#but i know in my heart that his eyes are dark like a baby cow. shiny and filled with wonder yes i was told so in a vision | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

katz-chow · 5 months

Note

inspired by the post you made of having a child by your hip and then him walking in and going to kiss his "pretty girls"

So, here this, Simon Riley, bad mood, and tired, just came from base to his home, his wife and daughter in the kitchen, unaware. He was going to be grumpy all night long when he heard the babbles from his baby daughter, his wife trying to teach her how to say 'mum' after the kid said 'dada' first.

Bare with me, make it extra fluffy, I'm taking it so fluffy it roots your teeth from how cute it is. The dream he never knew would happen, was now in front of him.

anyway, you'll probs get a smut req from me after this one

a/n: i did not see this until it was like an hour before i wrote and posted this. my bad, man.

warnings: fem!reader, baby, stressed out simon, fluff, domestic, maternity leave, what a family man

Simon was not a stranger to stress and aching muscles, it came almost like sleep to an already dying body. He saw himself as that whenever it got quiet and lonely. Thankfully, nowadays he finds himself in the comfort and joy of people that enjoy his company to any extent. So this stress came in a familiar yet unexpected, especially when it came in a form of 12 hours of office work and not dirt, grime, and blood. Also unusual is how this tsunami toppled him down, so close to the place he called home, in a neighborhood where only old people find themselves retiring to and grand kids running along the street.

He pulled up to the light of his home, which seemed unchanged to when he left the same house earlier that day, completely with the total darkness that consumed the sky. Keys in one hand and a lunch box in the other, he unlocked the front door and was met with the warm glow of lamp lights. The smell of dinner drifted in the air, inviting him into bliss and heat, compared to the cold and damp night outside.

One lock clicked, the other one followed, and then the tumbling of his steel-toed boots against the hardwood. A quiet draft moved around the living and dining room, a remnant of a busy, eventful day still present along the floor. Wooden peg dolls lay slain from a fight hours ago, Lego bricks scattered around from an explosion that seemed to have been devastating for the population and infrastructure of the city, how cute.

His ear perked up at the sound of soft cooing followed by the shrill of your baby voice for your girl. Behind the door to the nursery propped you up against the wall, slumped down onto the floor. The little cow onesie sat on your lap, leaning against your thighs as you held her hands, bouncing her up and down.

"Can you say 'mama?'" You whispered sing-songy, slowing down the last part, making it easier for the baby to understand. The little one giggled at you and forced you to wave your hand with its tight grip on one of your fingers.

Simon couldn't help but shake his head and roll his eyes, your diabolical plan of getting her to say 'mama' instead of 'dada' has started-which was especially unfair because you got parental leave before he did. "I heard that."

You look up at him from your spot of the fluffy rug, sticking out your tongue at him. 'How mature,' he thought as he sank down next to you. He raked a hand through his hair, resting his head against the wall as you rested yours onto his shoulder. Your cowpoke stuck her tongue out at him as he peaked open of his eyes to glare at her. "Already putting my own kid against me, how considerate of you, Lovie."

You giggled at him and thus, your baby girl also giggled, following in her mama's steps. The three of you settled down, Simon taking her from your lap and into his own, holding her close as she snuggled up into his uniform. You held onto his bicep, leaning into him. Soft lips meet your forehead as normal, just like the hundreds of times before this moment. "You got home late."

"I know, I'm sorry..." he sighed, eyes heavy and heart full,domestic life looked good on him. What looked even better was his beautiful girls in his grasp, shielding them away from the horrors of war that he fought all those years ago. This was it.

"I'm glad you're home though... we already had dinner and she insisted that we stay up to wait for you." You laughed. You missed him and the days that he wasn't so caught up, working overtime. You know why though, so paternity leave wouldn't be so out of reach.

He let out a soft laugh smiling and making funny faces at your little calf. "Yeah, I saw the destruction and war crimes the two of you caused out there."

"Womp, womp." You shrugged and let in a deep breath, content with the little family the two of you had created in a span of a few years. This is what life is supposed to be like; simple, warm, and your kids mocking you at the ripe age of 10 months.

Simon Riley, a man built on anger, pain, and built walls, is no longer just that. He's no longer just a soldier, a pawn that's willing to do anything for the greater good, sacrificing sleep, time, and himself. No, Simon Riley can no longer do that, he needs to come home at the end of day, see his girls terrorize the squirrels outside, see his girls nuzzled up watching tv, see his girls make fun of him, and most importantly, see his girls sleeping soundly in his arms.

401 notes · View notes

tteokdoroki · 11 months

Note

Riding Isagi has been PLAGUING my mind. Like I want that guy till he’s crying shaking stuttering. I need to see the whites of his eyes when they roll to the back of his head. I need to physically feel the weight of the air with all the sex mingled with it. I have gotta hear that nasty sloppy sound of the froth of us meeting again and again. I wanna ask him about the most mundane things (like what he wants for dinner or some shit) just to see him struggle to answer. Wanna praise him just to if he’ll slobber from the excitement or just look at me with a dumb fucked out little smile…I need to FUCK this guy…and then sweetly kiss him whole again :D

૮ ͈>◡< ͈ა warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up to 20s, established relationship, smut, creampies, praise!kink, cow girl, hair pulling, pro player!isagi, fem!reader - not beta read !

when isagi plays well, you’ll often reward him.

he’s often deserving of it. he puts his heart and his soul, his life force into playing soccer for the best results and to become the best. isagi is a hard worker and from that stems his yearning for attention and praise. it’s in human nature after all, to want to be told ‘you’ve done well.’ ‘i’m proud of you.’ ‘you’re so good.’ — to chase after a prize.

you know that sometimes isagi has his sick little fantasies of debauched domesticity. to come home to you and play a sinful game of house — he’d never make you a trophy or housewife for that matter because he loves and respects you way too much. but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t think about bringing the fantasy into the bedroom. and as said before, when isagi plays well… you indulge him.

“how was your day, yoichi? did you miss me, honey?” you purr, smiling with your tongue in the corner of your mouth at the sight of twinkling azure eyes rolling back into his skull. your fingers twirl daintily in the dark baby hair’s on the back of isagi’s neck — eliciting a high pitched mewl from deep in his chest. the angelic sound turns into a suprised hiss when you grab the roots of his silky locks and tug isag’s gaze up to face you. “answer me, baby.”

he looks up at you, delirious — his expression appearing high as a kite despite there having been only a few kisses exchanged between you both. between your tongue in his mouth, running over his pearly white teeth, and your warm, sticky cunt wrapped around his aching shaft…yoichi doesn’t know how to think. let alone formulate a proper response.

“yoichi—“

“fucking missed you, baby,” the striker’s brain short circuits at the feeling of your juices dribbling down his cock resulting in obtuse droplets forming between his loaded balls. it grounds him yet destroys him as the same time — enough of isagi’s consciousness coming back to him to dig his nails into the fat of your ass, lifting and dropping you in his lap for some well deserved friction. “always do. miss my girl, miss her pretty face. h-her wet. fucking. cunt. wrapped around me like this….god, fuck!” he punctuates each word with a forceful jug of hips up into your core.

you find it so cute how he tries to stay in control, keep a level head when you’re on top. spoiling him. yoichi let’s you take over the rhythm of your hips — so you start off slow, circling yourself in his lap and squeezing down on his heavy, throbbing dick before you switch to bouncing up and down. he swallows thickly, adam’s apple bobbing in anticipation when you grab his large hands with your smaller ones and guide them from your backside to your chest.

there’s no way to properly describe how much you affect isagi. you make him feel like a hormone- crazed high schooler with the way he eagerly fondles your chest, brushing his thumbs over your sensitive nipples until they harden and form those pretty peaks he loves so much. he hungrily watches your face, listens out for the change in the pitch of your dreamy lullaby-like moans that lets isagi know you feel so fucking good and that he’s touching you just right. his observant cobalt eyes peer up at you, watching you as if he’s searching for constellations in the sky. he finds them when your own eyes grow starry with tears, aligning perfectly with the surge of pleasure that shoots through you.

if he had the words, isagi would tell you that you looked like an angel. his lips quiver around the shape of the complement and fade off into a shaky whimper exhaled into the weighty scent of sex in the air. embarrassment burns in the centre of his chest like a ball of gas in outer space because isagi can still hear himself babbling and moaning ad-libbing the sounds of your skin meeting his and the sloppiness of his cock slipping in and out of your creamed cunt.

the mix of your arousals makes a papping noise that makes isagi dizzy — the gem-shade of blue in his eyes overtaken by white as they roll back into his skull. he misses the warm, sluice, hug of your pussy when you pull off of him and never wants to leave it when you slam back down, squealing to yourself cutely because you’re high off of pleasure too.

you have him so fucked up, he starts to wonder if he really deserves this — either way, isagi clings to every ounce of pleasure he gets from you riding him stupid. from your thighs slapping down on his, to the way you sensually grind down on his cock and use him to churn up your own insides.

before you lose him to overthinking instead of ecstasy, you nose up the side of isagi’s neck and press grounding kisses to his piping hot flesh as you praise him. “you’re so good, yoichi. played so well today too. my good boy,” you coo against the shell of his ear, basking in the way he trembles and whines, his cockhead leaking up against your equally sopping walls. “made you, hah, dinner baby. your favourite, just how you like it.”

a tingling sensation builds behind isagi’s pelvis and a wildfire of lust spreads throughout his body, burning white at the base of his lungs — stealing away the words that he needs to speak. you watch as he tries and fails, reduced to a bumbling mess of tears and a sloppy cock.

licking up the side of yoichi’s face and catching a stray tear of his before it falls too far, you peel back your hips — both of you dropping your gazes to the opaque milky strings of slick that tie you to one another like strings of fate.

isagi heaves at the sight, dragging you down to lie on his sticky chest — the dire need to be closer to you shooting down his spine. “you spoil me so much, precious girl.” he chokes on the syllables, stuttering while you grind into one another sensually. “really takin’ care of me.”

you can hear his heart pounding against his rib cage in this position and look up to isagi’s lovesick face, pouty and wet like a puppy. “i have to take care of my precious boy, he’s the best striker in the world after all.” you say quietly, feverishly bucking your squelchy core down on his heady cock. isagi makes a face, one that’s twisted in a mix of agony and rapture, and his nails dig into the meat of your thighs once more — holding you in place while he wildly fucks himself into you.

