look at him fearfully. Like you did the first time you met. He thought he'd never have to see that look again. "(Y/n), please, hear me out."

Maria holds you to her chest as he approaches. "I knew I sensed evil in you, boy." She bares her teeth at him as she seethes, like a wild mother bear.

"Leave," your voice trembles, raw with all of the emotions that are flooding you. You lean further into your aunts arms as he reaches out for you. "You lied to me! I never want to see you again! I ought to turn you in!"

"You have to believe me, I'm not like that anymore. Baby, listen! I only did what I had to to survive, you don't understand. I'm not like them!" He fights against Louis as he drags him to the door. "Please, I love you!" He's thrown off the porch, only getting a glimpse of you as you crumble to the floor before the door is slammed in his face.

༄

Mingi drapes his mare's reigns over a poll, trudging through the snow until he's at a familiar door.

He doesn't bother knocking. He barges in and stares down at the man at the desk.

"Mingi, long time no s-"

"I have a job for you." He slaps down a wad of cash, "more where this came from when you're done."

The man sighs, but takes the cash, thumbing through it. "And why don't you do it?"

Mingi ignores the question. "Louis and Maria Donelley. Shoot them, make it quick. (Y/n) (L/n). Tie her up on the tracks."

He hesitates for a moment. But in the end, "More where this came from, huh?"

༄

It's been three days since Mingi has gone away. Rather, since he was forced away by his past and your reaction to it.

You've slept for most of that time. Cried the rest. You barely eat. Barely talk. You hardly even move off your side of the once-shared bed.

Maria, Louis, all of your friends tried to comfort you. Telling you that he was just a fling. That the one for you will come around and make all of the pain Mingi left disappear.

They don't know that Mingi was the one.

He made you so happy. Happier than you'd ever been. He made everything seem... right.

"Hey, Dear," Louis knocks at the wall, slowly coming ascending into the room.

"I don't want the soup, Uncle Lou..."

"Auntie!" Ellis comes barreling past Louis and jumps onto the bed, hugging you tightly.

"Ellis? Hey, Buddy!" You force a smile as you hug him back, sitting up with a groan and holding the child in your lap. "How you been?"

Ellis goes on and on about what the new teacher from the city is teaching his class, a big smile on his face. Louis sees the smile pulling at your lips in the slightest, and he excuses himself silently.

He, admittedly, is a very good distraction from your pain.

You spend quite a few hours playing with him, catching up on the things that are going on in town. He drops the ball onto the jacks and giggles loudly as it rolls away, under the bed. "I'll get it, set us up another round."

You bend down and feel around for it blinding, heart skipping a beat as you feel Mingis bag. You haven't found the courage to touch any of his things, even if to throw them away.

You move away from it and grip the ball, rolling it back to Ellis. "El, I'm feeling a bit tired, why don't you come back tomorrow."

"Aw... okay! I'll bring Violet and we can play outside!"

"See you then, Kiddo," you ruffle his hair as he passes you to leave.

It was a nice break from your sorrows while it lasted.

You crawl back into your half of the bed as the sun sets in the window above it, pulling Mingis pillow into your arms as you sob yourself to sleep once again.

Deep into the night, you feel the bed dip. You open your eyes with the littlest inkling of hope that Mingi has returned despite your harsh words his way.

But you're only met with a stranger.

You open your mouth to scream, but only get a small squeak out before you are met with a hit on the head.

༄

You awake as your body is tossed into the air, a loud groan leaving you as you collide with something hard. Through your blurry vision, you can see the moon high above you.

You look to the side, and you put two and two together that you're in a wooden cart as you see the stranger from above your bed riding on a horse that's got you attached to it. "Hey-" You croak out, getting his attention.

"Morning!" He yells, making you wince. You have a splitting headache. "Just in time for the show," he mumbles under his breath, pulling the horse to a stop.

You can hear him shuffling around in the snow, and you try to sit up before you realize you can't. Your entire body is tied in a thick rope.

The back of the cart opens up, and you try -you try so hard- to shimmy away as he reaches in and grabs your foot. But to no avail.

He pulls you from the cart and lets you fall into the snow. It wets the back of your nightgown and hair, soaks your thin socks and makes you shiver. You don't think you've ever been this scared. Even during the shootout, Mingi was there to protect you.

You watch with a fresh set of tears brewing in your eyes as you watch the man double knot some ropes onto the tracks. "Oh my God..."

He ignores as you begin to beg for your life, telling him all sorts of things about you to try and make him sympathetic. "- and his name is Louis, he took me in when my parents died! Uncle Lou and Aunt Maria, please! She'd die of heartbreak!" He scoffs, knowing she's already dead. So is Uncle Lou.

He followed Mingis request and made it quick.

He pulls you by your binds to the tracks, the metal on the tracks is the coldest thing you've ever felt and it makes you yelp. You cry out in the night as he begins tying the ropes on the tracks to the ropes on your body.

"Please, why are you doing this?!" Your voice shook with pure horror, tugging at the ropes that were wrapped around your entire body and tied to the tracks by the bandit. He crouched down at your feet and smirked, his simple answer making you cry all the harder.

