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motorsportbarbie13 · 3 months ago

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Aftermath - Chapter 5

Aftermath - MV33 - Chapter 1 Aftermath - Chapter 2 Aftermath - Chapter 3 Aftermath - Chapter 4 Master List

When Lando leaves you heartbroken after you get tired of trying to make something out of nothing for far too long, Max steps in to help you pick up the pieces.

warnings: this chapter contains language and descriptions that illustrate abuse (mental and emotional). please don't engage with my work if you find any of the topics triggering. lando is, once again, an absolute asshole in this. i'd also like to point out that this is a character i am writing, i in no way am insinuating or implying the real lando is like this in any way.

pairing: max verstappen x leclercsister!reader

word count: 4k or something like that?

(Everyone say ‘thank you’ to @lestapiastrisgirl for beta reading and helping me through late night plot crisis so this can come out today!!)

f1.gossip.source posted

f1.gossip.source It's been months since @/Lando and @/MissLeClerc have been spotted togtether and we're starting to wonder...are they even together anymore?! Lando was spotted out alone in Monaco, looking annoyed at fans calling his name while his (ex???) girlfriend was papped out and about with none other than...Max Verstappen. Again. Rumors about the LeClerc sister and Dutch driver started to swirl right around the time her and Lando stopped being seen out in public...What do we think, chat??? Has little miss leclerc finally ditched the cocky British pilot for a new Dutch beau??? user029 maybe she got tired of having to parent her boyfriend??? user220 if it's true, she's really upgraded. 4 time world champion vs...what??? 4 time race winner. please. user0298 he never supported her art or anything, i'm not surprised she's moved on. max always looks smitten with her.

“Lando, you have got to get this under control.” The head of McLaren’s communications team hisses, her glare shooting daggers at the driver who’s just walked into the the hospitality building ahead of the race in Belgium.

Lando glances up from his phone, face pale and eyes worried. “How the fuck am I supposed to control what the gossip pages post?”

Marina throws her hands up in the air as she paces, her McLaren team kit wrinkled from lack of sleep thanks to the British driver. In the four weeks since your argument with Lando after Austria, things have only gotten worse. You’re still not talking to him and he still hasn’t figured out where the hell you’re living. You’re not staying with Charles and Alexandra or Jade, he’s been subtly watching both buildings. He knows you’re still in Monaco because you’ve been papped out with your family and friends but most maddeningly Max Verstappen.

Everyone seems to have noticed you’re not living with Lando anymore, your appearances in his streams have dwindled down to nothing. Fewtrell has had to start banning people form his chat because they won’t stop asking about you and what’s going on. Everyone knows that something went down but you’re straight up refusing to behave like an adult and come back to Lando, where you belong and it’s infuriating.

“You can’t, obviously.” Marina sighs, sitting down at one of the high top tables in the middle of the suite.

Around her, the Thursday afternoon crew of engineers and communications people buzz, all prepping for their weekends. Everyone seems to be acting normal but Lando can feel their glares on his back as he walks through the building. They all know he’s causing the entire team grief by causing so much drama with you, taking the attention away from the decent start to the year they’d had before all hell had broken loose a few months ago.

“But,” She continues, leveling a glare at Lando. “You either need to bite the bullet and release a joint statement with her announcing your breakup or you need to get her to the track this weekend and make a big show of a united front. It’s up to you Lando, but you need to do something. I can’t keep saying ‘no comment’ whenever we’re asked about the distraction this is causing the team.”

Lando pulls at his curls, like hell he’s going to admit that you’d left him. He supposed he could go rogue and release a statement without you. That way he could control the narrative and try to get the fans back on his side if he made something up like a cheating scandal or something. The moment that the thought flutters through his mind, he forces it out. For some fucking reason, the fans seem to have a soft spot for you and it’s maddening. Lando knew there was no way he could get public opinion on his side, not with how he was getting ripped apart on socials right now.

“We’re not broken up.” He bites out, taking a sip out of his water bottle as he contemplates what he can do.

Marina glances up from her phone, brow lifted in question. “That’s not what it looks like here.” She turns her phone towards Lando and shows him a photo of you descending the stairs of a private jet that’s just landed in Belgium. In front of you, already down the stairs and waiting on the tarmac for you is your brother with Leo cradled in his arms.

And behind you? A fiery rage burns bright and hot in Lando’s chest when he sees who’s behind you.

Fucking Max Verstappen.

The look you’re giving him makes his heart twist and for the first time since this entire thing began, Lando actually misses you. He misses the way you used to smile up at him like that, like your entire world revolved Lando and no one else. He missed the way your eyes would follow him around a room, how your body would center towards his. The way you looked at Max was how you used to look at him and it made jealousy twist violently deep in Lando’s gut just looking at the photo.

“I’ll take care of it.” Lando spits before stalking off to the privacy of his drivers room.

f1.gossip.source posted

f1.gossip.source Alexandra, Charles, and his little sister were seen arriving in Belgium this afternoon on Max Verstappen's private jet. It's yet another instance where the LeClerc sister was spotted without boyfriend Lando Norris, sparking new breakup rumors. Neither party has confirmed if they're still together, with McLaren PR insisting that the personal lives of their drivers are off limits. user019 honestly, I'm here for a LeClerc sister & Max relationship. >>>user028 me too. at least Max seems to actually like her, unlike Lando user0029 I mean, we all can see it. Why can't they just confirm it already??? user2333 fully on board the 'get her away from Lando train' ROOTING FOR YOU MAX!!! Get your girl!!! user029 my friend was out at the restaurant they were all at a few weeks ago and said that Lando crashed the dinner but left after a few minutes looking PISSED. >>>user029 honestly, Lando is kind of unhinged rn. get over her my man, move onnnnnnn!

“I can’t believe you got me to agree to come this weekend.” You grumble as you follow Max towards the paddock gates Friday morning before practice.

“You’ve barely been to any races this year and it’s almost the end of July!” Max shoots over his shoulder, grinning like an idiot he’s so happy you decided to come this weekend.

“I was at Monaco!” You protest lamely, shoving your elbow into your brother’s ribs when he laughs.

“You live in Monaco, that doesn’t count Little Dove.” Charles chuckles, rubbing at the sore spot where you’d just assaulted him.

“Whatever.” You mutter, rolling your eyes.

After arriving in Belgium last night, you had gone straight to your hotel room, needing a bit of alone time ahead of what you were sure was going to be a stressful weekend. As usual, you’d been papped arriving on Max’s jet, which you were certain Lando had seen because the moment you had checked your messages in the SUV Max had rented for your little group, there had been a text waiting for you from him.

I know you probably don’t want to see me and I get that. I’m sorry, from the bottom of my heart. Can we please get together this weekend and talk? Somewhere neutral if that’s what you want…

As you settled into the hotel room that was yours for the weekend, a war was being fought in your brain. On one hand, you didn’t trust a single thing coming from Lando’s mouth. Not a single thing. He hadn’t given you any reason to trust anything that he said for months, so why should you start now? But on the other hand…

On the other hand, you and Lando had so much history. His message seemed remorseful. You knew everyone in your life would kill you if you even entertained the idea of getting back with him but somewhere deep in your chest a little voice was saying maybe you should hear him out. He was finally leaving you alone, finally backing off, why did he have to pop up right when you thought you had finally gotten him fully out of your system?

You didn’t tell anyone Lando had texted you. Had been texting you all morning as well. You knew no one would understand. But you also hadn’t returned a single text either. The energy that responding to Lando would take was something that you just didn’t have today.

Your little group is captured by photographers as you walk in, a few even call out your name asking where you’ll be spending your time this weekend. Since dating Lando, you liked to split your time between the McLaren garage and Ferrari but this weekend was going to be different. Your VIP pass had Charles’ face and name on the back, not Lando’s. You had credentials from Ferrari like normal but this morning, Max had also slipped a Red Bull card around your neck, telling you if you got sick of looking at all that red this weekend, you could spend time with him.

“Are you going to come to the dark side this weekend and use those Red Bull credentials to whip up some gossip?” Max murmurs in your ear, watching as Charles trots off ahead of you after Leo.

You bump your shoulder with his, rolling your eyes and laughing lightly. “Stop.”

Mischief plays in Max’s pale blue eyes as he smiles down at you, enjoying the way your cheeks flush under his attention. Ever since the race in Austria a few weeks ago, you and the Dutch driver had been spending a lot of time together, all casual but he’d really begun to look forward to the nights you spent curled up on his couch eating takeout and watching bad reality tv with him.

Before he has a chance to reply though, he sees the color drain from your face as you freeze in the middle of the sidewalk. Whipping his head around, Max searches for what, or more accurately, who has spooked you. He already knows who he’s looking for so when his eyes settle on the McLaren driver standing just outside the sliding glass doors of the McLaren hospitality building across the paddock, his stomach lurches.

You had known you’d see Lando this weekend. How could you not? This was literally his workplace too. There was no way to avoid him, you knew that but you hadn’t expected to see him so quickly and before you had managed to work out how to respond to his text from the night before.

Your brother is between where you stand and McLaren’s hospitality so he clocks Lando staring after you at about the same time as you and Max. Turning on his heel, he scoops up Leo and makes a bee line back to where you stand, utterly frozen.

“Dovie.” Max coos in your ear, twining his fingers with yours in an attempt to pull you out of the state you’re in. “Hey, sweet girl, look at me.”

You ignore him, gaze locked on Lando’s frozen frame.

Charles steps in between you and Lando, instantly cutting off your line of sight. This seems to yank you back to reality and your brother snaps into action. “Shit. I’ve got a meeting in five minutes. I don’t want her alone.” Your brother sounds panicked, like the way you’re just staring blankly ahead is really freaking him out.

So, he improvises. “Here, take Leo and go take a walk. There’s tons of open space on the other side of the paddock.” Charles presses the small dog into your hands and you drop your gaze away from Lando for the first time in several moments.

Your gaze drops to where your hand is still clutched in Max’s larger one. The steady warmth from his presence grounds you, allowing you to pull in a full breath for the first time in several minutes.

“No, she’s not going off on her own.” Max cuts in, tone sharp. “I’ve got some time before I need to be in the car. Come stay in Red Bull with me until practice, then you can watch from my garage, okay?”

The force of his words leave little wiggle room for argument and Charles can’t help but smirk a little. He should have known Max would step right up to make sure you were taken care of.

“Yeah.” You agree weakly, finally tearing your gaze away from Lando, who is still starting at you, light eyes sharp and observant. You can feel the way his gaze drops to where Max’s hand is curled around yours possessively. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

Without waiting for Lando to get any more ideas like wanting to try to come talk to you, Max tugs on your hand. He knows you well enough by now to know that you need a distraction and you need it fast. “Come on, you said you wanted to stir up some gossip this weekend, well here’s your chance.”

You laugh despite yourself, nuzzling your face into Leo’s soft fur. “I’m keeping the dog.” You tell your brother as you allow yourself to be led away by Max. All Charles does is nod, relieved to know that you’re in good hands while he’s busy.

missleclerc posted

24,029 likes liked by maxverstappen1, charlesleclerc, redbullracing, and others missleclerc in my defense, I was kidnapped ☝🏻 maxverstappen1 whatever, you wanted to be there. >>>missleclerc lies. It was a hostage situation. >>>maxverstappen1 is that what the kids are calling it these days? >>>user299 chat, are they flirting in the comments??? WE CAN SEE YOU TWO charlesleclerc can't believe you subjected your nephew to this. please make sure you take a shower before dinner tonight. >>>missleclerc rude. user0209 ya know, I'm kinda here for this ship. >>>user987 did you see how utterly distracted Max was during the one interview where she walked past him? couldn't take his eyes off her >>>user0209 lando's gonna be crashing out after seeing that interview tonight >>>user3443 GOOD. bro deserves it

“I think you may need to roll me up to my room after that dinner.” You groan, rubbing at the food baby making your black leather skirt pinch painfully at your hips.

