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easy-there-leftovers · 1 year ago

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I See You, Darling (3)

[Astarion x reader] As I mentioned in a previous post, this came along surprisingly easier than the last one. The same can’t be said about the quality though maybe– sorry for that. :,DDD|Word count: 2.6k.|

Content Warnings: Mentions of cooking, handling knives, blood, one sex joke (lol), the normal warnings that you’d associate with the game

Part 2 here!!

Next Part here!!

As an outsider to most of everyone’s problems, you find your place by helping in whatever way you can. Even if that may be at the expense of your own comfort, but at least it’s been fun so far.

Alternatively: Reader can't catch a break from anything, can they?

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

Being resident camp caretaker was surprising, for lack of a better term. You were away from the stresses of technology, corporate assholes, and disappointing family with your choice to pursue unpractical careers. Instead living the “cottagecore lifestyle” of foraging for food and cooking with a cauldron that those from the digital world claimed to be the best. What they failed to mention were the incessant pests coming in to nibble through rucksacks if you were not careful, and the occasional swarms of ants or flies coming in to nip at your flesh.

The experience was a mixed bag, so it would seem. But the tired smiles that the group would give you when you greet them with a warm and filling meal was always a comfort that you would have.

And it would seem they needed it now more especially than ever.

Your band of misfits planned to venture out and defeat the goblins at their camp in order to aid the tieflings’ journey to Baulder’s Gate. Per your instruction, you convinced the more solipsistic members of the benefits of eradicating the sect. Namely, they wouldn’t hinder you as much in the future if they were taken care of. Hence your plan to slightly increase the amount of portions for supper tonight.

By twilight, you had a good broth steeping in your cauldron. The camp having returned just a few moments prior from an earlier excursion. You were making a pottage that the others have expressed their enjoyment for. A stew of sorts that you had made when you had quite the number of items that would have spoiled before consumption had you not done anything about it. A mixture of fruits and meat, stewed in a consomme of a pig’s head and various mushroom caps.

This time around, you’ll be using fresher ingredients to hopefully lift their spirits.

As you’re chopping up fruits, you think about all that’s happened to you and possible explanations for why your character suddenly ceased to exist in order to make room for you. What’s more is that no matter how many nights pass, you never end up waking from your dream. Which you fear is lasting longer than your usual ones.

Your working theory is that whatever force, be it magic or fate, tethering you to this world is also responsible for removing Tav. Astarion claimed that he couldn’t remember the finer details when you had confronted him. And so you settled with that hypothesis. That like how a thread that unravels opens a seam in a garment, a new thread must be used to darn the cloth together again.

You laugh at the disgustingly poetic analogy you created in your head. You fear that you’re becoming more and more deranged as—

“My, aren’t you busy?” The intrusive voice causes the knife to slip out of your hand a bit, thankfully only cutting off a portion of your index finger’s nail. Your shoulders, that were raised in alarm, release their tension after feeling the sudden chill leave your body.

“Astarion,” Exasperated, you put the knife down on the cutting board to catch your breath for a while.

“I would greatly appreciate it if you stopped sneaking up on me when I’m doing something dangerous.”

The high-elf offers a mischievous smile in response. “Very sorry, pet. But it’s hardly my fault when you’ve barely been paying attention to me.” There’s regret in his words, but not in his tone.

Because while perhaps it’s an odd interest, he enjoys hearing the quickened pace of your heart. The pulse getting louder, as it stays that way for longer.

“I’d feel sorry for doing so if you were too, but you’re not.”

You laugh out, breath still shaky but steadying slowly, as you pick up your knife again.

“I heard you’re part of the encampment that’s finishing off the goblins by midmorn.” Chopping the rest of the fruits, you feel his presence move from behind you to off to your side so you can see him from your peripherals.

“Hm? Yes. Although I would have preferred if we didn’t do this at all. It’s too much work, and the goblins could be entertaining! Killing useful spoils seems like an awful waste.”

This must be the reason why he approached you, to persuade you to call off the hunt. And his unfading smile supports that thought. When you voice said thought, it earns you a playful scoff.

“Don’t you have anything else on your mind other than the parasite lounging in it?”

The mood is light as you say this, the banter welcomed by you both.

And as you continue to converse, a few eyes begin to follow the two of you. They’ve never really seen Astarion interact with you for this long, at least not away from your private spaces. And even less without hushed voices. The interlocution is definitely a welcome spectacle to them.

“On my honor, the only thing on my mind is depraved, carnal lust.” He says, proudly. Gesturing to himself with one hand, and the other held high like he was swearing an oath.

Your closed mouth drops into frown, eyes wide, and your eyebrows skew upwards. A very undignified, but small, squeak coming from the back of your throat. You swore you heard someone groan in disappointment from far away too.

You know full well that the look of shock that you were sporting was by no means attractive, but the flagrant revelation, though not at all out of character, was shocking to have directed towards you. You’ve been trying to romance the elven vampire with your character, only to end up nowhere. Therefore you are completely unsure if the dialogue he was spewing was completely a figment of your imagination, or is, indeed, canon.

The elf in question has seen this expression of yours before. Quite often, too. And while he doesn’t think it a, “pleasant sight,” it is rather… charming to him.

Whether it be on purpose or not, people have the tendency to be on guard around him, preserving any twitch and sound that could give them away to themselves. Not that much had ever evaded him before with his naturally cunning behavior. But this clearly unscripted response, with the blatant confusion swimming in your eyes, is a rather refreshing sight to see.

“I see–” you clear your throat to lower your voice back to its normal octave. “Well, I’m sure you’ll have plenty of opportunities to uh, bring those thoughts into fruition! Uh–,” You slide the rest of the cut fruits off of your cutting board and into the stew.

“Is there anything else you wanted to tell me? Something I should know?” You turn to face him. He laughs at first, but then his brows furrow in question, as if he did have something to say and forgot about it or thinks it is no longer an appropriate time to ask. He shakes his head and says something along the lines of, “letting you do all the hard work” and returns to his tent.

But you are not left alone for long as another member of your little ragtag team joins you to ask about dinner. To which you ask them for which meat would be better to toss into it.

—————————

After dinner, your little rapport concerning the plan and new findings with everyone is adjourned. Some thanked you before they left, and others simply walked away. From what you have learned from them, the Archdruid that was taken prisoner by the goblins was named, “Halsin.” He was a topic of interest as they said he might be able to aid you in your search for moonrise and understanding the Mindflayer worms.

Wyll had also approached you alone after dinner and offhandedly mentioned a dead boar being on the road. He had planned to return to camp with it if it could have been useful, but he had claimed that the animal had been unnervingly light. As if half of its weight was no longer there despite seemingly just keeling over for no reason.

You take note of that in one of your many journals, including additional information about the Archdruid and their kind in general. The book appearing more and more like the game’s quest booklet, with the exception of a few crossouts and colored ink to emphasize each quest’s urgency and relevance to finding a cure. When you successfully rescue the druid of the grove, it seems you will have to move out quite soon after, so you fixed up your pack just a bit to make it easier later on.

You look around, everyone seems to be in their respective areas. Doing whatever it is they usually do with the exception of Astarion. Though he has been known to either sneak off or hide away from time to time in his tent, so you think nothing of it.

You return to the communal chest, tallying up the remaining supplies and inspecting the wares. You sort the tradeable objects in one rucksack and appraise its worth. The chest also has pieces of gold, some that others have placed, and others you picked up and added. You prefer to let the others keep what they think is valuable to them, and only place what they want to share in the vessel.

If the party’s gold ever runs out, you think that the rucksack is worth a few nights of food when you travel out again. Assured by this knowledge, you placed your writing materials back in, closed the chest, and turned in for the night.

Maybe this time, you’ll wake up. But you also don’t really want to. Not just yet.

—————————————

As you slept, you wondered about the longevity of your knowledge of the media. You hadn’t finished the game, and although you’ve accomplished a fair bit of it, you worry about how you will face the events to come. One of the only reasons why you haven’t flinched so much at the terrors that occurred was because you had anticipated them. Braced yourself for the dangers ahead.

You fear what might happen when you no longer have that power at your disposal.

Perhaps it's the worry, perhaps it's the stiff, compact ground that you have yet to be accustomed to sleep on despite the bedroll, or perhaps it's the presence of something suddenly cool that stirs you awake.

But what you did not expect was Astarion’s face hovering over yours to be the reason. Fangs bared, and ready to bite. Your eyes go wide and you let out a small gasp, hands moving up in a gesture akin to clawing at yourself.

The elf realizes that you’re awake now and he curses. Moving away as you scramble upright just like you did all those nights ago. The look of genuine fear at the prospect of being bitten is apparent on your face, and he feels almost guilty to be greeted with it.

“Please, I wasn’t going to hurt you— I just needed, well, blood.” He says it in a panic. Worried that you might run off, losing his only sure chance, and possibly enraging the rest of the camp.

In this moment, you realized the error in your ways. Astarion had been hunting nearly every other night in the same area. And if you were progressing through the events like how the game did, he couldn’t have had the time nor energy to venture too far after feeding from most of the creatures in the vicinity.

‘The exsanguinated boar…’ You remember.

“You’ve been feeding on animals for the past few nights, haven’t you?”

“It seems like word got around then.” Although unknowingly, he’s referencing what Wyll delivered to you earlier in the night.

“I’m not some monster, I feed on boars, deer, kobolds– whatever I can get. I’m just too slow right now. And with the damned excursion,” He stops himself, complaining is only doing worse for his condition.

“It’s not enough. I feel so…weak. If I just had a little blood, I could think clearer. Fight better.” You’re conflicted. You had no problem offering yourself as your character for him to feed on, but even witnessing that through a disconnected screen was enough to make you feel uncomfortable imagining it. You care about him, want to give him what he deserves, but this…

What’s more is that you know what he’s saying is necessary, not at all overstating how dire his need to satiate his hunger is, making it all the more difficult.

He needs to convince you, if he wants to continue on, that is. Without the presence of the illithid, he resorts to more practical means of doing so. Similar to what he did to many.

Noticing the slight tremor of your hands, he takes the chance to slowly kneel down on your bedroll. Closing the distance between you. He takes your hand, now rougher from the work you do, and meets your shaken gaze with his dark eyes.

“Please. I only need a taste, I swear.” He had meant to tell you before dinner, had he not felt the eyes of the others on the two of you. This discovery is not lost on you. He needs you specifically. And you realize it's out of convenience because you’re an expendable resource. If you pass, the group can venture on, but he also still needs you alive for whatever reason. He can’t have the others finding out, not until they trust him.