"Why not?"

All of your pleas and prayers fall to deaf ears as the man turns away and to his cart, rummaging in his chest. The tracks begins to shake and you begin to except your fate. You turn your head to the side and watch the pebbles rumble, your sobs visible in puffs of air as you exhale into the harsh winter air.

A loud thud and a groan makes you look back, and you see a tall figure on a familiar white horse.

"Mingi!" He drops the crowbar he used to whack the man as he rode past.

He looks back at you briefly- his face hidden by his droopy hat. But you can tell he's pissed. His jaw clenched and shoulders tense before a gunshot rings out and he ducks and rolls off of Mare, slapping her to make her run away as he draws his own gun.

Between the rattling of the tracks and the thrumming of your heart, you can barely force yourself to watch as he approaches the man bravely, your eyes flicking from them to the horizon repeatedly. A sob of his name makes him pause for a split second before he comes back to his body.

"Too close," Mingi scowls at the man, using his gun to smack his hand and make him drop his, kicking it away as he scrambles for it.

"Aye, man, I did what yo-"

"Too close."

"Just give me my mon-"

His gun smokes by his side in the next second as the man drops to the desert floor dead. He takes a moment to bask in the way the blood pools in the pure white snow before the steam whistle catches his attention.

"Mingi, please!" He drops everything and runs to the tracks, crawling over your body and looking at your binds frantically. "Mingi, oh my God, please- I'm so sorry! Please untie me, hurry," you babble on in a panic as the train appears just over the horizon, sobs wracking you body under his as he tugs at the ropes.

Your horror breaks his heart, but he knows it's necessary. He knows he has a knife strapped to his back, but he plays the panic card and 'forgets' as he forces a false worry onto his face. He won't let anything happen to his Doll, but you're too caught up in your fight or flight to remember that.

"I got you, I got you," he murmurs as he pulls the ropes on one of your sides undone, taking his sweet time with the other as he watches the train grow ever closer- the conductor blaring the horn.

Your free hand grasps at him, clawing at his leather jacket, eyes wide and soaked with tears as you stare down your death as it barrels towards you. Just a few feet away.

Mingi yanks you up and falls to the ground besides the tracks with you on top of him, hands roughly holding you to his chest as his hat blows away with the wind that the train creates. You willingly slump into him, sobbing into his warm chest as the tracks rattle loudly besides you, drowning out your cries.

He relishes in the way you cling to him well after the train passes, not daring move away from your savior as you cry your heart out and ramble on to him about how you're so sorry and how you never would have really turned him in and on and on until he silences you with a tender hug.

He knows all of this. His Doll would never betray him. But it's best that he get a subconscious message through your thick, naive, skull early on.

The message being: the attempt to leave him has failed miserably. Why even try to leave when he's so clearly your fate?

༄

Mingi locks the bar door behind him as he carries you into the building. He kicks off his boots. He knows you hate the mess.

It was silent the entire way back to town.

And it remains that was as he carries you up the stairs and to bed. He doesn't even acknowledge you as he gets you some clean, dry clothes.

"Mingi..."

He sighs, shoulders dropping.

"I'm s-"

"I thought you hated me?"

"Min... I was just- just in shock! Why didn't you tell me you were... an outlaw?"

He kneels at the bed and slips your socks off, replacing them with a warm, thick pair.

The moonlight seeps in through the sheer curtains and paints your skin in a haze of blue. The bruise on your temple like a water color bloom.

"Because I was afraid." He bites his lip as it trembles. That's the plain truth. He was afraid you'd leave if you found out all the things he'd done. But now that you know, he still doesn't plan on letting you leave. "Please forgive me, Doll."

He lowers his head into your lap and smirks as he feels your hand rest on his hair.

"Come back home, Mingi."

"Really?" He looks up with the most puppy like gaze you've ever seen.

You nod, wiping your tears away, "I don't care what the others have to say. We can leave this place if we have to, I just need to be with you, M-" His lips collide onto yours as he pounces on you, pushing you onto the bed and nipping at your lips like he's starved. And he is, because-

"I missed you so fucking much, Doll," he growls into your lips, melting into you as you wrap your arms around him. It feels like it's the first time in forever, and it is to him.

"I love you, Mingi," you whisper as you look up at him, chasing after him as he sits up on his knees.

He lifts your ruined nightgown, looking down at you as if you're a work of art as he tosses it away. "I love you," he whispers back, cupping your breast in his warm, big hands. "I love you so much it hurts."

You lay back with a moan, arching into his touch. Your mind is so fried from this weeks events, all you want to do is disappear into him.

And you let it be know. "Take your clothes off." You tug at his buckled belt with an utterance, licking your lips at the sight of his happy trail. "Show me how much you missed me. Show me how much you love me."

Your sultry words have him undressing in a hurry, slamming his pistol down on the nightstand he made and kissing you deeply as he removes his belt, heart beating rapidly as you cup his cheeks to bring him closer.

You're the closest to heaven he's ever been. Kissing down his neck and stroking his back. He doesn't know how or why this infatuation grew into something wild and untamable. And frankly, he doesn't care.