After qualifying Saturday evening, when the boys were all finished with their media and team duties, Max had insisted that you, your brother, Alexandra and himself all go out to dinner. He’d wanted to insist it just be the two of you but he wasn’t blind to the gossip you two had stirred up in the paddock Friday afternoon so he’d figured bringing your brother and his girlfriend along would be a bit safer.

“I think I ate my weight in spaghetti.” Alexandra groans beside you as you plod towards the front doors of the hotel. “Carry me up to the room please, Cha?” She coos, throwing her arms around your brother’s neck as if she can’t go on one step more.

Charles laughs, snaking his arms around her waist and pulls her close, dropping a kiss on her forehead, a gesture so tender and intimate you have to turn away. Your gaze immediately connects with Max who is standing a few paces behind your brother and his girlfriend. A small smile tips up at the corner of his full lips when you make eye contact at him and your stomach swoops at the affection for you in his eyes.

You’re imagining things, you think instantaneously. There’s no way Max sees you as anything other than a friend, after everything that you’ve endured while he’s watched. How could anyone like Max be attracted to someone who had spent an entire year drowning in a failing relationship? It was likely a pity smile, something he gives you because he feels sorry that you haven’t found what your brother has found in Alexandra.

“There you are…” A smooth British accent interrupts your thoughts, jarring you out of your spiral. “You stopped answering my texts.” Lando says pointedly as he joins your little group in the lobby of the hotel.

Your eyes shutter closed as you blow out a breath. You had been hoping to avoid this confrontation all together but it was just another nail in the coffin of why Max wouldn’t even want to begin to get involved with you in the first place. Why would he willingly want to be with someone who was still so intertwined with her ex still? You’ve spent so long with Lando, were so intertwined with him it would certainly be easier to just go back to him, wouldn’t it? Maybe he was all you deserved after wasting three years of your life.

“I was at dinner, Lando. It’s rude to text during a meal.” You carefully control the tone of your voice, not wanting to instigate yet another public altercation with him.

“Ah, yes. I’m sure the company was riveting.” His eyes flicker over to where Max stands, stiff and unmoving, the smile that he’d just been showering you with totally gone from his face. “So, what do you say, can we finally talk like two adults?”

“She doesn’t want to talk to you, Norris.” Charles cuts in, voice sharp and short.

“I think your sister can answer for herself, LeClerc.” There’s a challenge in Lando’s eyes that you don’t miss and you know you have about five seconds to diffuse the situation before it gets out of hand. Again.

Placing your hand on Lando’s elbow, you tug him away. “If you promise to chill out and actually listen to me, we can go to the bar and get a drink. One drink, Lando. Can you do that?”

If you had been looking at Max then, you would have seen the light flicker out of his eyes. He’s grateful that his hands are tucked away in his pockets when he hears your words because the way the ball up into tight fists would be embarrassing had anyone seen it. He wants to say something, anything, that might convince you to not walk away with him. He wants to tell you how he’s feeling, how this afternoon with you in his drivers room and then garage was the best start to a race weekend he’d had in recent memory. He wants to beg you not to go with Lando.

But he can’t. He can’t because he still hasn’t worked up the courage to tell you how he feels. Max is stuck in this painful sort of limbo where you two spend time together and he craves any bit of attention he can glean from you but it’s not enough for him to risk your fragile state of being right now. He knows you’re still recovering from leaving Lando. Three years is a long time to spend with someone, even if the last year was as painful as Lando had made it for you. He knows you’re not ready for him to tell you how he’s feeling but he’s afraid if he doesn’t, you’ll go running back to Lando.

While the internal debate about what to do with his feelings rages on inside, Max watches as a cat-like grin spreads slowly across Lando’s face. He’s won. Lando’s won and they both know it.

“Of course, baby.”

You bristle at the name but without the energy to fight him, all you do is roll your eyes. Max’s mask of indifference somehow staying in place when he hears the nickname, but it tears him up on the inside. He’s not sure how he manages it.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow. Thanks for dinner, Max.” Taking a step towards Max, you fold yourself into him, enjoying the way his arms come around your waist without hesitation. The hug is firm and he holds onto you for several moments longer than necessary.

“I can stay down here if you want me to.” He murmurs in your ear, his breath tickling the shell of your ear, sending a cool shiver of pleasure down your spine.

“I’m a big girl, I can handle him.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about.” He responds, looking down at you. You’re surprised to see a stark look of concern all over his face, like he’s genuinely worried about you.

“Max, I’m fine. It’s just one drink.”

But Max knows Lando. It’s not just going to be one drink. But what other choice does he have? Reluctantly, he releases you and takes a step back, forcing himself out of arms length. You instantly miss the grounding warmth of his body and fight to keep your expression neutral.

Max watches you walk away, shoulder brushing with Lando’s and has to resist the urge to rub at the painful clenching sensation that wraps itself around his heart.

“You don’t have to watch her leave.” Charles murmurs, standing off to the side with a worried looking Alexandra. They both share Max’s opinion that this is a bad idea but like Max, what else can they say?

Max scrubs at his face, suddenly so overwhelmingly exhausted that all he wants to do is climb into bed and sleep until the race tomorrow. “What am I supposed to do, Charles?” He throws his hands up in defeat as you disappear around the corner just as Lando’s arm slips around your waist. “I don’t have a single claim on her, she’s not mine to miss.”

His stomach twists painfully at the thought of having to go back to his hotel room knowing you’re touching him.

“She won’t go back to him.” Charles says with more confidence than Max can muster up himself. “She’s been doing so well lately and we all see it’s partially because of you, mate.”

“Don’t give up on her, Max. Not yet.” Alexandra offers quietly, stepping closer to Charles before reaching out and placing a hand on Max’s shoulder. “She’s stronger than we all think but she’s going to need your patience right now. It’ll be okay.”

The way it physically hurt watching you walk away had alarm bells ringing in Max’s head. He hadn’t realized just how attached to you he’d become in the time since you’d left Lando and it terrified him. If you went back to Lando tonight, he had this gut feeling he’d lose you forever and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to endure that.

Max barely sleeps that night, tossing and turning for hours trying to convince himself he hadn’t just watched you walk right out of his life again. He knew he was, once again, getting ahead of himself and that he needed to wait before going into full spiral mode but he couldn’t quite get himself there.

By the time he’s downstairs in the hotel lobby the next morning, waiting for the car that Red Bull had hired for him, he’s exhausted and on the brink of biting someone’s head off.

“You doing okay over there, Verstappen? You seem a little…irritated.”

Max turns and has to stifle a groan. “Why can’t you just leave well enough alone, Lando?”

Lando has the nerve to look confused, brows furrowing as he tilts his head to the side. “I have no idea what you’re on about, mate.”

It takes every ounce of control Max has honed over the years not to punch the British driver square in the face. “Why are you so fixated on her now that she’s finally trying to get away from you?”

Lando smirks, quick and ugly, before he shakes his head. “See, now that’s where you’re wrong Max.” He reaches over and pats at Max’s shoulder patronizingly. “I don’t think she really wants to get away form me anymore. Not after last night.”

It feels like the breath has been sucked out of Max’s lungs at Lando’s words. “What the fuck are you talking about?” He hisses, heat creeping up his neck.

“You’re a smart man, Max. Use that big brain of yours. I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.” Lando grins like the Cheshire Cat as he shrugs. “Oh look, my ride’s here. Good luck out there today, Verstappen.”

Without waiting for a response because he knows full well he’s caught Max completely off guard, Lando saunters off, hands deep in his pockets, without a second look back at the Dutch driver.

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cowboyfromh3ll · 1 year ago

Note

you said to do headcannons right?

can you do sex headcannons for the members of the gang? Only ones you're comfortable with obv. Personally, I don't care much for Micah (I want to set him on fire) so feel free to leave him out if you don't feel like writing for him

But the usual Dutch, John, Javier, Arthur, Charles, and anybody else you feel like are just perfect. I love your writing, so I'm excited to see your take on these

Sex HC Ft. Van Der Linde Gang

(Dutch Van Der Linde, John Marston, Javier Escuella, Arthur Morgan, Charles Smith, Lenny Summers, Kieran Duffy, Micah Bell, Sean Macguire, Sadie Adler)

I should write for the girls more

Warnings: Smut, duh

Dutch Van Der Linde

He probably loves roleplaying

Pretending he's the outlaw and you're the officer punishing him

But most times he loves being in control of you, thinks it's so attractive when you submit completely to him and become his pliable little servant

Likes it when you wear expensive jewelry and gifts he buys you with nothing else on

Definitely wants you to call him Sir

Says the most poetic and flowery things to you during

Probably enjoys receiving but LOVES giving head. Views it as another way to take control

Quickies with him are non existent. To him, sex and intimacy are an art, and he will take his time with every little detail and aspect of it

Enjoys playful brattiness, definitely a brat tamer

I can see him being into BDSM. Ball gags, leather crops, leashes, blindfolds, etc

John Marston

Super messy, super rough, super desperate

Pussy eating pro. I'm talking mind blowing, back arching, toe curling, sheet gripping head. ALWAYS asks if he can go down on you

Acts like every time you two have sex will be the last

On the contrary though, I feel like he'd be into edging

Also doesn't mind letting you be dominant, he has such submissive energy

Mayhaps a mommy kink, because I can also see him calling you mommy

Would let you tie him up, totally at your mercy

He loses any semblance of shame, will beg, cry, whimper, you name it

Could consent to just about anything, if you tell him to bark he'll bark

Gets carried away when during sex sometimes, just gets absolutely drunk from pleasure

Javier Escuella

Incredibly romantic and passionate

He can fuck, but he can also make love

So much sexual stamina, and makes every time you have sex absolutely unforgettable

Loves to make sure you are as comfortable as possible and feel as though you have enough privacy. Even if it means paying for a hotel, he'll do anything to ensure your comfort

But if you wanna have risky public sex he's more than willing to as well lmao

Holds you and whispers how much he loves you while he thrusts slowly

But if y'all are fucking he'll say the filthiest shit he can conjur up in his mind while thrusting as hard and fast as he can

Slaps and grips anything he can hold onto

Overwhelms all of your senses and stimulates you in multiple ways at once

Loves cumming inside you but if not inside then on your torso or face

Arthur Morgan

Loves putting his whole weight on you when y'all fuck

Just simply pinning you down with the size of him drives him crazy

Is such a gentleman even during sex. Always stops and asks how you are and if you like how he's doing

Insists you don't have to go down on him but secretly loves it when you do

His favorite positions are ones where you're totally helpless like mating presses or locking your arms behind you

Whenever he fucks you from behind he wraps his massive arm around your neck. Idly squeezes down on your neck

Enjoys sex totally naked, makes it feel more intimate exposing yourselves fully to each other

But he loves it if you wear cute outfits for him just so he can take it off you

But he absolutely loves quickies. Complains they're too risky but every time you suggest one he's unbuckling his belt before you can finish your sentence

Definitely does the knee thing

Charles Smith

He is a pure giver. You will always cum at least 3 times or else he won't feel like he did a thorough job.

Will ignore his own aching cock as long as he can see you squirm in ecstasy

Your pleasure is his pleasure

Doesn't care if he doesn't get to cum tbh

Definitely aware of his size and uses it to his advantage if you're into that

Cages you in his arms, holds you down, puts you in choke holds, etc

I feel like he'd be pretty vanilla and you'd be the one to bring kinks to the table if anything. Will honestly do most anything you want if it brings you pleasure

Soft but firm touches, like every touch is done with intent and thought

Type to make out with you for hours without any actual stimulation and be content. Will see you off with the bluest balls.

