#mid x reader

[asrielarchive]

Okay speaking of scars and reader insert headcanons um. I'm making this a general ask so that I don't show bias but also because maybe there are other enjoyers who are too shy to ask so I'm going to see if I can get that ball rolling but ALSO no pressure to do this or answer at all, and i know you're working on other things so please take your time and don't feel pressured okay onto the question so-

Ahem. Uh. Daemos reactions to having their scars admired and potentially touched/kissed maybe if they're comfortable with that? And also if you're comfortable with writing that no pressure though-

Of course <3 Let me write those up for you!

Asch 🔥

Asch doesn’t understand, and finds it stupid, but begrudgingly lets you, because a caress means you love him, right? He’d probably mumble something about how he would’ve totally defeated Rhal if he wasn’t older and had authority. After a minute, he quietly murmurs a “Thank you..”

Rhys 🌊

“Well.. I uh.. I wasn’t the best at magic yet, I’m not sure why you’d care for my mistakes so much.”

Rhys would explain the ins and outs of every scar, but despite his rambling, he’s just trying to hide how enamored he is with you. Humans truly will find beauty in everything, won’t they? He’s embarrassed, and a bit guilty for how little he initially thought of you, but he truly finds it amazing.

Pierce 🩵

“…Yes.”

He would slip off his drape, and miiggght slightly lean towards you as you kissed him. Caressing injuries is a strange tradition, but a part of him can’t help but want it. Somehow it took away from the pain of when it happened to him.

“You are kind.”

Afterwards, whenever he notices you harmed in the slightest way you KNOW he’s running up to kiss you lightly, to help in whatever way he could.

Noi 🐈

“Really?!? You- you think so?”

Noi is blushing and stammering like crazy, everytime asking you if you really mean it. He gives you a caress back, because he’s happy to be included. You two would probably end up asleep in a pile soon afterwards.

Leif 🌿

“Hah, yeah, that one was a doozy.”

Leif would brag about his scars, I have no doubt. He’d still be shocked about you loving them, but he loves that. You’re his favorite human, only you could see so much good in a daemos like him.

[melluvsuu]

I need like some mcd/mid/mystreet x reader fics... like PLEASE I know some of you are back in your aphmau phase PLEASE!!!

[kisakunt]

nerdjo! who whines while he’s tutoring you. it’s been thirty five minutes and you’ve gotten through two problems, he reminds you. but you won’t stop changing the topic, or poking at his arm, or brushing his hair from off his glasses.

nerdjo! who begs you to stay up til midnight when you have a nine am lecture the next day so you can watch a new episode of his favorite, albeit lame, show with him because he wants to share it with you.

nerdjo! who, instead of bars, takes you to museums. he doesn’t act priss— he still laughs loudly at your jokes, he still slings an arm around your shoulder and tugs you along like you’re alone— but he does go into extensive detail when he sees an artifact he’s studied before or an art piece he looked up because it reminded him of you.

nerdjo! who calms you down when you have a big assignment coming up and insists on helping you with it (free of charge). he buys any supplies you may need, listens to you explain what you want to do with it, and compiles a step by step plan for how to achieve your goal as soon as possible.

nerdjo! who builds you lego flowers. call him lame, call him a child, but they’re forever! he says. he puts all but one together by himself and saves the very last one for you to do together, so the memory will last too.

nerdjo! who begs you to come with him to his optometrist appointment so he can make sure you still think he’s cute with his new frames. he wants to branch out, explore, switch it up— but he’s deathly afraid you’ll find him any less than handsome. he loves to impress you.

nerdjo! who knows you’re attracted to him. he knows he’s attractive as is, he’s not insecure about his looks. he’s an observant man, he knows what he does that makes you squeamish and he profits on it.

nerdjo! who pushes his glasses up while looking at you with two fingers. who tugs on ties he wears to interviews with one hand while he presses the other to your hip. who yanks his fingers through his hair and holds it in the air for just a second too long so you can see the way his eyes shine.

nerdjo! who, while he may be a nerd, radiates a confidence to him. that confidence shines through in moments like this, with his hands pushing your hips down as you desperately try to raise them.

nerdjo! who knows what he’s doing. his tongue is as precise as he is in between your thighs, lapping up at the sheer slick that covers you. he’s good at facts and memorization, so he’s memorized exactly when to flatten his tongue nice and slow and when to point it all fast like.

nerdjo! who moans when you do, rolling his hips into the bed as he continues dutifully. he’s obsessed. you’re everything, you’re the ground he walks on, you’re the hottest thing alive.

nerdjo! who has done this so many times it’s like religion to him. who is so used to your taste and your smell and the way you feel and it never gets old. and— no matter how many times he has been here, no matter how long he can last, no matter how little he’s being touched…

nerdjo! who cums in his pants more than half the time when he goes down on you. his whines vibrate against your clit, muffled by you dripping cunt.

nerdjo! who blushes a pink red, buries his face into your thigh, raises the pitch in his voice as he goes “couldn’t help it, baby, you’re so pretty… can i still fuck you?”