“y-you’re gonna cum, aren’t you, pretty boy?” you continue to tease him, your words punctuated by his rapid thrusts and your own high pitched squeals. isagi nods with a pout, his sensibility abandoned. “my boy’s so worked up, ‘m so proud of you, yoichi. use your words and you can cum inside me this time.”

sweat mats darkish midnight hair to isagi’s forehead, pearling on his hairline like the tears in his waterline. he blinks them back, barely able to focus on you, especially since you’re squeezing down on him so hard. “i wanna cum,” he chants dumbly, his voice muffled by the exertion of pounding your puffy pussy raw. “lemme cum, please.”

smiling, you brush back his bangs and grab at them so you can tug his face up towards yours. “kiss me, yoichi.”

“oh fuck,” isagi screws his eyes shut and rasps, tone whiny, craning his neck up to meet your lips. “hah, hah, hah—!”

you cut off his candy-like and heavenly whimpers with an intimate, open-mouthed kiss. isagi pants against your tongue as you force it lovingly past his lips, pressing it up against his while you swap spit with one another. he cums like this, hard, quickly filling you up with viscous white that taints your insides and you follow not long after — painting his lap with your claim as your breath mingles in the sec tainted air vibrating in between the two of you.

when you pull away, lazily flopping into yoichi’s strong arms — you remain connected by a string of saliva that he licks up eagerly. isagi gives you a dumb, sexy fucked out smirk just for good measure, still pulsing inside of your warm sex.

“i love you, pretty boy.” you breathe, kissing his cheek dotingly.

“i love you most, precious girl.” isagi breathes back, keening happily into your affectionate touch.

537 notes · View notes

inktailsaystuff · 6 months

Text

Domestic Farm Fluff GhostSoap

TW: Use of Ghost and Soap’s real names, tooth rotting fluff, and my coping

-----------------------------

“L.T you awake?” His husband’s words filled his ears, the heavy Scottish accent lingering in the air.

“M’ not your lieutenant anymore Johnny.” Ghost mumbled sitting up in the bed, the weighted blanket felt nice as Ghost wrapped himself tighter in it.

“Ah, yer righ’ but yer still mine.” Soap grinned, pressing a kiss to Ghost’s jaw. “Now come on we gots to work on our farm M'eudail.”

“Five more minutes luv.” Ghost’s heavy English accent thickened as he tried to keep his eyes open. However his husband had other ideas. “Oi-” Ghost grumbled as Soap flopped on top of him, the shorter man pressing kisses all over his face to wake him up. “Johnny stop.” Ghost growled as he tried to sleep.

“No can do Mo chridhe.” Soap chuckled. “Come on! We gots to go feed the hen’s and milk dem cows.”

“...Can you do that?” Ghost asked opening one eye to look at Soap.

“Simon, yer so lazy.” Soap grumbled trying to push his husband off the bed. “Come on yer lazy Gowk. Is yer turn to deal with roosters.” Soap grinned as he successfully managed to push Ghost off the bed, his husband landing on the wooden floor with a soft thud.

“Oh come on Johnny. Didn’ have to push me off the bed. Coulda just woke me up normally.” Ghost grumbled as he got up, his joints popping as he stretched. “You eaten already?”

“Firs' already tried, yer didnt wan to wake up. Second yer trustin me to cook?” Soap grinned teasingly as he passed Ghost, one of his embroidered cloth face masks that just covered the bottom half of his face.

“...Never.” Ghost hummed as he looped the straps of his mask around his ears. “C’mon Johnny, I’ll go make breakfast.” Ghost decended the wooden stairacse down to the lower level of their farmhouse, the dark wooden walls comforting and warm, he loved this home, and not just because his husband also lived in it.

“Whatcha gonna make Simon?” Soap smiled as he followed after his husband watching as the larger man started to grab different ingredients.

“Pancakes Johnny.” Ghost hummed as he poured the pancake mix onto a pan. “Sleep well?”

“Like a wee baby.” Soap chuckled as he rested his head in his hands, watching his husband cook. “Yer got a nice arse Simon.” Soap teased.

“Shut up Johnny.” Ghost looked over at Soap, “Or I’ll leave you without pancakes.”

“Wait! M’ sorry Simon.” Soap made puppy eyes at him, pleadingly clinging to him. “Jus’ dont take away m’ pancakes.”

“You know I can’t say no to you luv.” Ghost chuckled, lifting his mask to kiss Soap’s forehead.

“Ah know. An am gonna exploi’ it till death.” Soap grinned wrapping his arms around Ghost’s waist and clinging to the taller man as he watched Ghost flip pancakes. “Yer know a love yer right M'eudail?” Soap whispered as he pressed kisses to Ghost’s neck.

“I know Johnny. I know.” Ghost chuckled, wrapping an arm around Soap.

“Good. I think yer should remember that Simon.” Soap smiled softly as he rested his head on Ghost's shoulder. The two happily staying in their kitchen as Ghost finished up the pancakes.

Translations~ M'eudail- dear/darling Mo chridhe- my heart Gowk- Fool

130 notes · View notes

shanakin-skywalker · 2 years

Text

Sweet (Billy Hargrove x AFAB!Reader)

*Plus Size and POC Friendly; No use of Y/N*

Based off of this blurb:

Word Count: 3,799 (oof)

Summary: Billy and Reader are best friends. Best friends with benefits…and feelings and that makes Billy very jealous.

Warnings: Mean!Billy, Dom!Billy, Possessive!Billy, Unprotected Sex (wrap it before you tap it besties!), Choking (sexually), Fingering, Name-Calling, One Face Slap, One Pussy Slap, Honestly This Is Just Fucking Filthy, Every Part Of This Is A Warning

*Only description of reader is that she is shorter than Billy*

Please let me know if I’ve missed any warnings I should include!

18+, MINORS DNI

By clicking KEEP READING you are confirming you are 18+.

No one has permission to repost my work on Tumblr or any other platform. Plagiarism, stealing my work, etc will not be tolerated. By clicking KEEP READING you are also agreeing to the above terms.

It was late, her entire house dark except for the yellow glow seen through her window. Her parents had long since retired to their room neighboring her own. Bruce Springsteen’s album, The River, was playing softly in the background and her finger tapped along to the beat of Hungry Heart on the worn, hardcover of Stephen King’s Pet Sematary. She mindlessly chewed on a Cow Tail, the sweet candy hanging out of her mouth as she went to turn the page.

Tink. Tink. Tink.

Her head snapped up toward her window, startled. Her heartbeat slowed once she realized it was Billy.

Billy Hargrove and she had an…unusual dynamic one could say. Definitely more than just friends with benefits and feelings were without a doubt involved but nothing official. Billy’s life was too complicated, the stress of a relationship not one he wanted to add to the equation. And she understood. Well, she understood to a certain extent. Billy told her very little and she never pried or pushed. Of course she wasn’t stupid. She put the pieces together like his relationship with his dad. She accepted what was and what he was willing to give. It was one of the things he lo- no, liked, about her. He refused to use that word, especially in regards to her. They had a good thing going and why would he want to ruin that? She was constant and stable and after everything he clung to that. She was his anchor.

Billy couldn’t help but find her startled expression absolutely adorable. Her eyes big and wide, lips slightly parted and candy hanging out, and fuck, his thoughts quickly became much more sinful. It was too easy to picture something much thicker stretching her mouth. Her eyes looking up at him, instead of straight on through her window, and welled up with tears, wetting her lashes and running down her face. He clenched his jaw, making his hard expression more intense.

She pulled the Cow Tail out of her mouth and set it on the wrapper on her nightstand along with her book. She stood up and her lacy little nightgown tickled the tops of her thighs as she quickly walked to her window, sliding the pane up.

Silently Billy climbed in, towering over her. She shivered, goosebumps erupting on her skin. She didn’t know if it was from the cool night air or Billy’s intimidating frame as his pretty baby blues bore deep into her eyes. He looked tightly wound, wild.

“Billy?” She breathed out but before she could continue his firm hand came to rest around the column of her throat and with big steps he pushed her back, her stumbling until her back hit the wall with a thud. She quickly looked to her wall that separated her and her parents rooms.

“Why did you give him your number?” He hissed out. It was a demand not a question.

“Wha-who?” She floundered, his scent and his warm, firm hand on her neck made her dizzy. He squeezed a little tighter and that seemed to jog her memory.

“Oh! He-,“ she swallowed and wet her lips with her tongue. Her eyes fluttered up to look at him.

“He wants me to tutor him. Help him with an English paper.” She explained but his gaze didn’t soften. He slid his hand further up her neck, right below her jaw, so her head was tilted up and back, exposing her throat.

Billy crowded over her, leaning down so she could feel his hot breath against her ear.

“He was eye fucking you.” Venom spewed out of his strawberry lips. No one attempted anything romantically with her since Billy came to town. There was an unspoken claim. Unfortunately this shithead either didn’t care or had a death wish.

“And that doesn’t work for me.” He growled and the sound sent shockwaves straight to her core. A whimper escaped past her lips.

“What do you- Are we- I-,” she couldn’t form a coherent question, all jumbled and buzzing like bees. He was so warm, smelled so good, was so firm, and oh! He’s so hard.

“My sweet, dumb baby. Do I need to spell it out for you?” His tone was condescending. Her thighs clenched together to relieve the ache. Billy released a huff through his nose and used his right foot to kick apart her legs. He brought his knee to the juncture between her thighs. He could feel the heat radiating as he teasingly brought his lower thigh forwards and backwards. Billy pressed himself against her stomach and she could feel his own arousal, hot, thick, and throbbing through his jeans. She gasped at the feeling. He pulled his head back to stare down at her in her blissed out state.

