#these windows are just old and grimy

[meaningtotellyou]

i just wasted over two hours trying to clean the 100 year old floor to ceiling windows at my job just to be told they look bad and someone else will try in the morning

[getodrools]

໒꒰ྀ ྀིᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ DUMP TRUCK DRIVER! TOJI who purposely arrives too early just to watch the lonesome and exhausted housewives — like you — run out in their cute little nightgowns with messy bedhead hair, and no bras to support while running for him…

Toji would chuckle every single time. Catching that confused turned frantic look you always gave through the kitchen window; hearing him haul by earlier than usual forced you in a panic… Shit! You've missed trash day twice already! You needed to get this stench out of your house ASAP but the grimy man crooking a wry smirk pressed on the gas soon as you popped out the front door.

Shit!

“Wait!” Crying out with a waving arm; running barefoot with weeks-old trash hauling behind you in your nightwear was not in your morning routine — but it sure as hell was in his… You wheeze, chasing that green truck like an idiot, you were cursing your husband for always forgetting to take the damn trash to the curb beneath your breath too…

Soon as you were able to get his attention — Well, you've been had it through a small side mirror… but he finally stopped!

His lips are slicked. Admiring the skimpy view of another man's wife's tits heaving and ass bouncing around in baby-blue sheer cloth, even that coffee spilled down your chest which globbed down to your belly from the chase, was his morning coffee…

<– [ BACK ] : PINNED ⊹ ࣪ ˖ [ NEXT ] : MORE TOJI –>

[ceilidho]

prompt: blue collar worker ghost knocking reader up in a gas station bathroom on a whim. (nsfw, 2k)

-

Just to look over at him on the driver’s side drives you crazy.  

His buzz cut uncovered by a hood or balaclava is the new normal. It makes your blood rush to think of dragging your fingers across it, never long enough to really grip; heats you up faster than sitting by a fire or plunging into warm water. It’s the same new normal as the bristly, naked skin of his jaw, which flexes under scrutiny. He hadn’t gotten around to shaving earlier—rarely does these days as long as he can keep to a five o’clock shadow—and it makes you shiver when you think of the raw tenderness on your inner thighs, a consequence of that decision. 

These are the consequences of trust and loyalty. Not long ago, you wouldn’t have expected more than a glimpse of dark eyes behind a mask. 

The window is cracked open just enough to let the smoke from his cigarette out. Black fingerless gloves, nails bare and trimmed, dirt and ink trapped always in the grooves of his fingers. Eyes heavy lidded as always from poor sleep, shot nerves the takeaway from an old life of brittle thin sleep. His cortisol levels, to this day, must ride high in the bloodstream. You’d give anything to ease it at a touch, but that’s not how things work. 

“Keep lookin’ at me like that and we’re gonna have a problem,” Simon says when you glance over at him for the fifth time in as many minutes. 

“A problem?” you repeat. You’re not trying to be coy—you’re really not—but it comes out that way regardless. A bit breathlessly too, you realize with a small degree of embarrassment. You’ve got no shame these days. 

He grunts instead of answering. Your fists close over your thighs as you dry to concentrate on the road ahead of you instead of the persistent ache between your thighs. It’s not his fault that your pussy picked now of all times to get desperate. 

You peer over at him again out of the corner of your eye. 

“Bird,” he growls. Doesn’t even have to look over at you to know that you’re staring. Just another weird six sense from another life. It’s a warning though, one you hear loud and clear. 

“I didn’t say anything,” you say in a huff, turning your head fully away from him now to stare out the window. 

Only a handful of minutes tick by with you watching the brown patches of grass and the trees lining the motorway before you shift in your seat. Acutely aware of the wet spot between your legs, the way Simon’s fingers curl over the steering wheel loosely when he drives one handed, the smell of smoke on the upholstery, the grimy spots on the windshield where the wipers don’t reach, the moment he shifts and the weight of him makes the leather squeak. 

You peek over at him again.

He doesn’t bother signalling before veering into the rightmost lane, ignoring the furious honking from the car right behind you. You yelp when he takes the exit at a breakneck speed, fingers gripping the underside of your seat before whipping your head around to glare at him. 

“What’s the matter with you?” you scream, spine stiff from the sudden lane change. 

Simon doesn’t answer you, but you notice that the exit leads to a rest stop just off the motorway. It’s one of the less frequented ones—just a cluster of fast food restaurants and a gas station. He pulls into a parking space and practically slams on the brakes, making you jerk forward in your seat. Simon’s never been the most cautious driver, but this is a whole new level for him.