Lenny Summers

He's still pretty young so I believe his experience would be limited

You two are probably eachother's first everythings, atleast you're his

Probably cums real fast but makes up for it with enthusiam

Will try out so many things with you, the two of you will both bring ideas to the table

Tries to start things off slow but his excitement gets the best of him

SO MUCH communication and talking during (feedback, jokes, etc...)

Very forward with his needs

Asks for hand/blow jobs a lot to blow off some steam

Very fast learner, and probably very risky

I feel like he'd ask to finger you a lot in risky situations

There's been instances where he just forgets foreplay altogether and just wants to go at it

Kieran Duffy

Submissive as hell

Definitely whimpers

Let's you take the lead 99% of the time

Will cum within five minutes max, and it really takes it out of him

Super sensitive literally everything. Touch him anywhere and he's blushing and squirming

Loves it if you wrap your thighs around his head

That being said, enjoys face sitting

Feels reassured when you tell him what to do and help him in the process

Hands roam all over you, it's like he can't fathom that you're a real being that's actually doing this with him

Eyes roll back and his face goes red when he cums. He's super embarassed about it

Micah Bell

SO rough. Drags you into position and commands you to do certain things

Likes slapping, hair pulling, spitting, I feel like he'd even be into piss. All of the above would go both ways for him.

Hate sex with him goes crazy ong. And after arguments? Just fucking all your anger away

Into degrading for sure

Sex is definitely the best emotional release for the both of you without actually hurting eachother

He's into marks. That entails scratches, bites, bruises

Make him bleed, literally beat the shit out of him during sex and he'll let it slide

Sex is a constant battle for dominance

Probably makes you do embarassing things for him like bark

Also puts you in obscene and embarassing positions just for his own pleasure

If anyone ever heard y'all have sex they'd think it sounds more like an argument and a fist fight than love making

Sean Macguire

The goofiest man during sex, not even intentionally either. He'll say the stupidest thing you've ever heard with his whole chest and you'll have to ask if he's serious

"You ready for the Macguire special?"

Loud ass moans, cannot contain them. If you're into public sex you better either prepare to be caught or mentally prepare yourself for the influx of scoldings/questions that'll come later

LOVES playful brattiness or when you want to take control. He's all for it

Has fantasies of being woken up with head

Will do the same for you in return if that's what it takes to enact his fantasies

Also into roleplay but way cornier shit like you're a nurse and he's a patient. Indulges in costumes as well

Drunk sex is the best because it's combining two of his favorite things

Sadie Adler

Also definitely does the knee thing...

Genuinely one of the sweetest and more passionate lovers, and it will translate during sex

Super gentle and passionate

Lot's of "I love you"s exchanged

Never any space between you, your limbs constantly intertwined as you kiss and move against eachother

Either of you can take the role as dom, it doesn't matter to her

Smiles the whole time out of pure adoration for you

Can be super sultry and kinky when the time calls for it though

Not opposed to being a little rougher but I can't see her going too far with that

Thinks you're far too delicate and special to be treated in such a way

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babyaiker · 9 months ago

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And quietly in the distance you can hear the Braithwaite Manor explode

But ye! Finally getting out of art block and I decided to draw these two! I’ve seen a small handful of posts talking about these two and how they could’ve been friends, but I know for a fact this is akin to an ask @honeyzephyr sent me ^^ At the time I wasn’t able to come up with an idea based on the prompt they gave, so instead I have something that while is a tad different, still fulfills the niche!

Yes I want these two to be friends it would be so fun. I can absolutely see Kieran offering to hear her out whenever she needs. (like a mix of genuine empathy and a lack of social awareness to understand why the others in camp seem to want nothing to do with her) So in the drawing we have the reverse, Molly stopping by to make sure Kieran isn’t too shaken up about his “involvement” in Jack’s kidnapping. Because yes the empathy goes both ways, even if Molly possibly has some reservations about talking to him. (I mainly got this idea from the fact that at the beginning of the Braithwaite Manor raid mission, both can be seen near Dutch in the cutscene)

*insert that one gif of Kieran helping Molly step down from the stagecoach in the background of a cutscene beginning of chapter 4 :3*

#I summoned a new rendering style out of my ass what do y’all think #kieran duffy #molly o'shea #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption 2 art #rdr2 kieran #rdr2 molly o'shea #procreate

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omgthatdress · 2 months ago

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Mata Hari was the stage name of Dutch dancer Margaretha Geertruida MacLeod. Married to an army officer at 18, she spent several years living in Java, Indonesia. Her husband was an abusive alcoholic, and so in 1903, she gained a divorce, and moved to Paris.

There she became the mistress of a millionaire industrialist , and set out to make a career dancing on stage. She created an erotic act based on her time in Indonesia, claiming to be a Hindu priestess trained in the art of sacred dance.

She would slowly strip away garments until she was wearing nothing but a jeweled top, a headdress, and some bracelets. She imitated nudity by wearing a flesh-colored body stocking.

Because of her olive-tinted complexion and dark coloring, Europeans gobbled her up as an authentic bit of the east, and she became a sensation. She acted as courtesan to a number of wealthy high society men, who kept her living the high life.

However, the act's novelty slowly wore off, and she struggled to gain attention doing things other than her sexy dance.

By the start of World War I, she was getting older, her career was struggling, and her financial situation was no longer what it used to be. When theaters closed in Berlin, she was forced to go back the The Netherlands. In The Hague, she met a young wounded Russian officer by the name of Vadim de Massloff.

Nonetheless, she continued to sleep with men for money, and she eventually became entangled with rumors of espionage. What actually happened is next to impossible to ascertain, all I can really tell is that the Germans, French, AND Russians were all mad at her. She was arrested in Paris, and eventually executed for these allegations.

#1900s #Mata Hari

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tkomptgoedluv · 2 months ago

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girl with one eye.

icantbelieveiletyougetaway pt.4

pt.1 here | pt.2 here | pt.3 here | pt.4

joost klein x f! reader

tags: dead dove do not eat, f! reader, non-famous! reader, reader is finally seeing a therapist, established relationship, they’re so so in love i wanna cry, reader just wants a good night sleep, joost just wants to help, a loootttttt of hurt, maybe too much of comfort, all characters are dutch and speak in dutch but dialogue is written in english for obvious reasons.

word count: 2,833.

warnings: mention of drugs, very detailed descriptions of SA, very brief allusion to drugging, semi-vague descriptions of a panic attack, rpf.

notes: hello angels! this is veryyyyy overdue but it’s finally here! the ending is a little rushed and i’ve only half-proofread it so please forgive me for any errors. also — this part comes with a MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING for those of you that struggle with SA, please do not put yourself at risk by reading if it’s not meant for you!

on a happier note, i’d like to give credits to @spentandpent for drawing that first image of joost in my little header thingy. their fan-art kinda inspired this whole part <3

also i wanna shoutout @howisjoostfanfictionforfree simply because sloane is one of my favourite people on this whole entire app, and she’s been so so supportive of me since my very first fic post. i ♥️ you, sloane my bbyg xx

── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ──

you wanted to kick yourself.

genuinely, you felt a little sick whenever you thought about all those years you’ve wasted by being just a little too stubborn for your own good.

all those sweet, early mornings where the sun would peak through the blinds and you’d wake up to find him still curled all around you, and how you would run from them just because they started to feel a little too real. all those nights where you’d leave him still tangled up in the sheets, breathless and wishing you’d stay just a little while longer whilst you were already halfway out the door.

for years all you did was run, and you’re yet to forgive yourself for it. because this — this was heaven and you could have had it so much sooner if only you hadn’t been such a fucking coward.

you blame it all on those three little flings that you had over the years; those three no-more-than-six-weeks-long ‘relationships’ that still, somehow, almost ruined you. the first was a guy that seemed to love his pills and potions more than you, the second was once the ‘love of your life’ before he stuck his dick in someone else, and the third was nothing more than a few too many bad hookups with a guy you couldn’t quite shake.

they were what did it for you, in the end. what convinced you to avoid anything more than the odd one-night-stand here and there. you just weren’t cut out for the whole ‘dating’ thing, apparently, and that was fine. you were fine with that; happy about it, even. as long as it meant that you wouldn’t have to go through anymore disappointment, you’d live with it. or without it, rather.

so when you found yourself stood outside in the pouring rain, arguing back and forth with joost about something you can’t even remember anymore, you still thought it to be out of the question. you were refusing to believe that you were anything more than a stress-reliever to him, because that’s all you could ever be. all you ever wanted to be.

whatever it was that you and joost had, it was special. you couldn’t explain it, and you certainly weren’t willing to lose it by feeling all the wrong things for him. you had no idea that he was the one who’d fallen down that rabbit hole, the one who’d started feeling all those wrong things first — not until he kissed you that day.

with the rain soaking the two of you down to the bone, tears pooling in both of your eyes. his chest had been heaving and your throat had felt all scratchy from the yelling; still, he had been so gentle with you. even more so than he usually was. he had his hands cupping your face and the way he’d looked at you, still to this day it gives you goosebumps whenever you think about it.

how lucky you are that for the past six months joost has kissed you just like that, every single day.

every morning now, when you wake up to the sun shining through the blinds and joost’s arms still wrapped around you, you don’t dare to move. you wait until you hear that low grumble in your ear that’s always followed by a sweet kiss to the back of your shoulder, and only then do you roll over to return the favour. sometimes it unravels into something more, other times you’re both able to show some restraint.

the afternoons are always a little more unpredictable with joost’s job being what it was. there were days where he’d say his goodbyes before midday and wouldn’t return until the early hours of the next morning. there were the months where you’d be lucky to even get a whole day together at all. but there were also the days where he’d only be out for a few hours, either at the studio or one of the boys’ houses. on those ones, whether it was your place or his, joost would always come home to you with pastries in his hand and some new art of his to show you.

for the first time in all your years of living, things were finally good. you were happy; you were in love. it was only right to assume that with that, everything else was bound to fall into place.

but you just weren’t sleeping.

you drift off for a while, tucked neatly away into joost’s arms as he engulfs you, him always being so insistent on being the big spoon. for a couple hours you’ll sleep like that, tossing and turning until you’re all the way over on the other side of the bed, and it’s there that you wake up struggling to catch your breath, shaking like a leaf.

usually, it’s just bits and pieces of that night all jumbled up that you see. quick ‘flashes’ of his face, the bloodied crack in the bathroom mirror, the feeling of the porcelain sink digging into your stomach as he bent you over it. nothing truly coherent, but enough to still wake you up in a panic at three o’clock in the morning. then it becomes a gamble as to whether or not you’re able to fall back asleep. most of the time, you’re still laying there wide awake when the sun starts to rise, still far too afraid to close your eyes again.

though for whatever reason, tonight’s dream had been particularly awful. you could’ve sworn that you were actually back there this time, relieving the whole thing. you could feel his hand on the back of your neck, squeezing, keeping you pinned down. you could feel your skirt all in a bunch around your waist again and your tights barely hanging on from how he’d ripped them to near shreds.

and now you were here, staring at the ceiling and trying not to cry too loud whilst the clock ticked closer and closer to dawn. it was almost five o’clock in the morning so really, it should’ve felt as though you’d gotten at least a couple hours of good sleep. instead, you were exhausted; wide awake with your heart pounding inside your chest, but exhausted as tears slipped from the corners of your eyes.

this wasn’t what you expected, not when joost had painted such a beautiful picture that therapy was the be all and end all cure for any and every problem. it had you convinced that by the time you were a few months into your sessions, things would’ve gotten at least a little bit easier. perhaps it was your fault for getting your hopes up the way that you did.

you were trying to keep it quiet, your crying. you hadn’t told joost about what had actually happened that night yet, let alone the nightmares about it. he had a habit of carrying other people’s pain so that they wouldn’t have to themselves — you didn’t want to be one of those people.

after a while though, you didn’t have that choice anymore. there was a bang from outside, nothing more than just an old, cheap car backfiring, and you jumped. you made the bedframe shake a little more than it already was and yelped just loud enough to wake joost up from his sleep. you swore underneath your breath as he grumbled something you couldn’t quite hear before looking back over his shoulder at you.

