#rob lowe anon

[scattered-winter]

Yeah, we all know why Bobby's "canonical biological" children are surely not in his firehouse lol Dad of the year.

I genuinely can't tell if you're serious or not but I've been itching to reblog a reply to the other ask so I'll just do it here (thanks for the convenience 😘)

never have I said that bobby is perfect. never have I said that he hasn't made mistakes. and yes, accidentally starting a fire that results in hundreds of deaths (including his family) is a pretty fucking huge mistake. owen certainly doesn't have that much blood on his hands. but the difference between them, the thing that makes bobby a more interesting and likeable character, is that every minute of bobby's screentime since the very first episode has been showing him trying to make amends for his mistake. he had his notebook in season 1, that he explicitly stated was the "ledger" to balance out the scales: he took 148 lives in that fire. he dedicated his life to save 148 by being a better firefighter and a better man (he started battling his addiction as well, if you remember).

owen on the other hand, has never once shown any ounce of this. he's made mistakes, both as a parent to tk and as a person. normally this wouldn't be grounds for me to hate him so much, since mistakes are what make the characters human, but the thing about owen is that there's no follow-up. there's no trying to fix his mistake or make amends. there isn't even a fucking apology. every single one of owen's mistakes are swept under the rug and treated like some Big Heroic Thing (tm) because owen can't do anything wrong and thus can't be shown apologizing for anything because he Was Never Wrong In The First Place.*

*admittedly this is more a result of the writing itself than owen's actual character, since all of lone star has this narrative of owen being The Coolest Perfectest Guy Ever. but in my eyes that makes it even worse, because there's nothing more frustrating than seeing this guy who has canonically done Some Shit receive zero accountability for it, even from characters who are the most prone to point things out/be blunt (such as judd, marjan, or paul). not only is the writing affecting owen, but it's affecting everyone else by literally making them act ooc when it comes to owen.

bobby, on the other hand. his whole arc in season 1 involves him coming to terms with his past and slowly opening up to new opportunities for love (both with the 118 family and with athena). he's struggled and fought and reconciled every step of the way to get to where he is now, and it hasn't been easy. and even now that he has the 118 and a family with athena and her kids, he's still doing everything he can to make amends for what he did to his family years ago.

the episode "may day" comes immediately to mind as one of the biggest examples of this. may is trapped inside the burning call center, and bobby is finding himself reliving the worst night of his life. (this seems to be the theme of the episode, as chim and albert went topside to vent the roof---exactly how kevin died years ago.) but bobby straps on his gear and runs in after may. he even goes so far as to shield her with his body as the roof collapses, but they both make it out safe and relatively unharmed.

in my opinion, may day was the episode where bobby finally made amends and found peace. yes, he lost his family to fire. yes, it was partially his fault. but for 5 seasons he's been scraping and fighting to make amends and "balance out the ledgers," and now he finally had, by saving may.

even more than that, the reason why I love bobby as the Firehouse Dad so much is that he's been shown to be the firehouse dad. he comforts and supports them when they need it. he teaches them how to cook (which is how he shows love imo but that's a topic for another post). he clearly cares so deeply about every single firefighter in the 118, and it's hard not to love that.

and back to owen. he has his moments (such as supporting marjan in "human resources"), but for the most part it's hard to see him really filling that role (especially when the narrative is TELLING us that he is, but not really SHOWING us). he's so self-centered and egocentric that he overlooks and sometimes even downright ignores things inside his own house, and yet the narrative still paints him as a perfect fire captain who has never made a single mistake his entire life. despite the entire show glaringly pointing to the contrary.

tldr: the reason I love bobby so much more than owen is because, while they've both made mistakes, bobby is the only one who has fought for redemption for those mistakes throughout 5 entire seasons of the show's runtime, whereas owen's mistakes are overwritten and ignored by both him and the overall writing and there's no effort from owen to apologize or try harder to fix things.

[anotherhumanpet]

((soft end to the magic anon. threads will continue as long as the muse is willing, but I always feel bad for going on beyond the given time frame of a spell [despite being fully capable of extending the allotted time!!]. plus, I'm.. honestly not sure what else to do for it besides some drabbles I don't have the spoons or confidence for.))

[littlechillis]

this is me being nice but i genuinely never want to see rob holding in an arsenal shirt again i’m sorry rob 💗

:((( thinking about maia @maiteo saying how rob to her (and me) is like mustafi to lucy 😔

[eddiebuckley-diaz]

if you really want gay firefighters why not watch lone star instead of shitting yourself over a great healthy friendship that was never going to be more than that? i’m so tired of people throwing around the word queerbait for no fucking reason

Here let me throw you a bone: look up the definition and actually learn to read studies on what queerbaiting is

Go get it! Fetch!

Think you can do that?

Probably not, right?

Go home.

Lmao you sure know how to spook someone with that anon icon, don’t you?

[sortasirius]

the Texas episode was a crossover with 911:Lone Star, its season 2 ep 3!!

ANON THANK YOU SO MUCH I OWE YOU EVERYTHING

911 LONE STAR????? SET IN AUSTIN, TEXAS???????

Well...looks like I have four MORE seasons of tv to watch after I catch up here

[chelseeebe]

jinx

18+ mdni. no smut but eddie is a grade a asshole to poor reader. mentions of weed and alcohol throughout. eddie munson x fem reader.

a/n: first off, anon i am sooo sooooo sorry it has taken me this long to fulfill your request!! i absolutely loved this request and am absolutely honoured that you came to me for it<33 i hope i've done it justice and that you still care to read this:') side note, i've updated my masterlist as i have slacked a bit but everything should be on there now ^.^

love me some chelseeebe angst—imagine fuckboy!eddie plays at the hideout right like regularly. reader starts frequenting his show days bc she likes him obviously but he starts noticing something. every time she comes in, something goes wrong. either he messes up a chord or cant see to flirt properly therefore no one ends up warming his bed as of late or something of the sort

his immediate first thought is ‘she’s a jinx!!!’ bc what other explanation could there be in his boy brain??? so he asks her to stop coming in. she does and yet he continues to mess up bc all he can think abt is her.

itd be so sexy if u added a moment of realization/angry love confession where in the middle of him being like you’ve bewitched me or something!!! he realizes hes the one obsessed with her.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

the party hums on in the background, a small group gathered outside to rob eddie blind, smoking away his entire supply. 

robin giggles nonsensically into steve’s shoulder, too high for her own good. 

“if you’re gonna smoke all my shit, the least you can do is come watch us tomorrow,” eddie had been nagging his friends to come down the hideout for months. they’d gathered a solid crowd now, not much but it was a start. 

robin groans, nancy and jonathan shift in their seats, steve can barely muster enough energy to reply and argyle snores. hardly enthusiastic about his dreams. 

“i’ll come,” you offer, bright-eyed as you smile politely at him from the floor. 

a friend of a friend, someone robin met in class and had dutifully introduced to the group. he didn’t know you well, nor had he ever really cared to. 

“i don’t think you’d like it, sweetheart” eddie retorts, flattered that you’d try and spare his feelings but he didn’t need your pity. 

“why? you can’t be that bad,” chuckling quietly to yourself. 

his eyes narrow, scoffing, “we’re not,” misunderstanding, or maybe just not caring to humour you back, “come if you want,” he shrugs nonchalantly, not as if any of his friends had offered to attend. 

“okay,” nodding along, “i will.” 

“alright,” turning his attention back to the embering joint glued to argyles fingers. 

who cares if you come? eddie certainly doesn’t. 

-

sure enough, the same couple dozen old drunks fill the bar, their glossy, zombie-like eyes stare back at him from the floor. he’d complain but beggars can’t be choosers and all that. 

they’re partway through the second song when something reflects in his eye, a low-cut sequinned top that would definitely look better on the floor of his van. 

it’s only when his eyes travel up that he realises it’s you who’s wearing that shirt, already looking straight back at him. a newfound look about you, thick lines of black line your eyes, worlds apart from the mousy girl who’d invited herself last night. 

“and we’re-,” he sings, an abrupt case of dry mouth as the next line struggles to come out, “we’re.. uh,” the entire song erased from his memory within seconds. 

he steps back from the mic, blinking rapidly in an attempt to trigger his voice though all he can see is you and that ridiculous top. 

gareth’s head whips round, still strumming along before picking up eddie’s slack, continuing the lyrics on his own, not without a damning glare in eddie’s direction. 

holy fuck. 

he’s just, taken aback, that’s all. shocked that you’d even bother to come, less so put the effort in to actually look the part too. 

his eyes don’t leave the back wall for the rest of the gig, practically stumbling through all of the songs as his head threatens to wander. trailing back to you only as they finish, walking off stage to down the harshest whisky the bar would allow. 

you saunter over a couple minutes later, while eddie tries his hardest not to stare right down your shirt. he’s not certain that he won’t choke on his words if you speak to him. 

“you were really good tonight,” you assure, smiling softly as his band mate turns to gawp. 

“uh, yeah.. thanks,” eddie fumbles, gripping the neck of his beer bottle, “thanks for coming.” 

there’s an aura surrounding you, like a wretched spell you’d evoked in him, turning him to a bumbling fool. 

“i’m gonna head out..” gesturing to the door, “see you around,” waving your fingers coyly at him before disappearing. 

his eyes linger at the door, wondering if maybe you’ll turn around and come back. not that he wants that. just curious as to why you’d come out just to see him play. 

“now who the hell was that?” jeff ogles, receiving a swift elbow to the ribs from eddie and a loud oof as he clutches his side. 

“a friend of a friend,” brushing him off, “don’t be weird about it,” jumping the gun to squash any sorts of ideas festering in his mind. 

“you’re the only one being weird about it,” jeff retorts, grabbing his beer and shuffling off. 

“i’m not being weird,” eddie calls from behind, “i’m not!” 

okay maybe he was being a little weird. 

who cares? 

definitely not eddie. 

-

this week, he feels more prepared to see you nodding along in the crowd, robin had joined you albeit looking less than impressed. 

eddie’s killing it, at least he thinks. avoiding looking anywhere in your direction, keeping his gaze on the stumbling drunk at the back instead. 

but the thoughts of you can’t help but creep into his mind, were you enjoying it? do you think he’s bad? why does he even care so much? 

his hand slides down the neck of the guitar, playing the wrong chord entirely, his fingers curating a mind of their own. 

fuck fuck fuck. 

why does this keep happening? 

gareth glares at him again, he had never been so frustrated with his idiot bandmate in his life. sure eddie liked to dick around in rehearsal but never on stage. 

if eddie ever wanted a career in music, he needed to get a monumental grip on himself. weird girls he barely knew should not have the capacity to ruin his career. 

after they clamber off stage, eddie makes a point of not going over to the two of you. no, you can come to him. 

though he wishes you’d just be a little faster at it if he’s honest. too busy squished into a booth with one of the younger regulars to care about him. 

heat rises in his chest, searing his cheeks a bright rouge, “-who is that?” gareth interrupts, bumping into his arm. 

“who’s who?” eddie coughs, clearing his throat as his eyes snap back. 

“that girl you’ve been staring at,” peering across the room to get a glimpse. 

“i’m not staring at anyone,” abruptly turning his head in the opposite direction, proving to himself that he wasn’t staring, not really. 

“you’re a liar,” gareth calls him on his bullshit immediately, “go talk to her! she’s hot,” scooting his friend along. 