“I’ve barely even touched you, sweetheart. You’re already so gone. No one could ever make you feel like this. You know that, don’t you, baby?” She doesn’t think she’s ever been this wet. She could hear her slick as he rubbed her with his thigh. All she could do is let out a pathetic whine and nod. Not satisfied, he brought his free hand up and lightly smacked her cheek. Not enough to hurt her, but just to make it slightly sting and get her attention. Her eyes snapped open wide and a soft moan slipped past her lips.

“Don’t. You.” He all but commanded.

“Yes. Yes, only you make me feel this good.” She mumbled out. It made Billy warm with pride. A sweet, pretty thing all his, completely devoted.

“Yeah, ‘cause you belong to me. You’re my girl. Mine. And I’m going to make sure everyone knows it.” He smashed his lips to hers and quickly shoved his tongue into her velvet mouth.

She tasted sweet. She’s sweet. She’s sweet, and warm, and soft, and the complete opposite of everything he was. But you know what they say about opposites? They attract and Billy was all but wielded to her. You would have to pry her from his cold, dead hands and even then, he would rise from the grave. Not even ‘til death do us part. She was his forever and although he didn’t want to admit it, he was hers forever. She owned him just as much, maybe even more, than he owned her.

Billy trailed kisses down her neck, harshly sucking and biting marks, letting everyone know she was taken. He usually left them under her clothes, where no one could see but his jealously became a wildfire. They all had to know.

She gasped loudly when he bit down hard where her neck met her shoulder. He soothes the marks with his tongue and trailed the wet muscle to the front of her neck, between her collarbones. He lavished his mouth up the center of her throat to her chin and followed the path up her jaw to her earlobe where he suckled on the fleshy bit. He released it with a pop but kept his mouth next to her ear.

“Be quiet. You wouldn’t want mommy and daddy waking up to their precious, darling girl moaning like the slut she is.” Oh he’s so mean but it made her even wetter. She’s sure she stained his jeans with her juices.

“No, sir.” She breathed out.

“Good girl.” He brought his leg down and took a step back. Oh yeah, there was definitely a puddle in her panties.

“Look at the mess you made.” Her eyes trailed down and sure enough, a large spot, shining in the low light, stared back at her. She looked back up at him, cheeks heating at her desperation. Billy raised an eyebrow.

“Well, aren’t you going to be a good little slut and clean it up?” He backed up to the center of her room, standing in the middle of her rug. She vigorously nodded her head and took a step forward.

He brought his hands to his hips in a stance that radiated domination and he narrowed his eyes at her. She stopped.

“Crawl.” His voice was low and gravely. She could feel her wetness seap down her thighs as she got to her hands and knees. They made eye contact and slowly, she crawled across the hard wood of her bedroom floor and then finally across half of the rug.

Billy was smug. He knew she would never let anyone do this to her, speak to her that way. His erection was straining uncomfortably against the metal zipper of his pants but he couldn’t find it in him to care. Not when heaven personified was kneeling in front of him, looking up with glazed eyes and tongue running over her bottom lip.

Her eyes fluttered closed as she leaned forward, her tongue flat and wide as she licked up her own arousal from bottom to top. She moaned softly and brought her face away to look up at him, a string of her juices connecting her bottom lip to his pants. Billy’s beautiful blue eyes were almost completely eclipsed by his pupils, clouded with lust. She went back to lapping up her mess, eyes half lidded.

When all that was left was wetness from her tongue, Billy tangled a hand in her hair and yanked her head back. Her lips were red and swollen from the roughness of his jeans. Fuck, she looked so pretty like this. So fucked out and he had barely touched her.

He brought his hand back out of her hair and pushed on her shoulders, making her land on the pastel rug. He quickly followed her, settling in between her legs and once again let his tongue invade her mouth. She went to wrap her arms around his neck in a desperate attempt to pull him closer but before she could even reach his broad shoulders Billy had her hands pinned above her head in an iron grip.

“Be. Good.” He gritted out In between kisses. He pulled one hand away, taking both of her wrists into his large palm. He hiked one of her soft thighs over his hip and brought his fingers down to play with her through her panties. A loud squelch could be heard and he broke the kiss to look at his now soaked fingers glistening in the low light. She held her breath as she looked at him.

Without hesitation, he shoved his fingers into his mouth and sucked. So sweet. His sweet girl. Her thighs closed around his hips and a moan escaped her. His eyes flashed down at her.

“What did I say?” He ordered.

“T’a be good. ‘M sorry sir.” Came stammering out of her mouth. Billy set his jaw and exhaled through his nose like a raging bull. Without saying another word he released her hands and grabbed her by the backs of her knees, bending them back until he was able to take both of her ankles in one hand while the other grabbed her panties by the crotch and yanked them off of her legs leaving her on full display. The cold night air from the still open window chilled her dripping core. He dropped her ankles so they fell on either side of him. She opened her mouth but Billy shoved her sopping, ruined panties into her mouth, her wetness filling her tongue and nose. It was so filthy, so dirty, and she loved every minute of it. A smack against her pussy brought her out of her head.

“Now shut up.” Billy went back to playing with her now exposed cunt, running his fingers up and down her slit, gathering the surplus of her arousal and bringing

it up to her swollen clit. She whimpered as softly as she could and bit her underwear, the wetness gushing from it and her eyes rolled back, swallowing it down.

Once Billy grew bored of her clit, he traced his fingers down to her hole, slipping his middle digit in. He had to bite back a moan of his own. How could she be this wet and still this tight? Her pussy sucking his finger further in until it’s entirety was encased in her warm walls. In an agonizingly slow pace, he began thrusting, taking his finger all the way out, swirling it slightly around her entrance and then plunging it back in. Her fingers dug into the plush carpet and she clenched her teeth down into the wet fabric to keep from crying out.

Billy added a second finger and started thrusting faster. She really hoped the faint background music covered the embarrassingly wet sounds of her cunt. He scissored his fingers against her walls in an attempt to stretch her out. It felt so good, so wet. Her pussy tingled at the sensation and her saliva was running out of the corners of her mouth. He curled his fingers upward and her eyes rolled back again. She was completely delirious with pleasure. Again, Billy added another finger and began thrusting into her as hard and fast as he could. The force causing her back to rub against the carpet, making it burn. It only added to the sensation. He was so good, making her feel so good. How could she possibly want anyone else. And then he curled his fingers again and immediately found the spongy spot that brought her to new heights. He could feel her clenching around him.

“You close, baby? You gonna be a good girl and cum for me? All for me?” He grunted out. She looked at him and tears welled in her eyes and she nodded. It felt good, too good, so good. And then Billy took his thumb and rubbed harsh circles on her clit. She exploded. Her walls clenching down on his finger and stars flickered across her vision. Her body convulsed and she let out a low moan.

Displeased with the continued sounds he glared down and harshly rolled one of her nipples between his fingers through the thin fabric of her nightie. She made a startled noise and he ripped her panties out of her mouth.

“‘’M sorry sir! ‘M trying. You just make me feel so good. Can’t help it. Please don’t stop!” She cried out, tears running down her cheeks. He thought about choking her on his cock but the last rational part of him knew it was already risky enough with her parents in the next room and although there was music playing, it could only drown out so much.

“You’re so lucky I’m so good to you, princess. Keep disobeying me and I’m still gonna give you my cock. What do you say?” He unbuckled his belt.

“Thank you, sir.” She panted out and before she knew it, he had flipped her over and put her onto all fours. She could hear his belt slide out of their loops in a quick whoosh and then it was around her mouth. A ‘mmm!’ Sounded at the back of her throat.

“You didn’t think I’d let it slide? Are you already fucked stupid? You’ve only just had my fingers.” He goes to buckle the belt behind her head, careful not to get any hair tangled in the buckle. She opened her mouth all the way to show her obedience and she felt him slide the buckle into place. He turned her 90° to the left where she had a mirror propped against the wall. She looked fucking wrecked.

Huge, dark bruises scattered down her neck and shoulders, tear tracks ran from her eyes, her lips were raw, chapped, red, and swollen, stretched around leather, drool still running down the corners of her mouth. She was so far gone. Her only thoughts were of Billy.

Billy. Billy. Billy. Billy. Billy.

She stared at him through the mirror. His own eyes were crazed, wild. He whipped off his jacket and white tshirt that was now wet with sweat. His chest heaved and he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them and his underwear down just enough for his cock to spring free. He looked down to see his angry, red and swollen dick, dripping precum from his tip onto the rug. He could feel his heartbeat in it every time it throbbed. Billy looked back in the mirror and made eye contact with her. He took her in, completely ruined by him, for him. And that thought alone sent him off the deep end.

He rubbed himself up and down against her slick and when he couldn’t take the waiting anymore, he roughly shoved it into her weeping cunt. The force took her arms out and she fell face first against the carpet. His pace was brutal and unforgiving, immediately punching her cervix. She bit down on the leather and turned her face sideways on the rug. A whimper escaped again.

“Can’t even help yourself can you? Look at you!” He hissed as low as he could. Billy buried his hand in her hair again and forced her to look at herself in the mirror.

It was too good. Too much. The feeling of his big, thick cock deep and stretching her pussy, the feeling of his heavy balls slapping against the drenched skin of her upper thighs, the burn from the carpet on her knees, she couldn’t help but let out a cry at a particularly deep and angled thrust against her g-spot. Billy’s big hand slapped over her mouth, clamping down to silence her as best as he could. His other hand wrapped around her waist and brought her up flush against his chest.

“Look at you. Fucking filthy slut. Just for me. All for me. No one will ever see you like this. No one could ever make you feel like this. You’re mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.” Each thrust punctuating each point. He was unraveling as she clung to him, as she squeezed him. He was so close and so was she.

Billy let her go as she fell forward and he unbuckled his belt before bringing her back up to him. He turned her face so he could sloppily kiss her and trailed more down the other side of her neck. One free hand went down to rub her clit. Now that her mouth was no longer filled she babbled mindlessly.

“’M yours. All yours. Only yours. Only want’a be yours. Fuck. Y’make me feel so good. Never felt this good b’for.” She slurred.