“you heard that too?”

when you didn’t say anything he turned over fully, the sheets rusting and the mattress creaking as he moved.

you heard him whisper your name, just in case you really were still asleep, but even in the dark he could see that your eyes were open and staring blankly at the ceiling. it was a quiet sniffle that gave you away in the end, because the dark did well at hiding the wetness in your eyes. still, it couldn’t conceal the quick wipe of your nose; even in the dark and without his glasses on, joost could still see that.

“hey, are you crying?”

you didn’t mean to flinch when he went to brush a strand of hair out of your eyes, and you didn’t mean to worry him by doing so. it made his eyebrows furrow as he pulled his hand back and sat up slightly, propping himself up on one of his elbows.

“what’s going on?”

“nothing, i just…i’m just being a bit stupid. i’m fine; you can go back to sleep.”

maybe if there wasn’t that waiver in your voice you would’ve gotten away with it. joost would’ve mumbled something of an ‘okay’ and kissed you goodnight before rolling back over. you would’ve been left alone to wait for the sunrise, a cold sweat coating your skin despite the warm summer air that was rolling in through your open windows.

but even if he was half blind without his glasses on, joost’s ears worked just fine. he heard the waiver in your voice as well as the sniffle in your nose, and he knew.

joost wasn’t stupid; he noticed things. noticed the way the bags under your eyes had been growing heavier over the past couple months, and saw how even the smallest things were making you jump out of your skin. he knew what you were like though, knew better than to try and ask you about it. all he could really do was hope that the therapist you had now would be enough.

but he’d found you near-sobbing at five o’clock in the morning now; heard the fear in your voice, saw the tears in your eyes. it didn’t surprise you to see him immediately sit up and reach over, switching on his bedside light before turning back to face you. but it did bring on a wave of sickness to your stomach, the kind that made your hands feel clammy.

“no, you’re not fine. what happened?”

you wiped at your nose again, and then at your eyes. as you spoke you refused to look at him, keeping your gaze fixed on the ceiling because you truly did believe that all of this was stupid. your tears, the heavy beating of your heart — all of it.

“just had a bad dream, that’s all.”

you heard a soft sigh from bedside you and felt gentle fingers in your hair, finally tucking that one strand behind your ear. this time, you didn’t flinch. you leaned into the touch, letting a single tear slip down your cheek as you realised that soon, this might be the last time he’ll ever want to touch you.

“anything i can do?”

you really didn’t want to do this, but you knew you needed to.

“can i…can i talk about it? you know, about what happened that night?”

joost didn’t hesitate, he couldn’t — not when this was such a rarity for you. he nodded and laid back down, his tired eyes watching as you rolled over until your back was facing him. he couldn’t bring himself to ask why you wouldn’t look at him, just listened quietly as you sucked in a deep breath and watched as you curled yourself into a ball.

“the guy, he was nice at first; saw that i was on my own and wanted to know how i ended up there, i guess. he seemed normal, like he just wanted to get to know me.”

your voice was shaking as you spoke, and you were struggling to breathe through your stuffed up nose.

“i should’ve known that something was wrong when i started to feel like, drunk drunk, after only a couple of drinks. maybe he slipped something in one of them, i don’t know, but when he asked if i wanted to do a line with him i didn’t think i could say no.”

a large hand squeezed your hip from over the covers when you paused for a moment, a few tears getting caught in your throat when you tried to swallow them down.

“i uh, i followed him into the bathroom and i let him lock the door behind us, and i did the line he racked up for me. he promised me that it was a gift, that he didn’t want anything for it; he knew i didn’t have any money to pay him and he said it was fine. but when i tried to leave he told me that he’d changed his mind, said i could pay him back another way.”

joost’s hand fell from your hip when you slipped out from underneath it and curled in further on yourself. it meant that all he could do was watch from the other side of the bed as your shoulders began to shake from the small, pathetic sobs that you couldn’t hold back.

“i said no, joost. he got me up against the door, tried to reach underneath my skirt, but i said no. he didn’t like that — didn’t like it when i hit him, either. he…he bent me over the sink, hit my head against the mirror, told me that i owed him for what he’d given me.”

you had to fight to get the words out through all of your blubbering; through each of the hiccups and all of the gagging. you truly were in a bit of a state now, spiralling further and further down into the memory, but you needed to do this. no matter how much it hurt, you just needed to get it out.

“he held me down by my neck and he…he laughed when i told him i couldn’t breathe. i couldn’t move, joost, i couldn’t get him off so i just…”

when you started to trail off, a pair of arms scooped you up and gently pulled you across the bed until you were flat again joost’s chest. you felt him rest his head in the crook of your neck, a dozen salty tears of his own dripping down onto your shoulder. for a while, neither of you said anything else; you’d gotten yourself too worked up to find the rest of your words and quite frankly, joost didn’t need to hear anything else. he had an imagination, he knew what happened next.

you caught him off guard when after a couple minutes, just after the silence had settled, you started to apologise over and over again. like a child too consumed with guilt, you were spewing out desperate ‘i’m so sorry’s one after the other until the words all slurred together.

“hey, hey, hey, stop that. you don’t need to do that.” you felt him kiss the back of your ear, your neck, your shoulder. “i’m never gonna blame you for it, okay? — it’ll never be your fault.”

joost’s grip on you tightened when you began to cry harder, your tears soaking the pale, bare skin of his arm. he nuzzled his face deeper into the dip of your neck, listening to the unsteady beat of your pulse as you breathed in quick, shallow breaths.

“i-i’m sorry.”

“shhh, hey, it’s alright. just focus on breathing, honey. that’s all you need to do.”

it took you until little drops of sun were spilling through the blinds to finally relax enough to breathe right. neither of you had moved an inch, you were both still all wrapped up in each other, only now the tears had dried and your eyes were growing heavier.

carefully, you twisted in his arms until you were facing his chest, and it was there that you curled up again. you felt him leave kisses all along your crown; in your hair and on your forehead. as you hooked a leg over his, he used an arm to pull you closer, only satisfied once you were as close to being under his skin as you could be.

the warm summer air was still blowing in through your bedroom windows. it made the whole room hot and sticky, making you sweat even more than you always were from being so close to joost. beads of sweat were gathering along your hairline as well as his, and the bedsheets were beginning to cling to your skin. it was clammy and uncomfortable — still, you wouldn’t move.

“thank you, by the way.”

it was the sound of your own voice to break the silence again, but it was your words that made joost shift a little, only to tilt his head down to get a better look at you. when he met your eyes he saw that you were already staring up at him with something of a smile tugging at corners of your lips.

“for what, baby?”

“for letting me talk about it…and for not running away afterwards.”

with his eyes drooping and his breathing slow, joost simply scoffed. his hands danced their way up to your jaw and cupped your face, his thumbs gently stroking along the pink blush of your cheeks.

“i could never run away from you.”

#joost klein x reader #joost klein x f!reader #luvvergirlwrites

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aleenuhs · 1 year ago

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Helping Arthur release some tension after his right arm got injured in a gunfight. He’s been grumpy and stuck at camp; he could use a helping hand. 🤭

ᯓ★ A Helping Hand

I love this little idea, thanks anon!

warnings & tags: smut (p in v), fluff, nudity, afab!reader/fem!reader, Arthur is a lil angry, mentions of injury, established relationship, pet names, gendered language (she/her, reference to reader)

word count: 1,157

Arthur was starting to get hysterical due to his current situation. He got injured on his right arm, which he used in everyday life, especially when it came to using his guns and crafting.

The more hours he stayed in camp, he wished to be out and doing what he does best. Not that he avoided camp, or maybe he did, but he was there because that's where you were.

"I said I'm fine," he demanded, looking up at you from where he lay on the cot, your eyes wandered to the wrap on his arm, just staring.

"Let me at least get you some coffee, please?" You spoke, and Arthur didn't protest, so you assumed that it was what he wanted. "Good." You grabbed the little mug from his side table. Soon you came back with the mug and some coffee in it. Arthur sat up and took the small mug from you.

"Thank you," he said in almost a murmur. "I ain't want ta ask you for much, sweetie. I know you have stuff that you have to do 'round here."

You frowned a bit, "I finished all my chores, and Ms. Grimshaw said it was fine, don't act like it's a burden, Arthur, when it's not. I love you okay?" You smiled again, sitting beside him, resting your head on his left shoulder, he used his injured arm to swipe a few hairs away from your face.

"A'right then, I love you too," He said to you.

"How does your arm feel?"

"Fine, I want to get back out there." He said with slight desperation in his voice, his eyes bored to the house's walls. You grin.

"Arthur, you need rest." You say placing a kiss on his cheek.

"Remember how I said I was fine? Yea' I meant it." He said, with a little sass in his tone, making you giggle.

"Go tell mister Dutch that," You replied in a murmur but an even sassier tone than his one previously.

"What'd you say?" He said, not catching whatever you just said.

"Nothing." His eyes snap to your expression, and the shrug that crept onto your shoulders. He placed the mug down on the side table.

"Don't do that now..." He looked at you, "what did you say?" You can only giggle at how he yearns to know what you said, suddenly you're right under him, he manhandled you under him and you're still laughing at him. "Guess I'm gonna have to get it outta you one way or the other." He began to tickle you, knowing exactly where to get you, your tummy.

"Hey!" You said suddenly, "No not this right now!"

"Tell me!" He persisted in tickling you, and you were trying to fight back without hurting his arm even more, but you weren't going to win this at all so you sighed heavily.

"I told you to go tell Mister Dutch what you'd said!" You uttered fast and Arthur let go of you, both of you breathing hard, the little tears in your eyes from how much you felt vulnerable while being tickled went away.

"Did'ya now?" He had a smug look on his face, "I just might." You nodded when he said that.

A minute of silence fell into the air between you two, his body on top of yours, careful not to squish you, he stares longingly into your eyes and smiles. "But I wanna stay here with my sweet girl." He kissed you before you could even respond, both of your guys' lips smashing together, he lays himself down next to you bringing you closer. The little squeaks of the bed as you two moved on it filled the air. Your body shifted on top of his, you smiled down at him and he chuckled.

"Whatcha gonna do?" he playfully chided, you looked a bit lost. A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, and you brought your head down to kiss his neck. His warm hands slithered up your legs and stayed on your hips as he kissed you back, your skirt was riding up your thighs and Arthur smiled.

You got up and slid off your underwear and then got back onto the cot, unzipping his pants and taking his cock out. You balanced yourself above his hips, he stared up at you and smiled, your clit dragged against his tip, he groaned a bit, Arthur reached down to his cock, rubbing it against your wetness, making your hips falter a bit. He pushes his cock right into your entrance. A moan escaped your lips, hands finding his chest and applying a bit of pressure as you rode him. His cock stretched you out, and boy did it feel good. "Mhm, such a good girl fa' me..." He put his hands on your hips, slightly guiding them to move even faster.