“Simon—Simon, what are you doing—” you hiss through clenched teeth, but he’s already up and out of the car, circling around to your side. 

Your heart goes hummingbird quick in your chest, stomach in knots. When you pant out a breath, it comes out shaky with nerves and excitement. You toy with the idea of pressing down on the child lock when he comes around but think the better of it. There’s already a twitch in his eye. 

You look up at him through your lashes when he opens the door and leans in to release your seatbelt. 

“Get out,” he orders, and yanks you out before you can reply. 

The walk to the gas station is tense and you struggle to keep up with him. He walks too fast and expects you to keep up, growling down at you to move it, but you drag your feet a little. It’s shameful how even that gets you worked up. 

“Are we gonna—?” you ask breathlessly, irritation seeping out of you. Simon doesn’t answer, just tightens his hand around your wrist. 

A chime above the door jingles when the two of you walk in, heading straight for the back. You catch the attendant staring at the two of you with open contempt and give a tight, embarrassed smile back. Simon doesn’t so much as glance over. You think he’d let the man call the cops if it came down to it. 

The gas station bathroom is one of the crummier bathrooms you’ve ever been in, but you hardly register that with how Simon hauls you up against the door he just slammed shut and kisses you within an inch of your life. His kisses are ever slick and wet, dangerous for you—drugging when he drags his tongue over yours and a hand cups your head to angle it just right. You want to give as good as you get, but it’s easy to let yourself get swept away and open your mouth to let him in because you feel his hunger. 

“That cunt never gets tired of me, does she?” Simon mumbles into your mouth. He steals your words from you when he slots his lips over yours again. Only gives you enough space to drag in a sharp breath. 

It’s in your best interest. The only words available to you are pathetic little pleas, desperate fingers digging into his jacket and trying to pull it off so you can feel the muscle underneath. Trying to get as close as possible to him, to wrap yourself around him. A needy, pitiful thing. 

“Poor thing,” he sighs, pulling away from your mouth and laughing when your lips chase after him. Standing up on your tiptoes to kiss him again and kiss, hands tugging him down by the back of his neck. “So horny that you nearly made me crash the fuckin’ car.”

“Couldn’t wait,” you whine, peppering his neck with kisses when he draws up to his full height, nearly dizzy now. “Sorrysorrysorry, please—please fuck me, Simon—please—”

“Not here, bird—want you to see how desperate you look.”

He drags you over to the other side of the bathroom and makes you stand on his boots and face the mirror covered in lipstick and sharpie and god knows what else—“c’mon, up you get”—while he rucks up your dress. The stark contrast between the two of you in the mirror makes you baulk. Like you haven’t slept with him before and lived to tell the tale. He’s all dark clothing and mountains for shoulders, mouth always set in a flat line of impatience that would make anyone else turn the other way. 

You, however, press yourself back into him. 

Rough fingers tug your panties to the side, not bothering to check if you’re wet. Assuming that you are—that you always are with him, eager to cant your hips and offer yourself up to him.

You try not to think about how your pelvis is already tilted towards him.

Simon holds your head up with a single hand under your chin, squishing your cheeks a little. “Fuckin’ hell…look at that,” he rasps, eyes almost black with lust. 

“You’re being mean,” you whine, pushing back against him and wiggling your hips. 

“Doesn’t matter how many times I give it to you—always whining for it. Cock hungry bird.”

It would hurt if you didn’t already know how much he wants you too, the deep rasp in his voice betraying an aching, insatiable hunger. An arm locks like a bar across your chest to hold you in place, his hand fitting over a breast just to have something to hold. He can tell you again and again that it’s just you, but you know that he wants it just as badly as you do. 

He reaches around to undo his pants and then you feel a familiar cock bully its way into you, a tight fit only eased by the wetness almost glistening on your inner thighs. He grunts when his cock pushes into you, the same hand reaching around to rest low on your stomach, pinkie brushing the top of your mound. 

The first thrust jostles you, forces your palms to slam down on the mirror even though the arm across your chest keeps you tight to his chest. It’s sticky under your fingers. You wince when you think of how much Purell you’ll need after this, but the thought melts away when he pulls his cock almost all the way out of you before slamming back in. 