“Fuck, sweetheart. ‘M gonna cum. Gonna cum so hard you’ll feel me inside you for days. Y’uh gonna come too. Can feel it. Squeezing me so tight. Fuck. Fuck, I love you.” And then they both came. Her wetness came squirting out, further soaking his lower abdomen and jeans. She kept coming and coming, milking every last drop from him. He fell forward, catching them both before he crushed her, continuing to rut inside her. They laid there quietly, Stolen Car playing and heavy breathing all that can be heard.

Billy slowly, carefully pulled his softening cock from her and she whimpered at the feeling. He quickly tucked himself back into his underwear and cracked open her bedroom door to make sure her parents door was closed and their lights turned off. He heard faint snoring and let out a sigh of relief. He was surprised but didn’t question it.

He swiftly walked over to her and picked her up. Cradling her as he silently snuck into the bathroom a little down the hall. Billy gently sat her down on the counter, the cold tile soothing her sensitive pussy and she sighed, head fell back against the mirror. He grabbed a clean towel and washcloth from the linen cabinet and wet the smaller towel in warm water. He softly, lovingly cleaned her. She whimpered when it brushed against her clit.

“Was I too rough?” Now with his head clear he looked over her, covered with bruises and handprints. She hummed and cracked her eyes open slightly.

“Liked it. Y’uh always make me feel good.” She sighed out.

“I-,” he paused briefly before continuing, “I don’t like the idea of you being with anyone else.” He murmured quietly, she almost couldn’t hear his confession. He took the towel and started drying her off, keeping his hands busy, his eyes busy. Her hands went up to cover his and waited for him to look her in the eyes. She gave him a soft, angelic smile. A complete flip from how sinful she looked just minutes before.

“I love you too.” He froze, quickly remembering what he admitted in the throes of passion.

“Yeah?” He asked not quite believing someone as sweet, soft, gentle, kind, and countless other adjectives could love someone like him.

“Mmhmm. Y’a wanna be my boyfriend?” The word boyfriend didn’t seem deep enough for what he wanted to be. Maybe soulmate but Billy had his limits with the mushy stuff. He huffed out a laugh.

“Yeah, I wanna be your boyfriend.” She grinned.

“Good. ‘Cause I wanna be your girlfriend.” He smiled back, an actual, genuine smile and picked up the washcloth and lovingly wiped her face with the clean side, and then patted it dry. He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips and then peppered them over any place they could reach. She giggled and Billy felt his heart swell.

So this is what love feels like. He thinks he could get used to it.

He quietly snuck back into her bedroom, picking up some of the mess they made, closed and locked the window, and rolled up her ruined rug, placing it to the side to be dealt with the next day.

On wobbly legs, she brushed her teeth and used the bathroom before sneaking back into her own room as well. He had set out one of his large tshirts she had stolen and a fresh pair of underwear for her to slip on and he found a pair of his sweatpants, that she also had stolen, and tugged them on. He turned off her music and crawled into bed next to her. She followed suit and cuddled into his side, basking in his warmth and scent.

“I love you.” Her voice sounded slightly muffled against his skin but it made his heart soar just the same.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” And with that, he turned off her lamp and then fell asleep.

Early the next morning they awoke to thudding against her wall and very questionable noises coming from her parents room.

“You don’t think-?” Billy trailed off.

“Probably.” She groaned out and pulled her pillow over her ears.

“Your parents are cruel.” He looked at the clock before doing the same with his own pillow. 5:17. Oh yeah, this was revenge.

Tags: @moe1 @stranger-kinkslol

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x f!reader #billy hargrove x plus size reader #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x poc!reader #billy hargrove x poc!fem!reader #billy hargrove x afab!reader #billy hargrove smut #dacre montgomery #dacre montgomery x plus size!reader #dacre montgomery x poc!reader #dacre montgomery x poc!fem!reader #dacre montgomery x female reader #dacre montgomery x f!reader #dacre montgomery x afab!reader #billy hargrove x reader #dacre montgomery x reader #dacre montgomery smut #stranger things

976 notes · View notes

slightlyhopefulromantic · 18 days

Text

i was gonna wait until i finished the bitd and deadlands line-ups before posting these, but i'm not gonna get those done before the final season starts, so might as well bite the bullet now XD woohoo, oxventure d&d designs! i'll go into further detail below the cut for all of my thoughts on these designs and reasoning for smaller details, but for now, just know that i will never draw a cape. i simply cannot do it. hoods and weird draped fabric or nothing XD

okay i put like. waaay too many thoughts into a lot of these small details so im gonna allow myself to geek out here X3 firstly - though they're way too small to read properly, i did the little symbol eye shines i used in my first art for them! dob gets music notes, prudence gets fire, corazón gets hearts, and merilwen gets flowers. i usually draw egbert's pupils pretty thin to resemble a reptile, so he just gets normal eye shines, but i probably could have given him some here... he would get suns if i thought of that

dob - muscular in a wiry and dehydrated way, lol, hence having a more defined stomach/hips despite not being as strong as prudence or egbert. he has sad/down-turned puppy dog eyes at all times because i think the big-eyed endearing look is fitting for him, though i do make them darker blue than his canonical baby blues because i just... like how dark blue eyes look, lol. i'm pretty sure he canonically has the stomach scar, and obviously his facial scar has always been there, but i gave him a couple other ones just to show that hes pretty reckless. and he gets freckles because even though they arent mentioned in the dragon dogma's video, i noticed luke added some and. i like freckles a lot

prudence - i've said this before, but i love the thought of pru getting muscular after the werebear bite <3 i just think she should be a little bit hench. as a treat. once again, the heavy stomach scarring comes from the dragon dogma's video, because i found their design choices in that really fun. i change prudence's outfit the most out of any of the characters, just because her canonical outfit confuses me. i'm really bad at understanding/drawing fantasy wear as is, but her fit... i'm lost entirely XD so i free-balled a bit. her inner sleeves that hook around her fingers are based on jane's various prudence looks, and then the looser outer sleeve is just because i love prudence with a dramatic sleeve. originally the colors were closer to her canon outfit, but it just looked messy without all the details of the original, and then i tried red like jane's prudence looks but it didn't contrast enough with her skin. so i restricted them to just deep purples and black with pops of gold and dark magenta!

corazón - what can i say besides. transgender. LMAO honestly though, besides adding the top surgery scars, i just really like his canon look. i simplified the details, obviously, but i really love his big coat and his tall boots and the earrings and the black-on-black-on-black of it all. i didn't particularly feel like drawing hats when i was doing this, lol, so i stuck with a red bandana instead. the beads that are strung from it are black, red, purple, green, and yellow to match their guild's canonical color associations/the colored name plates they get in later seasons :] because corazón is the sentimental sort, even when he won't say it. also he gets a little cateye for his eyeliner, i dunno if i've ever said why i do that before haha

egbert - egbert my dearly beloved. literally just his canon look except he has la vache mauve on his tunic instead of fire! and the nose spikes i give him, i guess, but i forget those aren't canon. i actually usually draw him in mike's egbert get up, with the black robes and the golden dragon sigil, but i kinda wanted to move away from that to lean more into the end of legacy of dragons, where egbert fully commits to never going back to the dragon d'or. also i just love drawing little cow heads <3 also! i like the idea that rather than typical scar tissue, dragonborns grow thicker scales over places where they've been injured. so the thicker patches of small scales on egbert's body are meant to be scars! including his kidney scar, lol. the larger scales and the ones on his face were always there though, that's just dragonborn biology baby

merilwen - if i said i based merilwen's body on cartoon bears, would you forgive me... i just think it's cute LOL tummy <3 for the final dragon dogma's video reference, that's where her freckles and tattoos come from. ellen was right, merilwen with floral tattoos fucking rules. who am i to deny it. as a hairy woman myself, i also like making merilwen a hairy woman. she's a hippie, she would NOT shave. i also really love the red earrings she wears in her canon art, so i tried to carry that through to some other small parts of my drawing for her, and landed on the bands she has on her pants as well as the odd feather for her arrows. fun archery fact, for those who may not know - in modern archery at least, you usually will have a differently colored feather (or for my arrows, rubber fins lol) that indicate how youre meant to string the arrow! so i took advantage of that to give merilwen some more red, hehe

#oxventure #dob the half orc bard #prudence the tiefling warlock #corazón de ballena #egbert the careless #merilwen the wood elf druid #I really wanted to post all the line ups at once but I have fallen ill XD #and I’m busy tomorrow. so drawing is not in the cards for a bit #I’ll try and finish those soon 👍

32 notes · View notes

ceilingfan5 · 1 year

Note

spies + reality tv au :0

“I hate this,” Kravitz says sweetly.

“You absolute baby.” Sloane adjusts his collar, perfectly hiding both the mic and his lifeline gadgets. Some of them. A lot of his favorites had to stay back at base for this one. Does he still have at least five knives on his person? Obviously. Kravitz is a lot of things, but never unprepared.

“When I signed up for treason et al I did not see this under the terms and conditions, S. Espionage-”

“Is what you make of it. And you know what? I could have you at a furry convention, you know that? Pull up your fucking fursona, coward, too late, you’re a lizard now! Have fun trying to go to the bathroom!”

“I would not be a lizard,” Kravitz says, scandalized. “I-”

“Argue with me later, hot shot.” Sloane artfully musses his hair. “You’ve got a boy to woo.”

“Listen.”

“Mhm.”

“Listen!” Kravitz paces a little, toying with one of his buttons. “Wooing I can do. Woo, subdue, coup, follow through-”

“You’re rhyming, K. And pacing. And fiddling.”

“I always fiddle,” Kravitz lies. Unless spending all his focus on standing stock still sort of counts. “What I mean is, I can seduce some idiot, no problem. But my whole career has been staying out of sight. My cover is blown when they broadcast this. What, am I going to get plastic surgery? I have a cute nose, S!”

She snickers.

“You’ll be fine,” she promises. “Base has a plan. Trust the system, just do your job.”

Kravitz grumbles, but they both know he’s going to do his damnedest.

