#which i know i already rambled about that but

[snowluvvie]

₊˚⊹ ♡ . LET’S GO TO VEGAS.

₊˚⊹ ♡ . MINORS DNI 18+ | word count — 1.9k | warnings — fem!reader, p in v, unprotected sex, established relationship, fingering (f receiving), creampie, biting, possessiveness

“Let’s—go—to—fucking—Vegas.”

Rafe’s voice was breathy, each word punctuated with a rough kiss, his teeth nipped at you harshly and his tongue had very little regard for the barrier of your lips, exploring your mouth like he was entitled to every inch of it.

He was.

His hands roamed your body aggressively, desperately, hands digging into your waist and your hips and reaching around to grip your ass in a way that forced a nervous giggle out of you, straight into his mouth, and he swallowed it along with every other cute noise you made.

“You’d look—so—fucking cute—in white.” His mouth moved to the corner of your lips, to your jaw, where he mouthed against the bone and sunk his teeth into your skin hard. You yelped, your fingers tugging at his hair, and he let out the smallest groan into your skin before soothing the quickly reddening mark with a drag of his tongue.

When Rafe got like this, you didn’t even have to participate half the time, all he needed was to claim you, to remind himself of how truly his you were. Without you even saying anything, he could ramble on and on and make himself rock hard just talking about the two of you. Like right now, when he was babbling about getting married in Vegas, and you could see the way his cock strained against his slacks. Painfully so, it looked like.

His hands dragged around your ass, kneading your skin and tugging on your panties. He pulled them taut so they rubbed against your clit suddenly, which was swollen from how bad you needed him, though of course you were letting him take his fill of everything else before he fucked you. He grinned proudly at the way your chest heaved, your eyebrows furrowing with frustration and discomfort as he basically gave you a wedgie for his own enjoyment—though of course, your half-lidded eyes and blown-out pupils told him everything he needed to know about how you were really feeling.

His shirt had been off for a while—as a matter of fact, you weren’t entirely sure if he’d showed up in one. The end result was the same, though. Your fingernails scrabbled lightly against his bare chest for purchase, his tanned muscles tensing under your touch, and you kept your eyes on him. Waiting, patiently, like you were supposed to.

That seemed to send him over the edge, eyes narrowing as he yanked your panties down, the lilac lace flashing against your thighs for only half a second before they were discarded on the floor. His hand was on you immediately, mouth finding yours again, and he teased your entrance with his fingers while he rubbed the flat of his palm tactlessly against your clit. His mouth was sloppy as he kissed you, his breath hot, and you were already whining and bucking your hips against him with every flick of his tongue against yours and rough press of his hand against your pussy.

“You’re my girl, right? Just mine, always.” He growled into your mouth.

This time you answered, nodding weakly, “yes, nghh, always.”

“Always what?”

Rafe should’ve known better than to keep trying to get coherent answers out of you when he was teasing your hole like this, fingers dipping halfway in, just enough to soak his hand, before he tugged them back out again. It provided barely any relief, only stoked the flames of desperation that were licking at your chest. But still, you answered—you were good like that.

“Yours. Always yours.” You whined into his mouth.

“Say you fucking swear.”

“I swear—fuck, Rafe, I swear!” As if you’d said the magic words, like that was all he needed to hear, he sunk two fingers inside of you, curling them and immediately finding the spot that had your head lolling forward, forehead pushed against him. He was unbelievably smug as he watched you, the way your swollen lips formed a near-perfect O as he finger fucked you, juices starting to drip down his hand.

“Please, please!” You keened, hips shoving against his hand roughly, like you could fit more inside of yourself on your own if you tried hard enough.

Always torn between reprimanding you for being difficult or giving in to the smug warmth that took over when you acted like this, he raised an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side. “Please what?”

You struggled with his fingers still moving in and out of you roughly, eyes hazy as you tried to focus on his face, “Please fuck me.”

“I am!” He had the audacity to sound falsely confused, even ramming his fingers more forcefully into you as if to prove his point. You gritted your teeth, though a loud moan managed to escape your mouth anyway, followed immediately by an annoyed whine.

Usually, this would go on for a lot longer. Like… a lot longer. Rafe would toy with you until you were sobbing, pulling his fingers out of you and shoving them into your mouth until tears formed in your eyes from how hard you gagged, and then he’d shove them back inside you, newly soaked. He’d watch your face intently as he made fun of you and edged you endlessly, and his face would break out into a massive grin when you would finally break down and start sobbing from it. Then, maybe, he’d give you what you wanted.

Not now, though. Not when he was in one of his moods.

As if to prove this point, he pressed his lips to yours again, moving them almost gently. Almost. You kissed him back, mewling quietly into his mouth as you leaned further into him. He pulled his fingers out of you, and your frustration at his sudden absence made you break away from the kiss to protest.

Before you could, though, you realized his hand was going to his belt. You watched as he undid his belt buckle sloppily, his hand still glistening with your juices and smearing them against the otherwise pristine metal.

“Be fucking patient—for two seconds.” Though his words were rough, his tone was too soft for him to really mean it, and he let out a sharp breath as his cock finally sprung free from his boxers, where you could still see the wet spot from his precum. The hand you had in his hair tightened to help you keep under control… the two of you had a longstanding issue—you tried desperately to grab his dick nearly every time you saw it, and every time he’d smack your hand hard enough to leave a welt and tell you the same thing—to be fucking patient for two seconds. You’d get it when he said so.

So, this time, you kept one hand in his hair and shoved the other under your thigh. Where they couldn’t grab him, unfortunately.

“That’s my girl.” He breathed, almost reverently. Your face heated up immediately, nearly falling over at how proud he was of you.

Rafe stroked himself a few times, his breath catching slightly as he did, and you watched with wide eyes the way his giant hand moved and how his hips reacted to it. He lined himself up with your entrance and pushed inside slowly, a courtesy he didn’t often give you, and your eyes rolled back immediately. The stretch was minimal, you’d actually always thought his cock fit right inside like the two of you were puzzle pieces (you’d been making an earnest observation when you’d told him that after your first time together, but he’d fucked you so hard afterwards that the bed frame cracked the wall behind it. So much for honest observations.)

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, eyes trained on Rafe as you frantically tried to drink in the sight of him all at once. His abs tensed as he thrust in and out of you, your body jolting every time he bottomed out. His straw-blonde hair was perfectly tousled from the way you’d ran your fingers through it, falling in his face just-so, his jaw clenched in concentration. His oceanic eyes flicked to yours and held your gaze, the two of you locked staring into eachother’s eyes, which set him off again:

“We can go to—that little white fuckin’ church in Vegas—and then—get a—fuck, oh, fuck!” He lost his rhythm a little as he got himself more riled up, and you whimpered against his neck as he sloppily increased his pace, “get a fucking hotel room—and I can fuck you there, too—cause you’ll be mine.”

“I am yours.” You managed to get out, and were rewarded with a hard thrust, kissing your cervix in a way that made you gasp. You squeaked, hands finding his shoulders for stability and digging into his muscles, which rippled with exertion from how tightly was holding onto you.

Rafe reached up to fasten his hand around your throat lightly, pulling your mouth to his in an open-mouth kiss that was more the clashing of teeth and his desperate tongue against yours than it was lips touching.

“I’m gonna… fuck, Rafe, I’m—” He didn’t let you finish, muffling the rest of your sentence with his mouth, though the way he sped up his hips told you he knew what you were going to say. His body was warm and solid against yours, one hand squeezing your throat reassuringly while he held you in place by your waist with the other, fucking you like it really was your wedding night, like he was showing you what the rest of the nights in your life were gonna look like. Your fingernails were practically claws against his shoulders, and his face twisted into a gleeful wince that told you it stung.

“Say my name—say it.” He demanded, the look on your face clearly alerting him to the spots dancing behind your eyelids, the coil tightening inside of you that was seconds away from springing. “Now.”

And you did, shouting his name as your orgasm ripped through your body. Every last muscle of yours tensed around Rafe, your legs locking up and your pussy clenching around him. You felt his dick twitch inside of you, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he fought to keep fucking you through the aftershocks. You whimpered in sensitivity, maintaining your vice grip around his shoulders to keep you close while he fucked his cum deeper into you.

The wet sounds, which had grown unbelievably louder and more explicit, were what sent him over the edge. His eyes locked on you again, and you watched his face twist, his mouth falling open as he emptied inside of you.

Rafe shuddered, bending over you to mouth a series of kisses along your jaw and the crook of your neck, pressing his nose affectionately against your face and inhaling deeply as he finished cumming.

“I fucking love you, you know that? I do. I’ll always love you. I swear on my life.”

Your eyes fluttered, mouth quirking up slightly. “You say that every time you cum, jerk.”

His head snapped up to look at you, eyebrows furrowed defensively, though once he saw the look on your face and realized you were kidding, he relaxed. “It’s true!” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead and cradling your head gently with his hands.