“Yes, yes—fuck—” you gasp, staring at your reflection in the mirror. After a couple hours on the road, you’re not exactly in tiptop shape—sweaty and in need of a shower and coffee—but any timidity evaporates under Simon’s hot gaze. It eats you up. 

His jaw flexes with each thrust, eyes flitting between your tits bouncing under your dress and your face until it stays there, devouring you in a single heated look. Every time your shoes almost slip off his boots, he pulls you tighter into his chest; you couldn’t get out of his hold even if you wanted to. The thought makes the blood rush through your ears. 

“Almost need someone else jus’ to take care of you when I’m not around,” Simon growls. He gives your breast a rough squeeze, an admonishment. 

“No—no one else—” 

“Jus’ me then, pet? No one else can take care of this little cunt?”

You shake your head, maybe nod, maybe sob a bit. It’s hard to tell. The hand on your low belly grips into the flesh, holding you in place while he rails you over the sink. Impossible to look away from the man towering over you, a man you’ve let willingly bend you over and get between your thighs. You wouldn’t even if you could. He’s the summation of everything you’ve ever hoped for, packaged in the too big body of a gun for hire, riddled with nerve damage and a nasty temper. You wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world.

Your eyes slip shut.

“Tell you what,” he breathes into your ear, the burr of his stubble rubbing your neck raw. “I’ll give you somethin’ else to keep you busy.” 

Your eyes spring wide open.

He shifts his stance and drives into you with renewed vigour, muffling your sounds with a hand over your mouth. The mirror fogs up through the gaps between his fingers, the room damper and stickier now than when you entered it. Tears build in the corners of your eyes. 

When he goes quiet, you know what’s about to happen. Your toes curl in your shoes when he exhales a ragged breath, gritting his teeth when he meets your eyes again in the mirror. Something about his gaze alone makes you come, like a deep press into your soul. The fat cock stretching you out is just a bonus. 

The come down is harsh, laboured breaths panting out of you until your chest finally settles, until it feels safe enough to move. You lower one foot from on top of his boot just for Simon’s arms to constrict even more, holding you fast to his chest. He can probably feel your heartbeat against his wrist. 

“Quit squirming,” he scolds, giving you a little warning squeeze.

“‘M sweaty,” you complain.

“We’ll towel off at home,” Simon says, rolling his eyes. “Don’t bitch.”

“I’m not bitching, I’m hot—” 

He lets you carp and moan about your inner thighs being covered in beard burn and come while straightening out your dress, pulling your panties back into place. He’s quicker with himself, doesn’t even bother grabbing a paper towel to wipe himself off before shoving his cock back into his pants and zipping up. When you ask him to hand you one, the look he gives you scorches you right to the bone. 

“Wait ‘till we get home,” he says, hand on your back when he unlocks the bathroom door.

“Like you aren’t gonna do it all over again the second we get there,” you mutter.

His smirk isn’t smug, but it’s a near thing.

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ NEW JOBS AND DEATH THREATS — cod x reader

CRAVE YOU — call of duty x reader CHAPTER ONE

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + alejandro vargas + rodolfo 'rudy' parra + könig + keegan p. russ

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, prison au, serial killer au, reverse harem, therapist/patient, medical inaccuracies, graphic violence, depictions of murder, everyone's unhinged, poly tf141, minor ships, threesomes, foursomes, gangbangs, this is not medical advice!!

series masterlist. read on ao3.

Life was hard. That was a fact.

Bills and groceries didn’t pay for themselves. That was also a fact.

Adding these two factors together, the final product will be a high-risk job in one of the highest-risk places on Earth. That’s… not a fact.

And yet, here you are, standing at the visitor entrance of Las Almas Prison, sporting a disgruntled grimace and a new pair of black slacks that you’d splurged on. They, at least, made your ass look good, although that was truly the least of your worries.

No. Your current list of worries looked something like this;

Getting Murdered

Getting Attacked

Vomiting Within The First Five Minutes Of Your New Job?

…Yeah. Something like that.

The early morning sun is blinding where it sits, just off to the side of the giant concrete building that was the main offices and Visitor Centre. The fact that you were standing in front of what was only a small part of the overall prison grounds was… alarming.

You were well aware that this was the largest prison in your country, housing the most lethal and awful of criminals. Some you’d seen either on the news, or heard of in passing conversations.

This was the real deal. And, somehow, you’d managed to find yourself being hired to work here. You. Work with serial killers. The worst of the worst.