Once he’s ready, he submits himself to the whims of the stage manager, and is shoved out into the beautifully, soullessly decorated set, along with all of the other too-attractive guys, who for the most part, are just as hollow as the sticks in vases and mass-produced hotel art on the walls. They’re all milling about, talking about absolutely nothing and trying to figure out where all the cameras are. One guy legitimately just keeps flexing.

Kravitz sighs.

“What a boner,” startles him from out of nowhere, and Kravitz turns (calmly, so cool and calm and collected and spy-like and handsome) to see a bizarrely dressed contestant that doesn’t exactly match the other douchebags gathered here. Kravitz tries to pretend he totally noticed the guy sneaking up on him (how???) and keeps watching the obnoxious dude take his shirt off. Even though he wants to see this gorgeous guy with the dark roots showing and the cardigan with what has to be at least fifteen pockets over booty shorts. He needs to know what those shorts say on the ass.

It’s vital to his mission.

“Absolutely,” he laughs. “I can’t say I’ll be trying to woo that one.”

“What, you don’t want to lick those abs?” They watch as a stage manager tries to chase the guy and cow him into being a little less shirtless. “Name’s Greg, by the way.��

“Nice to meet you, Greg,” gotta be a fake name. “You can call me Drake,” Kravitz adds.

‘Greg’ looks at him and smiles a knowing smile. Kravitz smiles right back, offering his hand to shake, and man, those eyes are dazzling. Hard, knowing, but dazzling. Kravitz kisses his hand, just to make a real stir, and notices that his fingers smell like gunpowder.

Kravitz knew there was going to be someone from the other side here. Shame he’s so fucking handsome.

“May the best man win,” Kravitz says, with a charming wink. His heart is pounding. Do they have the same target? Is this whole thing a setup? Is he going to die?

“Oh,” ‘Greg’ laughs. “I plan to.”

#taz #taakitz #tazb #the adventure zone #the adventure zone balance #fan5fics #taz balance #taakitz fic

100 notes · View notes

donovanlizzie · 3 months

Note

Could you write an imagine about Ray Person from gen kill?? Maybe the reader and Ray could be kind of like a parter in crime duo, if you know what I mean? Seriously the Ray content lack is crazy so do what you heart desires on this😭💓

Two's a crowd:

*Y/n - your name L/N - Last name*

The hum of the Humvee's engine echoed through the vast desert as You , Ray , and the rest of hit-man two, rolled towards the war zone.

Dust billowed behind the convoy and the air inside the vehicle was thick with tension, but as always, Ray was determined to break it.

Ray Person, behind the wheel, wore a devil-may-care grin that mirrored your own. You and Ray had formed an unlikely partnership, a dynamic duo that thrived on chaos, much to the annoyance of your team leader, Brad Colbert, who was squeezed uncomfortably with is weapon in the passenger seat.

As the humvee bounced over uneven ground, Ray turned to you with a mischievous glint in his eye. "You know, (Y/N), we're practically the same person. It's like we were separated at birth or some shit."

You chuckled, exchanging a knowing glance. "Yeah, just a couple of troublemakers with a penchant for mayhem."

Brad, sitting next to Ray, rolled his eyes. "Can you two focus for once? We're heading into enemy territory, and I'd rather not become target practice because you two can't keep your shit together."

Ray snorted, his hands expertly navigating the wheel. "Come on, Brad, lighten up. We're the best damn team you've got."

The humvee continued its journey into the heart of darkness, and Ray couldn't help but start one of his signature rants. "You know, the Marine Corps is so fucked up. We're out here risking our asses, and for what? So some brass can sit comfortably back at base and drink their coffee."

You nodded in agreement, enjoying the familiar cadence of Ray's complaints. "Tell me about it. It's like they've never heard of a thing called common sense."

As Ray continued his rant, he suddenly went silent, a look of horror crossing his face. "Fuck, I left my dip back at camp!"

You exchanged a glance with Brad, who was growing increasingly frustrated with the distraction. Ray's stress levels rose as he frantically searched his pockets, cursing under his breath.

"Well, isn't that tragic, Ray? How will you survive without it?" you replied sarcastically.

Ray shot you a mock glare. "Survival in the desert is about more than just water, L/N . It's about having a good fuckin' dip to chew on."

"Ray the first time you had ' good fuckin' dip - you threw up all over me and Brads beloved humvee" You geered.

"Shut up- "

Brad sighed in exasperation. "Can we please focus on the mission? "

With the Humvee bouncing along, you reached into your pocket and pulled out a spare tin of tobacco dip, waving it in the direction of Ray's face.

"Lucky for you, I come prepared for all your dramatic crises."

" Life saver " Ray mouthed, taking the tin from your hand.

"watch the road" You mumbled, eyeing Brad who looked like he was about to rip Ray a new one.

You were both silent for a while until Y/n began to hum a familiar tune, Ray quickly joining in.

"mamma - don't let your babies grow up to be cow boys-"

"Hey - no Goddamn country music!"

---------------------------------------------------------------

MASTERLIST

GENERATION KILL MASTERLIST

#generation kill imagine #ray person #generation kill #brad colbert #hbo war #gen kill #natefick #hbo

9 notes · View notes

words-are-fireproof · 1 year

Text

The Polar Express - Frankie Morales x fem!reader

Summary: You and Frankie end up in a bookshop in Denver. He admits he doesn't care for bookshops, but he surprises you in the end.

Rating: G

Warnings: Fluffy as sin, hopefully. That's all. Just super fluffy.

A/N: All my stuff is unedited which is probably not good but here we are. Hope you enjoy. It's my first time writing for Frankie.

Edited to add: This will be part of Country Roads, Take Me Home.

Word Count: 1.8k

[Masterlist]

-----

Frankie loves the snow. He hates the cold, but he loves the snow. He loves the snow even more now that his baby girl is old enough to really appreciate it.

He can’t count the number of times he’s been outside with her, her dark and wild curls, so reminiscent of his, sticking out from under her unicorn beanie, getting damp from melted snow. She insists on making snow angels every single time a fresh blanket of snow falls at night, and he wasn’t about to deny her a little bit of joy in her life, no matter how fleeting it seemed to him.

He tries not to think about that. He tries not to think about the fact that she doesn’t get to stay with him all the time, the result of a horrible divorce following the disaster in South America, but he pushes that aside. He doesn’t need anyone, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have anyone. His gaze drifts to you, your pretty hair blowing in the warm heater air, your eyes sparkling in the gray light of the day. The two of you haven’t been together long. He still didn’t consider the two of you to be together in the traditional sense. That’s okay. He didn’t mind and he didn’t think you minded either.

But despite that, the two of you find yourselves in Denver. He’s not sure why. His old blue Chevy just seemed to steer itself there, and despite the slight chill that permeates the cab of his truck, he’s looking forward to spending the day with you. And he can’t quite stop the smile tugging at the ends of his lips. Your hand, so small in his, feels nice and warm as he holds it between the two of you. He glances down from the road toward the cracked leather bench seat and he can’t help but feel…calm. At peace. It’s a big change from the way he normally feels, his chest tight with anxiety, his stomach perpetually hurting as he thinks of where he’s been and where he might end up.

But he has you and he has a day to spend in the city with you. It’s a change from the quiet life on the farm and the chores that come with wintering cows, pigs, and chickens. Not that those chores were completely off the table. You’d just already completed them when he suggested you both go out and have a little fun. The suggestion surprised him as much as it surprised you, but neither of you complained. Not at all.

He parked his truck in front of a bookshop, snow beginning to fall thick and heavy outside, almost obscuring the bright red front door of the shop, the interior of the building glowing golden in the dim light outside.

Your eyes brighten as you peer over at him, tilting your head to one side as you regard him. His heart melts, a wave of dizzy giddiness washing over him. He clears his throat to hide it, feeling weird for being so happy at this moment of time.

“Frankie,” you breathe out excitedly. “This place is so pretty. How did you know about it?”

He chuckled. “Will told me about it.”

“I thought Will didn’t like bookshops.”

“He doesn’t, but he knows you do.”

If he stares at your face for any longer, he’s afraid he’ll break down and open himself up to you. It was a dangerous slope he didn’t want to be on. He knew more about you than you knew about him, but neither of you were complaining. If you wanted to, you were keeping quiet about it, and Frankie wasn’t about to start complaining. If he did, then you’d know his secrets. Those secrets could make or break whatever this was. He didn’t want that.

Your voice pulls him from the doldrums of his thoughts.

“Come on. I want to go inside,” you tug on his sleeve eagerly and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Alright, alright. Let’s go.” He let go of your hand, sliding from the truck and rounding it with the intention of opening the door for you, but you beat him. “Baby,” he sighs as you meet him in front of the truck.

“What?” You put on the most innocent face you can muster. “I’m excited. Aren’t you?”

He palms the back of his neck. “I’m not a big book store person, querida.”

Your face falls and, once again, he tries not to look at you for too long. “Oh. That’s okay. I won’t be long.”

You bound in happily and immediately make a beeline for the fiction books. He watches you, trying to keep his emotions at bay, but Frankie feels them percolating up in chest, a lump in his throat as he thinks about the words he told you. I’m not a bookstore person. He could curse. He’s not a bookstore person, but he didn’t have to tell you that. Why couldn’t he lie? Why couldn’t he find some sort of other excuse that didn’t land quite like those words did?

He sighs to himself and thinks he should look around while you do. You didn’t look angry when you walked inside, but he saw the disappointment in your eyes. His heart squeezes in his chest as he turns on his heel to find something that interests him. It wasn’t that he didn’t read. He liked to read, but he wasn’t the type to spend hours in a bookstore shopping to his hearts’ content. He didn’t like shopping for anything. Not even the farm, not even for himself. This was no different.

He glances out a nearby window to see the fat, fluffy flakes of snow streak past in a sudden gust of wind. His lips tug up into a smile. He wonders what his baby girl is doing right this second. He wishes you all could be making snow angels at the farm together, but he quiets that thought in his mind as he finds the military history section near the back of the bookshop. He flips through a few books, wondering what you might be finding before he wanders off some more, trying to shake off that memory of your disappointment.