“Let me get you a towel.” He said as he pulled out, and you gave a tired giggle.

“Gentlemanly.” You muttered.

Rafe grinned. “Only the best for my girl, right?”

[thetadispatcher]

The AP700 nodded as he lowered his head slightly, embarrassed he'd let his own panic cause him to ramble unnecessarily and over explain. He couldn't help it, but that didn't stop him from feeling ashamed of himself for it.

Vincent instinctively raised his hand to start fidgeting with his damaged ear, but a sharp snap from Dan's fingers caused him to jump, and his hand shot back down as every synthetic muscle in his body tensed. His attention snapped to stare wide eyed at the PL600, who gave him a stern look and a slight head shake.

Dan had already turned away from the AP700, so missed the signs of how badly he'd startled the newer android. Vincent placed his hand on his chest as he tried to get his breathing back under control, and his pump regulator to slow back down.

He leaned more into the other android as he calmed down, his systems deciding to go into stasis due to how much energy he'd lost. His emotional distressed had put more strain on his systems then usual, causing the tired feeling he usually had to worsen.

Vincent slowly went completely limp as his eyes shut, his joints hadn't locked into place as his position meant he wasn't at risk of falling and damaging himself well powered down.

John caught the odd look on the human's face, nearly calling it out before Nines mentally told him to drop it. The RK900 felt it wasn't necessary to bring attention to it, the fact there was an older Peter and a human Bishop present lead him to believe the android likely had a counterpart as well. One the human clearly knew, so there was no need to call out the reaction to the android stating his name.

Hugh nodded as he took note of the human's name before turning his attention to the game, placing down two of his own cards rather then calling out the man. Which earned him a disapproving look from Nines, who seemed more inclined to believe the human had lied.

Hugh gave the RK900 an angry glare, quietly reminding the other he wasn't built for detective work. Nines stared at the large android a moment, then narrowed his eyes at him. "Nice try." He said as he motioned to the cards, instructing the other to flip them to prove they matched the round card.

The android did as instructed, revealing the cards he'd placed didn't match so he picked up the tool, placing it to where his LED would be. The tool clicked signalling he'd gotten lucky, and the tool hadn't gone off. He placed it back into the table as Nines took his turn, and John did as well. The other unit had decided the RK900 wasn't lying, as Nines made it difficult for him knowing he was made to noticed a liar.

John turned his attention to the human, still trying to develop a profile of him and knowing if he could tell he had lied would help, allowing him to correct his actions as needed.

"I do wonder about Vincent, he seems like he went through something pretty traumatic for him to be so anxious constantly. Might have something to do with his messed up ear." Strasky was cut off by Sixty, who quickly interjected to correct him.

"Nope, that was just poor, rushed shipping that bent his ear, and it was a lot worse then it is now. The parents fixed it on their own instead of taking him for repairs, this was just because of the whole deviant situation getting worse and people attacking Cyberlife stores." Sixty explained as he waved his hand slightly. "He's just easily freaked out due to seeing a lot of dead androids on the news and people attacking non-deviants. He also saw his model dead and hung in a destroyed Cyberlife store, which really didn't help. He freaked out and deviated due to being left alone momentarily in a crowded place, so that's why he's skittish." The Rk800 calmly explained, he felt it best they know Vincent wasn't being abused and that his behavior was due to witnessing androids being attacked for merely existing.

Strasky nodded as Sixty finished, at least now the AP700's initial reaction towards them made sense as he likely thought they were a threat to his safety.

He turned his attention from the android as he left to fetch something, which he suspected would likely be a few boxes to put the toys in so they could easily carry them around. Strasky looked over the shelves, noting that most were realistic colors. Sixty came back with a large box and a smaller one which he set nearby, before he went back to what he'd previously been doing.

Strasky pulled the stuffed toys down that fit the information Willow had given him as he kept talking, silently noting that Sixty was doing the same quite happily. He felt Sixty just liked looking at the toys, and having a reason to go through them was good enough for him.

"I'm sure Daniel will get better quickly, he's in a place where he's getting the appreciation and acceptance he wanted from his previous owners." He felt it was sad that the android was denied something so simple, but at least he was out of that horrible situation and in a far better place.

"Dan is pretty nice too, I can see why Peter's attached to him. We did discuss what happened on PATHOS-II, and I can tell he tried his best to help me work out my feelings about it, and provide me with other ways to look at it. I still don't understand why, but I feel like I can talk to him without worrying about him judging me or anything." Strasky didn't know why, but talking about the horrors of PATHOS-II had helped him feel a bit better. Dan wasn't obligated to help him, but he did. Sure, the PL600 had forced him to voice his feelings on the worst of what had happened, but he felt the android knew pushing him to let out his emotions would benefit him.

"I mean... I want to share how I feel, but I just can't do it without thinking about being a burden and that I have no right to push my problems onto someone else.... Doing everything so far has been a struggle as I can't stop myself from feeling like I'm being a problem, and asking too much when I can't offer much in return... Maybe it's seeing basically someone who is me put so much trust into someone else that makes me feel like I can too, even if I hardly even know Dan." That was the best reason he could think of, or at least the one Masters would've given him if he was talking to her about it. "Or maybe he just really knows what he's doing, he does have a lot of experience dealing with a version of me. So he's probably learned the best way to get me to talk, even if I don't want to."

"I did do my best to help him, that's why we were gone longer then needed. I was pushing him to talk about things he clearly didn't want to, but he did give in, albeit in an emotional explosion. He seemed better afterwards, a bit calmer which is a good start considering everything he went through." Dan knew from dealing with Peter that he had a tendency to bottle up his emotions until he blew up over something small, and he knew harping on the major thing would eventually set him off on an emotional rant about why it upset him.

"Talking things out with his coworkers will definitely help though, based on what he said to me that seems to be the root of the issue. He feels he let everyone down, and that he's solely responsible for a lot of what happened." Dan paused as the creature on his shoulders nuzzled his face before stretching it's head out to Rook, allowing her to pet it's smooth body.

"It's not that he doesn't want help, he just feels guilty and like an annoyance for needing it. Peter's the same way, he'll jump to help anyone who asks, but refuse to ask for help when he needs it because he feels like he'll inconvenience someone. So he bottles everything up till he can't anymore and he blows up over something minor." Dan felt applying his experiences with Peter to the older one was a good way to explain the likely reason behind his actions.

"Peter at least now will go to me with anything that upsets him as he knows I'll never react the way he fears others will, it took a few years to get to that point though." Dan knew part of why Peter saw him as a sibling was due to how hard the PL600 had worked to get Peter to know it was safe to talk to him about whatever he wanted, that Dan wouldn't judge him for it.

"Strasky didn't take as much prodding as I thought he would, likely because he knows how much Peter trusts me, and that in turn means he can too. I saw him struggling with himself every time I repeated my question. I might be able to talk him into sharing his feelings more freely with you." Dan felt it was only fair as he wouldn't be around the man enough to aid him effectively, and he could use the fact Strasky saw him as trustworthy thanks to Peter, even if the man clearly didn't consciously know why he felt the way he did towards the android.

"But I can share some useful tips. A good way to get someone like them to talk is to make yourself vulnerable to them, be it by sharing similar experiences or just difficult things you experienced. I talked to him about how it felt being stuck at Jericho, and let him know his feelings about what happened to him were valid. And when he started talking, I stopped so he would continue." Dan explained, hoping he could at least give them a place to start when dealing with Strasky.

"It does take awhile to get to a point with them were they trust you, but I do believe he has a level of trust in you. He's just worried that dumping his issues on you will cause you to leave, best I can recommend is if he starts voicing those concerns is to reassure him it won't happen, and to not react negatively to whatever he shares. You might not mean something to come off as judgemental, but he'll take it as such and close back off. Try to take a minute after he finishes to think instead of providing an immediate response, try saying thank you or a variation of it. Just to reaffirm it's okay for him to share things and that is appreciated when he does." Dan knew how to handle them from personal experience, and his programming as a household unit meant he knew the best way to gain trust, and get people to share issues with him.

"As a household unit, I am programmed to know how to get the children in my care to trust and talk to me, unfortunately I cannot provide the help they might need. I can only report my concerns and suggest care to the parents in a way that doesn't break the child's trust to confide in me." Dan felt he should explain how he could get people to talk to him, as it was likely very odd how easy it was for him. "I wish I could do more to help, but providing you with what I know is the best I can do."

The android seemed to always be on his best behavior around Vincent, even when he wouldn't have minded bothering Dan. Sure, the other's systems always seemed on the verge of overloading and he didn't enjoy some casual brawling. But he was harmless, thus he could afford to lower his guard.

The only real threat in the house was Bishop anyway, the other humans simply looked odd. They could be ignored and he could spend some time knitting.

"Mh." He looked down as Vincent leaned in and started apologizing profusely. That was a lot of words just for daring to get a little closer. He supposed he appreciated the concern, but he didn't really care.

"You may rest." It wasn't as if it'd compromise his mobility.