With the stress on your bank account, and the endless struggle that was trying to find a stable career in the current job market, you simply had no other choice but to accept the offer. It paid extremely well, had great benefits, and your safety was… fairly considered.

The amount of NDAs, liability clauses and agreements, however?

Not the best at calming your nerves, to say the least.

The biting chill of the winter wind has you wrapping your arms around yourself, leather bag slung over your shoulder as you finally step through the automatic sliding door.

You’re not surprised to find that the chill only deepens inside the concrete walls of the building, with no heaters or air conditioning from what you can see. There is, however, bright white overhead lights that do nothing except aid the throbbing in the side of your head – probably due to the restless sleep you’d had the night before, anticipation and anxiety warring inside of your thoughts.

There’s an office in front of you as you step in, with only a few decades-old couches to your right, in front of a dingy TV that’s turned off. Saving their budget for more important things, you suppose.

The walls are a pale, grimy yellow, with sparse photos hung about, framing newspaper articles that are surely from the last century, and black and white pictures of the prison’s opening.

It’s an unsettling place, that much you’ve already gathered.

You haven’t even actually been inside the prison, you remind yourself, your stomach churning where it now lays at your feet.

Without a second thought, you continue with hurried steps to the front desk, where scratched plastic encases the sole woman inside, sitting behind a monitor. There’s a circle of holes that allow for sound to pass through, but other than that, there’s no way of entering from this room. With a quick study of your surroundings, you see a steel door to the left of where the desk sits, with a small square window covered in iron bars.

…Jesus christ.

“Can I help you?” The woman drawls, sliding her glasses further up her nose. Her voice is nasally, and the words come out in a slow drawl as she looks you up and down, unimpressed.

You give her your best smile, although even you can tell that it’s an uneasy one. “Yes! This is my first day, I think I’m supposed to be meeting Kate Laswell?” You ask, nerves betraying your voice with unsteady breaths.

The woman snaps her gum.

You stand there.

She blows it again.

You continue to stand there.

Her gaze is bored and completely void of any thought, before she nods slowly. “Laswell… I’ll call her.”

Really, you couldn’t be more shocked if you tried. What the fuck was happening? How could one lack so much… professionalism?

“Hi, Kate. Yes, it’s Jenny. I have a new hire who apparently wants to see you…” Her voice remains that unbearably slow, sloth-like delivery, before her eyes unhurriedly meet yours again. “What’s your name…?”

You give it to her, tone only the slightest bit impatient as you roll back on the heels of your feet. You can only hope that your black boots are appropriate; you’d figured that they were safe, closed-toe and still somewhat professional.

Time would tell. Jenny was giving you the impression that they were more than acceptable, because at least they got you to do your job in a timely manner.

Jenny says a few more words to who can only pray is Laswell on the other end of the phone, before she places it back in its holder. 

“Laswell will be here any…” She pops her gum once more, and maybe, just maybe, you can understand the urge to murder. “Moment.”

You give her a tight, painful smile. “Thank you, Jenny.”

She doesn’t respond, and you decide to just stand back and wait. You certainly weren’t complaining – any more conversation with her would’ve ended with a severe lack of hair on your head.

A minute passes, before a buzz in the pocket of your slacks has your throat tightening. 

Pulling out your phone, your next exhale comes out shaky as you read the text.

Charlie: get milk otw home used it all

No ‘good luck’. No… ounce of care for you, or the absolute stress that comes with a new job, let alone one like this.

When you’d told him about the offer, all he’d said was, “It might make you worth something for a change.” Didn’t even question, not for a minute, the risks that came with a job like this. He simply couldn’t give less of a fuck.

“Doctor?” The sound of a door opening, and the kind, almost motherly tone of the voice has you shoving your phone into your pocket once more as you turn to the source of the sound.

It’s a woman, her hair pulled back into a slick bun, one hand holding what seems to be a clipboard. Her other hand rests in the pocket of a white coat, not unlike one a scientist would be fashioning in a lab. Her smile is warm, the corner of her eyes crinkling as you direct a smile of your own her way.

“Kate Laswell?” You ask, extending your hand for her to shake. Taking her hand out of her pocket, she accepts it gracefully, nodding her head.

“The one and only,” she says, before gesturing to the steel door she’d entered through. “Now, today we’ll get you set up with a keycard, general rules, and I’ll have you meet two of your patients.”