[tojisun]

call it bad porno plot but blue collar simon coming to your house cuz you rang, saying you needed some plumbing done, and you, well, you didn’t expect this hulking mass of a man to come greet you with an accent so thick you can feel yourself getting wet :(

he calls you maam and missus—you say “just miss,” with a little cough because you’re not married, and he pauses and goes, “oh, is that so?” with this little pleased smile tugging at his lips.

he checks whatever’s going on in your kitchen sink and says it might take a while, and you can barely reply to him when he begins to shrug his jacket off, leaving him in this skin-tight black shirt that literally looks so beat up with overuse but unbelievably hot on him.

“reckon little ol’ me can have somethin’ to drink, maam?” he asks, crossing those thick arms over his chest, and you can barely rasp out your reply before you’re turning around to rummage around the fridge.

you don’t notice the way simon eyes you down, tracing your body and barely biting a pleased hum at the sight you make, all doll and pretty, so easy to read with your blown wide eyes staring up at him with such palpable desire.

you haven’t been fucked right, huh darling? probably never had a real man treat you well—fold you over the counter, make you squirt with only fingers, yeah?

well, he thinks, rolling his shoulders and grunting his thanks to you when you give him a glass of OJ, maybe i can be that man for you, isn’t that right petal?

(it takes a purposeful hit at the pipes for things to pick up—you came running back to the kitchen with a confused yelp, and the next he’s got you on your kitchen table, legs thrown over his shoulders, and his head buried in your cunt.)

-

ext

[yeyinde]

Janitor!Ghost cornering stressed out office worker reader after everyone's gone home for the evening, and bullying her into letting him eat her pussy on the desk inside her cramped cubical because he got hungry and needed a late night snack.

[theorist-fox]

Simon has feelings he doesn't acknowledge, until he does.

Word Count: 800

CW: sweet smut

Masterlist 🦊

If anyone were to ask—yes, Simon’s as heavy as he looks. And all those muscles and bulk are now folding you in half, knees next to your ears and back dipped into the mattress.

You’d like to elaborate further on how the hell the two of you had gotten here, but Simon’s already fucked you on his desk. Picked you up, pressed you backwards, and made sure the paperwork he'd been slaving over for the whole afternoon would stick to your spine as he screwed your brains out.

If you peeked above his shoulders, you’d see them still there, on the polished wood of his desk. Which consequently means that there is nothing in your skull right now, just shreds of your brain absorbing the resounding slaps of his skin to yours, and bits and pieces of your consciousness floating in a fog of bliss. 

Simon has never been particularly talkative during sex, only yielding sparse grunts or stuttered pants. Minimal sounds, really, especially when compared to the gentle croons you breathe in his ear, or the lovingly placed kisses at the hinge of his jaw.

However, in spite of the obvious imbalance, you never push for more.

The last thing you want is for him to step even farther out of his comfort zone. The lack of clothes and balaclava is already a great show of trust. The way he's pressing down on you, nose to nose, is a testament to the safety he feels in your presence—and it's enough for you.

But.

...It's just sex, isn't it?

He says it every time, ensuring you get it through your skull by adding a firm look to the sentence—one of those that curdle the blood of novices and enemies alike.

It's just sex, he says, but the more this whole unlabeled thing goes on, the slower he fucks you. Less and less are the times in which he takes you from behind, favouring the sight of your face instead.

It's just sex, but then he always kisses you when he cums, huffing heavily from his nose to catch his breath because his mouth is busy tasting something softer, and he doesn't seem eager to move away.

It's just sex, or whatever he tells himself, but he always insists you stay over, because not even the barracks are safe to walk alone at night—he's a soldier, knows what it means to see a bird like you, uniform or not, on her own at night. He's wary and distrustful of the likes of him.

It's just sex, and yet now he's grabbing you ever so gently by the jaw, redirecting your focus to his eyes. His mouth puffs warmly directly onto yours—humid breath you taste on your tongue and down your throat. His hips jerk downwards, meeting your sex in long, deep thrusts that have his cheeks turn pink and his eyes glossy.

He burns holes in your irises until you're forced to blink your eyes a little wider—enough to give him the same (unexpected) attention he's giving you.

His eye twitches.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he croaks in one breath, so harshly you think he's had to wrench it out of his chest.

Your heart stops. You're not quite sure, and he doesn't even give you the time to register it that he says it again.

"You're beautiful," he breathes to your mouth, shoulders hunching over as if he's surrendered to his own statement.

He's buried in so deep, pelvis flush to where you're still achingly sensitive and blissfully raw, that you're not sure whether his words are the ones snatching the breath from your lungs, or if it's the relentless way he plunges back in each time he draws back.

Simon shifts so that your legs can slowly fall down the rigid angles of his hips. You sigh as the ache in your hamstrings abates, and wrap your thighs more comfortably around his softer waist.