“no she’s not,” you looked good tonight, he’d give you that, “can everyone please just stop being weird about this? first jeff- now you? honestly, i don’t get it,” working himself into a frenzy over what really was nothing. 

gareth’s eyes widen, scoffing at his melodramatic performance, “alright man.. calm down,” shaking his head in mild disgust. 

eddie was totally calm, you know, apart from his heart pounding in his chest. 

nothing major. 

-

filthy, downright pornographic sounds fill his cramped van, certain that it was rocking side to side with the utter obscenity happening in the back. 

chloe sits atop of his lap, tongues dancing around one another as she glides her hips back and forth. she was a regular, slightly older than eddie, at least he thinks, they’d made eyes a few times but only tonight had he gathered the courage to go and speak to her. 

any other time, eddie would be rock solid, pinning her down and fucking her into the dusty floor. today, it’s just not happening. 

his mind elsewhere, too preoccupied with nonsense to appreciate the opportunity at hand. 

he's thinking about you and the fact you’d left the bar without ever coming over to him tonight. what the fuck was that about? 

had he done something wrong? 

he breaks apart from her mouth, heaving into the tiny gap between them, “i don’t know what’s going on..” he chuckles awkwardly, looking down at his useless dick, “normally something happens by now..” 

she frowns, deep-set, showing her age more than before, “oh.” 

he reaches down, furiously palming his cock through his jeans. 

nothing. not even a twitch. 

he wants to curl up and die. never in his three years of actually getting laid has this ever happened. eddie got hard at the drop of a pin, he’d only have to think about boobs and his jeans would shift. 

so why the fuck wasn’t it working tonight?

“i’m gonna go,” chloe scowls, clambering over his legs, gathering her bag while not even attempting to hide her disappointment. 

eddie shoots up, pathetically crawling after her, desperate not to let her go. 

“it’s not me!” he screams out, watching helplessly as she crawls out of the van, “it’s you!”

no. 

“wait no! shit, that’s not what i meant,” peeking out of the van to find the empty parking lot, zero women to be found, “fuck sake.” 

left to wallow in his self-pity, alone, in the back of his dirty van. 

just as he deserved. 

if this was some karmic intervention, telling him to be a better person, he certainly wasn’t paying it any attention. 

-

another party meant another night of eddie trying to understand why the hell you had such an effect on him. 

it’s not even like you’re doing anything particularly riveting, sat with your drink in hand, nodding along to robin’s story. 

he can’t stand it. 

you have to go. 

maybe not like that, but he had to put some distance between you. there’s no way he could keep his sanity while you were still a constant in his life. 

eddie sidles over, feeling like the smartest guy in the room. he could do this, separate himself from you and your clutches and go back to playing as he once did. 

you smile upon him appearing, sickly and sweet. it makes his heart thump in the weirdest way. 

“oh.. hey,” playing this entirely nonchalantly, “i just thought i’d let you know that we’re not playing next week,” lying through his teeth, guilt ridden but really, it was necessary if he wanted to play a gig without fucking up the entire time. 

“oh,” sounding somewhat disappointed, “okay.. how come?” 

shit. 

he can’t think of a single valid reason as to why they wouldn’t be playing. 

“jeff’s sick.. real bad,” feeling even more guilty for lying about his friends health, wondering if he’s cursing jeff as you did him, “might even be a couple weeks off at this point.”

eddie was a terrible person. 

but so were you. 

bewitching him under some spell, forcing him to play terribly and embarrass himself in front of women 

you’ve jinxed him. a bad omen cursing him to play like a fucking amateur. that’s the only logical explanation his pea brain can conjure up anyway. 

that meant you had to stay away from the shows, from him preferably. 

he couldn’t understand why you have this effect on him, why your mere presence has him becoming a floundering fool. you don’t intimidate him, not even close. 

it’s almost as if he cares too much about what you think, to the extent that he overthinks it so hard that he fucks up. 

a curse that could only be broken with some distance between you. that way he could focus on the show instead of you and your doe eyes reflecting off of the stage lights. 

that’s what he’s praying for anyway. 

-

eddie despises wednesday’s. itching to get his classes over and done with so he can get his small taste of stardom on that tiny hideout stage. 

at some point over the last few weeks of you being an omnipotent presence in his life, he’d grown accustomed to crossing paths with you before the gig. 

crossing campus with your chin tucked down, arms wrapped tight around your books. typically only sharing a smile or a short nod. 

but this week you saunter over, resembling a frightened deer even more than usual. 

he pulls his headphone from his ear, anticipating whatever nonsensical, vaguely cute thing you were going to say. 

“hey,” he nods, a coy smile. 

even now you have his palms sweating, overthinking whether he should’ve said hi or hello instead. 

“you didn’t have to lie to me,” you start, brows furrowed, “it’s fine if you don’t want me to go to your gigs anymore, i don’t care,” a disappointed frown plaguing your normally cheerful face. “i thought i liked you eddie, really- but i don’t know anymore.. you’re not a good person.” 

you turn to walk off before he can even compute your words. 

oh shit. 

“wait!” he calls but it’s useless, “i didn’t- i wasn’t- fuck.”

it was unthinkably cruel, he didn’t think you’d ever find out. and maybe that was his problem, assuming you didn’t care enough to find out. 

guilt addles his chest, weighing heavy on his heart. for good reason too. 

eddie was an asshole. a true, grade-a asshole that wayne would positively despise him for. 

wait wait wait. 

you liked him? 

you liked him?

absolutely not. no way. that wasn’t what this was about.

or it’s not supposed to be. 

no, this was some adolescent feud, a confusing, one-sided, friendship that he couldn’t get a grip on. 

you didn’t like him. girls like you weren’t supposed to. 

-

it’s not at all surprising that he plays like absolute shit tonight too. 

guilt ridden for forcing your hand, for making you look at him like that. as if he were the worst person to walk the earth. 

shit, maybe he was. 

kind hearted people didn’t lie and deceive. no, kind hearted people came to gigs they obviously didn’t give a shit about. kind hearted people feigned interest in boring spiel about weed strains and whatever the fuck else eddie jabbered on about at parties. 

you, you were kind. kinder than he deserved. 

gareth slaps him harshly on the back the second they’re back behind the curtain, a scornful yet pitying scowl on his face, “look man,” he begins, “i dunno what’s going on with you but i don’t know how much longer they’re gonna let us play here if you keep playing like that.”

eddie sighs, because he knows this. he’s well aware that his performances have been lacklustre for weeks now. he just doesn’t really understand why. 

at first he thought it was just because you were there, a distance friend who would feed back to his friends about how good, or bad, he was. 

but that wasn’t it. 

you were there, and then you weren’t. and he still played like shit. 

somewhere entangled deep within his wretched heart, he thinks that maybe he just wanted to impress you. 

a nice girl, cares about her studies way more than he does, pretty too and you didn’t look at him like he was just some out of touch stoner with crazy dreams of his band getting big. 

you were polite, listening to his wacky stories and dreams of playing for thousands, in fact, you encouraged them, more than his friends ever had for sure. 

eddie’s not sure if, or how, he’ll ever be able to make amends for how he’s treated you. 

-

he’s making himself sick with worry. guilt wracking his brain. 

you don’t turn up that night, obviously. 

eddie’s eyes mindlessly search the crowd for any hint of you. his fingers failing to correspond with the rest of band, always playing a beat behind. 

you had infected him, ruined his once masterful skill to just a shell of what it once was. 

he doesn’t lay opportunity for the boys to speak to him again, rushing out of the bar as soon as his guitar is back in her case. 

there’s only one place he can think about going. 

a few months back, you’d hosted robin’s birthday party there and eddie had disgraced your bathroom with a girl he can’t even remember now. 

his fist bangs on the door, hoping the light in the upstairs window was you and not one of your roommates he’d have to shamefully apologise to. 

the orange light cascades over your face, peeking out from the barely cracked door with a frown that would scare any man off. 

“what’re you doing?” you spit, looking backwards in hopes he hadn’t woken the entire house up. 

“listen,” he sighs, “i’m real sorry about.. you know, lying to you,” his shoulders slumped over themselves, “but i just- i can’t fucking play when you’re there, can’t play when you’re not,” sounding utterly pathetic, begging for you to cure him from this sudden sickness. “i don’t know what to do anymore,” dragging his hand over his face. 

rightfully earning his spot as the worlds biggest fucking loser, stood on your doorstep begging for an answer. 

when he opens his eyes enough to look at you, you’re scowling back at him. nothing like how he had planned this situation in his head. 

he’d hoped that miraculously you’d understand, accept his apology and somehow still feel the same as you had. 

because that was it, really. 

too terrified to face the fact that he liked you too. 

somewhere in his heart of hearts he’d known it from the start. that’s why his heart fluttered when you’d volunteered to come or why he’d struggled to even touch anyone else. 

“what do you want me to say?” shrugging, “i won’t come back, that’s fine,” he wishes you’d just follow the script he’d curated for you. 

eddie doesn’t want you to stop coming, he never had. it’s killing him that you even believed that, twisting the knife in his chest further and further the more your bottom lip juts out and your eyes water. 

“actually, maybe it’s best if we don’t talk anymore,” you suggest, throwing him completely off kilter. 

woah. 

that wasn’t at all what he wanted nor was he trying to say. he just couldn’t gather the actual words he needed to express that to you. 

petrified that he’d admit to his feelings and you’d just turn around and laugh, how could someone like you ever like such a cruel man? 

“wait no, that’s not what i meant-,” bargaining with you for a little time to explain himself, though you definitely didn’t owe him any.

“-thanks for coming eddie, i’ll see you around,” flashing him a crestfallen smile before abruptly closing the door in his face. 

-

public humiliation was truly the only way eddie could think to make it up to you. 

well that and maybe a little big nudge from robin. 

he’d rather stupidly asked about you on saturday night, confused why you weren’t there alongside robin, who had very quickly got him in check. 

“why do you think dumbass?” she snapped, snarling her teeth at him, “you were an asshole and now she’s doesn’t want to come anymore,” her glare powerful and harsh, "i'd say you were lucky she didn't punch you in the face."

he’d deserve it. 

it had taken weeks of convincing to get you anywhere near the hideout again. not to mention the hundreds in free weed he’d had to bribe robin with to get her to help. 

you stand in a dark corner, hands folded against your chest, puzzled and irritated by robin’s incessant begging to get you here. 

“there’s someone here that i wanna apologise to,” his eyes don’t find you as easy this time, after weeks of missing your presence, he’s not used to you actually being in the crowd again, “if you know us, you know i can be a bit of an asshole sometimes, uh..” they find you, the lump only growing in his throat, “i’m sorry,” tunnel vision blocking out every other body in the room, “i’m really, really sorry.”

you blink, staring back at him like a deer caught in headlights. it makes him a little bit nauseous to recall how dreadfully he’d treated you, how you deserved absolutely none of it. 

your gaze lowers, and eddie can’t decide how to take it. he wouldn’t blame you if you decided to never forgive him, but he also couldn’t take it if you didn’t. 

his voice cracks a little as he speaks, “this is.. uh, we’re corroded coffin,” stepping back from the mic to gather his thoughts before the drum comes crashing in. 