He needs you to trust him. And this is the only way you can help him in this moment.

With that, you strengthen your resolve.

“I…I trust you, Astarion. But no more than what you need.” A dangerous bet, but you hope it would be worth it.

“Really? I–”

“Can I trust you on that?” The shock on his face fades, and he agrees.

“Let’s make ourselves comfortable, shall we?” You lay down, preparing yourself to faint during the process and allowing your blood to flow throughout your body. He observes the rapid movement of your eyes as he drapes himself above you. Your sight flitting from anywhere but him and then returning all the same. No doubt that you fear being at his mercy.

He feels almost sorry that you have to do this for him.

So he graces you with what mercy he can give.

The bite is quick. You would have felt the flesh of your neck parting for him, had he not done so. You feel tears prick at your eyes and start to feel the area from your neck and upwards go cold.

A momentary, sharp pain, that lulls to a chilling numbness in what seems like a matter of seconds.

You feel his body start to grow warmer at your expense and you feel satisfied knowing that you could help him.

When he doesn't stop, you start to worry.

Your breath catches in staccato beats, pulse quickening in tandem. You try to stop him, hands coming up to push or tug, but the heavy sensation that washes over you only permits them to find purchase on his form.

You try to speak, but it seems as if the common tongue does not reach him.

Your mind goes into overdrive, all of a sudden it doesn’t feel like a dream anymore and genuine fear courses through your veins.

You need him to stop, and you try to think of more efficient ways of doing so.

But your mind starts slowing as well. The pain has certainly faded, but the presence of the vampire at your throat reminds you in case you’ve forgotten.

As a last ditch effort, you try to use whatever might appeal to him, to break him out of the trance that he was in from finally replenishing himself.

“Isalhal–” One of the few Elvish words you recalled.

The effort thankfully makes him pull back in shock, stopping him. Your eyes finally close, thankful for the reprieve you're finally granted. You hear a distant, “thank you,” and a more distant “shit” before rest takes over.

You worry about waking up tomorrow.

But for now, you’re thankful that Astarion will be able to fight well.

For himself and for everyone else’s sake.

━─━────༺༻────━─━

Thank you to @rey26, @shyminnie07, @lynnloveshobi, @iggee-rose, @automnepoet, @tiannamortis, @aoirohi, @sarkara211, @jane-3043, @h3110-dar1in9, @h3ll0k1ttyl0ver333, @mimziethealien, @squichymochi, @sharabay, @furblrwurblr, @dork-of-the-universe, @thedevilssinner, @fuckalrighty, @queenofthespacesquids, @perseny, @goldenplutus, @h4nluv, @awkward-d3rs3-dr3amer, and @auszimbo for asking to be tagged!!

#astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion ancunin x reader #baldur's gate 3 x reader #aware!astarion #bg3 x reader isekai(?)#bg3 x reader

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 9 months ago

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AITA for letting my dog correct (nip) my niece to prove a point and refusing to punish him?

I own an ex-K9 called Biggles. Biggles is impeccably trained, a total gentleman when you're not being an asshole to him, but also has no time for your bullshit. He'll tolerate a lot more hassle from the younger kids in our family, but if they're allowed to persist in bullying him, he will correct them, just like he would the adults of the family.

Mostly Biggles will just push them over and walk away. Its his way of saying to leave him alone. Sometimes he'll bark loudly, a kind of 'fuck off now' bark. At the very extreme, he'll give them a tiny little warning nip on the arm or hand.

(Biggles has only ever nip corrected kids twice in all the years I've had him. Once when my cousin thought it was 'cute' to dump her toddler right on top of Biggles and let him rip at his fur and try to bite at his face, and once when my nephew was having a tantrum, Biggles tried to snuggle up to him to soothe him and my nephew hit him in the face.)

I firmly believe in learning how your pet communicates and respecting their reasonable boundaries. To me, if you're yanking on a dog's tail and ignoring everyone warning you to stop and you get a nip to the back of the hand for it, that's a valid consequence of your actions and you've just learned to respect the dog enough not to try pulling its tail out of its spine.

(This likely seems unfathomable to a lot of you, but I must clarify that Biggles isn't some hyper-reactive aggressive, dangerous dog like my sister thinks. He will more than happily play around with the little ones, faux wrestle with them, let them paw all over him and fuss at him, ect. He loves children, they're his babies. He does not love being in pain, and if the person causing it will not respect him or me enough to listen to my warnings, I believe they earn it when he warns them too.)

Anyway. Like you might've guessed, yanking on his tail was what my niece was doing at the beer-and-barbeque this weekend. I told her not to. My parents told her not to. Even my sister half-assedly suggested 'maybe Biggles wants to play a different game.' Biggles got up and moved away from her twice and she followed him both times to 'keep playing.'

My entire family knows how Biggles works. I warned my sister Biggles wouldn't tolerate what was happening. My sister told me I shouldn't own such a dangerous, unpredictable dog and he should be put down if he can't handle some 'rough love from a kid.'

(This was not rough love. This was my niece literally ripping at his tail thinking his pain responses were funny.)

I didn't want to cause a scene or subject Biggles to further harassment so I decided just once I'd cave and take Biggles inside so he could get some peace and I could enjoy my burnt ends without my sister squealing in my ear about being cruel to her child by telling her off.

Unfortunately, Biggles' patience ran out before I could make my way over. My niece yanked at his tail again, hard enough that it actually jolted him on the grass, and Biggles whipped around and nipped at her hand. I got to see her hand afterward and there was just a little red mark, no blood or broken skin. He'd just pinched her a little.

My niece screamed bloody murder like he'd taken her hand off and my sister screamed bloody murder about my 'vicious animal.' It devolved into a massive family-wide argument against my sister because my entire family knows its just basic respect and kindness not to cause an animal pain deliberately, and that its my sister's fault for not listening to anyone when we all told her and my niece not to hurt Biggles.

My sister stormed off and has since been blowing up the entire family demanding that Biggles be put down. She's threatened to call the cops, animal control, you name it. None of us are worried about that. There wasn't even a proper mark left on her hand and Biggles will pass any behavioral test with flying colors, but my sister is giving everyone grief and is refusing to attend any family events if Biggles will be there.

My dad is firmly on my side, but my mom is imploring me to just fake apologise to get some peace back. When I recounted the story to my colleague this morning, he said she got what she earned, but also why would I bring Biggles to an event I knew a disrespectful little shit of a kid was at?

I don't feel like an asshole in terms of allowing my dog to establish his boundaries. In my and my family's opinion pets are their own entities and should be treated with belonging and respect when part of a family. Its also just common sense not to cause an animal pain for the fun of it.

However, I'm also very aware that getting nipped by a dog, especially at such a young age, can be catastrophic. My niece could be terrified of dogs for the rest of her life, and while I don't feel guilty she got corrected, I do feel somewhat guilty that I didn't intervene sooner and have possibly set her up for failure in the future. And I do feel like an asshole for letting it get to that point, but it did all happen pretty quickly.

All things considered I do love my niece, she's family, she just gets away with murder because my sister thinks being a little girl is an automatic pass to do whatever you want without consequence.

I've probably painted Biggles out in a real bad light here, but I can assure you that in general Biggles is the perfect family dog. He's loving, playful, he tries to share his kibble with everyone at dinner, he helped us teach my uncle's puppy tricks and how to behave and potty outside ect.

So I guess I'm really asking am I the asshole in this situation, as the one responsible for Biggles?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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evilbihan · 5 months ago

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Congratulations, OP, on making the most factually incorrect post I've ever seen on this hellsite.

Let's take this trainwreck of an "analysis" apart step by step, shall we?

Oh, good lord, now I'm seeing Bi-Han stans say his father was abusive. There is literally nothing in MK1 implying that.

In the previous timeline, Bi-Han's and Kuai Liang's father literally kidnapped them and killed their mother and sister, then raised them to become assassins against their will, but now we're supposed to believe that man's a saint?

I've said this in a different post before and I'll repeat it here too: The core essence of every character in MK1 is basically still the same as it was in the old timeline. Geras is still loyal to his creator (previously Kronika, now Liu Kang), Scorpion might be a different person now but he's still vengeful, Sindel is good now, but she's still a merciless ruler, Kung Lao is still ambitious, etc. Not a single one of these characters is a completely new and different person. Following that logic, the same thing would apply to the old grandmaster.

At first glance, it may seem like nothing implies that Bi-Han's and Kuai Liang's father was abusive, but that's only if you ignore anything outside of the main story.

I made an entire post about it here, but I'll give you the short version:

Additionally, there was a node in the previous season of invasions mode that involved another fight with Bi-Han, titled "second best". Second best at what? We know that in the old timeline, Bi-Han was the Lin Kuei's best assassin. Therefore, this could have only been referring to the new era's Bi-Han, again confirming that their father had a favorite son, Kuai Liang, not Bi-Han.

Believe it or not, this is a form of emotional abuse.

Y'all (thirsty fandom bitches) are so obsessed with your villain faves being victims of parental abuse, even when canon doesn't imply that or literally says otherwise. I've seen it in the Scream fandom, now it's in the MK fandom, too.

Still not convinced? How about we change perspectives from my favorite character to my least favorite one then? Everyone who's been following this blog knows I can't stand Kuai Liang, but I even believe him to be a victim of abuse at his own father's hand, albeit in a different way than Bi-Han.

Nitara: Had you ever known hunger, you wouldn't judge us. Scorpion: I have, and I will.

So, what does this intro tell us?

Kuai Liang has known hunger, so there must have been a period in his life where he has been starving, but why? Poverty seems highly unlikely. The Lin Kuei seem well organized and in his tower ending, Bi-Han talks about how many of their resources were spent on the cyber initiative, so I doubt the Lin Kuei were ever poor or he wouldn't have been able to afford all that technology at all. The brothers also come across as quite arrogant. Growing up poor would have probably made them more humble.

So, why was Kuai Liang starving? Would loving parents let their children starve? Was it perhaps part of their training or a way to punish them for disobedience? And if so, why does Kuai Liang still think and speak so highly of his father? Stockholm syndrome maybe.

And let's say it wasn't the grandmaster's fault that they were starving, then wouldn't it make Bi-Han's ambition to give the clan more wealth and power noble instead of selfish? It would mean no more starving for any of the Lin Kuei in the future.

Regardless of your takeaway from this, the end result remains the same: Bi-Han is not evil.

Bi-Han has always been an asshole. He's power-hungry and he is a bad person. Him murdering his father (whom his brothers haven't implied anything bad about) is no surprise, and trying to make up completely non-canon things to justify it because you can't handle liking a fictional villain is moronic.