You nod, following her as she swipes a card in a black reader, before the red light buzzes green, and she pulls the door open. Right behind her, you take an unstable deep breath as you take in the greyed, jagged walls, a complete contrast to the painted ones of the entrance room.

“We really are so glad to welcome you to our team,” she continues, her black work shoes clicking against the smooth concrete flooring. She doesn’t turn to you as she speaks, but her voice carries around the echoey hallway. “You’ll make a great addition. A necessary one, also. We’ve needed an innovative, young therapist for a while. Most of our… previous hires have held out-dated beliefs, and a lack of humanity for their clientele.”

That makes your brows furrow in confusion. “That’s… odd,” you murmur, before pausing your steps as Laswell stops, swiping her keycard, before entering another room.

As you step into the newly revealed space, your eyes go wide as you take it in. 

It’s a wide, large space, with several floors. Metal staircases sit at either end of the vast space, allowing access to every floor. Guards sit at every level, some walking around the space where you and Laswell stand.

It’s a lot, all at once. You’d never even stepped foot into a prison – not before now.

“Most inmates are at the mess for breakfast,” Laswell supplies, turning to you with a neutral expression. She gestures for you to follow her back out of the space, and you do with hurried steps. “The ones you’ll be dealing with, however… they usually eat by themselves.”

You don’t decide to push that statement, not now, as you continue to follow her down the hallway.

“You won’t be seeing much of the prison,” she admits. “There’s heavily guarded spaces on the top floor for your sessions, both for your protection and for the safety of our staff and other low-risk inmates.”

You nod, humming a sound of affirmation as the two of you start heading up the cleaner steps at the end of the hallway. The staff staircase, you suppose.

“Today, you’ll be meeting two of our more… understanding ambers.”

You raise a brow. “Ambers? What does that mean?”

She turns her head over her shoulder, just enough to shoot you a knowing look. “Ambers are our highest-risk inmates. We house ten of them, and you’ll be dealing with eight as per your contract.”

Your stomach falls. You’d known, of course, that the risks were high when applying for this role. But… this was more than you’d imagined, in a way. Ambers. Huh.

Silence falls over the two of you as you make your way up the never-ending steps, no windows in sight. It’s unnerving, in a creepy, strange way. When you finally reach the top, you try and hide how out of breath you are from that small exertion.

Fucking christ.

Laswell, for her part, looks completely fine in an effortless way. You can’t eve find it in yourself to be envious. The feeling’s closer to admiration.

“Here’s the files on them both. You’ll be seeing Kyle Garrick first,” she hands you the clipboard she’d been carrying, and you accept it with only a slight tremble. She doesn’t comment on it, and you find yourself warming up to her already. “They’ll be restrained, and there is heavy security, so you needn’t worry about that side of things.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” you say earnestly, flipping through the files without reading much of anything, not yet. 

She waves you off with a soft chuckle. “None of that. Kate’s more than fine,” she insists, and you give her a bright smile in return. Maybe this job wouldn’t be so bad – a boss like this was much better than a creepy middle-aged man any day of the week.

You don’t realise you’ve made it to a small room until she stops walking, scanning her keycard and pushing the door open, gesturing you in. “While you have your first two sessions, I’ll sort your keycard and the rest of the processes out. I wish you luck.”

With that, the door shuts behind you, and you’re alone in a small room.

It matches the rest of the hallways you’ve seen – grey concrete walls, grey concrete floors. The only furniture, however, is one metal table drilled into the floor in the centre, one chair on either side. 

…It’s depressing. Not at all like you’d prefer, not for a fucking therapy session, but then again, you hadn’t met your clients yet.

Ambers. High-risk.

With a deep breath, you take a seat at the chair closest to you, finally reading through the top file on the clipboard.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick. 

You skim over the height, weight, sex – immediately reading the comments made and his sentence.

Mass murderer. Motivated attacks.

Your eyes go wide, almost comically so, as you bite at your lip, folding one leg over the other as you continue to read. 

Of course, you’d prepared, been made aware that you’d be dealing with murderers. But having it in black and white, right in front of you, is a whole other thing entirely. 

Apparently, they were motivated attacks. Targets being large CEOs, specifically those with reported claims of misuse of power, and those against green laws. Anti-environment types.

The motive is… you’re aware killing is bad. You hadn’t spent years studying for a degree in Psychology to think otherwise. But it wasn’t as simple as some made it out to be. You’d done papers suggesting that certain motives implied healthier patterns, healthier outlets.