The room was filled with the sounds of his grunts and your moans, the sounds of skin slapping together. "Fuck.." you moan when his cock hits your g-spot. Your knees already weak, he feels you starting to give up, he assists your efforts by bucking himself up into you. The only other time you've felt the burning sensation in your thighs is when you're riding your horse, but this felt good.

You lean down and kiss him some more, they were sloppy kisses but he took them gladly, you still rolled your hips.

"Takin me so well." He used his left hand to rub your clit, taking you completely over the edge, making you moan even louder. He needed you so bad, he was full of tension and pent up energy from everything. He'd been wanting to fuck you for a long time, a while, he watched you walk around camp talking to everyone as he was supposed to be resting and taking it easy, he would sit near the fire drinking, smoking or cleaning his guns.

He always thought of you, he needed you, what a man you'd made him.

Now, he started to rut faster into you, not taking it easy at all.

"Arthur--" You groaned out in pure pleasure, his rough hands caressed your soft skin, the hands that killed and strangled people, they were so soft to you, they pleasured you.

"Alright there, princess?" He checked on you and you nodded as you hid your face in the crook of his neck. Your cheeks were red and you could feel your cunt clench around him, you were both close, his hands brung you down even harder on him. "Y'gonna cum, girl?" He used his finger to tilt your chin up to look at him as you came. "Look at me." He demanded.

When your orgasm hit, you shook and moaned out his name. He came shortly after you.

"God-" You cried out in pleasure, "oh my..."

Arthur whimpered a bit, before he held onto you. grasping at your shoulders to keep himself grounded.

"Damn, you did so good for me..." he praised you.

"I did?" You smiled up at him as you laid there on top of his chest. \

"Sure did." He hugged you.

a/n if u liked this pls req more!

#Arthur Morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #fluff #smut #Arthur Morgan x reader #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 x reader

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cowgirlcasanova · 10 months ago

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I made the mistake of clicking on a link to a reddit thread about abigail marston.

the way the men on there talk about her makes me physically feel sick. the names they call her, the way they describe her and john’s relationship, the way they constantly bring up her past in a negative way.

They seem to lack any and all artistic thinking skills. to me, one of the main points of media and art is how you’re supposed to analyze and discover the things they aren’t outright said. You have to dig a little deeper, you have to actually think. The people on that godforsaken website seem to just not have/be able to do that!

abigail was a prostitute. yes, we all know this men of reddit and it’s okay! please shut up about it!!!!

she was also an orphan, even worse for the time, an orphaned girl. she had little to no opportunities in the world she was born into. EVEN JOHN KNOWS THIS. “she’s a woman in a man’s world” and they act personally offended on johns behalf. john was an orphan too, i can promise you he understands how hard it is to survive and he doesn’t look down on her! Not that it even begins to matter if john or anyone else “understands” her reasoning for her choice of survival. It doesn’t. it simply matters that abigail was incredibly strong throughout that time of her life and rest. she survived and did whatever she could to and that is to be appreciated.

These men seem to have this one single idea that “abigail was prostitute so john thought baby not his cause so many men 🤓” SHUT. UP. no actually that was so much more actually john not ready to be a father and being afraid of himself!!!! honestly speaking, the entirety of that situation has very little to do with abigail herself. but no they’ll never understand that because it was written out in black and white and you may have to think a little to get to that conclusion. not to mention, they could never accept it because then john marston wouldn’t be as “alpha” BE QUIET IM BEGGING YOU.

the way they discuss abigail and uncle made my skin crawl. there is nothing else said about that relationship, there is no one specific cannon explanation as to how or why they knew each other. but the men i saw discussing it said such disgusting and vulgar things about how uncle “reallyyy knew abigail”. truly horrifying. There’s so many different ways they could’ve crossed paths. she was a prostitute but that’s not all she was. she was still a woman, a person. i can assure you she had other hobbies and activities that she did, that she enjoyed doing.

not to mention how it seems to be such an odd and disgusting fantasy for them that “everyone in the gang had abigail” i hate to break it to you but no they didn’t! Now this is up for debate for a lot of people and i actually want to make an entire post just dedicated to this. When looking at both instances where that was said, it was purposely said to hurt john and throw him off. not to mention, abigail was never around when it was said. There wasn’t an instance of anyone saying it in camp or even throwing an insult to john about it in rdr2. hmmm i wonder why that is????? Bill said it to make him stumble and dutch said it because he knows john and he knows how to hit him where it hurts. But, i don’t think any of it is true. of course no internet bro is going to actually think into enough to even be curious so!

abigail marston is someone to be admired. someone who persevered as much as any man in that gang but she doesn’t get the same appreciation. she probably had to work just as hard if not harder than some of the men just to stay alive in her youth. Abigail marston is not a nag, she’s not annoying, she’s not “mean” to john. take a step back and look at what she’s responding to and give her the same grace you give arthur and john. “oh well arthur just had a hard time showing emotions because of the way he was raised” “oh john couldn’t deal with everything so he ran away for a little bit it’s okay.” let abigail have that same grace.

so sorry this was not meant to be this long. clearly it has been nagging at me. if you read this love you and love abigail marston!

#rdr2 #rdr2 community #red dead redemption 2 #john marston #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 john #arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur #dutch van der linde #rdr2 dutch #abigail marston #rdr2 abigail #bill williamson #rdr2 bill

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boopshoops · 8 months ago

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C'mon now, we don't HAVE to stick to one set genre. Music is about self expression!~ ...Though I wouldn't be against one-upping some competition.

Yuu Shi is strutting on down to debut as a vocalist and backup dancer for GLOWCHAIN! With eccentric flare and powerful vocals, she's here to push the boundaries of EDM and pop to new heights. After all, if it isn't experimental, it isn't her.

Part 2

Ragu Music Week is a fanevent by @raguiras!!! :D

Set to home screen: Mic check, one two!~

Groovification: ???

Home transition 1: Day three of asking Allen to let me join Hazard, no such luck as of yet. Is this how Epel feels about Savanaclaw? Maybe a bribe would work...

Home transition 2: Ohh I just love this boa! It's so cute and fluffy! Come here and touch it, it's so soft that I could use it as a pillow.

Home transition 3: No need to worry much about your performances, hon, I'll make sure to outperform you regardless! You can take that as a promise and a threat.

Home transition/Groovification: ???

Tap home 1: You think I'm getting a bit competitive over this? Hmm, Maybe, maybe. Well, this is finally my chance to show off my prowess! I didn't go to performing arts school for nothing.

Tap home 2: I'm able to keep up with Vil fine enough, but after the chaos that was VDC, I'm beginning to feel bad for my other group members... but not bad enough! Let's go again!

Tap home 3: No, no, no- That's not it. Your movements aren't big enough! You need to gesture enough for the whole crowd to see. Remember, the people in the back row want a show too. You need to hold out your arms like so!

Tap home 4: As much as I enjoy an organized, set performance, I much prefer to go with the flow. I want to get the whole audience involved in ways you haven't seen before, you know? Make it feel more authentic? It'll leave a lasting impression of me in their minds!... Oh, and the rest of GLOWCHAIN, of course.

Tap home 5: Hahaha! What, am I towering over you in these heels? Should I kneel down, is that what you'd like? What? I'm just teasing!

Tap home/Groovification: ???

Home after login: As much as I love this outfit, I could do with a little less sparkle... When the stage lights hit me and the other members, I can't help but feel like a damn disco ball. What do you think?

ALRIGHT RAMBLING TIME. Yuu shi is having a hard time abandoning her instruments for GLOWCHAIN. Therefore she takes every chance she can to be petty about it and be another headache for vil (sorry bbg). She is very jealous of Hazard/Riff due to this- but she's not letting that stop her from trying to outperform other groups or even vil himself.

As for music- I did a lot of research into KPOP i never had before KJGDSBKGJSD and I think mamamoos vibe fits Yuu Shi very well!

also I listened to the inspiration playlist, saw lady gaga, and blacked out

Charli XCX fits her more experimental style too- its her way of pushing the boundaries of the genre

KIMPETRASKIMPETRASKIMPETRAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

As for dancing- ive had Royal Family brain rot lately. THEY ARE SO TALENTED AAAAAAAAAAAAA. Theyre flowy, energetic, fast paced moves fit yuu shi very well imo!!! Though she would definitely need a lot more practiced to be as organized as them sob. 3:25 in particular drives me insane:

youtube

OK RAMBLING OVER TAG TIME

@lowcallyfruity @skriblee-ksk @kitwasnothere @cecilebutcher @justm3di0cr3

@thehollowwriter @distant-velleity @the-trinket-witch @techno-danger @scint1llat3

@beneathsakurashade @twsted-canvas @qsoap @prince-kallisto

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ultr4vjolence · 3 months ago

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@ULTR4VJOLENCE MISC RECS 2.0 .ᐟ

𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ CHO HYUN-JU

ᥫ᭡ dreams and lights (mean nothing if i can't have you)

how did it get to this? blood coated on your skin and murder seeping from each wall, echoes of bullets in your ears and the warmth of a hand in yours; enveloping, all-encompassing, larger and softer than any other that’s held you. and blood. so, so much blood. how did you get here?

the cheerful buzzing of the circle is louder than life itself. hyun-ju’s hand is coated in the phosphorescence of it, miles apart with eyes that pierce right through you. the blue reflections on her cheek make bile rise in your throat; red illuminates your face when your number is called, and red coats your eyes when she dares meet them.

ᥫ᭡ unforgettable

you can’t wait any longer for her to come around, knowing either of you could be gone in an instant. luckily for you, she feels the same way.

ᥫ᭡ version of me

it takes one miracle for her life to change. whether or not it's too good to be true or rather, if she's dreaming or not, she'll leave it for another day.

ᥫ᭡ you are all i long for, all i worship and adore

it’s as if the world has quieted around you, the edges blurring until it’s only her and the way she’s looking at you—soft but searching, vulnerable but steady.

it feels like a path is unfolding before you, one that you can’t resist. it’s as if the universe itself is nudging you forward, whispering ‘this is it, this is the moment.’ there’s a weight to it, a certainty that nothing will ever be the same after this.

her fingers slide between yours, hesitant at first, but then firmer, like she’s testing the waters and daring to hope. Her breath quickens and she’s glancing at your lips, too.

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𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ EDDIE MUNSON

ᥫ᭡ ruined expectations

when marriage season begins, you've just returned home from a grand graduation from finishing school. expectations are high, a marriage and an heir must be produced as soon as possible, and an old friend doesn't seem interested in being a friend any longer. being the good, obedient daughter that you are expected to be, you do what is asked of you and definitely do not get distracted by that old friend. certainly not. your childhood friend turned rake who only greets you with disrespect, disgust, and disinterest?

nope. eddie munson is not a distraction. at all.

* an angsty regency era au rake!eddie munson x virgin!fem!reader slow-burn.

ᥫ᭡ boundary testing

you and eddie are just exceptionally good friends who keep redefining the boundary of said friendship. so long as you both agree that what you’re doing is in the confines of said friendship boundary, then it’s just…that. you’re just friends. just really, really good friends. really good friends who sometimes kiss a little (a lot). and at your friend’s christmas party, things take a unique turn. for better or for worse, you don’t know yet.

ᥫ᭡ through a glass darkly

eddie would have to wait until his lunch break to see this new, hot, weird chick. he wondered which flavor of weird she was. art weird? theater weird? band weird?

weird weird?

he shrugged. he liked weird.

in other words, you’re the new girl in town, and eddie is intrigued.