Bi-Han has always been an asshole? Always as in previous timelines? Because by that logic, his father has always been an asshole too. See how you're contradicting yourself here? Secondly, Bi-Han is not a bad person. That's straight up wrong.

Ashrah said he's redeemable.

Kuai Liang said he and Bi-Han were once close.

Bi-Han shows genuine regret over Sindel's death.

Tomas, one of the nicest characters in the game, used to look up to Bi-Han.

Kitana's announcer voice when selecting Bi-Han: "You were a decent person once."

He's flawed, not evil.

The only person making up completely non-canon things is you.

Oh, and for the record, I'm a huge fan of Homelander and there's no saving grace to that man. I don't care though, I love villains.

Here's the punchline though, Bi-Han isn't a villain, he's an anti-hero/anti-villain type of character. Do some research.

It's Bi-Han. Bi-Han would sell his little brother to Shang Tsung for a single corn chip! (And I don't mean Tomas; he'd give away Tomas for free.)

Bi-Han literally refused to deliver Kuai Liang to Kronika in MK11 as Noob when Geras told him to.

Geras: Bring your brother to Kronika. Noob Saibot: The dead are my clan. Geras: Do you serve or do you not?

Bi-Han doesn't wish harm upon either of his brothers in MK1 either, he tells them multiple times to surrender and join him. Just watch their intros, it's all there. He even admitted that he wanted Kuai Liang to rule by his side. In his intros with Shang Tsung, he also mentions that he regrets ever trusting him.

The whole original post is a joke. Implying that people who are upset over mischaracterization and bad writing must be thirsting over a character is just ridiculous.

How wrong do you want to be?

OP: yes.

#bi han #bi-han #bi han sub zero #mk bi han #mk sub zero #mortal kombat 1 #mk1 2023 #mk1 #mk scorpion #tomas vrbada #kuai liang #kuai liang scorpion #noob saibot #mk11 #fandom nonsense #i made my own post as to not give the original one more notes

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chaifootsteps · 6 months ago

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I used to dislike blitzo back in season 1-early 2 cuz he was a jerk and abusive and the story tried to justify it with "womp womp he has trauma and he only wants to tough moxxie up so it's okay". And i was supposed to feel bad about his ass? After he verbally abused moxxie throughout all his work life and threteaned to rape him and his wife? Used verosika and stole from her when they where together? Disrespected barbie's boundaries and feelings? Dissmissed fizz's feelings and unintentionally said "hey i lost my mom bitch, you aren't the only one who has problems" WHEN FIZZ WAS FUCKING BURNED ALIVE, LOST HIS LIMBS AND HORNS AND WAS TRAUMATIZED FOR LIFE. ALL BECAUSE OF YOU I MIND YOU.

To be clear, i don't hate asshole characters. I hate when asshole characters are being coddled and excused by the narrative, it's insufferable to watch. Blitz was this. An asshole character who was excused by the writers and you are expected to feel bad about his ass when he got humilated in the club. Thanks i hate it. And it sucks because i love the concept of an abusive asshole realizing he is an abuser and trying to do better to people who he wronged. But i couldn't handle the awful execution.

And guess what?

FUCK MY ASS I'VE CHANGED MY MIND. I feel so bad for blitzo now lmao. The 2 times when blitzo isn't at fault THE WRITERS TRY TO PUT ALL THE BLAME ON BLITZO AND EXCUSE PEOPLE WHO ABUSE HIM JUST WHY. Loona physically assaults him when he respecfully asks her to be nicer to their clients because IT'S HER FUCKING JOB BITCH THEY WILL LOSE MONEY IF YOU DON'T AND IT AFFECTS YOU AS WELL YOU LITERALLY LIVE WITH HIM. And then she kicks him in nuts when all he did was apologising and attempting to hug her? What's funny? What's funny about this 22-years-old grown ass woman physically harming her adoptive dad who provides her a linvinghood, job and unconditional love when she is an adult? And saved her from a toxic and dangerous enviorment? Are you trying to say *he* is in the wrong in this situation and *deserves* to be beaten up by a person he has never wronged in his life? Are you kidding me? Why am i supposed to hate stella, who is abusing stolas, but expected to like loona, who is abusing blitz and moxxie, and to find her abuse "funny" and slapstick? You can't have both, pick one vivzie!

And speaking of stolas...i don't even want to talk about it. I feel horrible for blitzo. Yes, he was an asshole and was only using stolas to get the book, but it was stolas who made their relationship transactional. It was stolas who reffered to blitzo as "his impish plaything". It was stolas who only ever asked from blitzo sex and sexually harassed him on daily basis. He even put a cigrette on his horn likw wtf? It was stolas who made the deal when blitzo couldn't even consent because he, you know, WAS ABOUT TO GET MURDERED BY THE CANNIBALS? AND STOLAS WAS FULLY AWARE OF IT? And the list goes on and on...

"You think so low of me?" GO FUCK YOURSELF LMAO THIS IS SO BAD I CAN'T. ARE YOU REALLY THIS DELUSIONAL?

Okay, even we pretend none of the above happened and was retconned, blitzo *owns you nothing* stolas. If he doesn't have feelings for you it's not *his* fault. He shouldn't have his buisness tied to your bird ass to spend time with you (and in case if he doesn't, he will lose his job, how fair) if he doesn't love you. Get a life please, you only known this guy for *less than a day* and it was *25 years ago*. And he was completely disinterested in your hobbies and was literally only there because he was manipulated by his father and *sold to you like an object or a toy*. And you still obsessed over this random dude who doesn't even like you and love him more than your own daugther whom you known for 17 years??? Wow, such victim fel bed for him he so pooor :((((

And it doesn't help how not only the writers, almost an entire fandom thinks blitzo is abusive towards stolas or deserves to be kicked out by stolas or be beaten up by loona ("for comedy*) it's not funny. It makes me sick. It's the same as blitzo beating the shit out of moxxie and people praising *blitzo*. But not it's stolas abusing blitzo and people praising *stolas*

Fuck it.

I used to hate this guy, but now i can't feel anything but pity him. It's tragic how everyone blames him for things HE ISN'T EVEN AT FAULT HE DESERVES BETTER.

You're preaching to the choir, Anon! Blitzo is a tremendous asshole, multiple characters' lives are worse for knowing him, but he's a victim here -- and a chilling reminder of just how far people will go to defend a charming, attractive abuser that knows how to play the sympathy card.

#Anonymous #stolitz critical #viv stuff #actual blog post

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lisafrnkenstein · 1 year ago

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steve's not a religious man, for all the years he spent being dragged to mass by his parents. but if he was, he'd want to ask god why he let someone like eddie die for this piece of shit town that didn't deserve him.

steve had watched from across the room as dustin handed over eddie's necklace, in tears. as wayne clutched it in his hand and brought it to his lips, like a rosary, eyes closed in prayer; and steve had broken a little.

growing up the way he had, he was no stranger to guilt. guilt was a steady undercurrent, a familiar beast he long learned how to wrangle, to compartmentalize.

but not this.

this guilt is a serpent, rearing its ugly head in his chest and constricting around his lungs until he can't breathe. it makes him uneasy, agitated. like he's filled with an energy he needs to expell.

the same kind that made him pick a fight with jonathan byers.

the same kind that made him crash his car into billy hargrove.

he knows there's something wrong with him, but he's never learned how to handle his emotions; he just does his best for having been a kid who was handed a bat studded full of rusty nails to solve his problems.

but guilt is not a thing you can beat down like some bloodthirsty monster from another dimension, no matter how it eats him.

so steve does what he does, and he swings his fists at the next best thing.

it's some buzzcut, blonde asshole from the local church, the older brother of one of carver's guys. a few years older than steve, even. he's mouthing off, worked up and angry. if steve was more rational, more gracious, he'd give leeway for the man's own grief, his own emotional response to loss and terror. steve's been through enough to know what it's like, to crave control.

but he's feeling neither of those things, and the man is sending specks of spit out of his mouth as he yells about searching the rubble of the town for eddie munson, the murderer, the satanist.

steve's jaw tenses. his hands clench tight, and before he knows what he's doing, he's rounded on him and socked him square on the jaw.

there's a beat where he processes, where he makes the conscious choice whether to step back and assess his actions, or to follow through.

the man snarls at him, and the moment passes. steve takes two fistfuls of his shirt and slams him to the ground, shouting as he goes.

"don't you dare open your mouth about him again, you ungrateful -" he cuts off with a growl, slamming the man forcefully against the earth again. "you'll never know, you'll never fucking know what he did for you! nobody will fucking know, they won't ever know now, they won't-!"

steve stops when he feels warm, wet trails run down his cheeks, tastes the salt on his tongue.

he stumbles back off the man, hands touching his face.

he hasn't been able to cry yet. it hasn't come, no matter how much it hurt, no matter how many times steve played that last look eddie gave him, over and over in his head, thinking about the fact that the next time he saw those eyes, they would be vacant and lifeless.

he could never cry, because he blamed himself, and what right did he have to cry over what was his own fault?

he'd had crying beat out of him at eight years old, when his father was on edge from his mother's nagging, and steve had been upset about something or other.

he'd smacked him, pinched the bridge of his nose, and shaken steve's head until he'd stopped, wide eyed and scared.

"men don't cry," his father had sneered, dragging rough thumbs across steve's eyelids, drying them of the evidence.

steve turns his head up, up, up, now, bare and facing the heavens, where god looks disinterestedly on from, and he screams. he runs his voice hoarse, the sobs tearing violently from him, wracking his body with sorrowful tremors.

his face is wet, and it's too salty to be rain.

he doesn't feel like a man.

not when he'd left eddie behind and run off to play hero, only to watch helplessly as the people he loved were choked by vines.

not when eddie had been left to make the hard choice, the sacrificial play, just to get them the win; and they hadn't even defeated vecna, only bought them all some more time.

he's not a man, but a failure.

somehow, in the midst of this, steve drags himself back home. manages to climb into his bed, and pull out what he'd stuffed underneath.

he sits there, numb fingers clutching a swathe of bloody denim, and he cries.

he cries until there's nothing left, until he feels like his whole body is dried and and empty, a husk curling in on itself.

he fades into sleep, too quickly to catch the reflective, red glint that enters his bedroom as the the sun sets, or to catch the way a figure moves through the shadows, perching at the end of his bed.

he doesn't hear the low rumble of a voice, raspy and trying to whisper.