He studies, uncharacteristically captivated, each fine line he can find on your face, each wrinkle and dotted scar, each freckle and mole blending in your skin. Pitch-dark eyes trace your features as if he's never seen them before, as if it's the first time he does.

"Fuckin' hell," he croaks, sounding much softer, giving in.

And his hands come to cradle the back of your head, lifting it up from the plush of the pillow. He nestles in closer, and slots his lips with yours, guiding your bodies to slide against one another.

"You're beautiful."

It's just sex, he says, but then he kisses you as you cum, and he follows soon after, whispering praises you've never heard from him before, but ones that feel familiar all the same.

And he calls you beautiful, over and over, with the velvet brush of his lips on yours.

You're beautiful, he tells you—for the rest of the night, and the ones to come.

[peachdues]

Sanemi prefers it when you ride him, but it’s because he’s obsessed with watching himself fuck you. He might be the one pinned down to the bed, but it’s his hands that grip under your thighs, that hold you up so he can watch himself thrust up into the eden of your body. And the moment he sees the creamy ring of your pleasure forming around the thick girth of him, Sanemi knows he’s a goner. It’s then that he plants his feet flat against the bed and bucks up into you without rhythm, faster and faster until his body seizes, his eyes rolling back as he comes and comes —

[riuhere]

They are constantly on my mind 24/7. I literally can't get them OuT of my hEad-

...Yup... I'm screwed-

Triad Au belongs to @novelcain

Vault Hunters AU & Eternal Servants AU belongs to @emelinstriker

Twice As Bad AU & Monster Boyfriend belongs to @semisolidmind

Bone King Au belongs to @ninjasmudge

Cross belongs to @jakei95

[becca-e-barnes]

Bucky pinning you down so you can’t squirm and he’s just sitting inside you while he tortures your clit feeling you clench around him. He makes you cum over and over until he finally cums.

Overstimulation + super soldier stamina = …

- 🍯

Dear God, I know I just don't have it in me to behave during cock-warming. When it comes down to it, I genuinely have no patience at all 😵‍💫

"You..." Bucky begins, pressing you down onto the bed before gripping your ankles and forcing you to flip over onto your front. "Have a problem with control."

With your face turned away from him, you can't help but smile to yourself. No one has ever said it out loud but you know he's right.

Being in control is where you're most comfortable. No hands are safer than your own. Except maybe his. You know he won't fuck this up.

"And you..." He continues, gathering your wrists behind your back, holding them tightly with one hand. "Need to learn how it feels to have control taken from you. Do you understand?"

As soon as you begin to nod your head, you feel him start to tape around your wrists, holding them together behind your back. Once he's content they're secure, he sits on the edge of the bed, facing the mirror before he pulls you onto his lap.

"Legs spread over the top of mine." He orders and you do as you're told, not because you have to but because you want to.

You notice the way your cunt is already glistening in the mirror and you're almost embarrassed because he hasn't even touched you yet.

"Fuck, you're made for this." He groans, lining his cock up to your slick entrance and you wonder if he's holding his breath too while he slides into you, as deep as your bodies will allow.

You're obsessed with the sight in front of you; your own naked body, with your legs spread so far apart you can see how your cunt is stuffed full of him.

Being shorter though, your feet can't touch the ground like this. There's no way you'll get enough leverage to fuck yourself on him but as soon as you start to tell him that, he silences you with two thick fingers between your lips.

"I'm not letting you fuck me." His free hand roams over your body, squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples and then settling between your spread thighs.

"I'm going to play with you. I'm going to see how much you can take. I'm going to work out exactly how you like your clit stroked and I'm going to do that until your legs are shaking and your body won't let you cum any more. Maybe then I'll fuck you but sweetheart, that will be hours from now." His breath is hot against the side of your face, his fingers slipping from your mouth to your waist while he starts to flick gently against your clit.

"I'm going to start slowly. I'm going to do everything I can to drag this out as long as possible. I can feel every clench and flutter of this pretty little cunt and I'm going to enjoy it until you're dripping over my balls." At this rate, it won't be long until you're dripping onto the carpet, never mind over him. You dreamed he'd want to take control like this but you never imagined the way your body would respond.

"And then, when you've cum more times than you can handle, I'm going to tell you that I love you while I fuck you like I don't."

Update: Part 2

[robo-writing]

Inspired by this post from @logansbaby

Lumberjack! Logan but it’s this version—older, wiser beyond his years and then some, still that rambunctious young man at heart but when your age grows, so does your patience. While his lines may be deeper and his hair might be ashen, he’s still every bit the man you fell in love with.

Just you, him, and the home he’s built for the both of you.

It’s quiet, peaceful, surrounded by the sounds of nature, the hum of the wind passing through the leaves. He’s got a warm fireplace for the winter, but that ain’t enough for him, no, how else is he gonna stay warm?