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𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ARTHUR MORGAN

ᥫ᭡ the old therebefore (when nothing is left anymore)

fourteen years ago, dutch van der linde saved your brother’s life and offered you a home amongst outlaws and thieves. since then, you’ve been robbing and fighting your way across the nation, all while caring for your reckless brother, john marston, and trying to force down feelings for your partner-in-crime, arthur morgan. but after a failed robbery in blackwater forces the entire gang to flee, all hopes of freedom on the great frontier are lost. danger descends from all sides, forcing you to confront the uncertain future and the regrets of your past.

or, a complete retelling of red dead redemption II from start to finish…

ᥫ᭡ a new beginning

determined to hunt down your father’s murderer and bring him to justice, you refuse to be deterred when your venture takes you to the dangerous backwoods of roanoke ridge and you run into the last man you had ever wanted to see again. or maybe deep, deep down you had. a turbulent and treacherous journey awaits, where battles will be fought not only against man and nature but within your heart as well as the long but unescapable road towards forgiveness begins.

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𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ CHALLENGERS TRIO

ᥫ᭡ runner-up

this is the story of how you and tashi duncan become best friends in college. or more so, the story of how she had chosen you to be her best friend. if only you knew then what a dangerous thing that was—to be chosen by someone like tashi.

█████▒▒▒▒▒ 50%

𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ FEZCO O’NEILL

ᥫ᭡ baby, can you see through the tears?

he’d walked into the room looking like a dream. your eyes burned the first time you saw him. you told him this later and he blushed and laughed, but it was true. it’s hard not to cry right now, watching as he’s escorted into the visitor hall where you’re sitting at a tiny square table. a guard brings fez towards you, and he’s like a vision haloed by white buzzing fluorescent lights.

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𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ KAZ BREKKER

ᥫ᭡ it’s nice to have a friend

one of these days, you’ll realize how hungry you are for the scraps he throws you and that it’s not a good look that you’d rather salivate for him than devour the feast anyone else could give you. but today is not that day. you’re both fourteen, you’ve only just run away from home, you’re still trying to carve out a place in this world, his world.

███████▒▒▒ 70%

𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ SILCO

ᥫ᭡ drink with me

the lanes never sleep. the sunken streets may lie beneath piltover’s heavy shadow, and it's faults are numerous and deadly, but no one can claim that the Undercity is boring. there is always colour to be found, if you know where to look. it’s something you pride yourself on – the ability to see what others can’t. some mistake it for simple optimism. but you know it’s more than just that. it’s the thing that’s kept you alive this long, in more ways than one. you’ve always been happy to go wherever life has taken you, and you’re a big believer in gut instinct.

but you never expected to end up working as a bartender at the last drop – having been scouted by a blue haired girl who wouldn’t take no for an answer. neither did you expect to find yourself landed with the terrifying task of ensuring silco’s personal drinks cart is kept well stocked. and you certainly never expected to find yourself inadvertently become the weekly drinking partner of the eye of zaun himself.

ᥫ᭡ bend but not break

silco is a wealthy industrialist who makes a deal with piltover to open trade with zaun, in which his own diplomatic dealings are just to gain more power and undermine piltover. he purchases an old mansion in the wealthiest part of of piltover in hopes of raising his ward to give her a better life than he had, including looking for a wife to blend in with his new surroundings, a masquerade game of lies. he never anticipates you, his new governess, hired by sevika for his young ward, jinx.

a young woman in house that has more questions than answers. a strange and hidden creature lurks in the attic. a man, that should be fighting for zaun as he once did, is now mingling with his sworn enemies and this close to buying a seat on the council. a man, who is an enigma, raising a girl who isn’t his and you finding him more and more intoxicating as you fall into his world of shady politics.

jane eyre AU.

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𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ORIGINAL CHARACTERS

ᥫ᭡ glimmer in the void

you’re part of a crew on a deep space exploration ship traveling beyond the solar system. when the ship is attacked and crashes on a nearby planet, you find yourself stranded with an unexpected and intriguing creature.

ᥫ᭡ blood catalase

you’re a crime scene cleaner who happens across an advertisement for a mansion housekeeper in exchange for room and board. it’s close to work, close to your university, and an easy job. the ultimate package. right away, you notice the owner’s beauty as well as his eccentricities, but decide to commit to it. the spiral into depravity and debauchery begins when you’re tasked with cleaning the site of a savage murder, solidifying you as a irreplaceable treasure.

ᥫ᭡ opaque

in this world, androids outnumber humans, privacy does not exist, and your public profile determines whether you sink or swim in society. following the dissolution of your job and glamorizing your resume, you’re invited to interview with the prestigious hyperion—the world’s foremost in AI and robotics—for a position to test the newest android model. after a surprising turn of events, you’re introduced to elio, the first of the generation seven androids and the catalyst of your awakening.

█████████▒ 90%

𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ JAKE SULLY

ᥫ᭡ fantasize

it’s official – jake is sick and tired of norm giving him shit. while he can’t claim to know as much about pandora as norm does, there’s still a few things jake can afford to do to piss him off even more for the fun of it, and it just so happens that norm’s sister works as a scientist in the human compound – which to jake spells perfect revenge in its simplest form.

██████████ 100%

A C C E S S G R A N T E D. . .

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thechanelmuse · 2 years ago

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Juneteenth is a Black American holiday.

We call Juneteenth many things: Black Independence Day, Freedom Day, Emancipation Day, Jubilee Day. We celebrate and honor our ancestors.

December 31 is recognized as Watch Night or Freedom’s Eve in Black American churches because it marks the day our enslaved ancestors were awaiting news of their freedom going into 1863. On January 1, 1863, President Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation. But all of the ancestors wouldn’t be freed until June 19, 1865 for those in Galveston, Texas and even January 23, 1866 for those in New Jersey (the last slave state). (It’s also worth noting that our people under the Choctaw and Chickasaw Nations wouldn’t be freed until April 28, 1866 and June 14, 1866 for those under the Cherokee Nation by way of the Treaties.)

Since 1866, Black Americans in Texas have been commemorating the emancipation of our people by way of reading the Emancipation Proclamation and coming together to have parades, free festivities, and later on pageants. Thereafter, it spread to select states as an annual day of commemoration of our people in our homeland.

Here’s a short silent video filmed during the 1925 Juneteenth celebration in Beaumont, Texas:

youtube

(It’s also worth noting that the Mascogos tribe in Coahuila, Mexico celebrate Juneteenth over there as well. Quick history lesson: A total of 305,326 Africans were shipped to the US to be enslaved alongside of American Indians who were already or would become enslaved as prisoners of war, as well as those who stayed behind refusing to leave and walk the Trail of Tears to Oklahoma. In the United States, you were either enslaved under the English territories, the Dutch, the French, the Spanish, or under the Nations of what would called the Five “Civilized” Native American Tribes: Cherokee, Creek (Muscogee), Chickasaw, Choctaw, and Seminoles. Mascogos descend from the Seminoles who escaped slavery during the Seminole Wars, or the Gullah Wars that lasted for more than 100 years if you will, and then settled at El Nacimiento in 1852.)

We largely wave our red, white and blue flags on Juneteenth. These are the only colors that represent Juneteenth. But sometimes you may see others wave our Black American Heritage flag (red, black, and gold).

Juneteenth is a day of respect. It has nothing to do with Africa, diversity, inclusion, immigration, your Pan-African flag, your cashapps, nor your commerce businesses. It is not a day of “what about” isms. It is not a day to tap into your inner colonizer and attempt to wipe out our existence. That is ethnocide and anti-Black American. If you can’t attend a Black American (centered) event that’s filled with education on the day, our music, our food and other centered activities because it’s not centered around yours…that is a you problem. Respect our day for what and whom it stands for in our homeland.

Juneteenth flag creator: “Boston Ben” Haith

It was created in 1997. The red, white and blue colors represent the American flag. The five-point star represents the Lone State (Texas). The white burst around the star represents a nova, the beginning of a new star. The new beginning for Black Americans.

Black American Heritage Flag creators: Melvin Charles & Gleason T. Jackson

It was created in 1967, our Civil Rights era. The color black represents the ethnic pride for who we are. Red represents the blood shed for freedom, equality, justice and human dignity. Gold fig wreath represents intellect, prosperity, and peace. The sword represents the strength and authority exhibited by a Black culture that made many contributions to the world in mathematics, art, medicine, and physical science, heralding the contributions that Black Americans would make in these and other fields.

SN: While we’re talking about flags, I should note that Grace Wisher, a 13-year-old free Black girl from Baltimore helped stitched the Star Spangled flag, which would inspire the national anthem during her six years of service to Mary Pickersgill. I ain’t even gon hold you. I never looked too far into it, but she prob sewed that whole American flag her damn self. They love lying about history here until you start unearthing them old documents.

In conclusion, Juneteenth is a Black American holiday. Respect us and our ancestors.

#juneteenth #juneteenth flag #black american history #black american culture #ben haith #black american heritage flag #melvin charles #gleason t jackson #grace wisher #american flag #mascogos #juneteenth 2023

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gardengnosticator · 3 months ago

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Aphrodite of Knidos

PAIRING: ellie williams x abby anderson.

SUMMARY: Being a freshman in college is hard, it's even harder when your roommate is the living embodiment of a Greek statue. Ellie Williams is doing the best she can, juggling her classes, her (nigh-nonexistent) social life, and a sketchbook filled with images no one could ever see. Shame her roommate, the immensely popular, confident and terrifyingly handsome, Abby Anderson knows exactly what to do to press all of Ellie's buttons...

WARNINGS: modern au, loser!sub!ellie, dom!abby, oral (abby receiving), face fucking, face sitting, mild exhibitionism, ellie is a huge nerd and down BAD!!!

WORD COUNT: 5k, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Everyone had always badgered Ellie that she should study art. Her doodles and sketches were always stuck to Joel’s fridge with pride even well into her senior years of high school when such parental pride would elicit nothing but groans of teenage frustration. It was all she really enjoyed, well, all that she enjoyed that could be moved into the field of higher education. Try as she might there were no classes offered anywhere that specialized in “being mediocre at video games” and “smoking large amounts of weed,” and Joel’s fatherly monologues about the school of hard knocks did not sway Ellie to a life of puttering around perpetually fixing a muscle car lodged forever in their driveway.

So here she was, a full-fledged art student, with a tiny personal studio nook, and paints and pens and palettes and assignments. Dear lord, the assignments. Turns out college art was not just drawing her favorite comic characters kissing and actually involved writing long-winded essays about long-dead Italian and Dutch masters whose talent and skill made Ellie want to curl into a ball and burn all her work.

At least Thursday was her escape. When she could just shut her brain off and sit in front of an easel with pencil or charcoal in hand and just draw. “Fundamentals”, a simple title for what Ellie thought of a simple class (one that certainly wasn’t the most “FUN” and the countless sketches of fruit bowls was driving her “MENTAL”) but one she could just zone out and stop thinking in, and as of this semester she has been thinking, a lot.

Thinking a lot; about her roommate.

Abigail Anderson.

An honest-to-God legend on campus. A pre-med student whose father, Jerry Anderson, had quite literally co-authored several of the huge textbooks she left lying around their shared campus apartment. A woman who, rumor had it, had a personal key to the campus gym to workout when it was closed because when she was warmed up and ready, it was too risky to let some frat bro half-ass some bicep curls in her vicinity. A flirt who had her tongue down so many girl’s throats there was a line leading up to her bedroom. Okay Ellie couldn’t comment on the first two but she knew for a fact that if Abby was getting action, it couldn’t be in their apartment. The walls were too thin to muffle the sounds of sex and the only time (okay, times…) Ellie peaked through the crack in Abby’s door to spy on her, she would be hunched over her laptop, furiously typing notes.