"I thought I was the animal now," eddie says, sharp teeth flashing. "but you're a regular guard dog, aren't you, harrington?"

his eyes glow in the moonlight as he watches the sleeping figure below him with intensity.

"will you fight everyone that badmouths me, I wonder?" eddie laughs mirthlessly. "your work will be cut out for you."

his eyes travel over steve's full form, pausing with surprise when he catches the vest he's clinging to like a security blanket.

steve doesn't wake to see the winged body take off out of his upper story window.

he does wake, however, and find that the item of clothing he fell asleep with is conspicuously missing; and, even more alarming, what's been left in it's place: his yellow sweater, the one abandoned to the upside down, swallowed up when lover's lake split apart.

the one he never expected to see again, because things don't just come back when they've been lost like that.

except, maybe, he thinks, running over the golden fabric with disbelieving fingertips...maybe, there is a chance that they sometimes do.

#steddie #grief cw #past parental abuse cw #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #st #my writing

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huelovening · 1 month ago

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let you break my heart again pt. 2

hueningkai x reader

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, hueningie says mean things

a/n: HI im so sorry this took like. a year i died

part 1 (UGH IT WONT LET ME LINK IT RIGHT NOW ILL UPDte later)

the amount of scolding kai had to endure after he came home, left him upset.

he opened the door and immediately came to sight of his four elders, expectantly looking at him. "where's y/n?"

oh, his next words will surely take a blow on them. "i-, i don't think y/n and i should spend time anymore. she likes me and i don't return her feelings like that."

mixtures of "WHAT?", "dude what the hell" and "beee so for real" spread throughout the room, kai sat down on the couch with his hyungs, expecting comforting words, but-

"dude, you can't be serious? you ruined your relationship with y/n, because apparently you don't feel the same way? i know you're insecure sometimes and unsure of your feelings but you like her. whenever we talk you bring her up, i was annoyed by it at some point but i knew how much she meant to you so i let it be. don't be a dumbass, kai." taehyun finished, sighing one last time.

"you don't know how i feel, don't fucking act like you do. she's nothing to me" kai spat, his words more venomous than ever.

he got up to go to his room after that, taking one last glance at his best friends infront of him.

he was furious, that was for sure. he couldn't understand why his friends had to meddle in his life like that, he could handle it on his own. though he knew he went kinda far and said words he didn't mean, (you were definitely not nothing to him) he didn't want to talk to them as for now.

kai never argued with his friends, so he didn't know what to do, but to rot in bed for a little while. he couldn't even talk to you cause he broke your heart!

the boy tried to act like it was your fault, for falling in love, for thinking he'd like you back. deep down, he knew, that some kind of feelings did in fact, linger for you.

not that he would ever admit.

truth to be told, he thought his heart had belong to yuna. though after their first date, he realised she wasn't what he wanted, she wasn't you. as he kept seeing her, the guilt ate him up, and she knew too. that's when she ended things, kai told this story to his friends, ...without the part where he didn't even like her.

so, what the hell is wrong with him? why did he reject you? it's so clear to everyone that he wants to be with you. he needs to let you know too.

you haven't been doing well. after listening in on his conversation soobin, you obviously knew he wouldn't want you, but still, it hurt.

so when you've spent the entire night crying your eyes out, you don't expect to hear the sound of the ringing of your doorbell at 3am.

you considered not getting up at all. probably just a prank, right? but with the loneliness consuming your mind, you already absentmindedly made your way to the door

"kai."

as soon as you see his face you want to leave. run out of the house, even if its yours. the thought of slamming the door into his face hurts you, seems too cruel. after all, he's still the same boy you fell in love with, even after getting hurt.

"y-y/n.. i-.. can i come in?" he stutters.

you study his face, not knowing what his intentions were. he walks to the couch you've shared endless amounts of time on, laughing together and you cant help but think if you ruined it for good.

as you both sit down, he expectantly looks at you, didn't he initiate this? "kai, what is it? i know how you feel, we don't need to talk any more about this." you shrug, acting as nonchalant as possible.

"no, y/n... it's.. i made a mistake." he takes a deep breather in between his sentences. "i like you. fuck, i know i cant say this but i love you. i always did, i don't know why i acted the way i did.. i guess i was scared. i'm an asshole, i know and i understand if you can't forgive me but.. i just need you to know, that it's always been you. i'm sorry." he finishes

you're speechless. out of everything that could've happened, you didn't expect this, not at all. (which doesn't mean you're not excited about it!)

"kai.. i.. i love you too but i need some time. suddenly you don't like me and then you do? i forgive you but.. i need to think about this." you say.

he gives you a look which.. you don't know how to quiet read. is he glad? or angry at you? you start becoming nervous again until he starts speaking. "okay. that's fine. take all off the time you need"

he finally shows his signature smile again, the one that makes you weak in the knees, the one that makes you want to kiss him stupid.

he indulges you in a warm hug and you cant help feel your heart beating the same way that it always has for him, and for the first time that night, you giggle.

"spend the night?"

#txt x reader #hueningkai x reader #huening kai x reader #hyuka x reader #huening kai scenarios #hueningkai soft hours #txt imagines

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nikkisixxsmissingpick · 10 months ago

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Not what I was planning

Axl rose x gn!reader

Warnings: Axl being a lil bitch, swearing, one bed trope (because I'm not a little bit original), sexual jokes from r

You're exhausted.

It's been a long week, being part of guns n' roses was fun but the shows surely were draining you your fault for jumping around the stage with your guitar so much.

Now you're with the boys back to the tour bus, heading to the hotel in yet another city.

"so, are you just gonna lay there and be fucking stupid or are you gonna help Izzy?"

Axl says, in his typical moody tone

"what are you pissed about? You look like there's a stick up your ass"

You tease the ginger who flips you off

"go help him, you're doing nothing anyways"

You raise an eyebrow, he's also doing nothing, why can't he help Iz? But either way you get up and go see what the fuzz is about.

When you get to the raven haired man, he's rounded by Duff and Slash, you peak over his shoulder to see and... They are trying to open a bottle... A bottle with a cork... And the can't get it right...

"Seriously?"

You raise an eyebrow, Izzy just looks at you with a deadpan expression and smirks right after

"Ten bucks if you can open the bottle"

He bets and handles it to you, you walk to your bag and find something he can't quite see what is, but is metallic.

You stick the tip of the thing on the cork and push it back with ease, slipping the cork out the bottle and give it back on duffs hand.

"I want my ten bucks"

You tap Izzy on the shoulder twice and go back to your place on the bus for the rest of the travel but you end up falling asleep after five minutes.

You wake up god knows how much time later with duff shaking your shoulder.

The blonde duo has always been the most caring with you, maybe because you joined after, but duff and Steven are always sweet to you just as much as you are to them.

"gotta wake up, we're here"

You nod, yawning and sitting up. You look around for a second and then get up.

After a bit of shuffling around you eventually get to the hotel room, which after some fight because there would have to be duos, you got to share with Axl.

"belive me, I'm hating this just as much as you"

Axl just looks at you and mumbles under his breath

"you wish"

As the both of you get to the room and you unlock the door you get overcome with a surprise

"umm.... What the...."

You say realizing there is just a double bed in the room, it must be a mistake.... Right?

"what?"

Axl says and looks into the room

"fuck.... I'll take the floor"

He mumbles, you just look at him in disbelief

"own you're being so sweet for once!"

You tease and you enter the room

"fuck off, it's just.... Just..."

"what? You're scared you'll get a boner in the middle of the night if we share the bed?"

You keep teasing, watching him get tomato reda and flip you off

"what? The cat got your tongue?"

He sighs

"if we sleep on the same bed will you stop tormenting me?"

He says lowly, you giggle and nod, putting your bag on the ground

After all of you have eaten and got changed for bed, you hop on one side of the bed, the ginger gets out from the bathroom in only his boxers and a shirt, you can't help but let your eyes trail down until-

"take a picture, it'll last longer"

He says before getting on the other side of the bed, you chuckle, a smirk appearing on your lips as you look at him

"so you want me to keep polaroids of you in just underwear with me?"

You giggle as his face gets red again and he turns around, you scoot closer and suddenly you start to feel bad

"I'm sorry Ax, I passed the point"

Axl turns around to look at you and just let's out a slow sigh after a little smile creeps to his lips

"nah, it's okay... I'm also a asshole... Now can we please sleep?"

You nod, but what you dont expect is Axl scooting closer to you and laying his head on your chest, his arms wrapping around your torso

"this never happened, okay?"

He mumbles, his voice muffled by your shirt

You giggle "okay... Good night Ax"

"Good night..."

And you're both out like a light, your hand resting on top of his head.

You slowly wake up to little giggles, when you open your eyes slowly you see the other four boys pointing a camera to you, you look down to see a bunch of red strands of hair on top of you snoring lightly.

Without much resistance you flip the other boys off and cover your eyes with the back of your arm, but you can't help the little smile tugging on your lips.

A/N: I actually really like this

#80s #gnr #axl rose x reader #axl rose gnr #axl rose #axl gnr #guns n roses x reader #guns n fucking roses #guns n roses #gnr x reader

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pablitogavii · 11 months ago

Text

Best friend's little sister Pt. 6

I was sad when we left Ibiza almost like I knew, that the peace will the over the moment we return to Barcelona.

"What is it cielo???" Pablo asked sitting on the plane besides me while the rest slept peacefully and I looked from the window into his eyes as tear fell down my cheek.

"We're never going to be happy in Barcelona...we don't even have our beach to escape to there" I explained and he dried my tear pulling me closer and kissing my forehead.

"Hey, we'll figure it out I promise...I am going to explain it all to Pedri and everything will be fine I promise you" he said and I rested my head on his shoulder nodding my head and slowly falling asleep.

Pablo knew that he needs to be the one to tell his friend the truth, but no matter how hard he tried it never seemed to be the right moment. Meanwhile Vini haven't tried anything and Pablo wanted to make sure he does it before that asshole do it for him when he least expects it. Now they were in the dressing room preparing for El Classico and Pablo just couldn't stay quiet anymore.

"I know you're in shock but I love your sister, hermano..." Pablo practiced his speech while being alone in the dressing room arriving too early needing to make it perfect. Xavi heard him opening the doors and shocking the boy a little.

"What are you doing here so early, chaval??" Xavi asked and Pablo sighed sitting down and telling him what he planned.

"You can't do it now Gavi...the last thing we can handle is loss in El Classico! Joder chaval, you really know the worst timing!" Xavi explained and Pablo nodded never wanting to do anything to harm this team...he just needs to wait for the game to be over.