—

You’re not sure how long you linger in the fiction section. You miss his warmth at your side and his hand around yours. You know he doesn’t mean to hurt you. You don’t even know why you’re hurt. You know what he’s like, all rough around the edges and quiet. Different. Different than anyone else you’ve ever been with. You try not to let that bother you as you also flip through books, reading the backs of novels and blurbs. You don’t know when publishing companies decided to stop putting summaries on the backs of books, but you hate when they don’t any more. It’s annoying.

You sigh and push a hardback back onto the shelf. Your gaze flits around at your immediate area but you don’t see his vintage ball cap anywhere. A frown tugs down at the edges of your lips. Where could he be?

You pad around in different sections, looking for the ones you think he’ll be in. History. Military. Sporting goods. He’s not in any of them. You sigh again, tilting your head as you wonder where he is. You hadn’t heard the little bell over the door tinkle since you’d gotten there. Any one who was smart enough was at home, snuggled under blankets and hiding in front of fireplaces. So, you knew he hadn’t left without you. Your frown deepens. Where is he?

You try not to let the panic rise in your throat as you round a corner into the children’s books. Sitting on the floor, surrounded by books, is none other than Frankie Morales. The sight startles you, but you know it shouldn’t. The frown you were sporting while trying to find melts into a smile. Butterflies start flapping in your stomach. You two might not be labeling anything, but you feel a surge of happiness and something singing through your veins. Was it love? It was too early to tell.

You stand there for a long while, watching as he sorts through books, mostly aimed at little girls. You’d only met Frankie’s little girl once, but you knew he loved her and she loved him. You can’t imagine what it must feel like to be separated from a child. You’ve never had any children and you’re not sure you want to give birth to any, but you can’t help but feel love in your heart for the little curly haired girl Frankie calls his own. You tried not to, but he’d spoken about her with such adoration, you couldn’t help it. Plus, seeing him surrounded by children’s books, trying to find the perfect one to give her, made your chest ache with happiness. He looked so out of place in his hat and button down and cargo trousers but it still made you practically giddy.

“I thought I lost you,” you murmur affectionately.

He jumps, big brown eyes lifting to meet yours almost sheepishly. “Lo siento. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You shake your head. “You didn’t scare me.” You step forward, avoiding books, and sit down beside him. It’s a lie and you know it. “I thought you didn’t like bookshops,” you tease playfully.

He laughs, the sound filling you up from the bottom of your feet to the top of your head. “I don’t.”

“I dunno. I think you might be lying.”

He doesn’t touch that tease. Instead, he nudges you gently in the arm with his. “What do you think Selena would like?”

You survey the pile of books thoughtfully. “How old is she, again?”

“She just turned three.”

“I don’t know a thing about kids,” you say as you continue to look around. “She likes the snow. What about something about a snowman?”

He gasps, his eyes lighting up in the dim light of the shop. “What about the Polar Express?”

You nod eagerly. “You could try it.”

He finds it half hidden underneath a few other books and hugs it to his chest. You melt. You can’t help it. He is so cute.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. She’s going to love it.”

“You think?” He asks cautiously but you know he’s not going to relinquish that book for anything.

You plant a little kiss to his bearded cheek. “Yeah. Plus, it won’t really matter. You’re the one going to read it to her. She’ll love it just for that.”

His face breaks out into a wide smile, the dimple deepening in his right cheek. “Perfect,” he begins, then looks around at the mess he made, “I guess we should clean this up.”

You laugh. “Probably a good idea.”

So the two of you begin shelving books, but really, it’s just you as he clings to The Polar Express tightly, not willing to part with it at all. You don’t mind. You just never thought you’d see a grown man clutching a Christmas book so tightly. But for some reason, for him, it just makes sense.

#steph's writing challenge #frankie morales #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales fic #frankie morales fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #fanfiction #sam writes

70 notes · View notes

messy-gemini1 · 2 years

Text

One who got away

I haven't written for nandor so here you go, I wanna write more of rhim but only if yall are interested. I want more seasons dammit!

warning: angst and cheating, no comfort :3

Nandor has never truly fell in love. Sure, he has his 37 wives and sure he loved them but maybe he never truly loved them as he did Y/n.

Their time together was short. They met Nandor and the others through Guillermo, having been friends for a while. Nandor was enamored by Y/n, it felt like time slowed down for the vampire, everything was fine for him. He was happy, he was...content. nandor and Y/n spent almost every hour together, talking, laughing, going on walks. When nandor slept, the other was working

Nandor could let his emotions out around Y/n, he didn't need to hide how he felt, he didn't feel laughed at or feel ashamed.

But..

good things never last do they.

Gale had returned, and with that so did Nandors feelings for her. He didn't need only Y/n then, he could be happy with both now, couldn't he? No. That's now how the modern day worked for him I suppose.

It wasn't until He had come out of the room he was "busy'' with Gale in did he finally see what he had done. Y/n, their poor frame sobbing into Nadja's dark clothing as she shushed the young thing.

"Hey why the long faces" Nandor spoke, Y/n's form froze, gripping Najdas own tighter in her hand. "nandor you bastard of a goat's baby" she spoke. Nandor only watched, his wives never did this when he was alone with only one of them.

"I-I should head home, I have work in the morning. Good night" Y/n spoke, their voice was hoarse. "Good night, my fine friend" Lazlo said, bowing, trying to keep his friend in high spirits. As the door shut and the footsteps echoes, Lazlo quickly grabbed his wife as she darted for Nandor.

"They poured their heart and soul into loving you, you cow shit for brains!" She hissed, eyes turning gold. "My darling, please calm down!" lazlo tried to reason with the angry vampire but to no avail.

"What did i do? Everyone knows me and gale are an off again on-again thing. They'll be back" nandor said, seemingly nonchalant.

"Um master, in this day and time, if it is not accepted by both parties or couple, it is considered cheating" Guillermo explained. Nandor watched his familiar for a few seconds before shrugging,

"I don't know what any of that means" He said, turning and starting to walk back into his room "fuck-Ing guy" he mumbled.

It wasn't until after Gale had once again left and weeks or months went by with Y/n not showing up did Nandor realize how upset he was. He realized that Gale was never truly right for him. You were.

Nandor would jump every time the doorbell rang hoping it was you, but it never was. Najda had warned him of the consequences of his actions now here he was defeated and no sign of your form.

It wasn't until it was their weekly hunt did Nandor find you again, wrapped in someone else's arms as you laughed and smiled. You seemed so happy.

Your eyes met, Nandor's filled with hope while yours....Yours filled with anger and sadness. You turned your head away from him and tugged your partners hand as a sign of you were ready to leave. Until Nadja spoke up, running to your form.

You smiled at her and let her hug you as much as she wanted, leaving her dark lipstick all over your face. You smiled at her and talked but Nandor refused to move from his space, he could hear you, how happy you sounded with someone else.

Nandor was so inside his head that he didn't notice you approach until you spoke.

"nandor" you said. He quickly looked down, gulping. "You really hurt me ya know.." you spoke, shoving hands into your pockets. "i-i know and I'm sorry please I-" he spoke but you shook your head.

"Sorry doesn't fix it, but...I accept the apology. I'm happy now. I want you to be happy too but, as long as you keep living like you do, Like no one else matters but yourself.. you wont" You spoke, looking up at the vampire.

"Goodbye Nandor" you spoke, and left with your partner, waving goodbye at the rest of the group. Leaving for the last time.

Nandor realized that you were the one that got away, the only one who could ever truly love him for him...

#wwdits #what we do in the shadows #nandor the relentless #nandor the himbo #nandor the relentless x reader #nandor x reader #lazlo cravensworth #nadja

216 notes · View notes

irlcats-bracket · 7 months

Text

Bracket 6 Round 1 Poll 6

Hiraya vs Princess

unfortunately submitter renamed or deleted their acc before i could grab a picture of hiraya :(

check their descriptions and catpaganda for princess below!

HIRAYA

hiraya means the fruit of one’s dreams and wishes and this is v fitting for him because he is the sweetest babiest gentlest precious little boy. he is submitted because submitter has been working on his self esteem (he’s now confident enough to sleep on the bed and claim the highest platform on the cat tree! an angel baby slowly learning to assert himself!)

PRINCESS

She's a mainly white cat with gray spots that have red undertones and secret stripes you can see in the sunlight. Her spots are asymmetrical and when she curls up they sometimes form a heart. Her eyes are yellow and her nose is pink with a tiny dark dot on it. She's a rescue that followed submitter's sister home from a jog and scream meowed her way into their hearts (and home). When they both went outside to see her, she curled up in their laps and purred. Unfortunately her previous owners declawed her, but that just makes submitter more grateful they rescued her when they did so she can be taken care of. She's an absolute sweetheart and will jump on submitter's lap every morning to purr and knead on them. She's actually on my lap as I am writing this. She loves belly rubs and sometimes drools when she purrs deeply. She drags her strings around like babies and asks very politely to play. She's a little mischievous in the summer and likes to try and go outside just to eat grass, but we always catch her and give her some to chew on.

CATPAGANDA

PRINCESS

Princess propaganda!!

I don't know what I've already said or what I haven't said but here I go!

Princess has supervised outside time (harness and leash) where all she does it eat grass like a mini cow ♡♡ she literally will not eat any treats or beg for food but she WILL go NUTS over grass

Her eyes are gold. Her eyes are green. They're a shade in between that you'd think would be a gross combination but then turn out to be the moat beautiful colour in the world.

When she curls up in a ball she makes a heart with her spots. When she stands she looks like she has a cat on her back.

She is on my lap as I type this ♡♡

Master catpost for a cat poll I'm entering

#cat #cats #polls #catfight six #catfight six round one

11 notes · View notes

theworldisquietheretooquiet · 1 year

Note

Forced to watch and whoever you’d like, for the prompts? 💗

(from this prompt list)

Thank you!!