Ellie understood though, there was something about Abby that commanded respect, and she wasn’t just saying that because Abby knew exactly how to bark at Ellie if the dishwasher hadn’t been unloaded. It was the way she so subtly chewed on the tip of her glasses whenever some paragraph wasn’t speaking to her, the way the muscles in her shoulders and back flexed when she was standing in the kitchen prepping her meals for the week, or the times when Ellie managed to get herself out of bed before midday and could watch in quiet awe as Abby tucked and tied her golden locks into the effortless French braid only she could pull-off.

Ellie would find herself thinking about Abby more and more as the semester went on and that proved dire to her sketchbook, with pages ending up shamefully bundled into the trash to hide the fact she had spent several minutes carefully extenuating the curves and defined bridges of Abby’s thighs whenever she sat around in the lounge in gym shorts and a tank top that despite definitely being a large hugged Abby’s torso too well.

Yes, Ellie thought about Abby a whole lot, but she was quickly pulled back to the real world as her lecturer brought his hands together in a loud clap, drawing the attention of her and the entire class.

“Now as you all know, if you had been following the syllabus,” Something Ellie most definitely hadn’t been doing, “Today is our first of several life drawing sessions.” A collective groan escaped the class as they all knew what life drawing would entail. Staring at a naked stranger for three to four hours at a time while drawing from the shoulder, not the elbow, not the wrist and trying not to make direct eye-to-genital contact with the model.

“Come on, I know you’re all going to have a lot of fun but remember, it takes a lot of effort to make a life drawing authentic, to truly capture the dynamism of a real figure standing a few feet in front of you.” Ellie’s professor looks around at the exasperated faces of his cohort. “But… It takes more effort and quite honestly, a lot of confidence to be a life model. So say hello to…”

Ellie’s heart drops. And then immediately decides to crawl its way up and out of her throat as an all too familiar figure, clad in just a bathrobe, damned French braid still immaculately tucked over her shoulder, marches into the room.

“Now everyone, say thank you to Ms Anderson for giving you her time and her quite obviously well trained physique for the following weeks of classes, it takes a lot of guts to stand nude in front of your fellow college buddies, sober that is.”

That elicited a small wave of laughter from the class but Ellie had suddenly developed an incredible interest in the well chewed back-end of her pencil, absolutely positively not going to give Abby the satisfaction of making eye-contact right here and now.

Okay maybe just a glance.

Which proved to be a devastating mistake on Ellie’s part as Abby’s blue irises all but bore into Ellie’s soul, that damned Anderson smirk coming to her lips as she brought her arms up and across her chest. “Well, my roommate does like to say that ‘if she had my body, she’d be walking around naked 24/7’, so I thought this would be a very natural thing.”

Ellie had said that. In jest, Once. While very high and splayed on the couch, watching Abby do her neurotic routine of laying on the floor alternating between push-ups and the pages of one of her impenetrable anatomy textbooks, reciting the names of muscle groups and their insertions through the reps. The way her shoulders tensed and every single sculpted portion of Abby’s back seemed to strain against the material of her shirt had allowed Ellie, her mind dazed with weed, to mumble out the statement which she hoped Abby had neglected to hear.

But no, that would be too good. The universe was too cruel to allow for such a small mercy and as such, Ellie found herself, freckled cheeks flushing a soft pink as she chewed on her bottom lip, Abby’s gaze still locked directly at her despite the sea of awaiting faces.

“Today’s class is going to be broken into four separate sketches, two with a 15 minute time limit, one at 30, and then finally an hour for your last one. Use the time wisely, remember the point of life drawing is…”

Whatever Ellie’s professor was rambling about meant quite literally nothing right now. 2 hours of staring at Abby Anderson’s naked form, no excuse not to ogle and lust after every curve and indentation of her physique, no way to avoid her eyes wandering over the supple mounds of muscle and flesh that made up Abby’s chest, her thighs… her ass. Ellie could swear her heart was on the verge of giving up on her right now, not even in her most private moments, the nights when she was tucked well under her covers, brows furrowed, lips red and raw from being chewed on, one hand languishing itself against her breast and the other working overtime between her thighs, her fingers curling into her most delicate inner walls as she imagined Abby looming over her, that husky voice a whisper as she claimed Ellie over and over again.

And here Abby was, marching forward to take her position amongst the semicircle of student artists fumbling with their pencils and papers before claiming a very-very obviously particular spot. Right-smack-bang in front of Ellie. Oh Abby was enjoying this, Ellie was sure, really relishing the way her cheeks were darkening and her breathing getting more erratic as Abby just stood there, smug and confident as always.

“We are ready whenever you are Ms Anderson, all you are required to do is-” Abby sharply interrupts, “Stand here and look good?”

Once again a smattering of giggles come from Ellie’s fellow students and for once since she walked in, Ellie feels like she can breathe.

“Well that and stand as still as possible, no need to worry about any sort of specific pose, just find something that’s natural and not going to give you any cramps.”

And with that, Abby’s robe was dropped to the floor and ever so casually kicked aside and Ellie could swear the gasp that came from her throat was louder than a chainsaw.

Abby’s body was better than anything Ellie’s filthy imagination could ever come up with. She looked like a statue of Athena. Despite being buck-stark-naked, somehow Abby didn’t shrink or hide, in fact it was quite obvious that she ruled the room right now, hip cocked to one side, a hand lazily resting against it as the other draped itself over her torso just barely hiding the folds of her slit from everyone’s gaze. And no one’s gaze was more enraptured than Ellie’s. After all that was the point of this exercise, right? To take in every inch of Abby’s bare body as presented to her, to allow her eyes to trace over the veins just bursting from her biceps, the motion of her abdominal muscles contracting with Abby’s relaxed breathing, the defined V-taper of her waist drawing Ellie’s line of sight to what could only be the most neatly maintained happy trail in the universe.

It was good that Ellie had abandoned her grip on her pencil prior to Abby’s disrobing because it would have snapped in the death grip that was forming as the poor brunette white knuckled herself in an effort to maintain a professional allure as she made mental captures of Abby’s body. Plenty of material for those lonely nights at the very least.

—

The collective two hours seems to drag itself over the course of what Ellie thought was closer to several years, several years that would have been preferable performing hard labor in a Siberian gulag. As Abby moved between poses, no matter how she angled her body, her face was always coyly directed right at Ellie. As the time continued to pass, Ellie could feel herself getting weaker, her lines getting shakier and the detail of her sketches slowly declining. After all, it was hard to concentrate when a good 90% of her blood flow was being directed to her cheeks and the growing warmth between her thighs. The longer Ellie allowed her eyes to trace over Abby’s frame, trying so desperately to stay on track, to allow her pencil to do the talking and not lose herself in the allure of a body so carefully crafted and put together it made Ellie’s thighs clench and the knot in her stomach to churn.

Could Abby tell? Her classmates? Every breath Ellie let slip from her lips sounded guttural and laced with the kind of intoxicated desire that burned in her soul whenever Abby returned home glistening with sweat from whatever superhuman workout she had burdened herself with all while Ellie had been experimenting with just how long she could hold bong rips. Pure unadulterated lust radiated from those dark green irises and a slightest of slight hints of pink on Abby’s cheeks only made Ellie more desperate.

“Pencils down, time is up, class is over. For those who wish to stay for class critique, you can have a fifteen minute break and for those who are just one and done, you may leave!” The sighs and groans of her classmates snapped Ellie out of her trance. There was no way Ellie could let anyone see these, let alone critique them! Ellie felt as if God or Zeus or some kind of deity was on the verge of divinely smiting her as she hurriedly stuffed what she could shove into her backpack, her sketchbook slammed shut with such noise several people to the side of her glance over in confusion and with that Ellie was up and gone. Before Abby had even managed to get her robe back on.

—

Ellie downs what feels like a gallon of cold water the second she returns to the apartment but no matter how hard she cranks the cold handle on the faucet it’s not enough to relax the aching, burning sensation that was deep inside of her. She began to contemplate just how easy it would be to crawl inside the freezer when the sound of the front door opening caused her to tense up against the sink. Ellie’s bottom lip is at risk of being chewed right off as she watched Abby ever so casually strut inside, gym bag cast to the floor with so much ease one would never have assumed that a mere few hours ago she had been buck naked in a room of people, people including the one gawking at her from the apartment’s kitchenette.

“What… what th’ hell was all that about, Abs?” It feels cringy to use that nickname, something oh so casual and relaxed as if Ellie hadn’t been eye-fucking Abby’s bare cunt for two hours straight.

“Oh that? Nothing really. Someone had put a signup sheet next to the sauna and I thought, ‘What the hell’, you don’t put this much effort into your body without wanting to show it off, just a little.” Abby brought a hand up, tucking her braid that had been resting over her shoulder to her back before turning around and leaning against the wall, broad arms crossed over her wide chest in that infinitely cocky manner that made Ellie’s legs feel like jelly.

Abby snorts, looking Ellie up and down with one corner of her lips curling into a smirk, “What’s the problem? I thought you’d have enjoyed the show, considering the effort you put in to doodling me with clothes on.” If Ellie could curl up inside herself, she would, but all she can do is white knuckle the sink and try to pretend like Abby hasn’t delivered a verbal punch to the gut.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

Abby lets out a tired sigh, shaking her head as she leans up from the wall, each step she took towards Ellie eliciting a seeming electric tingle down her spine until Abby was right beside her.

“Ellie, I’m the only one here who empties the trash, don’t act as if you haven’t already been using me as your muse for the last few months.”

Abby’s lips are mere inches away from Ellie’s ear as she speaks, her voice a hushed whisper that still held such a stranglehold on Ellie.

“I’m flattered, honestly I am. It’s weird but in an endearing sort of way.”

“T-Those were just practice sketches! Y-You’re so fuckin’ big a-and you take up so much space that I don’t have anything else ‘n this shithole to take inspiration from!”

Ellie swings around to stare down Abby, face burning, brows furrowing and the anxiety inside her gut readying to express itself through her tear ducts. But all that greets her is two large palms pressing themselves against her cheeks, squeezing them in equal parts affection and control, Abby’s forehead coming down to rest against Ellie’s as she holds her in place.

“Now-now, I know baby, I’ve been so selfish. You’ve been agonizing over me for so long and I didn’t even notice.”

If it hadn’t been for Abby’s hands on Ellie’s cheeks she would have collapsed to the floor, Abby Anderson calling her “baby”? If this is a dream or hell, even a nightmare, Ellie doesn’t want to wake up.

“That’s why I volunteered Ellie, because I just knew you needed that extra push to finally ask for what you’ve been wanting for so long, am I right?”

A hand that had been cupping Ellie’s cheek had teasingly cruised its way to grip the crook of her neck, holding her head in place as Abby’s smirking lips moved to the side to graze over the lobe of Ellie’s ear.

“It must have made your stomach churn to see me like that, naked for everyone to see. Your little muse

getting gawked at by all your classmates, bet it just made you so jealous, so needy. I’m surprised you didn’t sneak off to the bathroom to rub one out considering how fucking jittery your legs were getting.”

Abby’s words were drenched with some horrific blend of cruel, teasing lust that drove Ellie absolutely wild. She could feel the crotch of her boxers begin to grow damp, her half-lidding as she tried to muster some kind of retort, some kind of come back that would stop Abby in her tracks and keep Ellie from creaming her jeans right there in the middle of their kitchen. She simply couldn’t.

“Need you… need you so fuckin’ bad Abs…”

Ellie wasn’t even shocked at how desperate she sounded. There was no stopping this, she didn’t want this to stop and as Abby obliged, her lips trailing down, over the nape of her neck before giving the trembling little thing a hungry and possessive kiss, suckling hard and loud, every motion intent on pulling a dark purple splotch onto Ellie’s throat.

“Show me then, show me how fuckin’ bad you need me, Ellie.