"You ready to win this one hermano!?" Pedri was hyped up and Pablo smiled knowing he won't be so enthusiastic after the game no matter the result.

"Hola Pablito, como estas???" Vini walked down the hallway while they waited for the game to begin. He got between him and Pedri winking and smirking which made Pablo want to punch his stupid entitled face.

"Walk away!" Pedri pushed him but Pablo told him off saying he was fine which shocked his friend. Vini only smirked nodding his head and walking to the Madrid side.

"Since when do you diffuse the situation with madritistas???" Pedri asked but Pablo just said he wasn't in the mood as they started walking onto the pitch.

Game was never better for Barça, 3:0, as first half was coming to an end. Pablo was happy celebrating with his teammates as they exited the pitch but then a hand grabbed his bicep pulling him to the side.

"If we lose, you lose...remember that!" Vini threatened and Pablo gulped walking back thinking of what he needed to do...if Vini is the one to tell Pedri, he will lose me forever and he promised not to let that happen..he needed to throw the game.

Second half was completely different, Pablo never played worse, and whenever he would get the ball he almost directly passed it to a Madrid player...one goal..then another and before fifteen minutes passed it was 3:4 for Madrid.

"What are you doing!!!?" Pedri pushed him and everyone else was in complete disbelief but then Vini walked whispering "good job, Pablito" which made things ten times worse...he betrayed his only team and family and never felt more guilty.

"Change me míster!!! Porfavor!!!" Gavi kept telling but Xavi shook his head wanting the boy to learn an important lesson...he believed in his loyalty to Barça.

I was watching it all in disbelief...this was not my Pablo...and I knew there had to be something that Vini said to him to cause all of this. I felt awful...it was my fault he is throwing a match...I needed to leave the stadium not able to watch this anymore.

Then players started avoiding playing on Pablo which resulted in another goal that made the boy panic. He saw Vini's angry face and tried his best to steal the ball from his own teammates. Kounde was the one to push him on the floor and told him to back off for which he got a yellow card...this was the first time a player gets a card for attacking his own teammate.

He looked at Xavi's disappointed face as he walked away and he was done with all of this...he won't let Vini threaten him into betraying his second family...he can do what he wants but he will explain his best friend that his feelings are true and honest...and he will fight for me.

In the last five minutes, Barça won a penalty and Raphina got ready. Pablo ran and begged him to shoot instead. Everyone said no but Rapha looked at boys tearful eyes asking to make it up and he allowed it.

"Pablo please don't miss..." I said looking at the screen holding his jersey in my hands in anticipation. He ran back and shot straight into a lower corner as I screamed celebrating loudly in my room. Barça won and I never felt happier!!!

After celebrations and every teammate hugging and kissing Gavi, was he determined to tell Pedri everything. He walked towards the dressing room to meet his friend who was on his phone with a pale face.

"Hermano we need to talk about Y/n..." Pablo said but before he could say anything else he received a strong punch that made him end up on the floor with a bloody nose.

"Pedri!" Rapha pulled him back as the rest of the teammates joined pulling the boy away from Pablo who sighed knowing he was too late...Vini did as he promised...and he lost his best friend.

When Pedri came back home I rushed to congratulate him but seeing his angry face I backed away. Balde and Rapha told me it was not a good moment but my brother pulled away from them and rushed towards me.

"What did that hijo de puta do to you hermanita!!!???" Pedri asked and I felt a cold shiver move down my spine knowing he must have found out a truth...I just hoped it was Pablo who told him.

"Pedri, he didn't do anything wrong...I wanted it too...and we..love each other" I said seeing Pedri reaching to his phone and showing you a picture on the screen...damn it!!!

"He's just a horny bastard wanting to prove he can get into every girl's pants!!! It's what he always does, makes stupid bets then gets into girls pants and then dumps her!!! He's older than you and manipulated you but I won't let him!!!" Pedri was yelling now and I didn't know what to say or how to act in this moment.

"STOP!!! He's not like that and you know it!!! If he was he would of dumped me months ago!!!" I yelled before even thinking and my brother was frozen in place...Shit!!!

"This has been going on for months!!!???" he said angrily but his friends were pulling him back saying he should go to his room and rest for tonight.

"Pedri, please..." I tried but Rapha showed me it was a bad idea so I stayed back smartly.

"You're not gonna be with Pablo Gavi! End of discussion!" Pedri yelled while going upstairs to his room and I felt a tear wet my face.

"Let him cool off and then talk to him..." Rapha said touching my shoulder and Balde hugged me telling me not to cry. I was really like a little sister to all of them.

"How's Pablo???" I asked and they both sighed telling me about the punch and I gasped holding my hand to my mouth...I really wanted to see him right now!!!

When they left, I kept calling and texting but there was no response...I was hopeless thinking that Pablo once again abandoned me.

"I meant what I said!!!" Pedri took my phone and I threw a tantrum but it didn't work since he just left me there angry. Great! Now even if Pablo tries to reach our, I won't be able to answer. Luckily I texted Masa earlier and she was throwing rocks at my window to signal that she was there.

"I got you girl!" she said helping you sneak out and you took an Uber to her place. You were crying in her arms while she tried to re-assure you that everything will be just fine.

"He'll understand once he cools down" she said

"Everyone keeps saying that but it's not true! He'll never let me be happy with Pablo because he doesn't trust him! I just want to run away Masa!" you said and she comforted you for while until you fell asleep out of exhaustion on her lap.

Pablo saw my messages after he got home and plugged his phone in and he tried to call but it went straight to voice mail. He was worried sick but knew that Pedri probably took my phone away when he got home. Fuck! He wished he can hold me right now!!! He fell asleep looking at the picture we took during our first date on the beach in Ibiza and tear escaped his eye.

When I woke up late afternoon, I saw Masa sleeping on the couch signing and grabbing my backpack before leaving...I was thankful to her but I just needed some time on my own to figure out what to do next.

"Masa, have you seen my sister???" Pedri woke the girl up and she looked around the apartment telling him that you left in the morning but she didn't know where.

"Damn it!" Pedri said angrily hanging up already knowing where you could of went and it infuriated him. I just loved pushing his limits like this!!!!!!

Pedri drove to Gavi's house knocking and surprising his friend who asked what he needed. Pedri just pushed passed him looking around like he was invited.

"Where is she!!!??? Y/n let's go!!!" Pedri yelled but there was no answer while Gavi started to get worried sick. He assumed I was home but now that Pedri was looking for me that meant nobody knew where I was.

"Have you checked with Masa???" Gavi only wanted to help but Pedri gave him a threatening look.

"She left her in the morning and I thought she came here because I told her she couldn't be with you...damn it where is she!!!???" Pedri said and Gavi was just as worried grabbing his phone to check if you answered to any of his messages.

"She won't answer...I have her phone" Pedri said showing Pablo your phone and he sighed nodding his head and grabbing a jacket to join his friend.

"And where do you think you're going cabrón!?" Pedri said and Pablo walked up to him grabbing the car keys determined to help no matter what.

"We are both worried for her, so I will help you find her Pedri" Pablo said ending up pinned against the wall with Pedri ready to once again kick the shit out of him.

"This is your fault!!!" Pedri said through his teeth and Pablo sighed nodding his head.

"I should have told you! I'm sorry how you found out! But I am not playing with her despite what you may think!" Pablo said seeing Pedri holding himself back which was very hard at this point.

"When I find her, she's not staying in Barcelona! I won't let you do to her what you do with every other girl! She's my little sister!" he said letting go off Pablo who fixed his collar.

"Let's just find her, please..." Pablo said following with his friend as they both went to the car driving around the town calling anyone they knew.

"Did she tell you where she would go last night???" Pedri was on the phone with Masa who was also looking around as well feeling guilty for sleeping through your sneaking out.

"She just said she wanted to run away because you won't let her be with Pablo..." she said and Pedri looked at Gavi angrily who sighed.

"Did anyone else knew!?" Pedri asked while Gavi shook his head telling Masa to keep looking and keep in touch.

"You just had to prove you can have everyone huh!?" Pedri said while holding tightly onto the steering wheel.

"That's not why I did it...at first it was attraction...but later I fell in love with her hermano...I promise i never meant to hurt either of you" Pablo said and that brought back memory to Pedri.

"I told you she's off limits when her ex boyfriend figured it out...you looked me in the eyes and lied!!!" Pedri yelled while Pablo nodded willing to take all the crap because he deserved it.

"I'm sorry I lied Pedri but knowing how you felt I couldn't tell you the truth...you're my best friend and I betrayed you...I tried staying away from her hermano...she tried being with someone else...but it didn't work out..." Pablo spoke and before Pedri could reply they saw you sitting on the beach on a small bench.

"Y/n!" Pedri yelled when they parked and I turned around seeing the two of them walking towards me. The moment my eyes rested on Pablo, I ran while crying hugging him tightly right next to Pedri.

"Why would you do that!? I was so worried about you!!!!!" Pablo said while holding me and Pedri looked at the tow of us starting to see that his friend truly did care for my safety.

"I'm so sorry...I wanted to be alone...I should have said where I was going" I said through tears as we pulled away and he dried them before we pulled away looking at Pedri.

"I'm sorry hermano!" you hugged Pedri too and he held you protectively in his arms caressing your hair as you cried while looking towards Pablo.

"I'll leave you two..." Pablo felt like he should leave not able to look into his friend's eyes from guilt but as he tried to move, I grabbed his hand pulling him back.

"No! Don't go please!" you said moving from Pedri not wanting to be separated form Pablo again.

"Cielo, it's my fault you're feeling like this...I'm so sorry" he said holding my face but when he was about to walk off Pedri interrupted him.

"Stay. Let's just get home" Pedri said and Pablo was shocked nodding his head knowing his friend is still angry but at least gave him a chance...it's all he could ask for after all...I smiled holding his hand as we went to the car.

I made some hot coco bringing it to the living room where the two boys set in complete silence. I put it down sitting next to Pablo and holding his hand. He was a little uptight but let me rest on his chest seeing that I was exhausted from crying all day at that beach.

"I'm really sorry hermano..." Pablo started to speak but Pedri sushed him showing that you were sleeping on his chest.

"Take care of her hermano.." Pedri says sighing and leaving back to his room to get some rest as well and Pablo couldn't believe what he just heard kissing that top of your head glad this was all finally over.

#gavigif #gavi #fc barça #fc barca #fc barcelona #pablo gavi x you #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi icons #pablo gavi #pablogavira

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missacidburn928s-heathenhideaway · 22 days ago

Text

I'm Only Good At Being Bad (SinsDC)

I'm Only Good At Being Bad:

Steve Rogers x POC!Reader “Nyx”

Summary:

Seduction is an art form.