-

eddie plays the best he’s potentially ever played. 

a force overcoming him to prove that he truly wasn’t as much as a loser as he’s shown himself to be.  

usually, he couldn’t wait to be off that stage and to the bar but today he’s dreading it. 

knowing that you’re somewhere out there waiting for an explanation. 

or maybe you weren’t. he wouldn’t blame you if you’d decided to leave soon after he’d embarrassed himself with that shitty apology. 

gareth runs up behind him, using his shoulders to launch himself into the air, “holy shit! that was amazing!” the boy presses a slobbery kiss to his cheek before continuing, “whatever the hell you did, keep doing it because that was insane!” running off past eddie to grab his weekly complimentary beer. 

a sudden sickness fills his stomach, slyly hoping that he could slip out of here before anyone else noticed him. 

you stand across the bar, waiting to catch his eye with your lips curled only ever-so-slightly. 

eddie’s limbs go stiff, still entranced by your jinx. by you.

your eyes trail away to the door as his follow, shuffling your way through the bustling crowd. 

his legs carry him without a second thought, out into the cool night as his eyes frantically search for you. 

he finds you perched against the crumbling stone wall a few feet from the entrance, just far enough away from the prying eyes of the smoking patrons. 

“i didn’t think you’d ever come back here,” is all he can say, feet trailing along the gravel. 

the streetlight glistens orange from your eyes, staring up at him from your perch, “i didn’t want to,” your smile only growing as he nears, “robin made me.” 

“oh,” it wasn’t as if he didn’t know that or that he didn’t orchestrated the entire thing, it just felt odd to hear it from your mouth. 

“i’m glad i came,” you clarify, allowing him to finally release the breath held tight in his chest. 

eddie dares to move closer, sitting back on the brick just inches away, “yeah?” 

you nod, the great big smile he’d forced away making a return at last, “yeah.” 

suddenly the air feels thick, it was easier apologising on stage, those people didn’t know him, they didn’t care. but now, sat here in front of you, it feels like he’s swallowing knives. 

“i’m really sorry for making you feel that way,” though it sounds meaningless now the damage was done, “i don’t know if you still care about me at all, but i- um,” his throat runs dry, clamping his eyes shut. it felt easier that way, somehow, “i think the reason why i was such.. an asshole,” the light flickers through his eyelids again, deciding that you at least deserved to see him, “fuck,” he exclaims, staring back at your confused expression. 

“it’s okay,” soothing even now, “you don’t have to explain yourself to me,” a twinge of sadness running through your tone. 

“no, no i do,” eddie persists. he’d fumbled once, he couldn’t do it again. “shit man,” he sighs, “i’m trying to tell you that i like you too, or maybe not too, i know i was an ass and i don’t deserve your forgiveness-,” your lips cuts him off mid-mumble, surging forward to press them against his blathering ones. 

he has to blink a couple times, taking in whatever the fuck was happening to him. 

you pull back, disappointed that his brain had been to fuzzy to focus on kissing you back. too preoccupied with trying not to explode and paint you in red. 

“really eddie.. it’s okay,” returning to your usual reserved self while his brain still struggles to compute. 

“can we do that again?” he asks politely, keeping the bubbling excitement to a minimum. 

you laugh, a real, throaty laugh, something he hadn’t heard in weeks, “only if you promise to stop talking,” leaning in once more, the rigid wall suddenly feeling like it was about to collapse from underneath him. 

your soft, cherry-tinted lips press against his forehead a second time, allowing him to gather his brain from a pile of mush on the floor just enough to actually kiss you back. a tender hand reaching out to caress his stubbly cheek, sending shockwaves through his limbs. 

you’re interrupted again by a loud whoop from behind, robin clapping wildly as she emerges from the bar, “now you two have kissed and made up, can we go home now?” 

[fanaticsnail]

Possessive

Masterlist here

Word Count: 1,900+

Synopsis: Rob Lucci was obsessed with you the moment the inner beast caught your scent in Galley-La. Now all alone after trailing you for a month, he finally manages to catch you and make his desires known.

Themes: yandere!rob lucci x gn!reader, yandere, dub con, mentions of beast (leopard), half-shifted lucci, feral lucci, hunting, tracking, nudity mentioned (reader and lucci), kisses, confessions of love, biting, licking, marking, leaning into a little bit of monster-loving, sfw - no smut, I think hybrid au? Hybrid nature, mentions of 'mate'.

Edit: shifter Rob Lucci, not hybrid 🖤. Thank you anon!

Notes: Yandere Rob Lucci has been on my mind lately. He needed to get out.

Tag list: @gingernut1314 @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @indydonuts @feral-artistry @sordidmusings @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @i-am-vita @sunflowersatori @extremely-ashtridic

His eyes snapped shut as a deep shudder coursed through his body, tingles shooting sparks of ignition down his spine and up to his head. He parted his lips and inhaled a sharp, hissed breath as his canines extended, his eyes reopening and slitted pupils expanded to eclipse his irises with a feral animosity. Your sweet scent swelled his heart, his lungs ignited as his blood began to pump at the thought of the hunt recommencing. 

It had been months of withholding you from his thoughts, pushing his urges for you down as he focussed on his missions and orders granted to him from Cipher Pol. After finally being granted a small reprieve between assignments, he allowed himself the luxury of beginning his pursuit of your trail once more. 

He left Hattori behind at his base, truly not desiring the pigeon to witness his carnal desires overcome his usual stoic and cold nature. Never truly giving into his Zoan Devil-Fruit, he usually has the beast lingering and lurking beneath the surface. In truth, he had never truly desired to give in to the animal nature, desiring to remain cool and level headed in his ruthless brutality.

Until that one time your sweet scent shot through his nose and ignited his feral need to state a claim for another being. 

Meeting you and the rest of your crew at Galley-La, he was struck by your appearance and that gentle laugh you offered the sniper, Usopp, when he recounted a tale of his youth at Syrup Village. Everything seemed to slow in motion, his heavy breathing and dilated pupils were the only sounds within the crowd as he lay struck and fixated on every movement. 

He was struck dumb by your laugh, the smile held him hostage as it softly spread up your lips and painted your cheeks with your joy. It almost made him wish to fling his plans of betrayal to the wind and sink his claws and teeth into you and hold you close. His needs tugged at his heart, his instincts and animalistic nature keening and screaming at him to give in and claim you as his. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply and committed your fragrance to memory.

The taste of your skin on the wind propelled him to drive harder, push his body further, and fully give in to his cravings for you as he felt his skin shift and split to make way for fur and claws. Rolling his shoulders back, the muscles compacted first before straining to enlarge with his beastial form. 

His legs picked up as the wind brushed past his face with quickened pace. Each stride had his blood boiling, his heart soaring at the knowledge that you were getting closer and closer with each feral leap and spring he made. Another factor he took into consideration was ensuring you were far enough from your crew to not call for help. The scent of the Straw-Hats were no longer lingering near you, and he was desperate in wanting to claim you as his all alone.

Slowing to a soft prowl, his eyes finally met with your form. Stooping low, you filled up several cantinas of river water and placed them within a wicker basket to return to your crew. He inhaled deeply to catch your sweet scent on the wind, his purred growl exiting his lips with a lengthy exhale to process it. 

Head snapping upwards, you attempt to locate the source of the guttural sound. The small twitch has Lucci’s stomach coil tightly and jaw falling slack at the sight. You were just a meek little thing. So defenseless and unprotected. 

As you return to your duties of filling up the final cantina for your crew, he watches as you take a moment to look around for any danger before stripping yourself down to your undergarments and retracting your towel from the basket beneath the water containers. His breath hitches as you strip yourself bare and slip into the reeds, all exposed for him and relaxed beneath the sun. 

Laying flat on your back and remaining buoyant and floating in the freshwater, he remained helpless and observant in knowing you had stretched far from his reach at this moment. His devil-fruit had claimed his ability to swim, but his need and desire for you only grew the moment your warm flesh lay bare before him. 

He made himself small, lowering himself to the ground and his claws dug into the ground the longer you eluded him. If you would venture closer to the bay, he could easily capture you in his clutches and tug you away from the shore. 

Lucci was a patient man, his work undercover in Galley-La for five long years was a sentiment to his persistence and perseverance. His body began to slowly rock from side to side, pacing as his muscular shoulders rolled with each crouched motion as he lay fixed on your form. Nothing could break him away from this concentration, you were the only thought occupying his mind. 

The moment your hand brushes with the side of the floral riverbank, Lucci pounces. His half-shifted body springs forward, capturing you from the water and tugging you towards the ground cover of underbush. His hand finds your lips, clapping his palm over them to stifle your muffled scream. 

The panic is written on your face as Lucci cages you beneath him, ensuring your legs remain well hidden in the shrubbery by tucking them beneath his thighs and wrapping his patchy tail around them. His dangerous, golden eyes beam down at you, his canines extended and his muzzle-like jowls pull back to reveal his pointed teeth to you. 

Fear tainted your scent, the air tasting bitter and tart mixing with your natural sweetness the longer his beastial form pinned you beneath him. He could see in your eyes, and feel the vibrations of your whimper beneath his palm, that you expected to die at this very moment. He leaned down further, hovering his open mouth over your jugular and feeling your throat gulp back and stifle your shock. 

Clamping your eyes shut, all of your thoughts are on your crew. You were foolish to assume you could ever have a moment of peace while traveling with the Straw-Hats. Thinking you could indulge in your desires for a short dip in a warm ravine, you truly had no idea that your day would end like this. 

The sworn enemy of your captain, a dangerous Zoan-Fruit user taking shape in his leopard half-shifted form and caging you beneath him. His breath felt hot on your neck, and his teeth threatened to puncture the skin and claim your life as his trophy. As you prepared yourself for your final moments alive, you furrowed your brows and reopened your shocked eyes.

A coarse tongue lolled out and grazed your throat with a slow and deliberate flicker. You gulp back your shock as another intentional stripe was made against your pulse, his teeth now nuzzling you with his snout and huffing your flesh like an addictive fragrance. Your body shook in shock as he pressed more of his body against yours, his radiant heat keeping you warm as he licked off the dewed droplets of water from your skin. 

The clawed hand began to caress your cheeks beneath his grip on your lips, his tongue and teeth continuing to grind against your pulse and taste your flesh. Your body responded to him by arching your back and betraying any thoughts of attacking him as he savored your flavor with a purred hum. You bit back a gasp as his teeth begin to mouth at the sensitive point beneath your ear, gently biting and marking you as you lay captured beneath him.

“Finally alone,” he purred against your skin, nuzzling his muzzle against your skin, “Finally within my clutches.” He licked a long stripe up to your chin and flicked his coarse tongue over it. You shudder, shivering as you unintentionally hide your body beneath the warmth of his larger frame. You round your eyes, looking up at his face as he hovers over your own. 

His eyes hold a possessive and captivating aura within them, your breath stolen from you as his human form begins to return to his features. His eyes remain slitted and blown with desire, but his body falls back to the form you are more familiar with. Slowly removing his hand from your lips, his gaze focuses on the way they part and gasp for air beneath him. Each soft inhale had a whimpered exhale, your fear still evident in your face as his bare skin warms your own beneath him. 

“If you are going to kill me, kill me, Rob Lucci,” you whisper, darting your eyes between his and hardening your resolve. His chest rumbles with a growling purr as he rests his elbows by your chest and slowly slots his arms beneath your shoulder blades. 

“Kill you?” he whispers, hovering his lips over yours and breathing in your air, “Whatever drew you to that conclusion?” He captured your lips beneath his in an open and possessive kiss, stealing a moan from you as he pressed his body flush with yours. The scrape from his cropped beard over your chin tickled against your flesh as he parted his lips and hummed into yours. 

Blinking back your shock, you apprehensively hook your arms over his shoulders and hold him against you as you return the desperate and feverish kiss with a sweetness and timidity he was not expecting. The softer you returned his kiss, the more brutal he pressed his lips and tongue into you. If you attempted to retract from his lips, he simply arched his back down into you and pressed his entire mass flush against you. 