Gotta stay warm, darling. Wouldn’t want your old man to freeze to death, would ya?

So it’s then that Logan enjoys the advantages of secluded living—no neighbors to call a noise complaint when he’s got you on his lap.

The fireplace lights your skin with an amber glow, casting your features in such a pretty light, the sight of you leaving him in awe. His fingertips dance against your supple flesh, admiring, but not leading. He’d rather watch you do the work, enjoying how you tremble with each bounce of your hips, holding onto his shoulders for dear life. A small part of him almost takes pity on you, fingertips burning with greed as they close against your hips.

It would be so easy to take control, have you boneless and crying on his cock—it’s what he would’ve done when he was younger. It would be so easy, he thinks to himself, allowing himself this one moment of weakness, thrusting up into you when your hips fall. One experimental thrust upward, and you seize up, your lips forming a small “o” before moaning his name just how he likes it.

it would be so easy, he thinks to himself as your entire being arches, exposes itself to him. It would be so easy—

—but then it wouldn’t be nearly as fun now, would it?

He wouldn’t be able to see you shakily recover, wouldn’t feel your nails scratch at his shoulders, wouldn’t feel how you take a shaky little breath before continuing your languid pace. He wouldn’t have the pleasure to feel your pussy twitch against his length, to feel you shake with increasing need.

So, no matter how many times you beg him to fuck you properly, he won’t. Even when you kiss him so sweetly it reminds him of your nickname, honey, he won’t indulge in the saccarine temptation that is you.

No, he’d much rather you sit all nice and pretty and warm his cock like a good girl.

Logan may be older now, but he’s still the same man that loves watching his girl.

[delectableworm]

Can I just eat Sentinel (tfone) out while having him strapped to the table and gagged as I devoured his valve sloppily and greedily while hearing his muffled cries and whimper, drooling as he overloaded for the 19th time?

All while stroking his spike, biolights blinking rapidly by how many time it has overloaded but the lights were dim since there was too much transfluids going on. On his thighs, his spike obvs, his tank, my mouth gah damn—

[cupcakeinat0r]

Oh my God??????????????????? Lord I’m bout to bust.

(Creds to @/onikeru426 on Twitter !!)

[hellsitedotcom]

### Honkai Men & How They Kiss ###

Featuring Dan Heng, Blade, Jing Yuan, Aventurine.

warnings: I only started playing, so this might end up ooc; no other warnings rlly.

english isn't my native language!

''I probably won't get that invested,'' well maybe I should shut my mouth more; bone app the teeth!

DAN HENG

This can both count of just Dan Heng, or Imbibitor Lunae (if you prefer imagining him); I doubt there'd be any difference in their character, which is why I don't feel like specifying - it's up to whoever you, the reader, prefers.

Firstly, I believe that Dan Heng is someone who initiates affection more privately, less frequently or dramatically in public; You'll probably find yourself initiating the majority of your kisses with him!

But, when it does come to kissing, he's a gentle soul; Maybe not even gentle, but...hesitant of sorts. That hesitance does not come from an uncertainty regarding his feelings toward you - I'd call it a...worry, a ''fear'', of sorts.

That aside, there is something that just...makes your heart skip a beat, makes you giddy when he kisses you. Your forehead against his after a long kiss, unable to stop yourself from smiling. He's soft, gentle with his kiss.

There's no ''fleeting'' kiss with Dan Heng; he'll either kiss you properly, or not at all. Still, I can see him be someone to kiss your cheek, forehead, or palm/hand - but rather in private than in public!

While some people might see him that way, I personally do not see him as someone who is ''aggressive'' or ''intense'' in a sexual sense during kissing (might also be my aroace ass speaking, idk) - sure, maybe kisses might turn into a slightly heated make out session, but nothing ''extreme''.

When it comes to what kisses he loves, I believe he would enjoy kisses on the cheek, though there is nothing he loves more than feeling your lips on his.

BLADE

I've only met him briefly in-game yet (only now finished the quest w/ the Xianzhou and heading to Penacony), so...I'll try my best, lol.

Before I got into the game again & read some more about him, my initial thought was that he'd be a ''possessive'' person, but I highly doubt that (or kinda...refuse to think that? I dunno), and I'd say he can be...a little of a wildcard?

While I can see him be a ferocious, ''aggressive'' kisser on some occasions, I do believe he can also be found on the other end of the spectrum.

Blade's kisses can be intense, demanding almost, biting down on your lip and clearly asserting dominance while kissing you, making you struggle to keep your balance; He'll whisper to you, speak under his breath while you can barely catch your breath.

Then there's the other end of the spectrum, when his kisses almost seem...fragile? Absent? Like he's...not fully there, or not fully himself. He'll not be one to initiate much affection during this time, which is also how you know that something's currently not right with him.

Last, there are the ''normal'' kisses - no aggression and demand behind them, yet they aren't absent either. A normal, brief kiss that only you can really tell the genuine emotion behind, since to most people Blade's expression would indicate he'd much rather be somewhere else.