—

Ellie was prone on her bed at this point, her shirt tussled upwards to reveal her lean torso, the adorably unkempt smattering of body hair rolling from her belly button to just rest alluringly at the waist of her boxer briefs. She was so utterly and completely turned on she could barely make out the silhouette of Abby, looming over her, straddling her hips, thick hand tracing its way up and down Ellie’s bare chest.

“No bra Williams? How masculine… or lazy, I can never really tell with you.”

Abby crescendos her teasing by bringing her thumb and forefinger up to agonizingly pinch and roll the perked bud of one of Ellie’s nipples, the provocation drawing out a low, husky moan from the woman beneath her. Ellie trembles, her arms neatly removed from the equation as Abby’s free hand holds them both by the wrist, pinning them to the bed. All she can do is moan and whine and writhe beneath the Anderson’s body weight, the digits manipulating her nipple soon being replaced by her lips, blue eyes watching Ellie intently as her teeth and tongue raked over her chest.

Ellie was in Hell. Definitely not Heaven. Because in Heaven the intense, aching, leaking folds of her cunt would be granted some relief but no, Abby was intent on drawing this out for as long as possible.

“A-Abby please, please for f-fucks sake… I-I can’t…”

That detached, aloof persona Ellie tried to carry about might as well have been crumpled and dumped into the trash as Abby’s mouth suckled atop her teat, tongue lazily rolling circles over her nipple as Ellie’s weak legs kicked about beneath her, thighs slick and dragging against one another in a desperate attempt to generate the friction Ellie was so desiring.

“Can’t what? Come on, use your words, you’re a big girl. You were so silent during class, all those dirty, filthy, depraved things… you can say them, I want you to say them, Ellie.”

Abby’s words were muffled as her lips busied themselves in gorging on Ellie’s flesh. Sucking, licking, biting every inch she could reach as she raised her head from her chest and down to the tender, sensitive muscle and meat of Ellie’s throat. All those nights of laying on her stomach in bed, head buried into a pillow as she writhed and humped herself stupid against her palm, fingers curling inside her cunt as she bit back moans of Abby’s name were now unraveling and it was better than any of her fantasies. As Abby sunk her teeth back into the nape of Ellie’s neck she groaned, eyes rolling back and her hips bridging up and off the bed almost in an attempt to buck the larger woman off. “Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-FUCK! I-I’ve wanted you since I s-saw you on moving day! P-Please for fucks sake, A-Abby jus’ fuck me already!”

Abby might as well have reached inside of Ellie’s chest and snatched her very soul but instead of an onslaught of hungrier and hungrier kisses, all Ellie could feel was Abby’s weight lifting off her hips, hands freeing themselves from her body. The only thing this sudden loss in contact garnered was a needy whine, Ellie’s eyes fluttering open to behold the sight of Abby standing over her on the bed, hands fiddling with the buckle on her jeans as she smiled down at her. Ellie’s breath hitches as she watches Abby begin to drop her pants down her thighs. Thighs Ellie had spent those two hours lusting over from an uncomfortable artist’s stool and there they were, mere inches away, taunting her, beckoning for her lips and fingers to drag over them only for Abby to harshly rebuke such intent with a quick slap to Ellie’s hand.

“Uh-uh-uh, you’ve been waiting all semester for this, I think a few more seconds isn’t going to kill you.”

Ellie wasn’t so sure of that, if she had to wait just another minute before she could bury her head right into Abby’s crotch she was sure she was going to wither away, die and leave a pent up corpse. And that intense lust-filled gaze was definitely having an affect on Abby, she might not say it, but as her pants were discarded to the side of the bed, the dark, wet patch in the crotch of her panties was enough evidence that she was enjoying herself just as much as Ellie. The way her arousal glistened over her inner thighs was perfect, if Ellie wasn’t so overcome with desire she would have begged Abby to allow her to draw this, but all she can do is reach up to nervously tuck her thumbs under the leg holes, swirling circles with the calloused tips of her digits just near Abby’s swollen, throbbing bud.

Just this is enough to garner a low, guttural groan from her, head craning forward to stare down at the delicious sight of Ellie’s desperate, nervous expression gazing right back up at her.

“Go on… take ‘em off for me.”

Abby’s tone is low, harsh, part command and part plea, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as Ellie nodded oh-so-eagerly. Ellie’s fingers curled sharply, using every ounce of her remaining self-control to not tear Abby’s panties from her hips and instead politely shuffle them southwards, her chest rising and falling harshly as Abby’s bare crotch was once again revealed to her, only this time it was drooling over her, heat radiating from it in such a lurid way Ellie couldn’t help but lick her lips. Abby shivered at the sight of those dark green pupils darkened with a greedy lust, a lust that had been calling to her the entire time she stood in front of all those straining artists but here, in the domicile of Ellie’s bedroom, the air drenched with allure of sex, it made her feel like God.

As Abby stepped up and out of her panties she half expected Ellie to bury her face into them, debase herself even further as she fell into her grasp, but Ellie has her eyes on the prize, the bundle of nerves throbbing overhead of her, one she so dearly wishes to lavish with her tongue. Ellie’s mouth was curling and contorting with silent, wordless pleas and Abby, as cruel and cocky as can be, just wants to put this poor girl out of her misery. So she shuffles forward, allowing Ellie to snake her lithe arms around her thighs and with a surprising amount of tenderness and compassion she slowly lowers herself, taking a seat mere inches over Ellie’s face. Abby’s chest is heaving now, the tension of the situation even too thick for her to ignore, so instead she greets Ellie by grabbing a fistful of her short brown locks and holding her head in place.

“I’m gonna fuck your face Ellie, I’m going to use your tongue and your lips and that cute little nose and I’m going to fuck you right into the bed, okay?”

Ellie was more than okay. Ellie’s eyes were wide, her mouth hanging slack as her tongue pathetically writhed from her mouth trying to close the distance between her lips and the prize that was sitting right above her.

“Good girl~.”

Abby croons out those last two words before committing to her descent and Ellie finally is allowed the indulgence she’s been thirsting after for God knows how long. The sharp, gasping exhale that shuddered through Abby’s throat echoed throughout Ellie’s room, but Ellie did not care. The only thing on her mind was sinking her lips into those soaked, trembling folds, intent on draining every ounce of that sickly nectar from Abby’s core. She outright moans into Abby’s cunt, eyes clenched shut with determination as her tongue rolled forth, up and down, back and forth over every delicious, leaking inch of flesh that beckoned to her.

Ellie’s fingers tightened against Abby’s, nails driving themselves callously into her taut skin as she craned her neck for leverage as she greedily pushed her tongue forth to glaze against Abby’s inner walls. This sudden intrusion draws out a low moan from Abby’s throat, her head craning downwards to watch as Ellie rutted her face up and between her thighs. It was a divine sight, the way her slick began to smear itself across Ellie’s freckled cheeks, the girl between Abby’s legs showing no sign of stopping as she tongued her way over Abby’s insides.

Ellie’s sloppy eagerness was more than enough to draw out louder and louder groans of pleasure from Abby, the only thing louder than her voice was the squelching of Abby’s juices smearing across Ellie’s greedy lips. Lips that soon found themselves darting upwards to circle around the throbbing bud of Abby’s clit, the sudden lavishing of Ellie’s lips causing Abby to ruthlessly buck her hips down into her face hard. The grip on Ellie’s hair was tight, and it seemed as if Abby was a cowgirl trying to tame a wild stallion and not the writhing groaning pervert beneath her.. Abby lets out a hiss of unrestrained pleasure, arching forward and giving Ellie’s now half-lidded eyes the beautiful show of her toned abdominals flexing and caving in on themselves as Abby rode her face.

Ellie didn’t even need Abby to touch her right now, her boxers so soaked that it was if she had taken a shower in them, her thighs so slick and the tension in her core so tight all she could do was bury her face forward, nose jamming right into Abby’s hips and her fingers death-gripping those tensing thighs on either side of her head, entrapping her in stereo and not letting Ellie’s mouth receive any sort of respite. Not that Ellie wanted that right now, the apartment could be on fire, the world could be ending, and none of that would be as important as driving Abby over the edge alongside her the visceral knot of tension in both their cores pulled so tight, the edge of this cliff of pleasure clawing its way closer and closer with each wet, sloppy movement of Ellie’s tongue over Abby’s bud.

“A-Ah fuckin’ hell E-Ellie… t-that’s it… that’s fuckin’ it!”

Whatever minuscule amount of restraint Abby had possessed had at this point completely left her body, too debased and riding the high (and Ellie’s face) of that contorting arrangement of muscle that was Ellie’s tongue diving so deep inside of it. Her hand hadn’t left Ellie’s head this entire time, not that the other girl needed to be held in place, no this was somehow the most natural of positions for her to be in, but Abby’s other hand had busied itself, riding up and under her tank-top so she could grope her chest, squeezing at the fat and muscle of her breasts in time with each of Ellie’s wet, slovenly kisses to her core.

Abby’s stuttering demands were music to Ellie’s ears, even as Abby’s thick thighs acted as quite an efficient pair of mufflers. She wanted nothing more than for the both of them to tip over the edge together, for the sheer pressure of her tongue to become so unrelenting that Abby broke apart atop her and in that moment she could finally get the release she’s been craving since she first laid eyes on her. The only thing louder than perhaps Abby’s incessant panting was the creaking of Ellie’s wafer thin mattress as the girl on top thrashed her hips down to meet Ellie’s soaked lips until it became all too much for her.

The fist in Ellie’s hair verged on yanking a chunk out of the poor girl’s scalp as Abby slammed her hips down, her orgasming rocketing through her, body tingling from head to toe as she gritted her teeth, jaw clenched tight as she proceeded to squirt directly onto Ellie’s face, not that it really made much of a difference considering how much slick and saliva had already smeared itself over her freckled cheeks. It was heavenly, Ellie gulping as much of Abby’s white, creamy slick as she could as the rest smeared itself over her gaping mouth.

A mouth agape because the sheer sensation of Abby’s quivering, clenching sex above her was enough to drive the poor, pathetic, little thing to her own climax. Legs spasming and twisting around one another, partially because in Abby’s blissed out state she had proceeded to rest all her weight atop Ellie’s head directly and because she knew the amount of cum spreading over the legs of her boxers had made the pair so sticky it was as if she had run a marathon in them (No amount of cycles in the washing machine was going to undo the pure unadulterated sin these undergarments had just been through…).

Abby would have remained in her seated position for as long as it would take for her breathing to return to normal and lungs to regain some of their capacity if not for the slightly muffled plea that came from beneath her, alerting her that in spite of everything Ellie also needed to breathe. Abby clambered off her, collapsing onto the bed right by Ellie’s side as the two women stared up to the ceiling, their chests rising and falling in unison as the sparks and spots in their vision slowly began to return to them. It was Ellie that broke the stillness of their post-coital exhaustion, a trembling hand that had previously been clutching at Abby’s thighs reaching out to lay atop of her’s.

A breathless chuckle escapes Abby’s lips, hand rolling to the side so their fingers can intertwine. Ellie’s head lazily lolls to the side, the darkness of her room perfectly illuminating the soft green tint of her pupils as she stares across at Abby like a puppy looking at its owner.

“When… when’s your next modelling session?”

Abby’s hand squeezes down tightly on Ellie’s as she cranes her head over to face her.

“Not for another week I’m afraid.”

“I don’t think I can wait that long…”

Ellie’s rendered breathless once again as Abby shuffles over, lips pressing a possessive kiss to her throat before she mumbles, “Well… I promise I won’t make you wait that long.”

#the last of us #tlou #the last of us part 2 #tlou2 #ellie williams #abby anderson #ellie x abby #ellabs #ellie williams smut #abby anderson smut

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