Warnings:

18+ Only MDNI, Smut, PWP, Lap Dance, Pussy Job, Unprotected Sex

Notes:

The music set to this session is “Bad Guy” by Billie Eilish. Give it a listen to get into the mood. Happy Reading Heathens 😈

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Banner by @cafekitsune

As Steve had requested to have his session in one of the private entertainment rooms, you are already in place, perched on a small stage, when he arrives.

He cuts an imposing figure standing in the doorway. Even dressed down in a simple t-shirt and jeans.

“Have a seat Captain. The show is about to begin.”

He takes his time before he makes his way over to the plush, velvet couch. Taking in the sheer leopard print mesh strappy teddy complete with garters and stockings you wore just for him. Looking every bit the empowered sex worker turned Pin Up of his dreams.

The atmosphere thickens with a palpable tension.

With a sly smile, you begin to dance. Your body moving like liquid silk. Each fluid movement foretelling a story of desire and confidence as you undulate your hips and draw Steven deeper into your spell.

The world outside fades away. Leaving only the two of you in this seemingly enchanted place.

Your performance is both playful and tantalizing. Inviting him to surrender to the magic of the night. In this room, where time stood still, the boundaries of reality blurred. Leaving behind only the fiery connection ignited by your shared experience.

Steve watches as the lights play along your skin. Illuminating you like art on display as you swivel and sway. All feminine and sweet with a dark edge.

He can't take his eyes off of you. Their lovely ocean hue now but a sliver, as it is overtaken by the dilation of his lust filled pupils.

“I find it fascinating how enthralled you are with me.” You break the silence. “You thrive on control and doing the right thing. While I skate the line of morality on the daily. Is it the taboo of my blood stained hands that does it for you?”

“No.” He calmly states. “It’s the conviction in which you follow through. Regardless of the outcome. We’re more alike than you may think. Your brand of justice is far harsher than mine. While I try to protect the many. You devote yourself to the individual. I envy that ease of conviction.”

His honesty makes you pause as you share a look.

“Shit. I fucked up the moment didnt I? Me and my big fucking mouth. I told Buck I wasn’t great at this on my own. You get me all flustered and I either say or do something to fuck it all up.”

You smile as he rambles on. Stepping off the stage you cross the small room to stand between his parted thighs. Bending forward and placing a finger to his lips.

“Shh.” When he closes his mouth you proceed to crawl into his lap. “You are far more nervous than a man who can pull orgasms out of me like it's his job, should be. I find your shyness, though rare for the public to see, very attractive. You don’t always have to be Captain America when we’re together. Although I really like that assertive asshole too. He knows how to have a bloody good time.”

Steve quirks his brow at your remark.

“All I’m saying is, forget all that other BS. Sit back, relax and let me handle the rest. Only do what you naturally feel inclined to. This isn't a performance for the masses. It’s just me and you.”

You lean down and press your lips to his. Enjoying their pillow softness as he deepens the embrace. A pleased growl emanating from his chest. The vibrations dancing along your torso.

Running your hands down his firm chest you stop at the waistband of his blue jeans. Eyeing the large bulge fighting against his zipper.

“May I?”

“Yes, please. It is your fault after all.”

You don’t break eye contact as you undo his button and slide his zipper down. With a firm grip you reach inside and aid his generous appendage in its release.

It lands on his abs. Tip red and leaking already.

With your hands on his broad shoulders, you scoot yourself forward. Nestling the steel rod encased in velvety soft skin between the damp mesh of your teddy and his pelvis. You give a cursory roll of your hips. Earning you a hand gripped around your waist as shock jolts up your spine.

You continue grinding down on him. Losing yourself in the friction induced pleasure. As Steve pulls down the cups of your teddy and feasts on your breasts. Sucking, biting and teasing the supple flesh until you’re a whimpering mess in his lap.

Sliding his right hand up your torso, he settles it around the base of your throat. Eyes full of hunger, he pulls you in for a deep kiss. It’s like a drug to your system. Highly addictive with its power to rend your restless mind silent.

As you pull away from the kiss you take a moment separate from his body. If just for a minute so that you can recalibrate your brain.

You get to your feet. Turning around with a flourish and making a show of bending over. With an arch in your spine, you settle back into his lap. Rubbing your ass against his cock as you lean your back against his chest.

You pull your legs up high into the air. Giving them a fancy burlesque twirl before setting them on either side of his man spread thighs.

Only the sound of heaving chests can be heard. As if uttering a word right now would break the magic that is taking place.

You pull the gusset of your teddy to the side as you reach between your legs and grip Steve’s base. With a quiet inhale you sink down onto his glorious cock. Gasping at the stretch and humming in satisfaction as you take him all in one go.

He hisses at the sudden warmth of your silkend walls cocooning his length.

Reaching back, you slide your fingers into his longer hair and lightly tug as you begin to ride him. Writhing in his lap as he pinches your nipples and bites down on your shoulder. Pressing kisses to your skin to soothe the sting.

His hand makes its way back around to grip your throat.

“Be a good girl for me, doll face and stay still.”

He sinks lower down the couch. Ass practically falling off the edge, as he starts pounding up into you at a dizzying pace. Keeping you in place with his hand still protectively around your throat.

“So pretty”

Pump.

“So deadly.”

Pump. Pump.

“Yet she turns into a whimpering mess when I have her wrapped around my cock.”

Pump. Pump. Pump.

“Mmmm. This pussy is top notch. Grade A perfection.”

Your walls squeeze around him at the praise. Traveling down the fast lane to climax as you have given over control.

“You love to be praised. Love knowing you're my good girl don't you?”

You whine and fervently nod your head yes.

“Then you better show me just how good of a girl you can be and come for me.”

Pump.

“Right.”

Pump.

“Now.”

That’s it. That’s all the direction you needed to let go and come with a silent scream. Pussy clamping down on Steve like a vice. Bringing him right to the edge of his own control.

“Get on your knees. Gonna turn that pretty face into a work of art.”

You scramble off his lap on shaky legs and practically fall to your knees. Opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue just in time to catch the first ropes of his cum as he strokes himself. Painting your face with his devotion until he is spent.

Pulling his phone out, he snaps a quick picture to admire later.

“So perfect.”

“Stop, you're gonna give a girl a complex.”

“Too late for that.”

You slap his thigh.

“Alright asshole. Either help me clean up the mess you’ve made of my face or go back down to the club. I have a very demanding demigod to get ready for.”

“I’ll just distract you and get you all dirty again. So I am going to do the wise thing and head back downstairs. But first.”

He scoops some of his cum off of your cheek with his finger and places it in front of your mouth. Before he can get a word out your lips are wrapped around the thick digit. Savoring the taste of him on your tongue.

He groans as he pulls free of your mouth. “Fucking temptress.”

“I prefer Lady Of The Night.” You retort with a wink. Spinning him around towards the door, you reach around, tuck his cock back in his jeans and pull up his zipper. Sending him on his way with a smack to the ass.

He just shakes his head with a chuckle. Blowing you a kiss as he makes his way out.

#poc reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #avengers x reader #avengers smut #avengers au #sinsdc

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delopsia · 2 years ago

Text

How To Train Your Cowboy | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 5,000 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, Fem!Reader, light usage of a crop, cunnilingus, begging, overuse of Ma'am, edging, just your average dom!reader and sub!Rhett :) because you've gotta discipline your cowboy every once in a while <3

Rhett's headliner is beginning to fall down.

The more he tinkers with this truck, the more problems arise. By no fault of his own. There's only so much you can do for a truck that's old enough to drink legally in the US. Has never known anything more than ranch work that puts its mechanics to the test on the daily. There isn't an inch of this vehicle that hasn't been scratched. The seatbelts are fraying; the cloth interior bleached from two decades in the harsh sunlight.

And now, after days upon days of fixing an issue with the rapidly cracking dashboard, the goddamn headliner is coming down. Reaching up, you press it back into place; it's far from a fix, falling down the moment you let go of it.

No matter how you try, it refuses to listen.

Rhett and his truck have many things in common.

Stubborn. Bull-headed. With the intellect of a century-old mule. Always out looking for trouble if it doesn't find him first. As territorial as an unneutered dog.

"W're home." Speak of the devil.

"I'm aware, genius," you can't even look at him right now, nevermind put up with hearing that god-forsaken drawl that slips out when he's had a beer or two. Never the good beer either; always the cheapest thing in the gas station because the idiot values a few cents over his own tastebuds.

If he even has them.

The truck door squeals as you open it, shrill, ear-splitting. Only serves to make you grind your teeth as you make a beeline for the door. Your nerves so tightly wound that even the gentle breeze is enough to cause them to begin fraying at the edges, threatening to snap.

"Sweetie—"

"I don't want to hear it, Rhett." Opening the door a little bit too hard; the only thing stopping it from being thrown open is the big hand that catches the top of it. Ugh.

"Please just listen to me?" He tries again; you're not facing him, but you can already feel those puppy eyes pleading with you.

Those damn eyes have you so hooked that even the mere memory of them has you folding. "So you don't want to listen to me," you're struggling to keep your tone even, "but you want me to listen to you?"

Familiar arms wind around your belly, a nose nuzzling into the side of your neck, "I'm sorry."

You want to be angry. You want to raise hell and give him a million and one reasons to regret pissing you off. But the longer he holds you, warm chest melting away the tension in your back, the harder it is to be upset.

But just because it's harder doesn't mean it's impossible.

Stepping free of his grasp, you head for the bedroom. These damn clothes are starting to bug you; jeans too tight, shirt a little too scratchy for comfort. In hindsight, leaving your clothes out on the dresser was the best move you ever could have made. Your favorite lounge shorts and one of Rhett's old shirts lie on the very top of the stack, so easy for you to step into.

A red leather heart pokes out from beneath the pile.

Hm.

"Look, Trevor was the one who started the fight," you're not sure when Rhett appeared in the doorway, but he's there, holding onto the top of the frame. His eyes now concealed by the brim of his hat. You're not sure if you're thankful or disappointed. "What else was I supposed to do?"

"Walk away?" Tossing your hands up, "do something that doesn't give the Tillersons a reason to finally lay you in the grave?"

Rhett's shoulders stiffen, rising, his shirt coming up just enough to allow you a glimpse of that soft, pale tummy. Not for long, though, because now he's coming closer. "You really think I can't handle a little tussle with some rich asshole?"