The fact that you were both naked beneath the foliage cover had you feeling more anxious and concerned about being found. For Lucci, it felt as natural to him as sitting in the sun and enjoying it's warmth.

He enjoyed your touch so much so that it came to him like a breathy release of built up tension. His lips continued to mouth at you, his tongue caressing and grinding against yours as he claimed your desires and ignited his own desperation with each motion. 

Finally pulling away from your lips, his eyes grew half-lidded and blown as he looked to the saliva connecting your parted lips to his with lust written in his blown pupils. He shuddered out a low and powerful groan as he looked to where his lips, tongue and teeth marked over your neck while in his beastial form. 

“Mine,” he uttered darkly, slowly pressing his lips against your neck and holding them firmly against your skin, “Only mine.” You gulped, blinking back your shock as he continued to ravish you beneath the shrubbery. His lips felt desperate and warm, his voice now chirping and chittering as he happily lapped at your bruising and made them deeper in hue and rise higher in swollen texture. 

The beast within him was chanting a single word alongside your name with glee, enjoying how your arms continue to hold him against you softly. Purring against you, he finally vocalized the word with a possessive growl against your skin.

“My mate,” he breathed out through his nose, lips continuing to press against your pulse as you freeze up beneath him, “All Zoan-Fruit users have one, and you?” he pulled away, hovering his face over yours with his eyes darkening, “Oh you, sweet thing.” 

Nuzzling his nose against yours, he cooed and purred down at you while his eyes remained feral and possessive. Your own eyes widened as he uttered two words that would change your fate forever. The two words that had you screaming internally to flee and return to your captain, but your heart swelling and yearning to make those words true. He spoke them with such sincerity, you almost swooned at his immediacy. 

“You’re mine.” 

[ennabear]

Hiya ennnabear!! Back with another req (　ﾟ 3ﾟ)

can i ask for sum sevika x hyperfemme!reader? Could either be a fic or a list of headcannons, nsfw or sfw, i really dont mind !! >3< the prompts up to your interpertation!! Whatever u feel comftorable with!! ＼(^o^)／

I can just imagine Sevika, with her pastel pink, poofy-dressed eyecandy, sitting on her lap as she plays cards .. the people shes playing with all sorta eyeing reader because like what the fuck?? And reader is just like 'oh sevikas just so adorable shsjkassjksksk cutie patootie i wuv her!!!!!' while Sevika is off in the distance beating someone half to death because he touched her shoulder .. on accident ( ﾟーﾟ)

also, i beg of you to use inspo from that one scene in deadpool where he meets yukio. I kid you not thats where i got this requests inspo from.

"What in the fuck knuckles is this?"

(Sevika, with a literal living doll in her lap) "Shes my girlfriend you intolerant shit."

"Woah! Pump the hate breaks, fox-and-friends! Im just suprised anyone would date you! Especially pinkie pie from my little pony."

aaaaa i love this woman sososo much ( ´∀`) my 6' criminalistic murderer drug (shimmer) addict babygirl (〃_ _)

thanks in advance if u decide to write this !! sorry for the agonizingly long yap sesh (^_^;)

--🃏🌀⭐️

(and now to crawl back into my pit of lesbian shame .. (ФωФ))

HIII ANON sorry this took me so long to answer but i’m occupied with writing 2 sevika oneshots so i hope i can earn your forgiveness once they’re out 🫶 also i yapped a lil about hyperfemme!sevika here so ignore the fact that i can’t follow a request to save my life!!! 18+

ok so the way i envision sevika’s girlfriend would be a little bit… drag-ey?? i don’t really know how to explain it so allow me to elaborate…

1. we already know that femme lesbians are feminine in a way that’s different from feminine straight women (more cutesy, stylish, female gaze, etc.) but also…

2. with the way people dress in zaun (when they’re not murdering each other) and the general way they’re animated is very costumey. lots of face paint, masks, sophisticated outfits.

so i think in the arcane universe you’d probably dress something like this. painting your skin weird colors, covering yourself head to toe in body glitter, wearing expensive wigs, corsets, and heels that look impossible to move in, and stuff like that.

that means sevika would try to make sure you’re comfortable 24/7!!! especially if you’re wearing something potentially dangerous like heels that are two feet tall, she wouldn’t let you walk the whole night, instead picking you up and hauling you around.

as if the money silco pays her isn’t enough, she makes tons of money from the guys she gambles with. she spends every last PENNY on you. it’s not like she needs to spend it on herself though, her arm and her scowl are a pretty deadly weapon, and she doesn’t go all out with clothes like you do.

also i think she’d completely fold if you ever wore a low cut top or even no top when you go out with her (and she doesn’t believe in bras… so…) especially if you have piercings in/around your tits, she’d be fondling them and groping them all night!!!

she 10000000% has a thing for public sex!!!! while she’s playing cards, she’ll slide your skirt up (if it’s even long enough…), and have you ride her strap. the dumbfucks she’s playing with would gawk and stare at what’s obviously going on in her lap, but she’s about to rob them of their money, so they really shouldn’t be focusing on it.

oooh and once you finally cum, she’d be like “good girl, now give me another. okay?” and her fingers would start vibrating as you slump down next to her… of course you might get weird looks, but if anyone tries to say or do anything about it she could literally just kill them. (or maybe she’s feeling nice and will break a few of their ribs instead, who knows…)

she’d be constantly covered in some kind of your makeup. especially if you wear a crazy color lipstick like bright blue or something, her lips and cheeks and nose would be that color the whole night. and if you wear body glitter, it would look sooooo pretty on her skin. she’d be glaring at people all night like 😡😡😡😡 but her face and hands would look like ✨✨🌈🦄🩷✨✨

adding onto that, she’d look sooo pretty if she let you experiment (which is a pretty big IF), but imagine her with her hair curled, wearing pretty purple glitter on her cheeks and arms, in some sort of heeled boots that make her even taller than she needs to be, and in a dress?? in a short dress??? sevika in a short dress???? i’ll (s)cream right now…

if someone manages to corner you and talk to you about sevika, the conversation would be hilarious and very unproductive. they’d be like “why her? doesn’t she scare you?” and you’d be like “sevika? my little baby bear?? my knight in shining armor who screams at the sight of bugs??? no… she doesn’t scare me…”

meeting silco and the rest of the last drop crew would be… quite the experience. they’re all staring with wide eyes, practically shaking because of how scary she looks, and then there’s you with your hands entwined with hers, some of your bright pink face paint smudging onto her cheeks and neck as you nuzzle into her. silco’d find her alone for one moment and ask “who the hell is that?” and she’d reply with “my girlfriend. 😾 don’t mess with her.” and he’d be like “your girlfriend? your girlfriend is a barbie doll?? o…kay… congrats to both of you…”

[myjealouseyes]

Drabble request from an anon: can you do where wolfstar!daughter comforts harry by humming a lullaby to him after something happens? i meant like the girl harmonizing with her fan type of lullaby yk🤗

A/N — I’m not sure exactly what the situation that took place here is but they’re both extremely sad and traumatized. This just focuses more on Harry’s comfort.

Request Drabble here

As tired as you are, sleep has yet to find you.

You stare blankly at the analog clock on your wall, completely tuned into the low ticking that tells you how many minutes It’s been since you ran out of tears to cry.

Twenty-one.

The only thing keeping you from going off to find a pit to crawl in Is the warm, and somewhat comforting weight on your lap. Although Harry is sitting perfectly still, you know he’s awake. The shaky breaths he releases every now and then reassure you of that. You don’t have to be looking at him to know he has puffy, swollen eyes that match yours. It makes your heart hurt.

Harry doesn’t deserve to shed any more tears than he already has. But for some reason the world is always giving him a reason to cry. If you could you’d tell whoever’s in charge to double his pain and give it to Voldermort. But since you can’t, you comfort him the best you know how.

Your hand slowly, gently, almost hesitantly runs through his hair. Your eyes never once leave the clock as you hum a slow monotonic pitched tune. It feels almost forced at first; but as Harry’s shoulders relax it gets easier. You spend the rest of the hour like that, not daring to rob him of his first calm moment in weeks.

[flowerandblood]

Robbed and gifted (1/6)

[ arranged marriage • modern!Aemond x female ]

[ warnings: sex content, angst, smut, violence ]

[description: (Anon Request) She and Aemond are faced with a situation, where they must form a fictitious marriage. They are complete strangers to each other, who cannot find themselves in a new reality. When his wife stands up for him at a family dinner, something changes between them. Smut, angst and a lot of sexual tension.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

_____

She had only signed a few sheets of paper, but she felt as if she had sold herself to a slave market.

She despised herself and her uncle.

His proposal.

She despised her husband and his father.

That they made a deal with each other over their heads, making their fictional marriage a route to easy cash flow and money laundering.

She was surprised when her uncle, Arthur, her mother's brother, called her with the proposal. When he offered to pay for her college and financially support her parents, who were in debt because of her father's gambling addiction, she thought he must be crazy.

Then he began to mention a family with whom he had close ties, about the young man who was their son, about how she could help him a lot, and with this favor ensure her future and safety.

"We would need this marriage for about a year, maximum two, so that our money would be filtered through your bank accounts in several tranches. Your community of property will make things easier for us – and then you can divorce." He said as they sat in a small restaurant where he had invited her.

She was about to take a piece of spaghetti in her mouth but she put the cutlery on the plate, staring at him with her mouth open.

She didn't believe what she just heard.

"You want to sell me?" She asked, feeling her whole body tense, cold sweat running down her neck. Her uncle laughed, taking a sip of wine from his glass.

"Of course not. You are only to make appearances. Of course, we wouldn't want the rest of the family to know about this deal, so you'd have to live in the same apartment in case someone came to visit you, and show up at family events once in a while. What you do privately is up to you. It is as if you have been given an assignment and a mission for a certain period of time for which you will both be handsomely paid." He said with a calmness and serenity that terrified her – she wondered how he could talk about such things so lightly.

"Are you proposing me a sham marriage to a stranger for money?" She asked, pale, her eyes wide, her hands trembling slightly. Her uncle smiled warmly at her.

"I offer to take care of your future, for your small favor and sacrifice. Think about this." He said, putting some bills on the table, definitely more than their dinner was worth and left, leaving her with disbelief written on her face.

She came home angry and distraught – she thought that her uncle treated her like garbage, like a bargaining chip, an object that he could put up for auction.

She felt an unpleasant lump in her pit as she saw that her father was gone again.

She walked over to her mom who was just lying on the couch watching TV – she stood for a moment in the doorway of the room, pursed her lips.

"Where is dad?" She asked quietly.

Her mother shrugged.

"Probably where he always is." She murmured, taking a sip of tea from a large mug.

She felt a tightness in her pit at her words and went to her room without asking for anything else.

In the night, she heard the sound of a door opening, followed by a loud thud and a scream – she saw the hallway light was on and peeked through the door, opening it a little.

Her mother was standing over her father who lay slumped against the wall, drunk, his vision completely blurred.

"God, how do you look? How much have you lost on those fucking slot machines again today?" She asked low, angry.

She saw her mother kick her father in the stomach – she cringed, as if she felt the pain too.

Her father was only moaning, it sounded like something she might call gibberish.

Her mother began to sob and continued to yell at him, asking why he was doing this to her.

She slipped into her room, closing the door, feeling her whole hands tremble, her heart pounding like a mad in her chest.