Bishop smirked. The temptation to say he already knew Strohmeier's name was strong, but he managed to hold back for the sake of the game.

"The name's Bishop." he said, looking at his cards. He picked a three and placed it down, then looked at the androids.

Willow kept an eye on Sixty, if anything, to be ready in case something got knocked down.

"Even twins have different personalities. These androids have been individuals for a short time and have been molded by their most recent experiences, but they still qualify as such." the cyborg replied, taking her gloves off, "But they're hardly at the end of their path. Perhaps Daniel will improve over time and so might Vincent. Artificial beings can heal too."

That went for Strasky too, as far as she was concerned. Willow reached for the nearest toy, taking a moment to focus on the feeling of the fabric provided by the sensors in her hands.

"The children need more items to decorate their rooms with. Their preferences, according to the last survey, seem to be dogs, felines, birds and have showed less interest in toys with bright colors." she listed, "Erica will likely claim whatever they will turn down. I suppose we should pick whatever catches our attention."

Then again, she could have used a few new plushies as well.

"Well, the hope is that they'll sort each other out…and maybe be nicer to him. Strasky basically felt responsible for everybody else, which worked out as well as it sounds." Rook said, giving a shrug, "And I feel like he doesn't want the help. I can try to cheer him up, but I'm not Strohmeier or one of the others."

She paused for a moment, then carefully reached out to pet Prince.

[thewertsearch]

GT: I should preface this request with an overture of appreciation. GT: For how much your cool and brotherly friendship means to me. GT: It has just been… GT: Absolutely *bully* having a standup gent like you in my corner. GT: Just a grade a dude whos a cut above the others in class and camaraderie. GT: Phew… *gropes for fresh kerchief*.

Wow, Jake is fucking terrified of this guy - or at the very least, he seems incredibly intimidated for a guy who's ostensibly just chatting with a friend.

Unfortunately, this is exactly what I'd expect from a Bro who's not any different from his adult self. Jake's acting exactly like Dave did, back when he was forced to share an apartment with the guy.

TT: Take it easy, bromide. TT: Just about the only way I could salvage endearment from this perilous slope of horseshit would be to discover, really fucking soon mind you, it was a preamble to some floundering invitation for me to rush to your vicinity as nakedly as possible.

In other words, you wish he was hitting on you.

I really don't think he's kidding, especially since both Roxy and Jane seem to want a piece of English, too. Jake's sitting at the epicenter of at least three crushes, which is not a pleasant place to be sitting when you're fifteen.

TT: But since we've already shot that wad's eventuality on so many dry runs of flustered ambivalence that were as hilarious as they were one sided, TT: That leaves only one hope for this message to avoid spiraling toward qualification as a critical fucking defect in the hull of the Mach 10 rocket that is my precious spare time.

And here's the guy's actual personality. It's a fairly even mixture of Rose and Dave, a combination which synergizes much better than you'd expect.

He's still prone to Dave-style rambles - but unlike Dave, his streams of consciousness are every bit as eloquent as Rose's text, which some extra swear words tossed in for flavor.

It's very good, and immediately does a lot to humanize him, especially when all we've seen so far is "roof. now." and "State your business."

TT: And that hope lies in the extent to which you were practicing artful insincerity. TT: Now's your opportunity to pretend that's what you were gunning for. I suggest you seize it. GT: I… GT: Oh. Yes! But of course. GT: The ironies! GT: Good grief how i was bandying them just now. You know me dude. GT: *Blows smoke off red hot irony pistol.* GT: *NONSUGGESTIVELY!!!!!*

lmaoooo

Alright, I can't actually tell if that was a Freudian slip or not - but I kind of hope it was. If these two became a couple, the vibes would be incomprehensible.

TT: I'm guessing you're probably jonesing for uranium about now. No? GT: Ok can you please just sendificate me some more already?? Im in kind of a hurry! [...] TT: You know. I've offered to construct the rabbit for you many times before. I would craft a much deadlier model. […] GT: Damn it man ive told you this is just something i have to do myself. […] TT: Yeah, I know this is your policy. You've done a good job and you should be proud. TT: But it's my responsibility as your friend to offer one last time. TT: Just as it's my responsibility not to just fork over a bunch of uranium just because you ask me in a moment of weakness. […] GT: Why not??? TT: It's too easy.

Throughout this whole conversation, I've been trying to get a grasp on Bro's general vibe - and I think I'm starting to understand it.

When you're talking to Kid Bro, everything is a game - and he'll make damn well sure that you follow the rules.

Jake previously committed to making the bunny alone, and Bro refuses to rescind that rule, even if Jake's no longer following it himself. He strikes me as a guy who frames every interaction he has as transactional, confrontational, or instructional. He's not capable of just shooting the shit - there has to be an angle.

Mind you, I don't think there's any genuine malice in it. I think this is just how he's wired - and I really do think he's trying to help Jake develop as a person, in his own way.

The problem is, we've been down this road before...

...and nothing good lies down this road.

[jesuistrestriste]

Cowgirl reader x art when

𐚁 ✮⋆˙ needy!art donaldson x cowgirl NSFW 18+

—

art doesn’t even know why he agreed to go with patrick down south for an impromptu boys trip.

it’s stickier down there; the humidity so high that the air is practically drinkable.

the heat suffocated him and climbed down his throat the second he got off the plane, and patrick had unsurprisingly laughed at him when he developed sweat stains on his tee shirt after only ten minutes in the uber to their hotel. it wasn’t his fault, he just never handled high temperatures well.

he blamed the desert, or whatever hellish fire-breathing beast was desecrating this part of the country with such unimaginable warmth. he could hardly think straight with the way his clothing clung to his heat-prickled skin.

he regretted going on the trip from the moment they touched down at the airport. he wished he had stayed back home, then at least he could get some time on the courts. but no.

and so he ruminated on the idea that he shouldn’t have come.

that is, until he and pat went out to a bar that first night.

patrick had already gotten drunk in the first twenty-five minutes and was feeling up a stranger, staggering with them off into a booth buried at the back of the establishment to get handsy. art’s eyes had rolled so far back that he was sure the earth had almost tipped with them.

he leaned over the busy bar, sipping his underwhelming tequila soda until he felt someone different slip into the space next to him.

a woman.

a pretty—no, sexy one at that.

glossy lips, a loose tee shirt that hung off of one shoulder (pink bra strap on display), dark flare jeans that hugged her in all the right places, brown leather boots, and a cowboy hat.

she couldn’t look more typically southern. but fuck, she was hot.

she turns her head and smiles up at him, her hat tilting up with her neck’s movement to expose more of her face.

“hey,” she hums, her eyes scanning him up and down before he can even speak, “… you’re not from here, are you?”

her voice is warm and silky, like dark chocolate. it floods his brain and immediately dilutes his thoughts into incoherent ramblings.

god, why hasn’t he said anything?

say something, damnit!

“ha..! no, no.. not from here,” art chuckles out nervously after a brief clearing of his throat.

she just smirks. putting her pearly whites on display for everyone to see. or maybe just for him..?

“yeah, i could tell by the way you’re dressed.”

was.. was that an insult?

is he supposed to laugh?

shit, she smells like the most delicious—

the thoughts in his brain are cut off abruptly when he feels her hand on his chest, dragging down.

oh fuck.

“relax, city boy,” she purrs with an intoxicating drawl, her free hand taking the hat off of her own head and placing it on top of his blonde curls, “i didn’t mean to get y’all worked up.. i’ll buy you a drink, hm?”

“i.. uh, i mean— okay, yeah, uhm, sure. i’ll take a drink..”

—

an hour comes and goes, and then art somehow winds up in the back of the girl’s car; parked on the outskirts of the small gravel lot.

it’s a shiny, cherry-red convertible. fuzzy dice hanging from the rearview mirror. a picture of a well-groomed black horse tucked into the driver seat’s personal mirror (which she flipped up once the two of them were taking off their clothes).

patrick was still somewhere in the bar, preoccupied, so art felt less guilty about letting this woman drag him out the backdoor towards her vehicle. all it had taken was one sloppy kiss, and then he was willingly trailing behind her like a sick dog.

art can hardly process that now they’re completely naked; his flushed back sticking to her leather seats as she sinks down on his cock. a shuddering groan is pulled forcefully from his chest, spilling out in the next instant. he feels his balls draw up once, twice, three times in response to the feeling of her tight cunt gripping around him, and he swears he could almost come right then and there. she’s like a fucking goddess.

“can you handle me?” she smirks down to him, starting to rock her hips rhythmically like she’s riding a mechanical bull, “i wanna hear an answer, darlin’…”

“can’t—“

ugh, he’s choking on his words. shaking hands holding her waist with the desperation of a guy who hasn’t gotten laid in over a year. he’s allowed to be a bit pathetic.

“can’t?” she repeats, bouncing now on his slicked-up shaft, her nails running down his tensing abdomen and leaving red stripes in their wake.

he shakes his head, a loud whimper and gasp following suit. his thighs are starting to tremble. toes already started curling thirty seconds ago.