"It's not about that," the backs of your knees bump into your computer chair, "it's about you learning to listen."

What words reside in Rhett's throat are left to die because your fingers tangle in the hair resting at the nape of his neck and tug.

And he crumbles.

Mouth ajar, eyes glazing over with something softer as you guide him down, knees hitting the floor with such a loud thump that you're certain they'll be bruised in the morning. He almost beats his hat, knocked clean off his head by your hand, landing with its brim flat on the floor. Under normal circumstances, he'd fuss about it not being brim up.

Not once does he look away from you. Wordless.

The chair squeaks as you settle into it. Seems everything is doing that today. "I can't take you anywhere without you acting like a feral brat," letting go of his hair, "now, can you be decent for me and get these clothes off? Hm?"

There's the obedience you were seeking. Those pretty hands are nothing but a blur as they fiddle with his belt buckle, opening it so quickly that the gaudy attachment falls off entirely. Between his determination to get those tight jeans off and fumbling with his shirt buttons, he doesn't notice you reaching overhead to take hold of that little red heart.

A crop you so lovingly purchased this past Valentine's day. Leaving perfect, heart-shaped marks in its wake.

Rhett hates it.

With his clothes shoved to the side for the future variants of yourselves to pick up later, he returns to you. Cheek pressed against the inside of your left knee, peering up at you from under those thick lashes.

The longer you look at his hat on the floor, the more it bugs you. "Pick it up," motioning toward it with the crop.

His hand leaves his side.

"Without your hands." Freezing. Blinking once. Twice.

Again, he reaches for it. Smooth leather comes down on his ass, and he jumps. No words are shared; he knows why it happened, and based on how you're running the crop against the curve of his ass, he knows you'll do it again if provoked.

For a moment, you think he's going to fight you on it further. Give you a run for your money, as he has so, so many times before. But then you catch on to that shaky breath that shudders out of him.

He folds.

Using his hands only to brace himself against the floor, he bends down and gingerly picks it up with his teeth. A heart-shaped mark stands proudly on his ass. He's unable to meet your eye as he sits back up, the edge of his favorite cowboy hat dangling from between pink lips. Oh, oh, those ears. The tips of them are turning cherry red.

Holding it by the crown, you take it from him, lifting it and placing it right atop your head.

On his own accord, he smushes his cheek against your knee, and you know exactly what he's trying to ask for. It's the only clue you need to understand why he's falling into this so easily. You have something he wants.

"Aw," cooing, you take him by the jaw, guiding his head up, "is my pretty boy wanting to eat me out?"

Rhett's breath hitches. Nod.

Gripping his jaw tighter, you lean down, "use your words."

"I," the proximity gives him no escape from your fiery gaze; no matter how hard he tries, he can't avoid it. "I wanna eat you out."

"You'll have to ask nicer than that," you can't help but smile as you say it; you were setting him up for this one.

Rhett's proper squirming now; the only thing that keeps him from pulling out of your grasp is the soft tap of the crop. "Ma'am, " he breathes, shaky, "can I please eat you out?

Silence. In fact, you pull away. Only because the position is somewhat uncomfortable for your back, but Rhett doesn't interpret it that way.

He panics. "Please, ma'am," his voice wavering as he begs oh so sweetly, "please let me eat your pussy."

Cute, but you're not quite convinced that he deserves to have what he wants so easily. He didn't listen earlier, so why should you fulfill his little pleas? But he's so damn pliant before you that you almost give, just as easily as those lips do when you press your thumb against them. Opening up, wet tongue greeting it like a goddamn welcome mat.

"No." God, he deflates like a balloon, his disappointment visible in the poorly concealed frown that flickers across his face. You might as well have just popped his favorite balloon and kicked him out while you were at it.

Fine.

"You have to convince me first," you follow up with some pressure on his tongue, pinning it down, "without your words."

There's that hopeful crinkle in his eyes; it's only been gone for a couple of seconds, thirty at most, but it feels like you've gone a lifetime without seeing it. Your thumb glistens as you take it from him, and you almost expect him to get to work the moment you do, but he stays still.

Waiting.

Hm. You wonder if he'll remember those old commands from this past summer when the two of you got your first crop. You think you spent a week doing nothing but play with it.

The crop lightly taps at the small of his back, nothing more than a gentle poke of the leather, once, twice, thrice. His eyebrows furrow.

Slowly, as if unsure about this, he leans forward, pressing a tentative kiss to the inside of your right knee. So he does remember.

One kiss, then another, chaste at first. The rough stubble on his cheek tickles, such a strange sensation to feel between your legs, but any chafing is easily kissed away by those thin lips, tongue soothing over each one.

Gradually making his way up, up, up, until he's pushing back your lounge shorts with his nose, insistent to suck at the skin hidden by the material. You can already feel the marks he's leaving behind, rapidly darkening spots that shimmer with his handiwork, carefully left behind in the areas your shorts can conceal.

"That's enough for that leg," you murmur, tangling your hand in his hair. Your request falls on deaf ears; Rhett doesn't so much as open his eyes, too busy showering your inner thigh with his attention.

A resounding smack rings through the room, followed by a surprised, breathy moan as he switches to your neglected thigh. Poor thing has two hearts on his ass now.

Maybe it's because the skin hasn't had any attention yet, but his tongue feels like lava against you, burning invisible holes everywhere he goes. Kissing, licking, up from your knee until his tongue is scraping against the edge of your panties. Bringing the crop back up, you tap his lower back once. No reaction. Did two taps mean to stop? You can't quite remember.

It must have been two because that's what brings him to a screeching halt, eyes darting upward, lips red and swollen from his efforts.

There was a question you were burning to ask, but you can't stop yourself from leaning down to kiss those pretty lips. You haven't done anything to him yet, and he's already whining against you. Only serves to make the kiss wetter, mouth never quite closing. It's far too easy to reach down between his legs and take hold of him, pleased when he jumps into your grasp.

"Are you going to be a good boy for me?" You ask against his lips, stealing another lingering peck.

Rhett's eyes flutter when you flick your wrist on that upward stroke, "yes, ma'am."

He's already dripping into your palm; each pass over that hard cock leaves him wetter and wetter. The angle is awkward, your shoulder aching with the strain of reaching all the way down, but it's hard to focus on when your thumb flicks over his weeping head. Body jolts with a strained whimper as you repeat it.

"Remind me again what you want?" You haven't forgotten, but it's so much fun to see him squirm.

Silence.

That mouth opens, but he doesn't quite form a word. Too shy to ask for it, despite having done so just a few minutes ago.

"No?" Letting go of his heavy cock, you go to stand, "alright, then."

"Please," breathy, desperate, like the words are being strangled out of him, "please, please let me—" hiccup, "please let me eat your pussy, please, just let me—" there's more he's trying to say, but as quickly as the flood gates opened, they close.

There it is.

Sitting back down, "alright, alright," you pinch his cheek, "don't start crying on me, now."

His hands obediently follow as you guide them up to the waistband of your shorts, slipping them past your hips and down your legs. You don't know where they wind up because the moment Rhett's got them off, he's nudging his nose between your legs. Breath hot against your sensitive core, but such a far cry from the burning tongue that opens you up. Broad, flat, like he's savoring every second of your taste.

"Someone's eager," your amusement is drowned out by the sweet, sweet sensation of him circling your clit.

Muscled arms wrap around your hips, anchoring you down, but you get the feeling it's more for him than you. Holding on to keep himself from floating away as he laps at your entrance, dipping inside just enough for you to feel yourself open up around that wet muscle. Nose poking at your clit, the slightest stimulation that has you squirming in the chair. Wetness drips down between your legs, and it's not coming from you.

"Fuck, baby," pulling on his hair to feel him groan into you, "look at you, you're fucking drooling."

Your words are acknowledged by a breathy little grunt, meeting your eye while he rises to work your sensitive clit. Flitting his pointed tongue against where you're most sensitive, those dark blues flutter shut, so obnoxiously content, while you're left to gasp for air that fails to soothe your burning lungs.

The edge of his hat bumps into the chair, falling forward into your face. You're glad Rhett's eyes are closed because you're certain he'd laugh as you inevitably take it off. The damn thing is too big.

His eagerness alone is enough to have that invisible coil tightening, spurred on by the sloppy suction on your clit, loud, bouncing off the walls and down the halls. So, so eager to please you that you feel dizzy. You don't think he's even considered the concept of stopping, even to catch his breath.

"Rhett." He knows what you mean by that. Frowning, he bats those eyes up at you, looking like a goddamn kicked puppy.

When he doesn't show signs of stopping, you have to take matters into your own hands, pulling him back by his hair. Fuck, his chin is absolutely dripping. Quiet, upset little sounds leave him, the fruit of his efforts to hold himself back from fighting you on this.

"Please?"

You're going to faint.

You genuinely think you're going to faint.

"Get up on the bed," wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead, "and maybe I'll let you."

Good lord, you'll have to wipe the chair down later. There's a wet spot the size of Texas on it. Rhett merely sits on the edge of the bed, unsure of where you're sending him and in what position. A part of you expects him to tilt his head to the side like a confused puppy dog.

"On your back," and he just about falls backward. The bastard makes sure his head winds up on his pillow, though. You can't even be mad; he wrecked his neck falling off that bull tonight.

Eager hands welcome you as a leg swings over his hips, your cunt resting against his neglected cock. It's too easy to plant your hands on his chest for leverage and grind against him, feeling how he spreads you open.

"Oh," Rhett's meek gasp doesn't go unheard, "oh, that's—"

"Do you like that?" You chirp, feigning innocence as you work up a little rhythm, rubbing back and forth against him.

"Yes, ma'am," he gasps, gripping your hips, "I...I do."

The soft underside of his head drags so nicely on your clit, so perfect that it's as if he were made to fit against you like this. On any other day, you'd spend more time here, but you're still trying to make a point here.

It takes some maneuvering, but soon you're hovering right above Rhett's eager mouth, already open and waiting for permission to taste you again. A downright addict, both of his hands resting loosely on your hips, rubbing loose circles into them.

"Touch yourself for me," you order, combing your fingers through his messy hair.

His dominant hand, the left one, falls from your body. There's no need to look over and see when he takes hold of himself; those fluttering eyelashes tell you everything you need to know.

You're a touch hesitant to come down completely, sort of hovering as you sit on his pretty, waiting face. But Rhett notices, and in the strangest turn of events, he takes your hips in both hands and pulls you all the way down onto him.

"You ain't gon' break me, ma'am," words spoken right into your dripping cunt, "I promise."