The next day she called her uncle, saying that she agreed to his proposal.

She just wanted him to take her away.

Then everything went fast – she had to appear at the Registry Office to sign the documents, together with her fictitious husband.

She saw him there for the first time and this was not how she had imagined him.

The fact that he was dressed all in black made him look very pale – his eye patch made her think that he was some kind of character from a movie, not a real person.

As if it was all some kind of theater in which she played one of the main roles.

She thought, looking down at her black dress that they were both dressed as if they were going to a funeral.

When everything was settled, Aemond, as it turned out was her current husband's name, simply left the room without saying even a polite farewell – she looked down at her feet, pursed her lips, and decided that he owed her nothing.

Neither she to him.

She wasn't going to take her frustrations out on him.

Her parents were terrified, but when her uncle gave them the exact numbers that they would get for it and the payment of their father's debts, they both calmed down and decided that two years wasn't that long after all.

She stared blankly at them, wondering who these people were at all – they seemed alien and distant to her as never before.

In accordance with her uncle's demands, she had to move into her husband's apartment.

She wanted to vomit just thinking about it for most of the morning.

She felt like a puppet controlled by someone else, as if she sold her life for a few bills.

She thought that maybe she wasn't so different from her parents after all, and the thought hit her hard.

She came with a moving team – Aemond showed them a room to set up her bookshelf, desk, and any other furniture she wanted to have.

It was obvious to her that they would sleep separately, almost as if they were roommates.

Her husband didn't say a word to her as the men brought in everything and she paced the apartment, looking around.

The flat was large and had huge windows, the walls were white, so it seemed very bright and pleasant inside, a lot of old oak furniture and plants around her.

She thought she liked it here.

That whoever her husband was, he had good taste.

She heard the door close suddenly and then there was silence.

She turned towards him – he stood in the corridor and looked at her dispassionately, as if she were an intruder, a whore greedy for money, someone empty and worthless.

She felt it in every cell of her body, but she couldn't be mad at him.

Part of her wanted him to treat her that way.

"I have someone." He spoke coolly, his voice empty. "So I don't want you asking me who and where I'm going out with. I hope that's clear."

He said it in such a way that she felt as if he had slapped her in the face.

She swallowed hard, looking away.

For some reason she wanted to cry.

After a moment she forced herself to choke something out.

"I wouldn't dare to expect that. I'm sorry." She said, although she did not know for what.

She saw something change in his eyesight, his pupil narrowed, his mouth tightened – she thought his expression looked almost sympathetic for a moment.

He nodded.

"Make yourself comfortable." He said a little softer and turned away, opening one of the rooms and locked himself in.

Only then did she allow tears to run down her face.

For the next few days he wasn't in the apartment. It didn't bother her – she felt more at ease then, because she wasn't afraid to go to the kitchen or the living room. She didn't walk into his office or bedroom, thinking it was impolite.

She spent her days filling out college papers and buying books – the thought that she would actually go to medical school cheered her up.

One night, lying in bed, she heard a soft turn of the lock, and then saw that someone had turned on the light in the corridor – her heart pounded at the thought that he was back.

She thought that he must have forgotten something or had come for some clean clothes and was about to leave again, but he hadn't. She heard him turn off the light in the hall and lock himself in his office.

She spent the rest of the night writhing on the bed, unable to sleep a wink. She got up at dawn, unable to bear it any longer, and went to the kitchen – there was almost nothing in the fridge.

She thought then that they might live apart, but that didn't mean that they had to dislike each other – she decided to go shopping and make them breakfast.

Lighten up the atmosphere somehow.

She quickly went to the store for fresh rolls and vegetables, eggs, cheese and ham. When she returned, she decided to make sandwiches with fresh lettuce, radish, tomato and chives with a delicious sauce, and casseroles, which she put in the oven in the meantime.

She flinched as she heard the sound of the door opening – she knew he went to the bathroom.

After a while he left the room and walked into the kitchen – he looked at the large plate on the table where she had placed her sandwiches without saying a word.

"I made us breakfast." She said.

“It will be hard for two years to pretend we don't see each other. Can't we just be roommates like in college? Who sometimes meet in between and talk?" She mumbled out.

He just stared at her, frustrated for some reason.

"You mean college like the one that you're going to, that was paid for with my money?" He asked suddenly, and she looked at him, shocked.

She opened her mouth, feeling her entire stomach clench, shaking her head.

"– I – my uncle told me –" She stammered, but he didn't let her finish.

"Your uncle is just a venal pig. Just like your whole family, apparently." He said it so calmly and dispassionately, that she felt tears welling up in her eyes. She stared at the bun that she had just sliced and put the knife aside, her lips pressed together.

"I didn't know." She whispered. He chuckled at her words, but it was ironic, aloof, incredulous laugh.

"Right. You women never know. Everything around you happens by itself." He hissed as he took his mug and left the kitchen, locking himself in his office.

She took several sandwitches in her hand, breathing heavily, wiping her tears and nose, as she wrapped them in cling film for him – she knew that he'd be leaving for work soon, so she wanted to at least give them to him for lunch.

When she got home after going to the college she saw that what she had left at his door, wrapped in a cardboard box, he had thrown into the bin.

He tried to pretend that she didn't exist.

She gave up trying to make contact with him. It made her cry often, because she felt like an intruder knowing what he thought of her.

She started classes but she wasn't proud of it at all – she was convinced that she was like a parasite that clung to him.

She wasn't surprised that he couldn't look at her.

One day, he surprised her by knocking on her bedroom door – since their exchange she ate alone, not in the dining room. She opened the door – he didn't even look at her when he was talking to her.

"Get ready. We're going to my parents' house in an hour. My family wants to meet you." He said indifferently and turned away, disappearing back into the living room.

She felt like she was about to die.

She put on a pretty, blue, girlish dress with tiny flowers and let her hair down, decideding that she couldn't embarrass him and had to present herself as best as she could.

She left the room and told him that she was ready – she saw him look her up and down as if to see, if she looked acceptable, then nodded and they both left the apartment.

They rode in complete silence, listening to the radio. She flinched when she heard his voice.

"Yes."

"We met by chance at one of the business events. You were there with your uncle. We fell in love right away. We kept our relationship a secret for a year. Do you understand?" He asked with emphasis on the last words, his voice as cold as ice.

She swallowed loudly.

As they stepped into his house, she smiled – she decided to play her role as best as she could. His mother, Alicent, hugged her tightly – it seemed to her that she knew nothing about what was really going on between them.

Their house was huge, modern, terrifyingly opulent – she felt uncomfortable there, as if something was missing. She sat down at the table in the indicated place and she was immediately bombarded with questions.

Her husband sat next to her, crossing his legs and placed his hand on her thigh. She looked at him in surprise, and he didn't even glance at her – she thought that he was trying to pretend, just like she was.

At the table were his father, mother, and siblings, but also his sister from his father's second marriage, Rhaenyra, with her children and now-husband, Daemon. From what she understood, they were all in the big family banking business.

They asked her about things that she didn't understand at all, but she nodded and talked to them about nothing – if there was one thing she was good at it was simple, light chatting.

Wine was poured with dinner – so many dishes were placed before them that she did not know where to look. She saw a lot of cutlery in front of her and thought that she felt like in that movie, where they sit some worker at the table with the nobility and make him guess which fork is for what.

She shuddered, snapped out of her thoughts when she heard her husband's voice next to her ear.

"I don't advise you to take soup or roast, because everyone will be looking at you." He said indifferently, serving himself the soup.

Apparently, what he meant was that his family for some reason cared a lot about how someone ate.

She asked what he could offer her.

"Everything but roasts and soups." He said dryly and she rolled her eyes, impatient with his behavior.

She saw him purse his lips at the sight, displeased, his fingertips digging into the soft skin of her thigh.

"Don't make faces like that." He hissed through clenched teeth. She looked at him expectantly.

"Decide for me, husband. Let your will be done." She whispered, leaning over him, her moist lips slightly parted.

She saw his gaze flit from her eyes to her lips, then back to her eyes – he tapped his finger against her knee, as if he was thinking hard about something.

"Careful." He said lowly and she shivered.

After a moment he looked away, leaning over the table, reaching for a salad – pretending that nothing had happened, she poured some of it on her plate and began to eat.

She hasn't had anything in her mouth since morning.

Suddenly, Viserys and Daemon went from light subjects and stories to business topics – although Alicent tried to add a funny anecdote, Daemon interrupted her, continuing his thought.

"If you don't have anyone to give it all to, what's the point of all this?" He asked, annoyed, spreading his hands.

"I think Jace would be a better fit." He added, several people moved uneasily on their seats.

She saw her husband reach for his glass of wine and take a deep sip from it, in his eye a fury and madness that she had never seen in another human being.

After a while his father spoke up.

"Well, that's a bit of an unfair assessment on your part. However, I agree that Aemond is not as dedicated to the company as I would like.” He said.

Her husband put his glass down on the table with an aggressive motion, everyone eyes turned to him.

"Are you fucking serious? I am not sacrificing enough for the company?” He hissed – she could feel him boiling, his hand on her thigh clenched into a fist.

She swallowed hard, looking from him to his father – Viserys shifted uneasily in his seat, knowing what he was implying.

"Math is absolute, son. Your results could be better." He said, speaking lightly as if it didn't really matter. "But of course everyone can have a bad time, it's natural."

Her husband leaned back against the back of the chair, his mouth slightly parted in disbelief.

She had seen, going to the bathroom at night, that the light was on in his office late into the night.

If he wasn't with his woman, he was still working.

For some reason her heart clenched tight.

"My husband works from morning to night. Even when I'm asleep he's still doing reports. Are the results he is supposed to strive for even achievable?" She blurted out suddenly, frowning, causing silence at the table.

Feeling a cold sweat on her back, she glanced quickly at Aemond, fearing that he would kill her for the outburst – he, however, just stared at her, his gaze expressing disbelief, his mouth slightly parted.

He cleared his throat, taking a glass in his hand and took another sip of wine, several people at the table looked at each other. His father smiled at her in a way she didn't like.

"It's nice to see such a loving and devoted married couple." He hummed and she felt a lump in her throat.

She knew that he was the only one among them who understood what their marriage really was, and he was mocking her. She flinched as her husband got up from the table abruptly, throwing his napkin on it.

"We're leaving." He said dryly to her as he headed for the hallway. She stood up quickly, following him, terrified – his mother tried to stop them, but he didn't even look at her.

"He humiliated me and you didn't fucking say anything, as usual." He hissed to her, slamming the car door behind him.

She humbly sat in the passenger side, fastening her seatbelts and closed the door behind her – he took off with a squeal of tires, causing her to be pinned to the seat for a moment.

He didn't even turn on the radio, lost in his thoughts, running his free hand over his jaw.

She thought, looking at him closely, that he was a really handsome man.

She smiled lightly at the thought and he looked at her suddenly – she swallowed hard and looked away.

They walked into his apartment without a word. She thought that he was going to lock himself in his office as usual, but he didn't – he went to the living room and started rummaging in the bar. She stood in the corridor, not knowing what to do – she wanted to go to her bedroom, but his voice stopped her.

That maybe they will get closer to each other.

"Would you like a drink?" He asked indifferently, looking at her from a distance. She swallowed hard, feeling her whole body tremble.

She thought that maybe this was the moment.

"What are you drinking? Wine?" He asked, but she shook her head.

She nodded, and he took the other glass from his bar without a word. She walked into the living room hesitantly, watching as he poured himself a drink.