When it comes to receiving kisses, I don't think he generally has a preference there? Or would even be big on receiving kisses specifically? At least behind close doors I can see him be someone who'd much rather have you hug him or hold him.

JING YUAN

Ah, Alejandro Saab my beloved; I didn't think I'd love the guy this much when I first started playing, lol.

A confident man indeed, especially when it comes to the love you two share, for your relationship. His genuine admiration and adoration for you are evident to most people, though he knows when to be subtle or act in a way that hides his emotions.

Jing Yuan can be a tease, though mostly behind close doors; He'll have you close, his arm around your waist, his lips hovering above yours, yet he refuses to kiss you, watching you grow impatient as he pulls away anytime you want to close the distance.

When he does kiss you, he does so with passion. His kisses are on the more sensual side, leaving you breathless and longing for more. He'll have you completely undone after just a short makeout session, leaving you with a wink and teasing smirk on his lips.

In private, when you are alone, away from responsibilities and work, when he has time to think, to remember the past...that smirk might still be present whenever you want his attention, but it feels fake. During those times, whenever he'll reach for you to kiss or hold you, he'll be lost in his own thoughts, though you always help him feel grounded, and guide him back to the present.

He doesn't mind initiating affection in public either, though he does...behave himself more, lol; He'll kiss your cheek or the palm of your hand while at a commission, and you can also find him holding your waist when you're out in public - or allowing you to hold onto his arm.

Jing Yuan is also someone that just enjoys quality time; on those rare occasions when you two can relax and cuddle, there is nothing he enjoys more than napping in your arms; And, yes, he loves those sleepy kisses during those times, or in the early morning when you just woke up.

When it comes to your kisses, he prefers soft pecks on his forehead, or all over his face while you are cuddling - though there is nothing he loves more than having you play with his hair while you're cuddling/he's napping.

AVENTURINE

I've not met him yet, but he reminds me of an OC I have, which is why I automatically liked him, lol.

I want to say that he'd flaunt you around, be dramatic about your relationship, but I'm not sure that'd be a smart move, and I'm sure he'd be aware of that...anyway, he's someone that certainly makes love exciting.

He's even worse than Jing Yuan when it comes to his teasing smirk; Yet, he won't really be a tease, but rather more playful in his affection? Randomly slide up to you, twirl you close, brush his lips over yours while talking low before spinning you and then pressing a kiss to your lips, or dipping you and kissing your neck.

Definitely not one to shy away from being affectionate, though it is more on the casual-seeming side in the way he portrays it; He doesn't make a big fuss out of it - kissing you feels like it comes natural to him.

There were moments in which you were laying in his arms and you tried to steer the calm atmosphere in a more serious direction, though that only works up to a certain point with him and then he'll kiss you energetically to distract from that; also enjoys tickling you, but that's another thing.

His kisses vary in their kind; sometimes, they are brief and playful, while other times they are energetic and passionate, and so on. What is it called? A jack of all trades, though that figure of speech isn't entirely accurate, lol.

His public displays of affection are just as unpredictable as his affection in private; sometimes, he does not mind being affectionate around you, though he knows how to judge a situation well enough to hold back, or completely refrain from touching you.

When it comes to receiving affection, he's definitely obsessed with you just showering his face in kisses, sitting on his lap while he holds you close; or when you are cuddling and you just keep pressing kisses to his neck/throat/behind his ear.

[I have a Genshin version for some Men & Women, too]

[the-atlas-sister]

I AM TIRED (not tired but bored) OF THE WHOLE “His shirt hung of your petit frame-“ THING IN FANFICTIONS.

I AM NOT PETIT

GOJO SATORU’S SHIRT WILL NOT HANG OFF MY BODY. HIS TINY ASS WAIATLINE WONT BUTTON UP ON MY HIPS

MIKEY’S SHIRTS WILL NOT BE LONG- IM 5’7!

I WANNA SEE HIM BORROWING MY CLOTHES

GIVE ME MORE TALL READERS AND MIDSIZED GIRLS

EVERY BODY IS GORGEOUS BUT I WANNA SEE SOME VARIETY

GIVE ME AS MANY SAGGY BOOBIES AND CHUBBY WAISTS AS THERE ARE PERKY BOOBIES AND WAISTS THAT THE CHARACTER CAN HOLD IN ONE HAND

[stellasdrafts]

Wanted/Woman (Arthur Morgan)

Summary: two stranger outlaws find themselves captured by bounty hunters (Arthur Morgan x outlaw!Reader)

Word Count: 3.8k

Content: female reader, capture and bindings, violence and death, light gore, mentions of infertility, forced proximity, manipulative reader, enemies? (not quite but they dislike each other) to tension, crude language, male slander

Notes: surpriseeee new hyperfixation (dw will still be writing for leon too!! just added a new fictional man to the roster yum). i imagine mid-honor Arthur for this :) (also idk shit about guns so bear with me thanks). this is kind of an amateurish attempt of mine at criticizing misogyny bc i’m pissed off about today’s political climate. cliché on purpose.