I made myself sad by doing Morwen being forced to watch Aerin's marriage to Brodda. She must have felt so helpless. It got a bit long sorry, (it's 1164 words).

Thank you to @outofangband for talking about Aerin & Morwen with me, which inspired some of these ideas!

Cw: canonical forced marriage, clear suggestions of sexual and domestic violence

Brodda’s servant will not meet her eyes. He stands tall and proud as he stares down at the torn grass, but his body is turned away from her. Morwen curls her lip in contempt, she has no patience for these men who scorn her openly yet adorn their porches with protection amulets as she passes.

“Well? What does your Lord want? If he wishes for my cattle or perhaps my smithing tools, tell him to look in his own house.”

The words are cold and she feels strange daring to speak so openly. But this morning Grithnir had brought word that the invaders had destroyed the graveyard in the west of Dor-lómin. Those who had led Morwen through fire and danger had been lain there and the thought of their resting places desecrated had lit an icy rage in her.

But the man only laughs, cruel and dismissive. “I am sure our Lord would not understand your words. I have, however, come to bring happy tidings.”

His mouth stretches into a distorted smile where each tooth seems just a little too sharp. Morwen holds herself very still.

“I have come to invite you to a banquet in celebration of the union between Brodda, Lord of Dor-lómin and Aerin. I believe the fair bride is known to you? My Lord wanted me to offer you his thanks. He says the women of this land are as succulent as the cows, and he hopes they will be as easy to, ah, propagate.”

His face twists in gleeful nastiness though he takes a single step backwards on the final word.

Morwen breathes in. Holds it as she tenses every limb, every muscle, every thought or passing feeling. She turns and walks back inside, tight and controlled. She does not react as the man cackles and spits at her back. (They are always so much braver when she is not looking at them.)

She enters her house. Stares around at the dark hall. It is almost completely empty now. She slumps down against the wall. She breathes out.

Morwen starts to scream.

For three days and two nights she waits. Five hours after Brodda’s servant had left, Sador had arrived, carrying both some food and a message from Aerin. It said she would come to her when she could and to wait after nightfall in the abandoned slaughterhouse.

So Morwen is standing for the third night in the cold, silent, blood-stained room and she is not thinking. She is not thinking about Aerin pretending to steal Túrin’s nose when he was a baby and laughing quietly when his face screwed up in angry confusion. She is not thinking about Aerin, who alone came to find her, when Húrin and Huor returned. She is not thinking about Aerin smiling mischievously on her wedding day, proclaiming if she ever got married, she’d have a dog carry the rings down the aisle. She is not thinking about Aerin spending every moment at that man’s mercy. She is not thinking about Aerin being forced to –

“Morwen.” She spins around as her name is spoken softly. The dust swirls and it takes her a second to distinguish her friend in the dark. Aerin looks wraithlike, silhouetted by moonlight as she stands in the door. Yet as Morwen strides over, her heart twists and she wishes the shadows hid the truth still. Aerin’s left eye is bruised and there are fingernail marks on her neck.

“What has he done to you?”

“You know what he has done. He told me he sent word. He took great joy in imagining your reaction.” Aerin’s voice is calm and level but there is a raw look in her eyes.

Morwen is silent. She wonders where the storm of words brewing in her head for days has gone. Looking down she sees Aerin’s hands are covered in scratches and many of her nails are broken. She reaches out slowly, and as Aerin does not pull away, gently takes them, enveloping them with her own slender fingers.

Aerin exhales. “This was unavoidable Morwen. They take all they can see and more besides. We must accept this as our life now and focus only on what little light we can maintain amidst the growing dark. You should look to Túrin –”

Morwen pulls back. Not yet, says a voice in her head. I cannot lose him too. “Húrin may still come. If he lives, he will seek us no matter the risk.”

She hates the doubt and sorrow she sees in Aerin’s eyes. “I do not have the time anymore for slight hope. When I think of Húrin now it is only to take his resolve for my own. To endure is to survive.”

Morwen closes her eyes. She sees Rían wild and frenzied with grief. She opens them and sees Aerin pale and resigned. She is not quite sure which is worse.

“I always thought the ending would be quick. It would be agonising, undoubtedly but swift. The roar of flames, the twist of steel, the rush of water, the cold hands of a thing whose soul is turned to evil.”

Aerin’s answering smile is crooked. “Some might say we are lucky to avoid such a fate.”

“I do not.” Morwen replies vehemently. “I think I would prefer anything to a slow end, pieces of me rubbing away in thraldom to an unseen shadow.”

“Neither I nor you are thralls yet.”

“Are you not?”

“No, though I am not sure I am spared by it. But I have some little power now to aid you and our people. I will do all I can to help you, since you cannot yet flee.” Aerin places her hand on Morwen’s stomach, smiling sadly. Morwen does not speak but she places her own hand on top of Aerin’s.

Her friend continues. “That is something that is more than just enduring. Túrin too, is a little hope. He should be sent away, Morwen. Let him live a life, give him a chance to follow his own will, not Brodda’s or the Enemy’s.”

Morwen does not respond to this council though it lingers in her mind.

Instead it is his name, finally spoken by Aerin that hangs between them. She stares at her friend who looks somehow both haunted and impenetrable. The combined effect makes her seem brittle, as if she will snap with enough pressure. But for now, only the shake of her lip betrays her. Morwen pulls her into a tight hold and Aerin begins to shudder.

After they have been standing, embracing each other for a while in the quiet, Morwen says “I do not know how to do this. I do not know how to be forced to watch this happen to you and live with it.” Her voice is ragged.

Aerin slowly stills and then pulls back. With her sleeve over her hand, she wipes her eyes and meets Morwen’s gaze. “I know. But you will have to.”

#this is quite dark😅#hope you like it! thank you for the ask <3 #morwen #aerin #children of hurin #fanfic #my post #silmarillion

19 notes · View notes

shmeddieshmunson · 2 years

Text

This is Our Year

Eddie Munson x Transmasc!Reader, 18+ as a rule of thumb, fluff, mentions of beer and weed, coming out

Short one-shot 900 words

Eddie is so smitten, and nervous, and batting away any possible shame with his mile long eyelashes. He always feels this way when you’re in the back of his van with him, smoking a spliff, having a lukewarm beer. Even when you’re just looking at him.

He'd fucked girls, and it was hot, but he knew from a young age that Van Halen did not make all the other freak boys feel like this. He felt how he imagined the girls screaming their heads off at their shows felt. The girls who flashed their tits and threw themselves at the band. However, he had yet to meet a boy he actually knew that turned his stomach into knots in the same way. And then you showed up in Hawkins, all leather and spike clad, hair a mess.

When he finally talked to you, finally made friends, finally hung out with you constantly, and finally fell so head over fucking heels that he couldn't stand it anymore, you confided late one night that there was something he didn't know about you. Something you needed to tell him.

He felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest, and he struggled to not interrupt you by blurting out his own admittance of feelings. It’s really happening. I knew this was MY year Eddie's mind was already racing with the excitement of what having a boyfriend would be like, just the most absolutely delicious cherry on top.

So when you manage to utter to him that you're trans, his stomach drops. “What do you mean?” he asks, looking distant suddenly. The words are soft, and you can’t tell what emotion is behind them.

“Well I uh… I wasn’t born a boy. I don’t have a dick. Well at least not a real one… I have always felt like a boy but I had to work to become one.” Luckily the words are finding themselves, because your brain feels like white noise. Did I just fuck up the best thing in my life? You try to hide the fact that your lips are trembling with another long swig of beer.

So... He doesn't like me. The fact that you're trans doesn't make him flinch or pause for a single moment. The apologies and worries that start falling out of your lips, and the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes are lost on him while he tries not to cry, drowning in his own thoughts. He doesn't like me is the only thing eating at his brain. All this and he doesn't--

"Eddie?" And suddenly he's back. He makes eye contact again, and looks so deeply wounded in his huge dark eyes. "Eddie I'm so sorry, I get it if you don't want to be friends with me anymore. Just please don't tell anybody," you're pleading with a crackling voice. "I have to hide it to stay safe, that's why I moved here." You're stumbling over your words and now the tears are dripping out of your eyes. "I really thought--"

"don't want to be friends with you?" His voice comes out fast and desperate and sharp. "I'm fucking in love with you!" It's out of his mouth before he even thinks.

The silence is so loud.

You blink. He blinks. You open your mouth to say something, but instead you just go slack jawed. No way.

"I--" he shuts his mouth again.

You just stare at each other, the most locked in, intense, eye contact that either of you has ever experienced in your young adult lives.

"that's... why... I wanted to tell you..." You eventually whisper. You swear his whole face changes, but he's still looking at you with his eyebrows furrowed and lips jammed together just like before. But there's a glimmer in his eyes now, a twitch in his brows.

You can't stop fidgeting with your hands, or staring at his huge doe eyes. He looks like a fucking baby cow, jesus christ.

"So you don't care?" you finally confirm. He shakes his head in an almost unnoticeable motion. "It's one thing to be gay OR trans, but being both is just..." You trail off, almost letting thoughts of the last town you lived in consume you. You look up again to see a grin threatening the edges of Eddie's lips. He looks more like himself again. That spark in his eyes through his eyelashes, his face starting to crinkle with the smile he’s failing to hide.

You blink and then his lips are crashing onto yours and he's grabbing your face, while you tangle your fingers into his long hair as quickly as you can. He pulls back, and both of you have huge grins and tears on your face.

“You almost gave me a fucking heart attack,” he teases. You start to spew apologies and worry again, launching into how “this information hasn’t always gone over well in the past” and how you figured that you were just “doomed to keep it secret” and never let someone in close again after this, because if, “Eddie Munson thought I was truly a freak, there wasn’t any hope!”

He leans forward and laughs into your mouth, giddy, and kisses you again. He can’t tell if he’s high off of the spliff or the emotional rollercoaster he just came out on top of. This is our year.