You are quickly working to undress his top half while he kicks his pants away, letting his larger gun clatter to the floor. You no longer care if he leaves them out. You just want him home.

"I was so worried about you, Baby," he pants, "I know I hurt you. I'm so sorry," he places kiss after kiss after kiss on your face, rubbing your thighs as he slides between them. "I love you. I adore you. I want you. I'm yours. You're mine." Every statement is accompanied by a kiss.

"I'm so sorry, Min," you look deep into his eyes as he rubs his member on your wetness, "you're my one and only. I don't care what you've done to get here. As long as I have you in my arms. As long as I'm in yours."

He hugs you tightly, forehead against yours as he slips inside of you. "I will never leave you," he moans out, settling deep inside of you as you pant and whine.

You've taken him quite a few times at this point, but never like this.

He always takes his time sinking into you, reveling in the slow stretch.

But not tonight. Not after what you've been through. He needs to feel you, and now.

He needs to feel your emotional connection on a physical plane. And so do you. That's why you don't stop him or push him away as he lowers into you quickly.

You ground yourself by wrapping your arms under his and gripping his shoulders, careful of his healing wound.

His chest against yours, heart beats drumming together as you try to disappear into each others being.

Affectionate touches are left all over the both of your bodies. Tender kisses and promises of love.

"You're all I ever wanted," you whisper into his chest as he starts a languid pace. "I want to be yours, tell me I'm yours."

"You're mine, Doll, all mine." He speaks ever so softly, cradling your head to his chest. He can't believe how lucky he's gotten.

"Make me believe you, show me I'm yours."

And he does.

God knows how or why Song Mingi has so much stamina, but no amount of time passed stops him from pounding into you, he stops when he thinks you've had enough.

He's made you cum seven times through the night, and with the sun beginning to rise out the window, he's still at it.

Its been hours, and his pace hasn't slowed one bit. If anything, your pants and whines stir him on and he almost hammers into you. The quick in and out rhythm makes him moan. Your heat encasing him as the cold winter air seeps in through the walls that makes him want to bury himself in your body and never leave.

He knows he's big. He's so big and you're small compared to him. But he doesn't care when he's balls deep in your sore and swollen pussy. He makes you take it to the base and chuckles deeply when you try and crawl away.

"Min- can't take it," you sob, but that doesn't stop him.

He grips your hips roughly and pulls your clit flush to his pelvis, holding you there as you squeal out, banging your fists onto your shared bed.

"Fuck you can't, your pussy was made for me to stretch out." His next thrust sends your hips into the mattress, finally able to rest your exhausted body as he plunges into you from behind.

Each rough thrust wipes away every thought from your mind until it's all Mingi.

Mingi is so deep.

Mingi is so thick.

Mingi fucks you so good.

Mingi treats you so good.

Mingi loves you.

Mingi.

"Mingi!" You moan out loudly into the pillows as you seize up, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you cum all over him. Vision dark and blurry, drooling all over the place, barely conscious after your eighth orgasm around his massive girth.

He's panting and growling into your ear, continuing to thrust. He's relentless. He's really out to break you.

"Please," you slur, wracking your slush of a brain for a way to get him to cum. You love him, and you love fucking him. But he just won't stop until he cums. And he won't cum until you essentially force him. He's so hell bent on making you get there, he forgets about himself, like he's outside of his own body. And he's extra determined after almost losing you. Your usual tricks haven't worked. So you pull out the big guns. "Please, Min... put a baby in me." Oh, you know him all too well. He's made multiple comments about how good you are with children. How pretty you'd look with that pregnancy glow, your belly round with his baby.

"F-fuck, Doll," it seems as if that is enough to satisfy his hunger, slamming his tip into your womb and filling you with his warm and sticky seed so much that it splashes back on him and makes a mess of his lower stomach.

Still buried deep inside of you, uncaring of the mess, he lays ontop of your back gently and wraps his arms around your shoulders, his head next to yours. You shaking breaths and trembling legs calmed by his warmth over your entire body.

"Holy fucking shit," you whimper, making him chuckle quietly.

He places a gently kiss to your shoulder, "I didn't go to hard, did I?"

"You did... but I liked it."

He smiles as he rests his head, hands rubbing up your arms and to your hands, intertwining yours fingers. "I love you." He states. Loud and proud. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to share everything with you and I don't want to keep anything from you. I want you all to myself. Will you marry me?"

The words almost get lost in translation on their way to your endorphin flooded mind, and your silence makes him nervous. That is until- he sees the giant smile spreading on your lips. "Yes."

"Oh, thank goodness," he sighs a breath of relief followed by a soft laugh.

"But you'd better get me a ring," you joke, groaning out as he slowly pulls out of your abused core. There's a smirk on his lips that you can't quite place as he gently turns you on your back and helps you get comfortable.

He reaches under the bed and grabs his bag. "You didn't-"

"I did," he has his signature shit-eating-grin on his face as he takes it out. A dainty, pretty, thing. Much like he sees you.

He cuddles into your side, fur blanket draped over your lower halves. Calloused and rough hands take yours. Gently and loving with you. Their past of violence is lost as he slides the ring onto your finger tenderly.

"Mrs. Song."

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