The last thing you remember before going dark is the stinging pain of being pistol-whipped in the face by some bounty hunter’s grimy revolver.

As your consciousness comes to, you see flickering firelight from behind your eyelids. Even before you open them, you mentally curse at yourself for even letting yourself get in this situation in the first place. You had always prided yourself on your talent of finding secluded areas to camp out in. As well hidden as they could be when your picture was plastered on fences and announcement boards across three states with a bold, capitalized WANTED above it, anyway. You suppose you had gotten comfortable – sloppy. You slipped up and somehow those bastards found the shitty abandoned house you were using as a hideout, ambushing you while you were stubbornly focused on patching up a hole in one of your boots.

It takes you a moment to gather your surroundings in the haze of post-unconsciousness. The tent you’re being held in is hot, despite it being dark outside. The air is thick – stuffy and incredibly unpleasant. The smell of animal carcass lingers on the canvas as if it had recently been used to hold some hunt. You hear the muffled sound of men discussing by the campfire roaring outside – something rather serious, you assume by the tone of their voices. It doesn’t sound like too many of them, only two by the clean back-and-forth flow of their conversation. Somehow, the most obvious detail of your capture is the one you register last – the burn of rope at your wrists and feet, and the warmth of another body at your back. You’re bound to someone.

Your heart rate picks up at the sudden realization and you tug, beads of blood drawing at your skin. You’d typically consider yourself a rational person, but with the fog of having just woken up, your brain jumps to the worst conclusions. There’s no way of knowing if the person behind you has been shot dead already, they’re completely still… That is until he speaks.

“Would you stop that? Rubbin’ your wrists raw won’t help either of us.”

Take a breath. You’re better than this. The bounty hunters outside are men, and now you know the person behind you is one as well. Maybe some good old feminine charm could be your ticket out of here. It wouldn’t be the first time your conniving passive woman act got you out of scrapes. They might kill the man first, anyway.

You look around, making sure to make him feel you squirm. Your breath quickens and you summon a more proper accent. You won’t go down. Not like this. “W-What the hell is happening?”

The man’s body shakes lightly behind you – the sonofabitch is chuckling. “Oh, quit playin’ dumb. I saw you when they brought you in. You got posters from here to Colter.”

You make sure to yank at your ropes the way a panicked woman would. He hisses at the pain and you’re glad you don’t have to hide your prideful grin. “No, I don’t know what’s going on! There must be some mistake!”

The hunters haven’t even checked in on the two of you yet, but by the timbre of their conversation outside when you awoke, they’ll get the gist of this one too, and you’ll be damned if this stuck-up man leads to your demise.

“There ain’t no mistake, woman.” Looks like there won’t be any fooling this guy. He must be in the business, you assume. “Tryin’ to play the damsel in distress won’t help you any, so quit your whinin’ and stop pulling at the damn ropes.

“I’m not!” You sniffle. “M’not who they think I am!”

You may as well feel his eyes roll. “Right. What’s your name then?” You give him your usual decoy as he attempts to sit up straighter. “And what’s got an innocent thing like you in this kind of trouble?”

“I don’t know!” you cry. “I was mending some clothes when they burst in my house and knocked me out!” you recite with ease. It wasn’t a total lie, after all.

The man listened to your sob story, wanting to get a read on you, you presume. “Is that right? You were… just sewin’ when they magically came out of the woodworks and took ya?”

The goddamn attitude on this man… “Yes!” You start crying again. “Oh god, this can’t be real!”

You hear your companion let out a heavy sigh. “Alright, cut the dramatics, darlin’,” he grumbles. Twigs snap outside and both your heads whip in the direction of the two hunters’ shadows near the flaps. He lowers his voice. “I know you’re puttin’ on that act and it’s getting’ real old. It’d only work on someone dumb as rocks so-” he’s interrupted as the two bounty hunters waltz in, surely having heard you wailing seconds prior.

You flinch hard and make yourself fall to the side. You’re a pathetic, blubbering mess – the complete opposite of what they’ve surely heard of the outlaw they were chasing. You will make them doubt themselves. Manipulation is your specialty, and men are so simple minded~

“Please! Please-”

The captors look a bit startled by your distress. One of them, the bulky one, kneels down at your side. Men just can’t help themselves, can they? They just have to save the pretty tormented girl. He tries to soothe you by placing a grubby hand on your knee. “Calm down, sweet thing.”

You try to hide your recoil. It’s not like you can scoot backward anyway, since you’re tied to the pessimistic wanted man. “P-Please, will you just tell me what’s going on?” You blink with tear-soaked lashes, being a convincing little housewife.

The hunters share a look, as if silently trying to contemplate the legitimacy of your cries. The bulky one returns his attention to you, seemingly placated. “We ain’t gonna hurtcha unless you give us a reason to, sweetheart. We’re just here to bring you down to the sheriff’s office.”