“can’t— can’t last, not gonna last—“

the woman just laughs lowly and rolls her pelvis in slow circles. art’s body vaults up in response, pushing against her weight on top of him as he feels a blurt of precome erupt from his tip and surround him in the condom— daring him to disappoint her and let it all go before he gets the go-ahead.

“ohh… aah— you really aren’t from around here, are you? poor lil’ thing…”

he doesn’t know why that statement from her makes his gut stir with pre-orgasmic convulsions. he’s trying to meet her movements with his own thrusts, but he’s losing stamina fast. every buck of his body into her pussy sends a sharp bolt of pleasure right up his spine. he’s sweating almost as much now as he was when he first arrived. probably moreso, if he’s honest.

and shit, he can’t be anything but honest at this point.

she’s making him forget everything he ever disliked about this part of the country.

she’s making him feel like her pussy could solve all of his problems.

she’s making him feel like… like… like—

“oh, god—!” he hiccups, squeezing into her torso, head tipped back and biceps curling as he tries to tug her down closer, “i’m sorry, i can’t hold it— i’m gonna come, can’t— can’t stop-!”

she giggles, and then there’s the voice again. warm, smooth, low. dripping right into the crook of his neck.

“alright, city boy,” she whispers, “come then.”

and that’s all it takes.

art’s eyes squeeze shut, his jaw slacks, and he lets out the most desperate strangled cry as he feels the scorching waves of pleasure consume him from all sides. he feels his cock kick against her palpating walls, pulses of his sticky white release webbing on the inside of the latex.

he’s practically vibrating by the time the aftershocks roll around, his baby blues looking up dazedly to the smiling woman still connected to him. her hands cup his flushed cheeks, her thumbs wiping beaded sweat from his temples and his forehead.

“there ya go… thaaat’s it, darlin’… let it all out…”

art sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and whimpers as he feels his dick stir inside of her, threatening to shoot again just from her words.

“haah… ha-aahngh… hnngh,” he quakes, gasping for air and trying to calm himself down, “h-how did… ngh— how did y-you do that t-to me..?”

trying not to sound so utterly wrecked is easier said than done, he’s realizing that now. he really can’t prevent it- he’s nothing more than a limp mess underneath her perfect form.

he winces and hisses softly with sensitivity when she torturously rocks just once more over his spent parts.

“oh, honey,” she laughs, “we just do it different down here.”

… god, he loves the south.

[leftneb]

for the wip ask game! 🌩

🌩 Share something funny/cracky from your WIP. from this ask game

from The Hands Fic WIP! heads up there is one (1) brief mention of explicit content in here!

“D’you remember the lie detector? Thought that thing was gonna cut my fingers off.” Lando rambles on, not realising how much closer he just put Oscar to tripping over his own feet in front of what might as well be their entire team.

In lieu of an appropriate reaction Oscar lets his face just do what it wants. He feels, helpless, as his eyebrows raise and his eyes widen, staring staunchly at the floor because as long as he doesn’t look Lando in the eye he can still plausibly deny having had any sort of reaction to d’you remember the lie detector of all fucking things. 

Oh, does he remember the lie detector? Fucking hell. Of course he remembers the fucking lie detector. Could he ever not.

“Hmm,” he says, trying to school his voice into something that doesn’t sound suspiciously like yeah I remember how you giggled and blushed and hid your face into the crook of your elbow, I watched every single moment of it or the somehow catastrophically worse yes I’ve been jacking off to the knowledge of you having to re-buckle the straps because your monster-sized fingers wouldn’t fit into the space mine were perfectly fucking snug in, so thanks yeah I reckon I remember the lie detector.

Instead, he says, in an unfortunately conspiratorial tone, “I don’t recall it was that tight for me.” Which is somehow worse, and more revealing, than just the truth. If he’s lucky Lando won’t make the connection between Oscar remembering the lie detector and being able to fucking, compare their hand girth like an actual stalker.

“Heh, right,” Lando huffs. “You and your dainty princess hands. I’m jealous, Osc, mine are like, fucking monstrous,” he teases, mischief in his voice like he’s not just flipped Oscar’s world upside down. 

Lando shimmies both his hands out of his pockets and lifts them chest-level, demonstrating his point to Oscar. 

Inexplicably, some primal part of his brain decides that he should be listening to his mirror neurons instead of basic etiquette. He lifts his hands to match. “Yeah,” he says. 

“See? Tiny.” Lando says for emphasis, taking his other hand and craning it all the way over just to poke Oscar’s frozen-still limb. If Oscar wasn’t already used to Lando’s complete disregard of personal space, he’d think it was weird. Well he’d probably think it was weird if he could think at all right now. 

“Yeah,” he says again, pleasantly surprised that his tone is still bored levels of flat. Fucking hell. 

“Well, you know what they say about a guy’s hands…” Lando jests. He turns – to Oscar’s utter horror – to look him dead in the eye, anticipating something; Oscar’s reaction, maybe even a response. 

Oscar opens his mouth, says, voice mortifyingly rough, “right,” realises that there’s no way that’ll be enough to save either of them from social oblivion, and continues. “Big hands, big-” he fails to think rationally, “ego?”

And Lando- Lando laughs. Not a big outburst, just a cackle, of sorts. It brings the crinkle back to the corner of his eyes and snaps the tension from his shoulders. 

“Big hands, big ego!” He says. Bright like the sun, a happy little tremor in his voice. Like he’s relieved Oscar’s joke was funny. 

[sassy-radio-hazbin-queen]

Ok I am going to talk about something that's been on my mind recently.

Major warning ⚠️ might get deep.

Also ADHD RAMBLING SORRY IN ADVANCE 😔

Regarding Alastor and the Seven year absence. Ok so I see how In some recent posts people say Alastor must feel forgotten by the Hasbin crew, cause When Sir Pentious and Dazzle died they got a portrait and a statue. While Alastor got nothing. And Charlie thought he had died too.

But while that is true I'm surprised no one talks about how Alastor already felt Forgotten long before the fight. I'm talking about when he finally got home after 7 years disappearance.

My boy didn't get a Welcome home,( although he did get one from Carmilla later on)or a " Hey are you ok". Nothing. What does he get. Pushed around, Judged ( though it's quite understandable it's still wrong) and even told that he basically didn't matter. Remember the scene between Carmilla and Alastor. Alastor was basically asking her " Hey while I was gone, Did you at least think about me"?. And Carmilla response was definitely " Eh Not Really, But welcome back in any case".

Sure he looked pissed but if I was in his place I'd feel very hurt. I kinda noticed how everyone treats Alastor as if he is the worst thing in hell. When there so much worse * cough Valentino cough*

From what I understand he only targeted those that hurt others. Maybe Hell was pissed because in a way he was saving other souls. Taking them from their abusive owners. Which is fucked up but it's hell. What do you expect?

I firmly believe Alastor grew up in a abusive household and definitely witnessed his mother getting abused which definitely affected his psyche. Maybe his father killed his mother and after killing his father he vowed no one will ever go through what he went through.

So he targeted awful people and offed them. When he got to hell. I think he felt his work wasn't done yet and now he is in the land of abusers and monsters. Maybe deep down. He was the one SCARED 😨.

Maybe he killed so he could feel safe in a twisted way. He ended up selling his soul cause he was scared. His owner who i headcanon is like Mother Gothel definitely didn't help. She manipulated him into thinking she is keeping him safe. When In reality she was using him for his powers.

I also headcanon that ( now this is going to sound crazy) His owner forces him to dress and act the way he does. She wants to be the only one who can play with her toy. His owner definitely doesn't share. So she will try to make him look in her eyes unappealing. We all know this doesn't work though. As Vox had fallen in love with him.

Now I don't believe Vox ever hurt Alastor and as much as I love stories where he gets 😳 obsessed. I actually would be happy if they become best friends again and hope it was just a giant misunderstanding just like Fizz and Blitz.

Still something happened That hurt Alastor deeply that he now hates anything to do with television. My Headcanon is cause Vox started to spend more time with Valentino and accidentally leaving Alastor in the dark. Alastor enjoyed spending time with Vox. Going dancing at a club, listening to radio shows. Even cuddling in a blanket watching a movie. But I think the main reason he enjoyed Vox's company is cause, His owner couldn't touch him. She couldn't hurt him in any way.

Kinda like how a person wants there friend over so there abuser doesn't hurt them. The abuser won't cause they rather do their evil deed in secret.

In other words Alastor felt safe around Vox and when he started spending time with Valentino and less with him. His owner would hurt him.

But no one knew this cause Alastor always had a smile on his face. Always seemed sure and confident of himself. This is a perfect representation of " You don't know what happens behind closed doors". I think this was a learned habit from childhood too. Maybe after his father abused him or/and his mother he would threaten to kill them if they told or even showed any signs of abuse.