He looked at her expectantly.

She saw the surprise in his eye, and then something like amusement flashed across his face. He made the drink she asked for and gave it to her.

"Vodka. Vodka with orange juice and ice." She said softly, the corner of her mouth lifted in a smile.

He walked around the couch and sat on it, sighing heavily, covering his face with his hand. She sat down next to him at a safe distance, pulling her legs under her buttocks, making herself comfortable. For a while they just drank their drinks in silence, not even looking at each other.

"My mother never stood up for me, and a strange girl did. Funny, don't you think?" He chuckled lowly, but he didn't sound like he was enjoying it at all. She dropped her gaze, sighing softly.

"I'm sorry. All my life I watched my mother humiliate my father. I tried to defend him, but one day he told me not to do it." She said, pressing her lips together, inhaling loudly.

She realized that she had never said that out loud to anyone. She was afraid to look at his reaction – after a moment, she turned to face him. He looked at her thoughtfully, his expression unreadable.

"Your father is a gambler." He said lowly, more stating than asking. She nodded, embarrassed, looking down, taking a sip of her drink, fiddling with the glass in her hand.

"Did your mother ever hit you?" He asked suddenly, and she looked at him in surprise.

"When she was angry with me, she pretended I didn't exist. Sometimes for a day, sometimes for a week. She didn't answer me when I spoke to her, she didn't look at me, she didn't make me breakfast or lunch, she didn't drive me to school. As if she didn't have a child." She mumbled and swallowed hard, feeling tears welling up under her eyelids.

She didn't want to tell him about it, in fact, she'd rather forget about it altogether – she looked away, her body began to quiver.

For a moment she was unable to utter a word.

"That's why I can't stand it, when you pretend I don't live here." She said with a shrug, tears running down her cheeks one by one.

"I have no intention of imposing on you and I swear, I didn't know my uncle would take my college money from you." She cried out, having more and more problems with breathing normally, her body shaking all over.

"Look at me." He said softly, almost mildly for the way he usually spoke. She was unable to comply with his request, her body froze completely, trembling slightly.

A strong, violent shudder went through her, as she felt his wide hand brush her thigh – she wasn't able to move as it traveled higher, to her hips, then lower again, to her knee.

She thought it was the alcohol, that they both didn't know what they were doing, but she felt wetness between her thighs anyway.

She shifted and twisted as she felt him tease her there with slow, gentle strokes of his fingers, wonderful, tickling sensation building inside her lower abdomen.

Her lips parted with a sigh as she felt his hand slowly move to her hips again, but this time it slipped between her thighs.

Her breath caught in her throat.

She didn't flinch as his thumb pushed the fabric of her panties aside and his fingers ran over her wet, throbbing, hot slit – she heard him draw in a whistling breath, her hand set her glass lightly on the table next to her, her breathing ragged and quick.

She thought that she needed this.

She desperately needed someone's closeness, relaxation, pleasure, acceptance.

Everything at once.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked so quietly and uncertainly that she shivered.

She parted her swollen lips, his fingers pressing steadily against her folds, teasing her clit with słowy, circular strokes – she couldn't stop her hips from rolling towards his hand, a wonderful warmth spreading over her cunt every time he rubbed her.

"No." She whispered and he jumped up suddenly.

In one swift motion, he placed her on her side, laying down behind her back – she heard the sound of her belt being unfastened and shivered all over, her a drop of her moisture running down her thighs – she didn't look at him, breathing loudly just like him, wondered what they were doing.

She squealed softly as he pulled her against him, feeling the material of his shirt against her back, his hot breath, his mouth against her ear, his nose teasing her cheek.

"– how about we get to know each other better now? – for the sake of our common, platonic acquaintance –" He hummed, she heard him undo his trousers, his throbbing, hard manhood hitting her buttocks hidden under her dress.

She felt a tickling heat run through her body at the sensation.

A soft moan escaped her lips as she felt him slide her panties off her thighs in one, swift motion, his large hands pulling up the fabric of her dress so that she could feel him now, hard and swollen.

"– y-yes – I guess –" She mumbled embarrassed, unable to believe that these words left her mouth – it seemed to her that everything around her was hazy, her head was spinning with lust and desire.

She thought it was pathetic, but all she wanted was to feel him inside her.

She involuntarily lifted her thigh, allowing him to slip in, rubbing against her hot juices. She heard him inhale loudly at the sensation, snuggling her closer to his chest. They both sobbed as the tip of his cock began to press against her, pushing a little into her throbbing, fleshy inside.

"I'll just slide him in for a moment." He whispered, panting with her, their bodies shivering as he thrust deeper into her, pushing her hot walls to the limit.

"Mhm" It was all she could muster.

She moaned sweetly as he slid all the way into her, then began to move inside her suddenly, imposing an intense, fast pace, his thighs slapping wetly against her buttocks, soaked in her juices. They both gasped loudly and groaned alternately, her hand tightening on his arm which wrapped around her waist.

"Jesus Christ" He panted, feeling how tight she was, clenching around him, all hot and wet.

He sped up even more, thrusting into her more aggressively, his cock digging in with a loud slap, stretching her throbbing, swollen muscles, they both felt surprisingly close to fullfilment. He tightened his hand on her thigh which he held slightly up, allowing himself to thrust even deeper.

She sobbed loudly, as she felt his cock rubbing her exactly where she needed to, building up unbearable tension in her. She could feel his hot, quick breath on her cheek, she knew he needed it as much as she did.

If she could think coldly at that moment, she would wonder why he didn't go to his woman, but right now all she wanted was to be fulfilled.

"I'll stop soon, I promise" He whispered in her ear, and she felt such a strong shiver at his words, that she just came. She sobbed loudly, her eyebrows twisted in pain, her mouth parted in a silent moan. She heard him groan low, feeling her walls begin to tighten on him, his thrusts quick, brutal and sure.

"Oh, fuck, yes" He gasped loudly and came hard, moving for a moment longer, his cum flowing in waves inside her. They were both panting, trembling in disbelief, his terrified voice rousing her.

"You're taking pills, right?" He asked as if the pleasure had taken away his common sense. She just nodded, not having the strength to say anything.

She heard his loud exhale of relief, then his nose buried in her hair. They lay there, trying to calm down, she felt his chest rise and fall steadily, his soft cock still throbbing inside her.

She felt that both of them realized what they had done. He slid out of her suddenly, and she covered her buttocks with the dress, swallowing loudly.

She could feel his cum flowing out of her straight onto the couch. He saw it as he got up, zipping up his pants. He swallowed hard, looking at her with black eye. He got up from the couch, obviously not knowing what to say for a moment. In the end he managed only two words as he headed towards his bedroom.

"Good night."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @amirawritespoorly @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13

[incorrectbatfam]

I need to know the story behind these goons

Anon is referring to these guys

Rob is a single parent with 6-year-old twins who turned to a life of theft to provide for his family after a series of layoffs and a bad investments left them hanging by a thread. As his schemes got more elaborate, he linked up with the rest of these guys in a deal where they all give each other a hand.

Blaise is a concert pyrotechnic who walked away from the industry after their boss ignored a safety issue that led to one of their coworkers getting hurt so now they only take freelance gigs that happen to be commissioned by bad guys.

Kellin got fired from the League of Assassins after only week because they botched a training exercise Wile E. Coyote style and blew up Ra's Al Ghul's sauna but still has the thirst for blood that made them wanna be an assassin in the first place.

Molly was a chemistry grad student until an academic dispute forced her to drop out. Now she synthesizes her own experimental drugs and sells them on the black market, hoping to save enough to pay for her gender reassignment.

Otto is a jaded car mechanic who has to keep working despite his old age and chronic pain, and at this point he's too tired to care who he's working with or what he's doing so long as his needs are being met.

Milo is a teenager with a long string of disciplinary issues who ran away from home after his parents threatened to ship him off to military school. He starts working odd jobs to support himself and lands amongst the rest of these guys.

Gene was pressured into going into biomedical research by an overbearing family and snapped under the stress, leading to a rampage that cost thousands in property damage and a decade of lost data. Everyone he knew cut him off and he's laying low from the authorities.

Mac has been stuck in the same dead-end IT job for years and longs for a challenge that no career seems to satisfy. He turns to being a gray hat hacker in his spare time, mainly for the thrills and the opportunity to be creative. Any money he earns is circulated back into his operation.

Booker is just there for college credit but he likes it and plans to stick around. His talents include fixing copy jams and setting up team bonding activities at the mini golf course.

[whimsyvixen]

You planning on making a one-short/fic about dream hunk? I've also had a similar dream years ago of a dude breaking into my house and he was originally robbing my house until he came into my room when I was asleep. Now just imagine... Somnophilia -> non-con + dacryphilia -> dub-con + rough sex -> praise + breeding + claiming. Hehehehehe

First time I woke from a dream scaroused LMAO So hunky dream man is just ISGBDSYH PLEASE I NEED IT LIKE HOW SPONGEBOB NEEDS WATER, PLEASE WHIMSY

SOMNOPHILIA? BREEDING AND CLAIMING? 👀👀

AGGHHH~~ 😩😍😍🫠🫠!!! Anon!! You're just as twisted in the head as me~~ 🖤♥️🖤! I LOVE IT~~!! 🤩

To answer your question, I have not decided yet. I'm waiting for my next day off to begin brainstorming ideas in order to give my stalker bf some lore and perhaps even a name before I approach the possibility of a fic. It would be different from what I'm used to writing as it would be an original work so I gotta make this brain work overtime to give me some good stuff. Your last comment though? Hilarious 🤣! It's very encouraging to read comments like these so I will do my best to hopefully make your request a reality. 🫶

But hey, low-key we need to talk about that dream of yours, I want to know every juicy detail you can remember hehe~ 💋. Hope you have a wonderful day!

[lol-jackles]

I think I need context. Does Creation Ent have the habit of doing group shots? Was this a one-off and R2 happened to be left out because they were on stage?

Not the same anon, but yes. There was a group shot taken while R2 were on stage and Rich got weird and pissy about it online (besides his tweet, he also retweeted a couple fans ones talking about how important R2 are to the SPN fandom). So CE photoshopped R2 in and reposted. The thing is, it wasn't like ONLY R2 were left out, there were actually a LOT of guests not in the pic but Rich only cared about him and Rob missing.

Original pic: https://x.com/CreationEnt/status/1827815114105385268 Photoshopped pic they reposted: https://x.com/CreationEnt/status/1829243100411355438

Rich's og post: https://x.com/dicksp8jr/status/1827842304536699219 Repost of the photoshopped pic: https://x.com/dicksp8jr/status/1829253548133232774

posts Rich retweeted after his first tweet and before the photoshopped pic was posted: https://x.com/twicksterart/status/1827847844146929696 https://x.com/rsjrfanworld/status/1828022471624126714

Wait, R2 are no longer working Fridays? Who took over? It's stuff like this I kind of sort of regretted noping out on Fridays and doing partial Saturdays and see for myself the R2 in action. I would only accept R2 as the "heart of the show" re one of the tweets I saw, is if Richard says to Rob. "This one time at band camp, you totally looked like Alyson Hannigan twin."

What, before your time? So anyways...

Original picture. Lol Cliffy Kosterman snuck himself in..

What Richard retweeted

Photoshopped picture.