You hear the other wanted man scoff behind you. Surely, they weren’t actually falling for this?

The taller one hanging back grins cockily. “Gonna get us that nice little bounty on your head,” he adds.

It’s your turn to bite back a scoff. Little? There’s nothing little about a hard-worked two-thousand dollars on your head alone. You’d even been dubbed Bullseye.

For your own sake, your eyes go wide as saucers, as if you’re truly repulsed by the idea of having committed any crimes. “Bounty?! That’s impossible. I’ve never sinned in my life. Please, there must be a mistake-”

The tall one chuckles and you feel flames of anger licking at your insides. “Oh, there ain’t no mistake. You must’ve done some reeeeal bad things. Bounties like that ain’t given out for no reason.”

The bulky man nods to corroborate his friend’s words, but judging by its slowness, he seems a bit more apprehensive. “…You seem too soft to have a bounty of a couple grand on your head.”

Your new wanted companion whistles from behind you, impressed.

“Goddammit, Wilson!” curses the tall one.

There’s the crack you need. You keep pushing, sensing the foundation crumbling between the two. You shake your head feverishly. “I don’t know who you think I am! I’ve told you my name. I’m a housewife. M-My husband’s name is Elijah. Really, I barely ever go out. I don’t know what’s going on here.”

The two idiots glance at each other again, brows raised. Wilson tilts his head. “Roberts, maybe we fucked up. I mean, look at’er! The law has been after the girl for years. The… The posters are old. They’ve been up so long that they’re kinda faded… Maybe her and Bullseye really do just look alike.”

The tall one – Roberts – doesn’t answer right away. You’d venture to guess he’s more trigger-happy than his partner. “I didn’t see no husband inside the house.”

“He’s off on business in the next county at the moment.”

Again, they seem to communicate without speaking aloud. Wilson stands with a groan and nods in my direction with urgent eyes, evidently commanding Roberts. The latter steps forward with a sigh, his arms crossed. “Fine. I’ll bite. If that’s the truth, miss, how long you been married?”

You smile weakly, pretending to recall a memory. “Since my Elijah and I were nineteen.”

“All this time and no children?”

You drop your shoulders and strategically let your smile fade. You’ve been waiting a while to use this one. “No, sir, I been having… issues,” you admit shamefully. And you’re so proud of yourself that you hope even the non-believer tied to you is starting to wonder if he accused you of being a liar a little too quickly.

Both the hunters are taken aback at that. A woman shouldn’t be talking about private matters to strangers. The dumb bulky one breaks the silence first. “I-I’m sorry about that, ma’am…” he mumbles awkwardly.

You nod solemnly and wipe a skillful tear from your cheek with your shoulder. “I begged him not to go- begged him! A-And now I’m tied up-” You gasp and try to put some distance between yourself and the man you’re tied to, but it only yanks at both your binds. “Does that mean I’m tied to a killer?! Oh God!” you cry and squirm violently.

Wilson raises his hands the same way one would calm a horse. “Ma’am, calm down-” In an attempt to calm you down, he grabs a knife from his belt and cuts your wrists’ bindings while Roberts rushes to make sure the other outlaw doesn’t try to pull some stunt. Unlike yourself, he leaves him fully bound and secures him to one of the tent’s support posts.

Now that you aren’t back-to-back with him, you catch a glimpse of his face for the first time. Oh shit. You recognize him immediately – it’s impossible not to, not in your line of work. That’s Arthur Morgan, one of Van Der Linde’s men. One of his most feared men, actually. No doubt he has a pretty bounty on his head as well.

You don’t have time to dwell in your thoughts because that half-witted hunter speaks again. “I won’t untie your ankles, though. Can’t have you runnin’ off on us until we’re sure you ain’t it,” he says with a chuckle.

You want to punch that condescending little smirk right off his face… But you can do even better.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of running.”

“Well, that’s good ‘cau-”

He trips over his words when you snag the knife from his naively relaxed grip and jam it into his neck with all your might. As he topples over, you swiftly grab the revolver from his holster and shoot Roberts a couple of times in the chest before he can even react.

“Goddamn fools,” you mutter as you undo the rope around your ankles, seemingly unfazed by a tied-up Arthur Morgan some feet away from you.

Even writhing on the ground, Wilson disturbs your newfound peace, gargling on his own blood. You roll your eyes and put a bullet between his own. Standing, you stretch your limbs, rubbing where the rough rope had dug into your skin. You retract the bloody knife from the bounty hunter’s neck, giving it a twirl. It was a pretty knife, engraved with some intricate swirls. You earned it.

You finally look up at Arthur. “You were right, I s’pose.”

“Seems that way,” he replies, carefully watching every movement of yours. You’d seen that look in men before. He was trying to gauge if he was going to be the next recipient of your wrath.