His owner definitely has that power. If she has the power to give him power then she has the power to erase Alastor from existence. I think she threatened his afterlife multiple times.

Anyway eventually Vox and Alastor have a big fight which pissed the owner off. And she took him away for seven years. Personally I am among those that think she TORTURED him during that time.

I think she let him out and told him to watch the princess and make sure no one gets redeemed. She sews a smile on his face so everyone thinks he is happy and fine. Again reference to what I said earlier.

Alastor goes back home and everything has changed. Probably a culture shock to him. He goes to the hotel and had to pretend everything is ok. Maybe he was all touchy feely with everyone cause he wants to feel safe and secure. Like he is finally home and not hallucinating. When he is pushed away he acts like it doesn't matter but I think it does. I think it hurts him deeply but because of the abuse he endured in childhood and his afterlife he puts up a front as a defense mechanism.

As Alastor told Charlie

" Just because you see a Smile, don't think you know what's going on underneath. A smile is a valuable tool my dear. It inspires your friends, Keeps your enemies Guessing and says no matter what comes your way, Your the one in control".

In a roundabout way he was basically calling for help without saying he needs help. Remember he can't tell her or anyone about what he went through. Of course In a way it means he is still a prisoner. His owner can take him away at any time and this definitely scares him. So he will do anything he can to prevent this from happening. Even making a deal with the princess of hell.

Anyway So while after the battle I think he felt Forgotten, I think he already felt that way. Like he doesn't matter and he wants to matter. His owner and father probably told him that he is worth nothing and no one will miss him while he is gone.

Well he was gone twice and NO ONE missed him.

That's very sad when you think about it and I'm surprised no one had brought it up yet.

Once again I apologize for my rambling thank you for reading

[millyphobic]

──★ ˙🎀 ̟ !! BOWS & BABES

⌗ after some troubles with your hair, joel lends a hand

jackson!joel x younger!girlfriend!reader

꩜ .ᐟ cw :: bigass age gap (late fifties + late twenties) , passing mentions of spanking because im a freak, reader is kind of a brat because im a freak, reader has that type of hair where it’s not straight but also not curly so it’s just poofy (aka my hair type) because I want to feel better about myself :3

꩜ .ᐟ note :: extremely self indulgent oops ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ and also kinda short but not short enough to be a drabble so this got slapped into a mini fic 😇🎀

“Joel!” Not this shit again. He doesn’t give a response, too busy sitting down on the bed after a long day. Not even five minutes inside and you’re already shouting for him. Let the old man catch a break.

”Joel! My hair’s being a cunt again!”

“Can you not use that word?”

“Cunt! Cunt, cunt, cunt!”

One day, you’re going to end up bald. Or spanked. Depends if he can get his hands on a decent pair of scissors. You emerge from the bathroom with your hair sticking up all nine ways and it takes a lot in him not to snicker at the sight. There’s a busted hair brush in your hand and tears of frustration beading at your waterline and yeah, he shuts the fuck up real fast.

“Oh god,” he sighs and before he knows it, he’s patting the space next to him on the bed. “Come here. Lemme fix that for you.”

Surprisingly, you listen to him for once. You shuffle your way to the bed and lay down next to him on your stomach, face smushed against the mattress. Well, something is something. You’re awfully finicky when it comes to your hair, claiming that it’s destined to always make you look ugly. Which is a crazy statement because hair is literally just hair. It doesn’t take away from your cute smiles and silly nose scrunches. But then again, once upon a dinosaur age, he was just like you. A twenty-something year old who was always stressing about his appearance and whatnot. So he’ll indulge you and fix your problems, no matter how small they may seem.

He takes the poofy strands in his hands and just because, he gives them a little tug, earning a hiss and dirty look from you. “Don’t be a brat. Lift your head up, I’m gonna braid your hair.”

And it’s like Christmas has come early because you listen to him again, raising your head and propping yourself up a bit on your forearms. He shifts his body to face you better and takes a gentle hand to rake his fingers through your hair, tutting at you when he sees the evident sight of breakage. No doubt from the amount of times you’ve mangled your hair with that damn brush.

“Didn’t know you could braid hair.”

Your little mumble breaks him out of his train of thoughts and just hearing the disbelief in your voice makes him chuckle. “You’d be surprised. Now be good and don’t cry. There’s no reason to cry.” His free hand slides to the base of your throat, forcing you a bit more up so he can land a kiss on the top of your head. And there you go, the furrow in your brow disappearing and the tension in your shoulders easing away. Not to be an ass, but Joel finds it amusing how easy it is to keep you happy. All it takes is a few kisses and tender words to unwind you from the fit you got yourself in.

“I don’t know why my hair is like this,” you huff, fiddling some ribbons in your hand. No doubt what you planned to use to tie your hair up. He listens to you ramble as he parts your hair into two sets of three sections. Pigtail braids because they’re cute and you’re cute. Not the most equal sections but it’ll do. Please don’t let me fuck this up is all he can really think of but it’s okay, he’s got this.

“I mean, it’s not pin straight. But it’s not curly either. Just poofy. It’s straight when I get it wet. Sometimes there’s little waves in there when it dries. But it’s so frizzy and gets all knotted so I have to brush it out and then it gets all ruined. I hate this. My hair’s a bitch.”

At least you didn’t say cunt. Makes me wanna laugh when you say that he thinks to himself with a scoff.

All he can really do is click his tongue and sigh as you talk, more focused on making sure he’s criss-crossing your hair right. You’ll forgive him later when he gets this right.

Maybe in another life you could’ve gone to a salon and inquired about your hair type, maybe pick up a product or two to manage the frizz or help form a wave pattern. But with the way things are now, the braids are the best you’re getting.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, sweet pea. But, I’ll be honest with you. There ain’t nothing ugly about your hair. Puffy? Yes. A little tricky to manage? Sure. But it ain’t ugly. You’re not ugly, are you? Of course not, you’re as cute as a button. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Or I’ll fucking make you bald.” He gives the now-completed braids another tug and smiles when you yelp, a satisfied warmth blooming in his chest when he sees you smile back at his antics. That’s his baby, through and through.

“Alright, alright. I’ll shut the fuck up. Here.” You hand him the ribbons and he takes his time wrapping them around the end of your braids, tying them into near bows like how you taught him. He thinks they’re near-perfect too, not to brag. They better be because he didn’t sit still for an hour watching you tie silly bows on his bicep for nothing.

“And there we go!” Joel announces, patting your head as he admires his handiwork. Bows and babes: his favorite. Not bad for an old man. Not bad at all. You roll over to your back and sit up, clambering your way into his lap like you own it. Well, you technically did but damn, at least ask first.

“Hi.”

“Hi, sweet pea. What happened to asking if we can sit in someone’s lap?”

“Shut up.” He really should spank you for that but you press a kiss to his cheek and whatever, he can maybe let that slide for once. You looked too damn adorable in those pigtail braids. Too damn sweet nuzzling your cheek against his, little giggles leaving your lips as his stubble tickles your face. You’re going to be the death of him one day but what a lovely death that would be, to die at the hands of your affection.

“Joel,” you whisper in his ear, lips brushing against the shell of his ear. Little minx, sending shivers down his spine as you practically purr at him. “Thanks for braiding my hair. I’m sorry for being an ass. Love you!” Another quick kiss, to his lips so fleeting he would’ve missed it if he wasn’t so attentive. Damn tease. And your nose rubbing against his like you’re some kind of bunny? You’re absolutely going to kill him one day and it’ll be the best day of his life.

“You weren’t an ass, just a bit of brat. And I love you too, sweet pea.”

[i-dared-myself]

ATEEZ x Ninth Member Headcanons

ATEEZ x reader

Slightly NSFW for but not so much so that I’m marking this 18+

Requested by anonymous: OMG YOU TAKE REQUESTS???? YOUR BLOG IS SO PERFECT Ahem- sorry, I got excited !!! Could I please request an ATEEZ 9th member au headcanons??? I've seen the skz one and now you made me want to see the idea with Ateez too!

Ahhh I’m so sorry to people who made requests before this one! I promise I'm still working on those ones, I just got really excited about ATEEZ!!!

•Hongjoon welcomes you to the group with a warm smile. He leads you to meet the others, and you know it will be chaos when you see them.

•You never feel out of place for a moment. They all make you feel welcome, and you try your very best to return that enthusiasm as you settle into the group.

•Your room is off from the others. Sometimes you like it that way, other times you don’t. It really depends.

•You like it on days where San is looking for someone to bother and Seonghwa isn’t around. You son’t like it on the nights that you have terrible dreams thay leave you sobbing into your pillows when you wake.

•When that happens, you push your door open and wander down the dark hallways. Wooyoung is always ready to comfort you, usually by using his body warmth to soothe you to sleep. And he’s not going to say anything if he gets a free cuddle out of it.

•Jongho stays up with you. You don’t mention what happened in the dreams, and he doesn’t press for an answer. Eventually you fall asleep and he doesn’t risk waking you, instead leaving you in his bed.