And then it's right back to work, licking, slurping happily at your pussy, working himself in the same tune. It's hard to decide where to look, the upward turn of those closed eyes or the reflection in the wide mirror that stands next to the bed. There's nothing quite like watching Rhett's hips rise into his own masterful touch, so obscenely needy.

That free hand of his curls around your thigh, using it for leverage as he works up into your cunt, fucking you with his tongue. For every upward stroke along his length, it rises, licking as far as he can reach. All the while, that soft nose of his intentionally grinds into your clit in loose circles that have you squirming.

"Quit touching yourself," your command is breathy; what power it held is lost to whatever magic Rhett's tongue possesses.

Two blue eyes squint up at you; that huff against your labia is anything but happy, but he lets go of himself, hard length slapping against his lower belly. Leaking, a deep shade of ruby red that cannot be comfortable to deal with.

Combing your fingers through his hair, "good boy." In a fraction of a second, that frustration melts; always so happy to hear those two little words. Laving his tongue against your clit with no real indication of what he's going to do next, he hums into you.

Reaching behind yourself, you take hold of that heavy cock of his, feeling how he jumps from the simple touch. It's difficult to properly stroke him in this position, but his hips rise on their own accord, fucking himself into your loose grasp. So sensitive that he whimpers around that little button, barely able to pacify his sweet sounds. Each one rattles up your spine, only serving to make you wind tighter and tighter.

And unfortunately, you have no intentions to cum on his face today.

There's an ache in your hips as you pull away, enough to distract you from the pitiful noise that rattles out of those swollen lips, unsure of what you're doing but unhappy that he's had to stop again. Wordless, you take him by the wrist, and together, you wrap your hands around his pretty, weeping cock.

"Ma'am?" That big hand of his is so loose around yours, at a loss for what to do.

"It's okay," rolling your palm over that dripping head to see him jump. Not one bit of him seems to believe you, but he follows along; your hand practically disappearing beneath his. It's at times like these that it's hard to tell if his cock is big or if your hand is just small.

You don't remember seeing those eyes shut, but they spring open when you let go of his cock in favor of gently toying with his balls. Breath catching in his throat as you lightly roll them around in your loose hand; they've always been sensitive, but they're even more so post-rodeo.

"Feels—" sharp inhale when your thumb unintentionally twitches against them, "feels good."

Tentatively, when you don't quit playing with them, he reaches up to stroke himself, hips bucking up into the touch. Gripping the sheets with the other hand, that pretty mouth falls open, caught up in the sensation. God, you think you could listen to those breathy grunts all day.

Then you're moving, reaching into the bedside table in search of that nearly-empty bottle of lube, tossing it in his general direction when you find it. He knows what to do with it; you're still traumatized from the last time you used it. When the cap popped off, and a brand-new bottle was spilled all over the kitchen floor.

"Thank—" he can't speak, too engrossed in how he's toying with the crown of his dick to formulate a proper sentence.

Poor thing has no idea that you've got other ideas for how this will end. Fighting to conceal the devilish smile on your face, you watch as he works himself. Gradually becoming more frantic the closer he gets because, after all, you've never told him to...

"Stop." That frustrated wail is music to your ears.

Rhett could fight you on this. Three or four more strokes and he'd be painting that soft belly with pearly white ropes, whimpering to high heaven as his orgasm rocked through him. But he doesn't; has to completely let go of himself in order to stop. Pawing at the sheets, squirming, desperate for a relief that never comes.

"Ma'am," tears prick at the corners of his eyes, "Ma'am, please."

"You know," you hum as you lay down next to him, the mattress like heaven beneath you, "you wouldn't be in this situation if you would have listened to me."

And your cowboy just doesn't seem to know what expression to make. Flickering between disappointment, shame, and something you can't name, something that makes his lower lip wobble and his eyes dart to the bruises that litter his rib cage. Scatterings of red and purple, hand delivered by the hands of a Tillerson. "I'm sorry."

Parting your legs, you beckon him closer, "get between my legs, sweet boy."

You can't help but grin when you catch glimpse of the fading heart on his ass, almost wishing he'd defied you further. A dozen of them would have looked so nice on that pale skin. The head of his cock bumps against your hickey-ridden thighs as he settles between your legs, smoothing his shaky hands up your knees.

Reaching between your legs, you guide his wet, lubed cock to nudge at your dripping entrance, still wet with his saliva.

Three taps.

He gets the message, and you find yourself gently being split open, stretching to take him in. Inch by inch, fluttering as his head grazes the neglected bundle of nerves inside, and that alone is enough to have him collapsing onto his forearms, nose nuzzling your cheek. Something's bumping against the top of your head.

Oh.

"Thank you," lifting your head for him to slide the pillow beneath your head.

Easing in further, Rhett peppers your cheek with kisses. Tiny, dainty little pecks that distract from the never-ending length that seems to reach for your lungs. Stringing you thin, clenching, and unclenching around him. Finally, fucking finally, you're met with the pleasant relief of his balls settling against your ass, hips coming flush with yours.

"Fuck, Ma'am," as your nails rake up his soft, muscled back, he shudders from head to toe. Sensitive. So, so sensitive. "Fuck, you feel good around me."

There's a lock of hair that's escaped from behind his ear, hanging in his face until you tuck it back into place, "you can move."

With a shaky breath, he withdraws. Halfway would be an overstatement, a shadow of his usual test stroke, bottoming back out in your dripping pussy with a needy groan. This lack of power is so different; incapable of anything but fucking into you in short, slow strokes that never let you feel empty.

"You're squeezin' 'round me so tight," the squelch of your wetness sounds so goddamn filthy in this quiet bedroom. Only egged on by the way he rubs against that soft spot within you, this position allowing him to shower it with attention, ripping the noises right out of your throat.

Reaching down, your fingertips find your clit, so sensitive yourself that you clamp down around him with a whine. "Rhett."

You only spur him on, dropping his head down into the pillow, and his hips start to move quicker. Thick cock pumping in and out of you, giving your quivering pussy no chance to keep up with those jerky motions. Every inward pump has you gasping for breath that you just can't seem to capture, struggling to keep your fingers on your drenched sex.

"Thank you, Ma'am," he murmurs directly into your ear, "thank you for letting me fuck your tight little pussy."

Rhett's nose is pressing into your lower jaw, keening into your neck with every move he makes. In and out, dragging so perfectly against the nerves in your walls that you see stars sparkling behind your eyelids. Those thrusts are getting twitchy, quicker, beating against that little spot, and God, fuck, you can feel yourself getting close.

Fluttering around him, you work yourself a little faster, selfishly seeking that ledge you've seen twice tonight. Clamping down tighter, thighs squeezing his trembling hips as those soft noises are punched right out of your throat.

"Rhett, Rhett," your eyes can barely open, that familiar wetness growing as his cock head kisses those nerves, pressing harder on your clit now. You're gonna cum; you're gonna cum, you're—

"Baby, don't you dare cum in me."

That confused little gasp is all you need. One little secondary twitch against those nerves, and you're cumming on his cock. Head floating right off your shoulders, lost in the strained cry above your head as it washes over you. Muscles tightening, fluttering like a hundred tiny butterflies.

The clouds that wrap around you are practically vibrating, so warm that you feel like you've crawled under a dozen blankets. Your ears are ringing.

And that cloud is...raining?

Eyes snapping open. Rhett's not above you anymore. No, he's completely pulled out of you; you're pretty sure that's his cock bumping against your leg. His face is buried in your belly, arms wrapped around you, quivering like a leaf in the wind. Like if he lets go of you, he'll be blown away.

"Rhett?"

Reaching down, you take hold of his scruffy jaw, guiding him up to look at you. Tears well in those ocean blues, dripping down his cheeks, but nowhere near the tidal wave he's so desperately holding back. Bottom lip quivering with the effort of it.

You think you've gotten your point across a little too well.

"Come here," patting the empty space on the pillow for him to fill, "let me take care of you, sweet boy."

Rhett's nose nuzzles into the side of your cheek, laying on his side, shoulders tucked beneath your non-dominant arm. While your other reaches over, taking hold of that wet, purpling length.

"Please," he whimpers, "please...please let me..."

"You can cum," leaning your sweaty forehead against him, your hand starts to work. Stroking up and down, twisting when you pass over his crown in the same fashion he'd been working himself previously.

With him so close, you're privy to each and every weakened noise, breathy gasps, and pitchy whimpers dripping from his lips like honey. So, so noisy as he twitches in your hand. Doesn't need much attention to get him close again, hips writhing as you quicken.

"'m gonna," hiccup, "baby 'm gonna...!"

"Come on, sweet boy," you coo, "cum for me."

His lips fall open, but not a noise can escape him. Strangled into complete, utter silence as he cums in your hand, painting it and your belly as his orgasm finally, finally washes over him. He's so close that you can't see his face change, but fuck, do his eyes roll back behind those fluttering lids.

That oversensitive twitch is what slows your hand, coaxing him through those little shock waves that shake his entire body. With a soft sound, his softening cock thumps against your belly.

He's not quite there.

Well, he is, but he's so blissfully out of it that his bones might as well be made of jelly. That cum drunk smile glistens on his sweaty face, dopey, a little bigger than normal.

"Such a good boy for me," you murmur into his temple, reaching up to rub those sore, bruised ribs of his. No, rubbing them isn't enough.

Rolling him onto his back, you lean down to press kisses on them. Each bruise deserving of a peck, whether it be dark purple or the faintest red, feather-light, so as to not hurt him. Rhett cards his nails against your scalp, humming contentedly.

"What're ya doin'?" Voice deep, rumbly, like he's just woken up. "You kissin' me better?"

"Of course," in between kisses.

Calloused fingers tap the back of your head. Once. Twice.

Stop.

"Y'don't gotta do that," he yawns, guiding you up so he can steal a kiss.

Huffing, you steal one for yourself. "Ever heard of aftercare, moron?"

"Kisses on lips are better than kisses on ribs," in his head, he probably thinks he sounds like a goddamn poet. "Can we take one of those bubble baths?"

Yeah. Yeah, a bubble bath sounds nice right now.

It's exactly a week later when you walk into the exact same situation. Rhett's fresh off his last bull of the night, still panting, nose to nose with Trevor Tillerson. You don't know what Trevor's saying, but it's got Rhett's jaw clenched so tight you fear his teeth will crack.

His eyes land on your frame. Dart back to Trevor.

He smiles and walks away.

"I'm listenin'," he grumbles, taking you by the hand, "but in my head, I've unhinged his jaw."

They say you can't train a cowboy, but you think you've found a pretty damn good method.

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