You grin and lean back against some crates, enjoying seeing such an infamous man be so unsure. “Now, what to do with you?” you ask rhetorically.

You watch as his eyes go from the dead man at his feet to your calm figure. Evidently, you had managed to impress him. Pride swells in your chest. He nods toward his bound ankles. “Well, are you going to get these off? That would be greatly appreciated,” he inquires dryly, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

You hum, giving the knife a couple more twirls. “I bet, Van Der Linde.”

The outlaw raises a brow, otherwise utterly composed. “So you know who I am… Or at least who I run with.”

“Mhm.” You trace the edge of the bloody blade with your index. “You’re no small feat, Arthur Morgan.” You push off the crates and nod at the corpses on the dirt. “They would’ve lucked out.”

“I’d say the same for you,” he replies, his gaze unrelenting.

The two morons had spoken your alias, but it’s the fact that Morgan recognized it that sticks with you. A sick sense of satisfaction bubbles within you at the knowledge that your name has been spread to one of the country’s most notorious gangs.

“Well ain’t you sweet,” you quip sarcastically.

Arthur looks down at Roberts, mere inches away from him. “Your aim on him could’ve been a bit better, though. Too far right.”

You? Aiming anything other than perfect? You scoff, your eyes narrowing as you search through a sack on the crates for your confiscated guns. “I don’t have to let you free.”

“And I don’t have to be pleasant,” he retorts gruffly, and for a second, you’re reminded of who you’re talking to. The adrenaline from your victorious escape begins to simmer down and you realize that perhaps you shouldn’t be speaking to an accomplished killer this way.

…But you’re one yourself.

You look over your shoulder with a smile. “You’re tied up, hun.”

The man scowls. “Oh really? I hadn’t noticed.”

Amusing, this one. But perhaps you aren’t exactly in the position to have Dutch Van Der Linde and his boys on your tail for taking out their best man. You sling the bag full of your belongings over your shoulder and crouch before him, pushing Roberts out of the way with one foot. “I can’t see why we can’t be amicable, can you?”

One of his brows quirks up. “Depends on your definition of amicable, miss,” he dryly speaks your family name.

“Charming manners.” You tilt your head. “I reckon we ain’t that different, you and I. Two of the most notorious criminals. Everyone knows our names. We were, well-” you gesture to his bound current state. “-both tied up. On the same team, if you will. We live the same lifestyle. I don’t see the point in goin’ off and tattlin’ on each other.”

Arthur lets out a quiet huff. “So you’re suggestin’… What, an alliance?”

“I’m suggestin’ silence. You go off without worryin’ about me sending the law after you, and I do the same.”

“And how do I know I can trust you?” He’s skeptical, and you can’t quite blame him after he’s just witnessed how you swindled those men.

“It’s a two-way street, Mr. Morgan. I’m the same as you, it’d be hypocritical to turn you in. Plus, I don’t quite care to alert the law of my presence by going in to report you.”

You can practically see the gears turning in his head. “Fine. But I’m not forgettin’ this.”

But his mention of an alliance lingers in your head. You hold up a finger. “On second thought, I’ve got a better idea. More fool-proof terms, if you’re hesitant to trust me.”

He rolls his eyes, obviously not enjoying being at your mercy. “And what would those be?”

The corner of your mouth quirks up. “It’d be idiotic for members of the same gang to snitch on each other, wouldn’t it?”

A look of realization washes over his face. “It would,” his voice drops lower, not liking where this is headed.

“Then, I’ll be joining the Van Der Lindes. I’m tired of sleepin’’ with a pistol in my hand.”

His expression shifts, seemingly amused by your conviction. “Oh, are you?” he retorts with a chuckle. “What makes you think they’d even let you in?”

You grin. “You knew exactly who I was when you heard those twits call me Bullseye, that’s what.” You stand up straight. “And you’re going to give me a shining recommendation.”

“Am I, now?”

“Mhm… Or I could throw you on my horse out there and we could have ourselves a nice little ride to some sheriff’s office. I figure Saint-Denis would have the most intense security. You don’t think they’d recognize me if I just rode by and dropped you on the doorstep, do you?” You jeer as you rummage through the tent, looking for anything of value to take.

Despite your threats, a small smirk creeps onto Arthur’s face. He takes a moment to study you, weighing his options.

“Confident, ain’t ya?”

“With reason.”

A beat. You just stare at each other.

“Can you untie me already? We’ve got a lot of ground to cover to get back to camp.”

[sevikaslatinawife]

“I’m tired of seeing —“

Then don’t fucking read it? Don’t complain and ruin it for people that enjoy it? Stfu and keep scrolling because you’re capable of that?

Some of yall act like children.

Don’t see something you wanna read? Pick up a keyboard, make it yourself instead of pestering others to do it for you.

“There isn’t enough Sevika x [BLANK].”

Write it yourself? Maybe people don’t know how to or are comfortable writing something else.

We’re all adults but apparently some of y’all didn’t get that memo.