#eddie munson #eddie x transmasc #eddie x ftm #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #I literally haven't written in years please give me any feedback or anything!#my inbox is open please be gay with me #my writing

90 notes · View notes

wildwolfe · 2 years

Text

It’s more than

( Wolfman x female reader)

Content warnings: stuggles with body image,dark thoughts,ptsd,slight nsfw,pregnancy

Being the kinda person who had to be forced to move while growing up,you found yourself moving right back to the country that you now lived with Leonardo Wolfe.You couldn’t help but judge your body when you got up that morning and seeing yourself in the mirror,as you slid on a sweater even though it was gonna be almost eighty degrees.

The gentle feeling of Leonardo’s hands wrapped around you pulling you into him back behind,kissing your shoulder,he never failed to be anything other then a perfect gentlemen.

“Morning love” his voice was groggy as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck while buttoning his coat,the laced regret that he had to leave to get back.

“Good morning sweetheart” you laughed turning around feeling him kiss your jaw,as you wrap your hands around him.”I love you,you know that right” you asked him hating that he had to go but more then anything just prayed he would come back safe,you couldn’t imagine your life without the wonderful wolfman.

“Of course I know that darling,I love you as well more then words could explain” he stated with worry in his voice that it meant something was wrong.

“Just be safe” you kissed his cheek before walking out,to take care of the animals,the two of you having moved on to a farm both of you loved.Spending the kinda time you loved together with horses,and dogs along with different animals like cows and rabbits.

While you worked on the farm,an worked at the local fire department,Leonardo had made his way back to the deck where he was met walking up with iceman and Hollywood.

“How’s the country love life treating you there,Wolfe?”Hollywood couldn’t help but tease his partner.

“I love it and I am in love with my wife so great,though I can tell that’s something you don’t know anything about,still flirting with random girls at the bar minutes before I see there” Leonardo couldn’t help but laugh seeing Hollywoods shocked expression.

While the mission quickly turnt longer then expected Leonardo came home to the farm being calmer then he remembered it,the sense of stress leaving.As he put his hat on smirking seeing his wife out in the distance who he knew always had a fear of horses the slightest bit but loved protecting and raising them.Laughing to himself seeing her getting up off the ground covered in mud.

She seemed paler then normal which she couldn’t help but he concerned about,his wife was normally pale as she was Irish,but this was a different level.

“Babe you feeling alright?” Leonardo asked you helping you under the fence and into his arms,sensing you were nervous to say something.

“Love whatever it is I’m here,what’s going on?” His voice was softer then it’s ever been as worry and panic took over.

“I-“ your voice broke as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. “I-I’m pregnant” you didn’t realize you were holding your breathe until you felt him picking you up to kiss you which made you laugh.

“Baby” his voice became like he was talking to a child going up a few notch’s as his hand rested on your stomach,kissing you while he reached up and his other hand took his hat off putting it on you.

Country is more then the way of wearing boots and hats,the jeans that become muddy or worn.It’s the way you live and your mindset about things,protecting family and animals.The love to rather be covered in mud and laughing joking around then in sparkly dresses and heels wanting to go out on the town,it’s something that’s set in your heart from birth,not something you are just taught.

You couldn’t help but laugh hiding you face into his chest as he started reciting save a horse and ride a cowboy,feeling your face become red feeling his hand gently rubbing your stomach,having not known this side of Leonardo as he mumbled “is it bad this gives me a hard on” causing you to pull away laughing.

While years passed quite quickly,your baby girl was turning one,an you woke up that morning feeling yourself fall completely in love with Leonardo all over again.Leonardo in middle of the living room while forever and ever amen played out,he was dancing with your guys little girl who started busting out giggling and wrapping her whole hand around his thumb.

#top gun #top gun x you #top gun x y/n #top gun x reader #wolfman #wolfman reader #topgun wolfman #topgun Leonardo wolfe

80 notes · View notes

jellogram · 2 years

Text

"Half-Hanged Mary" by Margaret Atwood was one of those poems that I had to read for school and never forgot. Everything about this poem lodged into my brain but I had a surprisingly difficult time finding the entire text online, so here it is, unedited, hopefully with all the correct spacing and inflections. Enjoy. I wish I could read it again for the first time.

7pm

Rumour was loose in the air

hunting for some neck to land on.

I was milking the cow,

the barn door open to the sunset.

I didn't feel the aimed word hit

and go in like a soft bullet.

I didn't feel the smashed flesh

closing over it like water

over a thrown stone.

I was hanged for living alone

for having blue eyes and a sunburned skin,

tattered skirts, few buttons,

a weedy farm in my own name,

and a surefire cure for warts;

Oh yes, and breasts,

and a sweet pear hidden in my body.

Whenever there's talk of demons

these come in handy.

8pm

The rope was an improvisation.

With time they'd have thought of axes.

Up I go like a windfall in reverse,

a blackened apple stuck back onto the tree.

Trussed hands, rag in my mouth,

a flag raised to salute the moon,

old bone‐faced goddess, old original,

who once took blood in return for food.

The men of the town stalk homeward,

excited by their show of hate,

their own evil turned inside out like a glove,

and me wearing it.

9pm

The bonnets come to stare,

the dark skirts also,

the upturned faces in between,

mouths closed so tight they're lipless.

I can see down into their eyeholes

and nostrils. I can see their fear.

You were my friend, you too.

I cured your baby, Mrs.,

and flushed yours out of you,

Non‐wife, to save your life.

Help me down? You don't dare.

I might rub off on you,

like soot or gossip. Birds

of a feather burn together,

though as a rule ravens are singular.

In a gathering like this one

the safe place is the background,

pretending you can't dance,

the safe stance pointing a finger.

I understand. You can't spare

anything, a hand, a piece of bread, a shawl

against the cold,

a good word. Lord

knows there isn't much

to go around. You need it all.

10pm

Well God, now that I'm up here

with maybe some time to kill

away from the daily

fingerwork, legwork, work

at the hen level,

we can continue our quarrel,

the one about free will.

Is it my choice that I'm dangling

like a turkey's wattles from this

more than indifferent tree?

If Nature is Your alphabet,

what letter is this rope?

Does my twisting body spell out Grace?

I hurt, therefore I am.

Faith, Charity, and Hope

are three dead angels

falling like meteors or

burning owls across

the profound blank sky of Your face.

12 midnight

My throat is taut against the rope

choking off words and air;

I'm reduced to knotted muscle.

Blood bulges in my skull,

my clenched teeth hold it in;

I bite down on despair

Death sits on my shoulder like a crow

waiting for my squeezed beet

of a heart to burst

so he can eat my eyes

or like a judge

muttering about sluts and punishment

and licking his lips

or like a dark angel

insidious in his glossy feathers

whispering to me to be easy

on myself. To breathe out finally.

Trust me, he says, caressing

me. Why suffer?

A temptation, to sink down

into these definitions.

To become a martyr in reverse,

or food, or trash.

To give up my own words for myself,

my own refusals.

To give up knowing.

To give up pain.

To let go.

2am

Out of my mouth is coming, at some

distance from me, a thin gnawing sound

which you could confuse with prayer except that

praying is not constrained.

Or is it, Lord?

Maybe it's more like being strangled

than I once thought. Maybe it's

a gasp for air, prayer.

Did those men at Pentecost

want flames to shoot out of their heads?

Did they ask to be tossed

on the ground, gabbling like holy poultry,

eyeballs bulging?

As mine are, as mine are.

There is only one prayer; it is not

the knees in the clean nightgown

on the hooked rug

I want this, I want that.

Oh far beyond.

Call it Please. Call it Mercy.

Call it Not yet, not yet,

as Heaven threatens to explode

inwards in fire and shredded flesh, and the angels caw.

3am

Wind seethes in the leaves around

me the tree exude night

birds night birds yell inside

my ears like stabbed hearts my heart

stutters in my fluttering cloth

body I dangle with strength

going out of me the wind seethes

in my body tattering

the words I clench

my fists hold No

talisman or silver disc my lungs

flail as if drowning I call

on you as witness I did

no crime I was born I have borne I

bear I will be born this is

a crime I will not

acknowledge leaves and wind

hold onto me

I will not give in

6am

Sun comes up, huge and blaring,

no longer a simile for God.

Wrong address. I've been out there.

Time is relative, let me tell you

I have lived a millennium.

I would like to say my hair turned white

overnight, but it didn't.

Instead it was my heart:

bleached out like meat in water.

Also, I'm about three inches taller.

This is what happens when you drift in space

listening to the gospel

of the red‐hot stars.

Pinpoints of infinity riddle my brain,

a revelation of deafness.

At the end of my rope

I testify to silence.

Don't say I'm not grateful.

Most will have only one death.

I will have two.

8am

When they came to harvest my corpse

(open your mouth, close your eyes)

cut my body from the rope,

surprise, surprise:

I was still alive.

Tough luck, folks,

I know the law:

you can't execute me twice

for the same thing. How nice.

I fell to the clover, breathed it in,

and bared my teeth at them

in a filthy grin.

You can imagine how that went over.

Now I only need to look

out at them through my sky‐blue eyes.

They see their own ill will

staring them in the forehead

and turn tail

Before, I was not a witch.

But now I am one.

Later

My body of skin waxes and wanes

around my true body,

a tender nimbus.

I skitter over the paths and fields

mumbling to myself like crazy,

mouth full of juicy adjectives

and purple berries.

The townsfolk dive headfirst into the bushes

to get out of my way.

My first death orbits my head,

an ambiguous nimbus,

medallion of my ordeal.

No one crosses that circle.

Having been hanged for something

I never said,

I can now say anything I can say.

Holiness gleams on my dirty fingers,

I eat flowers and dung,

two forms of the same thing, I eat mice

and give thanks, blasphemies

gleam and burst in my wake

like lovely bubbles.

I speak in tongues,

my audience is owls.

My audience is God,

because who the hell else could understand me?

Who else has been dead twice?

The words boil out of me,

coil after coil of sinuous possibility.

The cosmos unravels from my mouth,

all fullness, all vacancy.

#poems #poetry #margaret atwood #writing #women writers #half hanged mary #witch trials #salem #witches #long poems #epic poems #history #salem witch trials #literature #gothic literature #english literature

60 notes · View notes