Yeah, I don't get it. Look, even the biggest talents like Mariah Carey and Tom Cruise are not supposed to get a pass for their huge egos. Yes they do get away with a lot because they bring in the huge stacks on money, but they're not supposed to because managing your egos is just being considerate to your colleagues. Rich and Rob are as low-tier C listers as one can get.

Are Rich and Rob so broke that they don't even own accountability?

[shiorilizzy]

(sorry, can you keep this anon ;w; I'm just not assuming these thoughts HAHAHA thank youuuu 🙏)

I just read your trope about Yan!Wriothesley punishing reader and hhhhhhhhh the brainrottttttt

And then I thought "what if reader instead of submitting just... broke?" Like they became so desperate that they couldn't take it anymore and straight gave up on Wriothesley's cock. So they even started rejecting Wriothesley's advances because "what's the point anyway" with how sad, empty and desensitised the lack of his cock makes them feel

(please completely ignore this if it makes you uncomfortable ;v;)

Part 1 || Ending 1 || Ending 2

I call this ending a dark version and a little bit OOC

Pairing: Yandere!Wriothesley x Female Reader

Warning: Gangbang, Free use, Mind break, Unappropriate words

Cannot tolerate the emptiness, you turn mad and ask some prisoners yourself. 

But no one dared to touch Wriothesley’s property. One of them even reported this to him.

When he listened to it, he turned furious. He found and dragged you back to your bedroom.

“HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND??”

Yes, you lost your mind already, you can’t think straight anymore. If he denies you, you will find someone else. Anyone, just come and fuck her.

You shouted at him how you hate him, how you hate the way he used power to confine you, to rob your freedom. You cried and laughed like a crazy person. If he wants to ruin you, then you will become as low as you want.

Wriothesley clenched his jaw, he gripped your hair tight and made you look at him.

“If you act like a slut. Why don’t we make you a true slut?”

He really meant what he said.

He called some men who had good behavior these months to come over. Saying that they can fuck you as a reward.

Those prisoners were scared at first. But looking at your horny state, and thinking about how long they haven’t gotten a chance to touch a woman, they started to surround you.

Their shadow was all over you. You were stunned by their lustful eyes. You did ask for men, but not this many.

But it was too late, those hands were all over your body. And you were truly became a slut, an object.

You officially became a release plaything for all the Fortress. Whoever has good behavior can fuck you. Although there were some rules from The Warden.

The productivity and revenue of the factory rose sharply in these months.

Now, every day you have to serve cocks. All you have to think about is cocks. Your hole and body never lack of cum. Those men come and go whenever they want, even when you are in your sleep.

Something was still missing inside you, but you didn’t know what exactly it was. You didn’t even know why your tears were falling.

Wriothesley stood from afar, looking at you lying there as a lowly slut. 

He was hurt and furious as hell when you moaned and screamed at other cocks. He wanted to tear them apart and fuck you himself until you begged for mercy, until you swear to be a good girl.

But he is a patient person, so he waited. He waited for you to realize how much he meant to you. You will come to him in your own will and ask for forgiveness.

But if you keep staying like that. Then it’s okay. At least you have what you want and contribute to the fortress now. Or maybe he will turn mad and take you back, confine you in his room forever.

It’s okay. Everything is under control, no matter what happens, he will manage it.

Part 1 || Ending 1 || Ending 2

[lovebytheoutlaw]

Can you do NSFW/SFW headcanons for Javier? 👉👈 i am out here begging for content with him

You've kept me waiting, anon! *evil smirk* I love writing for Javier! He's probs my fave to write for! There definitely isn't enough content with him, and I am happy to provide!

Javier sfw headcanons

*nsfw under the cut ;)*

Such a gentleman! Helps you on and off your horse; holding your waist from behind when you're doing chores, kissing your cheek, and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. Just making you feel so safe, loved, and wanted

If you want, he'll teach you guitar! He's quite patient, especially when it comes to you, and a great teacher! Same if you asked to learn his native tongue. He'd appreciate your desire to learn and the thought of being able to converse with only you two understand each other at camp excites him

If he's having a bad day, he most likely won't talk about it right away. Instead, he'll ask you to go fishing with him, leading to you two sitting by the water silently until he's ready

Constantly making you melt with pet names! 'Mi amor', 'hermosa', 'querida', 'carino'. Serenading you, locking his eyes, full of love, as he plays just for you

Compliments you every day! "That outfit looks gorgeous on you", "You look so pretty in the firelight", "That color really brings out your pretty eyes" SUCH A FLIRT

*Wearing his poncho he gave you earlier that day* "Woah, where'd you get that poncho? I have one just like it! It's quite nice, right? *wink*"

Sarcastic banter back and forth, laughing when one of you runs out of comebacks

Kissing you before he leaves for a job you can't come with for, promising he'll be safe, kissing you when he returns, and cuddles you to sleep and again when you wake up

You can always make him laugh, even if your attempt at such was lackluster. He's so smitten by you!

Warm hugs, very good at comforting you, will listen to you talk about anything and everything, accepting of who you are, and protects you if you need it

Javier nsfw headcanons

*cracks fingers, stretches back* let's get it

CW: nsfw, sexual themes, knifeplay, degradation

Skillful fingers, not just on his instrument, but on yours as well! (If ya know what I mean) He'll catch you often staring at his fingers when he plays, or when you two are sat at a table. Purposefully tapping his fingers on said table, letting you know he noticed

He loves making out, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking on your tongue, moaning low into your mouth

Obviously, knifeplay. As long as you're comfortable and consent to it! Dragging the blade lightly up you body, the cool metal on your skin making you shiver. Holding the knife to your throat (gently!!) as he thrusts achingly slow into you. He also likes you wielding the knife some times too when you're in the mood to be dominant.

Never makes you do anything you aren't comfortable doing. Sets up safe words for the both of you. A TON of communication before anything happens

Turns you on just with his words. He's an expert at flirting, so it makes sense he would be at talking dirty as well! Soaking yourself just from him growling naughty things in your ear that when he reaches down there, he smirks, "Already wet, mi amor? All for me?"

Possessive af. "Who's this pussy/hole belong to? Say it." Marking you up, bruising your skin with his mouth, and fingerprints blemishing your hips

Javier has a stamina out of this world when it comes to sexual activity, and the sex drive of a rabbit. He'll fuck you anywhere and everywhere. All day, any day. Against a tree, at the campfire, in your tent, a hotel. Even a stagecoach after robbing it once. You guys don't mention that one much

Praises the hell out of you! "My good girl", "you're doing amazing, hermosa". However, he also likes to mix in degradation some times if you're into it~! "Take it like a good girl", "look at those pretty tears", "mierda, I love using that beautiful hole"

Slight humiliation, like making you bark, or putting you in embarrassing positions for his pleasure. Loves overstimulation

Loves making slow, sexual, intimate love to you as much as he loves rough fucking. Holds you close, kissing every inch of your skin, taking his time on you, relishing in your elongated moans, and caressing your face. "Te quiero, mi vida"

Aftercare is never skipped. He cleans you up, letting you rest (you need it after that), bringing you water, holding you and asking you if everything was okay, if there was anything you didn't like. Falls asleep with you in his arms, your face in his chest, legs intertwined

[fiber-optic-alligator]

I would love to see some TFA swindle soft vore with a Gn!human <3

Thanks for the request, anon! Here it is! TFA Swindle is so silly, I love how funky he looks. Just a fun salesman who definitely has never broken any laws :D

Deal Or No Deal

Pairing: TFA Swindle x Gn!human Reader

WARNING: This story contains soft vore. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read this story.

Word Count: 3230

Summary: After accepting a job as an errand runner for a local arms dealer, you are tasked with sneaking into a warehouse located in an old Detroit harbor freight yard and stealing a piece of Decepticon weaponry. Things go wrong when a certain money-hungry mech catches you red-handed and decides he is in charge of you’re fate.

You hate your job.

  “It’ll be quick and easy.” You quietly hype yourself up as you walk past various decrepit buildings, your steps bouncing off of their walls and echoing around you, creating an ominous phenomenon in which it sounds like someone is following in your wake. Too many times you’ve glanced back just to make sure your imagination was simply running wild and you were truly alone.

  “Just get in, find the piece, and get out.” You reach into your pants pocket and pull out the crumpled map of the freight yard. This part of the harbor is an unsavory neighborhood, too dated to be put to use, yet too expensive to gut and start anew. Thus, it’s trapped in a standstill, with local black market meetings happening frequently and without a hitch. Illegal materials are typically stored here too, due to the perfect real estate; not even the police are aware of how important this place really is.

  Tonight, you will be finding one of those exact materials…and you will be stealing it.

  “No problem. It’s no problem.” You study the map one last time, then tuck it away. “Find the prize. Get it to the boss. Easy. It’ll be fine.”

  You aren’t a thief. Well, you weren’t a thief until now. But you're low on cash, and the threat of going broke is just too high. You don’t want to be out on the streets, so you went down a rough road: you’ve become an errand runner for hire. A local arms dealer wants you to smuggle an extremely powerful weapon out of the freight yard and into his hands. “It’s nothing I’ve ever seen before,” he had told you. “A cannon left behind by those Cybertronian-whatevers. It’s alien. And I want it.”

  The amount of money he offered to pay you was too much for you to resist. So here you are, against your better judgment, robbing one horrible person for the benefit of another.

  Well, you don’t know if this other person you're stealing from is horrible. The only information given to you about them was where they keep their goods. But judging from the fact that they’re directly contributing to Detroit’s crime rate, you have to assume they’re pretty terrible.

  And so am I. You wince when you think about it. I’m no better. I’m a coward who can’t even land a real job.

  No time to pity yourself. You chose this profession. There’s no chance for you to go back on it. At least after you complete this job, maybe you can return to some semblance of a normal life…if you aren’t arrested and sent to prison, that is.

  The warehouse you are looking for sits right on the edge of the harbor. It’s massive, with shoddy wooden walls riddled with graffiti and sheets of cheap metal nailed to cover up holes. Standing before it now, you feel a shiver go down your spine. Definitely the creepiest place in Detroit, this building is.

  Drawing in a deep breath, you head for the large sliding doors. One of them is just barely open. It’s enough space for you to slip through.

  Inside, it’s dark. There are lights above, but there is no sign of a switch, and even if there was, you doubt they’d turn on. The warehouse is filled with giant boxes: crate after crate stacked upon each other, some of them reaching so high, you have to wonder just who the hell is in charge of this operation. It’s quiet. You remain still, holding your breath to listen for any signs of activity, like guards or people bringing in recent shipments.

  Nothing.

  Somehow, that causes you to be on edge even more.

  You really, really hate your job.

  According to your employer, the Cybertronian weapon is stored in a special crate marked with a Decepticon insignia. It’s one of a kind, so it should be relatively easy to find. You just have to hope it can be reached. As you tread lightly through the warehouse and peer up at the towers of storage, you're suddenly afraid you might have your first experience with using a forklift tonight.

  Thankfully, luck seems to be on your side. You come across the crate quickly; it’s set up in the corner of the building, nestled between other boxes so it can be obscured. You only spot it because you know what you're looking for. The Decepticon symbol peeks out at you revealingly, like it wants to be found.

  Jackpot, you think. Pushing the other boxes away, you grab your crowbar from your belt and wedge it between the crate’s cover.

  For a moment, you pause. A nervous idea of this possibly being a trap crosses your mind, but then you dismiss it. There’s no way anyone could have known you were coming. You and your boss were alone that night when you discussed this plan. Grunting, you force the crate open. Wood cracks as the cover springs up. Excitement fills you when you eagerly peek inside.