•Yeosang is always a bit unsure of himself. But then he remembers there’s no cameras around and you need him. So he mutters words of assurance to you and awkwardly pats your back.

•Hongjoon brings you to the kitchen with him. He either makes you a hot chocolate or a tea, depending on your mood. He lets you snuggle up to his side on the couch as you drink it, telling you about his day.

•Seonghwa immediately tugs you into his bed. He covers you in his blankets and coos about how brave you are. Sure it’s a bit ridiculous to be coddled at your age, but you soak up the love regardless.

Yunho listens as you blabber on about whatever it is. You cry into his shoulder as he rubs circles on your back. Eventually you can’t even remember what it is that woke you and doze away in his grasp.

•San groans as you poke him until he wakes up, but is fast to sit up. His brain is too foggy with sleep to really understand what’s happening, but he tosses you over his shoulder before depositing you in your bed and returning back to sleep right there on the floor. It’s the thought that counts, and that helps you.

•Mingi mutters about how he can take your nightmares in a fight, which makes you giggle. He rambles nonsense about how he’s tougher than whatever it is you’re kept up by. He’s silly and makes you laugh when you need it most.

•When your birthday comes around, you barely make it out with your life. You do your live as you were supposed to, and it goes by smoothly. No hiccups or cakes being smushed into faces.

•Then Yeosang calls you into the kitchen, and you’re awestruck by the pile of gifts on the counter, next to the worst cake you’ve ever seen.

•It’s hideous. Your name is scrawled out messily across the top in a colour that absolutely doesn’t match the frosting on the rest of it. There’s a huge crack down the centre, and you’re pretty sure you’re about to cry.

•“I told you it was fucking ugly!” Wooyoung hisses to Yunho, smacking his arm.

•You whisper that you love it, much to their surprise. Hongjoon cuts you a slice before putting it out in front of you. They sing happy birthday to you before you take a bite.

•You’re the only one to eat any of the dessert, because apparently they already ate two entire cakes. They screwed up the others even worse than the one they presented to you and didn’t know how else to discard of the evidence.

•They apologize for not just buying you a cake, and you ban them from ever buying you one. It becomes a yearly tradition for them to bake you one from scratch, and each cake gets better than the last.

•Probably because the first one gives you food poisoning. They apologize numerous times from your hospital bed, but you assure them that you’re fine.

•Your water bottle is covered with stickers. Whenever you travel in the world for a tour, Wooyoung buys you a sticker to remember it. You cry when you lose the bottle, and Hongjoon purchases you a new one.

•The rest of them pitch in to get you a bunch more stickers, until your water bottle is unrecognizable.

•Your room itself was plain when you moved in. The walls were white, the closet was empty, and the curtains were a depressing beige.

•Now, everything is slathered with your favourite colours. Mingi and San help hang the new curtains, while Yeosang and Seonghwa paint the walls. Jongho whines as he pinches his finger putting your new bed together with Hongjoon, and Yunho proudly displays glowing stars on your wall.

•It feels like home in a way you can’t describe, especially when Wooyoung trips and puts a hole in the plaster of your room. Everyone yells at him, and you don’t repair the dent.

•The day Mingi finds a bloody pad in the bathroom garbage is perhaps the most stressful day of your life. Even more so than your auditions and exams.

•He sprints into the living room, waving his arms around. He (thankfully) left it in the bathroom and didn’t touch it. “Someone here is dying!”

Hongjoon jumps to his feet, eyebrows pulling together in concern. He demands to know which member of the group has a deadly disease/alien parasite living inside them.

•You quietly admit it’s your period, and they all freeze. In all their time living with you, it hadn’t occurred to them that you went through cycles. Logically you did, but they never put two and two together.

•Seonghwa (again) coos about what a poor thing you are. You just want to curl up and die as he lifts you onto his lap and announces to the others that you’re so strong and brave.

•To which you tell him you’re not a child and stomp away to your room, slamming the door shut.

•The irony does not escape you.

•They all knock on your door, murmuring about how Seonghwa is an idiot. They promise to make him cook dinner, and anything you desire. Waffles do sound pretty good, so you open your door.

•Seonghwa is shoved closer and says how deeply sorry he is for offending you. San scratches his head and adds that you are so brave and strong.

•They all grown as you slam the door in their faces. They scold him insistently, before Seonghwa and San defend themselves.

•“I’m just saying I would be terrified to find blood coming out of me one day!” San exclaims. Seonghwa murmurs agreement. You peek out of your room hesitantly. He continues, “And having to just go on with your normal life? Yikes.”

•So you forgive them. The waffles you eat that night are fluffy and delicious.

•It’s well-known that ATEEZ is… freaky. They’re wholesome and sweet, but they’re a bunch of nasty freaks (Endearing term). You were shocked the first time Mingi used a microphone as a pretend-dick and jerked it off. That first time San kissed Wooyoung on the lips? You were horrified.

•You’ve grown used to it. You don’t even bat an eye when Jongho thrusts into the air. You’re not quite up to their level, but your face doesn’t heat up at their lewd actions, anymore.

•Although you do get flustered when they drag you into it. You cover your eyes with your hands as Seonghwa’s eyes roll back from where he’s straddled beneath you. You shriek as Yeosang slaps a hand on the wall next to your head, and nearly pass out when Hongjoon’s fingers curl around your throat.

•All of this is part of skits (You’re fairly certain of this, at least) and carefully thought out and planned ahead of time. For the days afterwards, you stay off of social media and ignore your mom’s calls.

•The time you nearly drown is a harrowing event. You take a short walk near the site you’re filming a vlog. You promise Yunho you’ll take security with you before you grab a jacket and follow a trail.

•You’re standing at the edge of a river when you realize your personal guard went on a lunch break. You sigh and turn to return to the group, not wanting to be out without protection.

•Then the dirt beneath your heel crumbles as you tumble into the rushing waters. A scream is ripped from your throat as everything is turned upside down and sideways and-

•You’re pulled onto the riverbank and gasp for air. Your eyes struggle to open, and you hear the panicked cries of the other members.

•“Who’s giving her mouth to mouth?” Yeosang shouts. The others fall into an eerie silence as you try and gather the words to tell them to back the fuck off.

•You manage to peel your eyes open, just in time to prevent San’s mouth from lowering to yours. You push him away before vomiting to the side.

•Hongjoon refuses to do any other filming that day, and brings you back home. Seonghwa cocoons you in blankets and curls up on the couch next to you. Mingi makes you a warm drink while Wooyoung runs his fingers through your hair.

•Jungho is the one to turn a movie on to distract you from your racing thoughts. Yunho dumps a bag of chips into a bowl and places it in front of you, but you’re arms are wrapped up too tightly for you too eat them.

•So Yeosang is the selfless hero who consumes the snack, telling you about how bad they taste and not to worry. When you point out that he could just feed them to you, he conveniently goes deaf from San yelling in his ear.

•And when you have nightmares that night from almost dying, you know you have plenty of people to go to.

Taglist:

@velvetmoonlght

[echo-riot]

Loser!Sub Ellie Headcanons

1. Always Begs for Permission: Ellie’s too nervous to take initiative without explicit direction.

“Can I? Like… please? I’ll be good, I swear.”

2. Gets Embarrassed by Her Own Sounds: She tries to stifle her noises, which only makes them louder.

“Oh—shit! Did I—uh, sorry, I didn’t mean to be that loud!”

3. Hyperfixates on Your Reactions: She’s obsessed with pleasing you and needs constant reassurance.

“Is that good? Yeah? Oh my god, you’re so hot like this…”

4. Loses Her Mind Over Praise: Ellie’s so desperate for validation that even a little praise makes her spiral.

“You—you think I’m good? Holy shit, I think I’m gonna die.”

5. Wants to Hear You Talk Dirty: Ellie loves when you tease her, even though she gets flustered.

“Wait, what’d you just call me? Oh my god, don’t stop.”

6. Can’t Handle Being Touched First: The moment you touch her, she’s putty in your hands.

“Fuck—don’t look at me like that I—uh, I can’t take it.”

7. Talks Herself into a Corner: Ellie’s nervous rambling always ends up more degenerate than she intended.

“I-I was just thinking about you earlier—uh, not in a weird way! Or, like, maybe kind of weird…”

8. Gets Off on Being Teased: She loves when you tease her, even though it makes her squirm.

“C’mon, dude, don’t mess with me like that… unless you’re gonna finish what you started.”

9. Can’t Stop Herself from Complimenting You: Ellie gets so flustered that she blurts out awkward compliments.

“You’re, like, stupidly hot, you know that? It’s not fair.”

10. Clings to You After: She’s needy as hell and can’t stop touching you, even after everything’s done.

“Don’t go yet. Just… stay, okay? I need you.”

11. Loves Being Marked: Ellie secretly loves when you leave marks on her, even though she pretends to be embarrassed.

“Oh, shit, you’re gonna leave a mark, aren’t you? Fuck, do it.”

12. Wants to Be Put in Her Place: Ellie craves it when you take charge and tell her what to do.

“Yeah, okay, fine—just tell me how you want me. I’ll do anything.”

13. Gets Flustered When You Take the Lead: She tries to act confident but completely loses it when you take over.

“Oh my god, you’re so—uh, wait, are you really gonna—oh fuck.”

14. Overthinks Every Move: She’s constantly overanalyzing, making her even more awkward.

“Did I do that right? Wait, should I do it again? Uh, just tell me what you want”

15. Obsessed with Your Voice: Ellie can barely function when you whisper in her ear.

“Jesus Christ, you can’t just say stuff like that! I’m already dying over here!”

16. Loses Control at the Slightest Praise: Even the smallest compliment turns her into a wreck.

“Fuck, don’t call me that. Or, uh, do… shit, I don’t know”

17. Gets Embarrassed by How Much She Likes It: Ellie tries to act cool but can’t hide how into it she is.

“Nngh~ shit that feels good- wait did I say that out loud..”

18. Absolutely Melts When You’re Rough: She loves when you get a little rough with her, even if she pretends to protest.

“Oh, come on! You can’t just—fuck—okay, yeah, do that again.”

19. Constantly Seeks Validation: Ellie can’t handle the thought of not satisfying you.

“You liked that, right? You’re not just saying that? Please tell me I didn’t mess it up.”

20. Wants to Be Told What to Do: Ellie loves it when you take the reins and give her instructions.

“Yeah, okay—whatever you say. Just tell me where you want me.”

[ruporas]

Hi there, this might be stupid but I don't have anyone else to spew this to so I suppose you just have to endure my self-indulgent ramblings. Sorry in advance!! I've been thinking a lot about, like, Wolfwood with wings? Not like, an AU where he's been a Plant all along but where something happened that forced them out of him, maybe something with the tincture/vials or being in the proximity of one of Vash's sisters when he takes one or perhaps even something the Eye of Michael did right at the beginning that was lying dormant until they felt the ned to active it, I don't know- this probably sounds so stupid. I'm just imagining this painful, confusing, otherworldly thing happening to Wolfwood that he doesn't understand, seeing the black feathers crawling across his skin and sprouting from his shoulders, thinking himself more of a monster than he already is because he obviously isn't human, he isn't Plant, he isn't even like Vash, so what is he other than another kind of monster, more fucked up than he used to think that Vash was?? And Vash just looking at Wolfwood with his sharp claws and his fangs and his glowing eyes and the feathers sprouting from his arms and face and chest, at the big black wings that extended from his back to stretch around him like a funeral shroud, understanding the pain and the fear and the feral instability of something unthinkable happening that he couldn't comprehend, knowing that Wolfwood was thinking about himself as a monster just like Vash did, and being in the unique position of being able to help him through it, helping him understand what was happening to him and aiding in dissipating the feathers and fangs and claws and helping him recover in the aftermath. I don't know, this might be stupid and crazy but. I can't stop thinking about it. Thank you for coming to my ridiculous self-indulgent TED talk, thank you for everything you do.

hello! omg, getting this was such a lovely surprise, i love seeing the passion in this au. i love the concept of wolfwood with wings too (specifically a huge #fan of guardian angel wolfwood or some sort of angel with smaller wings than vash).

wolfwood is such a meant to be human, made to be human character that it always makes me a little sad to dip him into the creature zone because the confusion and distress he'd inevitably experience hurts me afgmskgmsd but Regardess, it's always a good angsty concept. piling on top of the way he views himself already, it's as though those thoughts physically manifest themselves and air it out for everybody to see. unable to deny what he has become when it's presented in such a blatant way.

from the way it's described, i'm imagining this to be like… mid way through the story, close to vol 7 :3 i think something like this happening after vash got his big scare with his powers becoming open to the world, a monster now openly claimed and known, he'd be scared, wracked with guilt, and struggle to navigate his own vulernabilities to properly help wolfwood. at the same, wolfwood is understanding vash better, acknowledging the person he is despite his other worldliness and thinking of the impending doom on humanity if vash doesn't get to knives, i think amidst his own self loathing, it's touched by fretting over vash and wanting to not hold them both down with this abrupt transformation. he'd likely push down his own fear to try and find a direct solution to stop the height of the transformation, to which vash would likely shred a sliver of vulnerability to give objective advice/assistance.

i like the idea of them settling down later and both of them being in the "what the fuck do we do now" phase and having no answer but can only discover the answer by navigating it slowly. having something like this happen would forcibly open a conversation of their experiences, i think, especially for wolfwood who might have to talk a bit about his EoM experience to give an inkling on how something like that could've happened. it's both kind of sweet and depressing how they'd get the chance to communicate more of their life to each other through this :'] an almost parallel experience… and i think vash would have to think about what could define a monster, he'd certainly view himself as one but not wolfwood.

i wish i had more creative fuel to churn your vision out into a drawing but i couldn't come up with anything cool enough to match the descriptions…

i'm not sure if you've seen it from me yet, but i did do a plant-related thing that follows a similar horrified discovery for wolfwood / being changed into a half-human half-plant sometime ago, in case you might want to see more feathery woowoo! it has trimax spoilers (post trimax) so heed warning, but here's the asks:

thank you for sharing this with me! it's fun to think about it, always a joy to wolfwood in Situations… just constantly experiencing the horrors, but at least he isn't alone..!

[what-even-is-thiss]

I have a writing ask for you: I find myself feeling very stubborn about conveying certain details sometimes even if they might not be very important and cannot be pointed out smoothly. Not all, but some.

How does one learn or come to accept letting go of these? Is there even such a thing? How do I not care when I do, really, no matter how petty or small? How can I communicate my vision the clearest as naturally and to as many people as possible?

Perhaps this is really specific from detail to detail, but I have too many examples in mind to pick together a coherent banquet. This ask is already getting rambly as is.

My current tactic really is to spread the mention of specific details to make it feel more natural like putting medecine in an animal’s food, but this doesn’t feel like a sufficient enough way to deal with it. What if my story is not long enough for it?

I can deal with people being wrong about something I didn’t write, because at the end of the day I do not 100% know every single intention, but the idea of a significant percentage of people being wrong about something *I* wrote personally, bothers me alot more. Even though this distant personally uninvolved audiance of a high caliber is not really a reality for me currently.

I mean hell, the length of this ask probably already tells you that I am struggling to convey a rather simple problem, and this is a trimmed down version. I feel as if I can never guess properly enough how most people will interpreet my words to a satisfactory degree so I need to clarify which gets lengthy.

The first thing you need to accept as a writer is that you have absolutely no control over how people interpret your work and even if you think you’ve made your meaning as clear as possible it still won’t 100% mean the same thing to your readers as it does to you.

The next thing is that you can turn basically anything into a quirk of your writing style.

Maybe you’re just the sort of writer that goes off on paragraphs long tangents about a bird off in the corner before returning to the plot. Or maybe you just need to write what you’re gonna write and cut out the bits you don’t need later.

I have the opposite problem where I often don’t write enough and end up having to add more back in later. We’ve all got our processes. And to a certain extent finding what your process is requires some trial and error. But if you obsess over how people are going to interpret you then you’ll never allow yourself the freedom you need to figure out your style.

[lostonehero]

Malevolent and tma you say???

Which one do you like better?

Personally it is super hard to choose cause they are quite different in how they are trying to tell the story. Malevolent has much better quality I believe. Or at least I find the experience more pleasurable. Tma however has an infinitely cooler and more intriguing concept and such(( losing words in utero) i just think utero sounds cool)

However, all that being said, i think if I were to rate first listen experience they would be the same. If I were to rate listen quality I would give it to the later seasons of malevolent. If I were to rate suspense and mystery that would go to tma. There's so many facets to how these shows are constructed its awe-inspiring.

I'm rambling but I would love to hear your own rambling about your thoughts on tma and malevolent. And feel free to throw in similar media or media you enjoy to a similar degree. I'd talk about welcome to night vale but I feel this is super long already. Just know I love it its amazing.

Tma was great really

Struggled through season 4

I like it can't for the life of me start the next series

Tma is so much fun with the Fandom the actual podcast I could only handle so many horror stories i performed the plot more so than the statements

I like the characters in tma and how they interact and writing fanfiction is super fun but honestly cannon I can take or leave it I'm like a vulture picking at what I like

Jon is a great tragic character making all the piss poor choices and that was fun

However

Malevolent

I fuck with that

I love the plot and fuck I'm behind like three episodes but that's due to outside reasons and my address brain is hardwired for mechs at the moment

I love the approach to the storytelling a blind character getting the world described to them fuck man that is amazing

I love the shjtshow that was season 4? Whatever the ny bit was. Three days for everything to go to shit. Gay priest. Hot detective. Fucking Kayne love that little shit.