  Your heart drops.

  There’s nothing there. It’s empty.

  “Nononono.” You frantically sift your hands through the packing peanuts, but to no avail. The crate is devoid of anything but styrofoam.

  You stumble back dazedly and press your hand to your head. This is a trap. Someone did know you were coming. But how? And who?

  Low, steady thumping answers you.

  It sounds like footsteps. No, they are footsteps. Heavy, boot-like pounding against the floor is accompanied by a large shadow casting over you. Suddenly, the warehouse lights blaze on. You have to shield your eyes to avoid earning a headache.

  “Well, well, well,” a voice says. “What do we have here?”

  You blink and lower your hands. Standing in front of you, towering above the stacks of crates, is a giant robot with dull golden armor and purple eyes. He gives you an easygoing smile and speaks with the same smooth voice you heard before. “And why might you be here, little mouse?”

  You gape at him with no words you can say. The robot chuckles and crosses his arms over his chest. “Didn’t find what you were looking for?” He inclines his head to the crate. “Don’t beat yourself up about it, it’s not your fault. I knew your boss was going to make a move for the cannon way before he decided to send you for it.”

  “I-I-uh-” you stammer.

  “Yes?” he asks.

  “G-Giant…r-robot.”

  His smile widens and he raises a brow. “That’s what I am. The proper term would be Cybertronian, though.”

  “Y-You're one of them.” Your eyes flicker to the scowling symbol on his chest. “You're a Decepticon.”

  “Technically, yes. However, I consider myself a Decepticon in name only. I wear this badge as a sign of partnership with my best customers.”

  “Customers?” you echo.

  “Right. Guess I should introduce myself.” The mech extends his arms in an open greeting. “The name’s Swindle. I run a tight business of weapons selling, weapons building, weapons trading…basically, if you want something that’ll make your enemies go boom, I’m the guy you want to call. And you, little mouse, are currently stealing from me.”

  You look around you. “Wait. So this…all of this…is yours?”

  “Yup. It’s quite the haul, isn’t it? This loot is going to be spread all across Detroit to different buyers, Cybertronian or not. I don’t discriminate, you see. If you have the means to pay for it, I can get it for you. Earth is a violent place, little mouse. And where there’s violence, there’s money to be made.”

  A compartment slides open from his chest. He reaches into it and pulls out a large gray cannon with the Decepticon coat of arms on its side. “This is what you came here for, right?” Swindle says. “Your boss wants it so he can blast a bunch of banks open.”

  You swallow hard and nod.

  “Let me ask you this.” He drops the cannon back in. The compartment closes, and he crouches down to get more on your level. “Do you think I like it when people steal from me?”

  “I-I didn’t steal from you!” you answer.

  “You were going to.”

  “But I didn’t!”

  “You had the intention, and that counts.” He shrugs. “I’m what you humans call a cool cat, kid. I do business and I go on with my life. But when I find little mice snooping around my warehouse, trying to take things that don’t belong to them…” His gaze darkens and he bares his teeth. “I decide it’s time to show my claws.”

  You take a nervous step back. “I-I’m sorry! I really am! But I had no choice! I-I need this job! I need the money!”

  For a moment, he simply studies you. Then he leans back into the calm attitude from before, and grins. “Hm. What if I were to offer you a deal?”

  It takes you a moment to register what he just said. “A deal?” you say. “Why would you want to make a deal with me? I just tried stealing from you!”

  “I know. Trust me, I’m not letting you off the hook. But I find myself feeling bad for you, little mouse. You're just someone who’s down on your luck and trying to get back on your feet. I appreciate that. And…I see potential in you.”

  “…Potential?”

  His eyes sparkle with dangerous intent. “Yes. Potential. You're small. Quick. You can sniff things out and have a great sense of direction while doing it. I could use someone like you. A stealthy little robber who can sneak in and get things that a giant lumbering robot can’t. Do you see where I’m going with this?” He pokes you gently in the ribs. You yelp and jump back. “I’m offering you a job.”

  You rub your side and glare at him. “I already have a job.”

  “Correction. You had a job.” Swindle tilts his head. “If you go back to your boss empty-handed, you’ll suffer for it. I know how he works, and trust me, what he does to those who fail isn’t pretty. But me? I’m fair. I’m lenient. Your work hours won’t kill you, and I’m not going to dump your dead body into the lake if something goes sour. This is an opportunity for you. What do you say?” He holds his hand out. “Do we have a deal?”

  You eye his hand apprehensively, then take another step back. “No. I’m done with this. I never wanted to be a thief. I’m not working for a giant robot who can kill me at any chance.”

  He throws his hands up, exasperated. “Did you not hear a word I just said?”

  “I don’t care what you said!” You turn on your heel and march away. “What my boss does to me doesn’t matter anymore! I’m not going through with this sort of life!”

  Swindle sighs, and his tone hardens. “Ah, geez, you're going to make me be the bad guy, huh. Alright, fine, I can be the bad guy.”

  You let out a strangled shriek when you are unexpectedly yanked into the air. Swindle unceremoniously lifts you up by the back of your shirt, bringing you close to his face. “Listen, mouse,” he growls. “You have two options to choose tonight: either you agree to work for me, or I can sell you to other people who are worse than your boss. You want to end up collared and turned into a Decepticon’s pet?”

  You stop your desperate struggle to stare at him in horror. “Y-You wouldn’t do that!”

  “Wouldn’t I? I’m a daytrader, little one. I may specialize in weapons, but that doesn’t mean I don’t take up animal handling once in a while.” He shakes you a little, earning a cry from you. “So, what’s it going to be? This is a limited time offer, so you better make up your mind while it lasts.”

  You stare at him, and you know he’s being completely serious. You have no option here except to agree to his terms. A pit forms in your stomach with roots of anxiety spreading through you, thriving on your fear. He notices how you’ve begun to shake, and grins with the knowledge that he has you.

He holds his hand out to you once more. “I’ll ask again. Do we have a deal?”

  You hesitate…then reluctantly extend your own hand to him. He takes your palm between his index finger and thumb and shakes it gently. “There.” Swindle looks satisfied. “Was that so hard? You’ve made the right choice, little mouse. Now, for your punishment.”

  “Wait, what?” You yank your hand back. “Punishment? What punishment!?”

  “The punishment.” He says this like it’s common knowledge. “You tried to steal from me. I just can’t let that go. What kind of message would I be spreading to the competition if they were to know I’m too soft with thieves?”

  “But I accepted your terms! I work for you now! What more could you want from me?”

  He tsks and shakes his head. “This has nothing to do with the deal, little mouse. This has everything to do with the fact that your old boss thinks I’m someone he can send his cronies to steal from.” He lifts you higher, and his gaze softens, only for a moment. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you. You're still a greenie in the trade, so there’s no reason to draw this out. Just relax and everything will be fine.”

  You squirm and clutch at the fingers holding you, confused. “What are you-?”

  He opens his mouth. You find yourself staring down into the abyss of his throat, pulsing with a gentle purple light. Then your eyes widen and your heart crashes when he begins lowering you towards it.

  WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” you yell while you squirm, kick, flail, do anything you can to fight back against what you realize is happening. “PUTMEDOWNPUTMEDOWNPUTMEDOWNPUTMEDOWN!”

  You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the gaping jaws below you. Swindle’s tongue shifts with excitement and anticipation. The sight makes you scream until you think your own throat might bleed.

  The more you fight, the faster Swindle lowers you. You curse and threaten, so terrified that you aren’t even aware of what you are saying at this point, fresh tears pouring down your face.

“SWINDLE, PLEASE, DON’T-!”

  You break into a scream when he drops you.

  The impact is softer than what you brace for, and you fall onto his tongue with an “Oof.” For a moment, you lay there, little cries coming out with your rapid-tempo breaths, heart beating so hard you think you may have a heart attack.

  And then you come to your senses, and realize where you are.

  You are in Swindle’s mouth.

  You scramble forward, moving to throw yourself out of the sticky deathtrap, but it is too late; the robot’s teeth click closed, cutting you off from the outside world. “Nonono!” You bang your fists frantically on them. “Please, let me out! I don’t want to die! P-Please don’t do this!”

  Hot air wafts over your body when Swindle chuckles. The muscle beneath you moves and begins to slowly push you backwards. Thick globs of saliva suck at your legs as you are forced back towards his throat.

  “No, stop!” You claw at his tongue, trying everything in your power to prevent yourself from going down. The giant tilts his head back.

  With a loud squelching gulp, Swindle swallows, and you are sucked into his esophagus, the powerful muscles pulling you down.

  So many things happen at once. Your body is massaged from all sides by the throat, leaving you all but completely immobile. The sound of Swindle’s internal workings is thunder in your ears, so loud that you can’t even hear yourself think.

  The most terrifying noise, however, is the growling and gurgling coming from below. An ominous reminder of where you are ultimately going to end up.

  You are squeezed into the stomach and fall into the squishy chamber that, as soon as it is aware of your presence, closes in. From all sides you are massaged and kneaded by thick, muscular walls of synthetic organ that rubs saliva and fluid all over you. You push at the walls with a terrified air of desperation, your lungs constricting like you can’t breathe. “Let me out!” you beg your captor. “Please, I don’t want this!”

  Swindle rumbles out another chuckle that sounds so much deeper now that you are in here. The walls quiver, laughing right along with him. “I don’t care what you want, little mouse. I’m your boss now, and I want you to sit in there and think about what you’ve done.”

  “I’m sorry! I’m sorry for trying to steal from you! Just please, spit me up! I-I don’t want to die!” Your voice breaks. The situation is truly hopeless now.

  Swindle groans. “Geez, how many times do I have to tell you, kid? You're not going to die. Do you feel any acid in there? Is your skin melting off of your bones?”

  You pause and look at your arms. The glow of the mech’s biolights gives you a dim image of your limbs: sticky and slimy…but not in any pain, and certainly no terrible wounds visible.

  “…No,” you mumble in disbelief.

  Swindle speaks to you like a parent does with their child. “See? You're in no pain. Nothing bad is going to happen to you. You're safe. Now relax and settle down.”

  “If I’m safe, then why did you decide to eat me?!”

“I already said this. You need to learn a lesson. A few hours in there will teach you not to steal from others…well, at least, not to steal from me. You’ll be doing plenty of theft in the future. But I’ll pay you for it, and you’ll never have to worry about going hungry or living on the streets ever again.”

  Your fear begins to diminish, and it’s replaced with indignation. “Of all the ways to teach me a lesson, it had to be like this?”

  The stomach shakes boisterously when Swindle laughs. “Sorry, kid. I had to scare the crap out of you somehow so you’d learn. You need to know your place in this profession.” He presses his hands right over where you are tucked inside and gives you a little squeeeze. “Now sit tight and relax for me, okay? I’ll let you out in a few hours. You're safe.”

  You grumble and give the stomach walls a disgruntled shove. The organ flexes to hug you, forcing you to sink into the warmth. Now that you’ve calmed down, you find that it’s actually…kind of nice in here. The constant massaging feels good on your exhausted body. The soft violet glow is soothing to your eyes. And though you hate to allow yourself, because you're still rather pissed off with him…you finally relax.

  “There you go,” he murmurs. “That’s right. Nice and warm.” The walls ripple when he gives his abdomen a pat. “You know, I think this is going to be the start of a beautiful friendship.”

  You give in and release a soft breath. You’ve gotten yourself into quite the pickle here. But with how warm it is, and relaxed you are…maybe working for this robot won’t be so bad.