Arthur is a wet cat of a man and I love him

John is a jealous lover

Malevolent is fantastic and I really need to catch up on the last two episodes

[askthemedbay]

Lore wise, I would have to know the lore of what happened to Pharma. What is shown is fascinating and love to know more! Your art and worldbuilding is really good, and I am happy to see more.

(OOC: Thank you for the kind comments!! And congrats, anon, you’re the winner of the first story post! It’s a bit lengthy, but I’ll do more of these if you guys like them!)

Ratchet was already growing suspicious by the time he noticed what Pharma had done.

No one could find that many willing donors that quickly, and morgue was filling up with cogless corpses.

It was stupid to believe Pharma, and he saw that now, just like he saw him drugging those sleeping bots. Those optics that would never open, that would never see their new home planet.

If only he was faster.

Ratchet adjusted his wrists. His new modifications hadn’t exactly settled with his original circuitry yet, making the joint feel bulky and slow. It would settle into its new purpose soon, though. It would see use soon.

Pharma hadn’t stopped stalking around the room since Ratchet agreed to leave, his pedes tapping rhythmically to every calculated step. Keeping up with quota drove him mad, Ratchet thought. No bot would think to kill a patient mid operation, to rip out their most precious organ and leave the corpse as an accident.

It was so stupid to believe him, in hindsight he was a fool. But that was hindsight, and this was now.

Ambulon stepped into the small room, and Ratchet pressed himself further against the wall. No one had noticed him yet, not even the keen-opticed trainee. He knew what Pharma planned to do to him. He felt all that Ambulon felt, and had heard Pharma’s mad ramblings late into the night. Yes, he was smarter than they assumed. The elder medic still had a functioning processor.

“You requested me?” Ambulon prefaced. Primus, he was only a kid. He was older than his own, but clearly not by much. That soft faceplate and hardly set jaw said enough. He’d only recently grown into that heavy plating.

Pharma ceased his pacing, looking at Ambulon with wild optics. That was not the same bot he once considered a friend, a colleague. That wasn’t Pharma, not anymore. Some kind of disease had wormed its way into his processor. It bastardized him. Turned him into… into…

Ratchet didn’t blink. His optics were tuned in and focused. That’s how fast it was. Though, seekers moved quickly under stress, didn’t they? Pharma raised his servo, which quickly turned into a loud, screeching engine.

Ambulon wasn’t stupid. He also made it through grueling medical academies before the war ruined his chances of a real certification. At least he was there to teach the poor kid… the long and short of it, he’d figured it out quite a while before Ratchet had; wether the circumstances were some sick twist of fate or not, the kid’s safety was his greatest concern. And for good reason. “Pharma..? What are you doing?”

Ratchet wasn’t nearly the fastest bot on the Ark, but he had some good days. This just happened to be one of those. Though, not nearly as fast as Pharma was in drawing his weapon of choice, Ratchet flung himself at the other medic.

They landed in a pile of scraping frames and harsh curses, tussling on the sterile ground of the medbay. Pharma, while lithe and agile, was no match for the bigger mech, but he was certainly trying. He waved his saw around like a mad mech, almost grazing Ratchet’s crest multiple times.

If any time was good to test his new ability, now was that time.

Ratchet raised his new, awkward servo, and revealed its purpose. The plating snapped away easily, revealing about a dozen tinier cables, ones that almost resembled those Soundwave used to disable his enemies before he went for the kill; but these were far more humane.

He fought for a better hold. Ratchet pushed Pharma onto his front, unwilling to listen to his screams. Not anymore. His free servo held his saw-wrist down, while he placed his modification on that practiced place. Ratchet closed his optics, focusing his power into controlling those smaller tendrils.

Pharma yelped, then that yelp turned into stupefied groans. When Ratchet returned to himself, the cables had snaked up the back of Pharma’s neck and into the thin gap between the heavy protective plating and connective wires. He was cradling his processor now. Subduing him manually. Finding the small nodule at the back of the processor, Ratchet watched the light fade out of Pharma’s optics.

He was not offline, not entirely, but he would be in stasis for some time. Just enough to get him locked up in the Ark’s brig.

Ratchet released soft vent, his internal fans clicking on as he carefully removed his processor-scrambling equipment. He stood, only now noticing that Pharma… he’d definitely hit him. The glass panels of his chassis were shattered, and he was coated in pink, purified energon. But that wasn’t his greatest concern.

Ambulon was frozen in place, like he’d gone to recharge standing up. He couldn’t speak, only opening and closing his intake stupidly. Ratchet stumbled to him, grabbing his shoulders roughly and squeezing. “He didn’t do anything to you, did he?”

When Ambulon shook his helm no, Ratchet cycled his vents with relief. He pulled the young bot into his arms, trying to comfort him. “You’re okay, kid. You’re safe. Go… go take the next decacycle off. Please.”

“Yes, sir..”

He always was quite good at taking orders.

(OOC: Once again, I’ll do more story posts if you guys like them! Have some related sketches too)

[lilikitsune18]

I apologize for asking this but since Poppy Playtime Chapter Four is coming out at the end of the month and I actually came up with my own version of the Nightmare Critters for my Smiling Critters AU, the Hour of Despair as the heroic version of the Dark Creatures.

I call them the Frightmare Beasts.

I already put out a list of what their hero names are and what their designs will be based on my page.

If you can make all 8 of the Nightmare Critters aka the Frightmare Beasts, I would really appreciate it.

I know you already got other projects you're working on and all that, but please take your time and you don't need to rush. I'll be sure to give you the credit for your artwork like I did for your designs for the Dark Creatures and I really appreciate your hard work on them.

Have a wonderful day and stay creative my friend

NeoDracunyan

Here’s the first of the crew!

For @neodracunyan ‘s Hour of Despair AU Baba Chops!

Sketches + rambling under the cut

So the sketches of Baba I’ve actually had them for a few months. I kinda forgot about them for a while until this ask came in. I cleaned them up and completed them for Baba’s look. I didn’t actually have many notes about her design except to draw attention to her fingers. Unlike the Dark critters she only has four fingers on her hand not five. This helps to note which critters Darku has influenced. Baba’s robot arm has five fingers because it was made for a human, not a critter. (For robot arms made for critters see Bubbas design for the AU)

[moonpie016]

---

This song just fits this.

My goodness, they're simpler in design.

Good!

.....And so the rambling begins.

Which I would consider this a oc rambling, I don't know what these dudes are anymore. Except for Myst. But fun.

Though I already explained stuff here.

(If ya wanna read or re-read.)

The wall of words underneath.

⬇️

💛

Soooo.

Illy (she/her)

~~~~~~~~~~~~

First one up. Not much has changed honestly. Still trying to have some calculated way of thinking about things, either logically or critically. It's a struggle for her.

But likes using whatever knowledge she has to idk, rant? Spout random facts?

She's just minding her own business unless it IS her business. (Or nosy).

She has glasses now. Yay! Great! She can read without straining her eyes!

~~~~~~~~~~~~

💛

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💜

Waxing (he/they)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I kinda stole the name Waxing from an old oc of mine, sooo that's his name now. Old oc has no name now. :]

A new thing (other than the headphones) is that the center of his hoodie can basically become or resemble a pit.

Because that's how any strong emotion feels. Usually negative ones. He hates it, Illy tries to make Wax calm down with reasons he shouldn't be anxious, but falls out the window.

💜

It only works if he's not too worked up. Man's eyesight is....ok. Not the best, because unlike his other part, he has to squint at most things. Like words on signs and stuff. Why doesn't he just copy his other half? Idk. He's stubborn. And character design reasons.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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❤️

Seeds (She/he/they)

Myst (she/her)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Imma just put Seeds and Myst together here.

Because they're basically one in the same. Yes, Seeds' jacket has stuff on it, I probably will draw something with more stuff on the jacket. (Because I didn't know what else to think of.)

The one side of his face is more expressive than the other. Mostly because each one of these guys looks upset every waking moment.

(They're not, they just look like that.)

But I guess it's to show being more comfortable in being expressive and just not feeling comfortable and trying to... understand the room. Confusion.

Is their goal the same as the album? No. They're all technically "whole", but don't understand anything about this life stuff. It's weird, tricky, and overall odd.

Living in a nice relaxing Void™ is all they know. But taking a step into unknown territory is the what they want, an adventure.

(Depending on whatever adventure really means to them. Or me.) Breaking out of this weird shaped shell. Because the world is scary.

Too much scary stuff that makes Wax retreat to his safe space, and essentially brings his other counterparts with him.

She's more honest and blunt about everything. Even when she's trying not to be. Her cold face, her voice. Always been how she's characterized in my head.

Myst doesn't like this because she knows that this isn't ok. But the others, especially Seeds and Wax just... don't do anything.

But, she and Illy continue to try and strive for new things. Even when the other two challenge them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🩵

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I really need to update tags on certain stuff.

Ok, I think I've ramble enough again.

But hope you enjoyed this... random redesign/ LORE (not really lore.). :3

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[knifegremliin]

god it's so nice to be doing art again