If you had to choose between him killing pregnant women, and CEOs with broken moral compasses?

It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out your answer.

You’re about to flip the page when there’s a knock on the door on the other side of the room, before it opens.

There’s two guards that walk in, before a man in an olive green jumpsuit follows, hands cuffed tightly together in front of him, head down. Another guard from behind shoves him in, too rough for your liking. You sit up straighter, eyes assessing as you take in the man in the jumpsuit.

He’s forced into the chair opposite you, before one of the guards grabs his cuffed wrists and chains them to a rig in the middle of the table. You’re grateful for the precautions, but there’s a part of you that feels guilty watching the manhandling of the seemingly calm man.

“Half an hour,” the most brutish guard of them all grits out, beer belly spilling out over his belted jeans. He jostles the chain attaching his wrists to the table unnecessarily, and your eyes narrow.

He goes to leave, along with another guard, but one stands to stay in position inside, beside the door.

Your brows furrow, and you speak up before you can stop yourself. “Sorry, sir, but my sessions will need confidentiality, as for the best results. I’m sure that I’ll be safe with his restraints.”

The guard stares you down, seemingly mulling your words over, before shrugging and leaving the room, door shutting behind him.

…Huh. Alright.

You find your posture relaxing, just slightly, which is odd, considering you’re now only a metre or two away from a convicted murderer.

His gaze is trained to the table, left foot tapping incessantly against the concrete floor.

“It’s nice to meet you, Gaz,” you say with a soft tone and a gentle smile. You figure that his nickname is the best bet, not wanting to stir up any possible traumas with his given name during your first session with the man. “I’ll be your new psychiatric evaluator.”

His eyes flick up, meeting yours, and he nods slowly, as if awaiting a punchline. 

“Is it okay for me to call you Gaz?” You ask, tilting your head to the side and flipping to an empty page to take notes on. You’d need to grab a notebook from home, you decide.

He relaxes, only the smallest of movements, and he nods. “Gaz, yeah.”

Your smile widens at the small victory. Any step towards progress was a huge one, in your eyes. You’d be facing a lot of them in the coming days.

“Do you have any advice for this place?” You push, trying to form a bond of trust with the dark-haired man. “I’m gonna be honest, you’re my first patient, and I’ve only met Laswell and… Jenny?”

His mouth quirks at that, a dimple showing to the left of his mouth as he looks back up at you. “Jenny’s a character, ain’t she?”

You laugh, a genuine one, and nod. “She certainly is. You’ve met her?”

He shrugs, shoulders relaxing slightly. “Few times, yeah. She drives me up the fuckin’ wall.” His accent is only minimally apparent, but his voice is of a somewhat humorous tone.

Small victories.

“Well,” he exhales, settling into his chair a bit as he seems to ponder. “Do ya know who else you’re assigned to?”

You’d been sure to thoroughly go over your contract, and you were allowed to disclose your other patients between your others. They’d find out within the day, anyways, so there was no point in being discreet.

“It’s only you and a… John Price? Today. I’m sure I’ll find out the other six over the next few days,” you say, appreciating that he’s starting conversations. It’s more than you’d allowed yourself to hope for.

Gaz’s eyes light up, and even if you hadn’t been incessant in watching him, it’d be an obvious shift in emotions. “Price?”

You nod, quickly making a note on your clipboard, before folding your hands in your lap as you gesture for him to continue with a quick inclination of your head.

“He’s the best. Man’s a legend,” he enthuses. “Love ‘im.”

There’s… a hidden truth to that statement, that you make a mental note to unpack during a later session. Your smile is a natural one as you say, “He’s an amber, correct? Laswell told me I’d been assigned eight out of ten ambers… you’re one of them, right?”

Gaz seems to fold into himself, and you kick yourself for going back to square one. He answers, however.

“...Yeah. Only Ghost ‘nd Valeria are aggressive, though. We’re just… misunderstood,” he murmurs, and in the back of your brain, you find yourself believing his words.

“Thank you,” you smile, and he responds with a sharp one of his own. Maybe you’d covered more ground than you’d expected. “I think it’d been mentioned that I was only assigned men, due to the nature of the job, or something like that.”

Seeming to mull over your words, he starts to slowly nod. “Sounds ‘bout right. As long as you don’t get Graves, you’ll be alright. The others are… fuckin’ weird, but they’re good men. Mostly.”

That’s a lot of information at once, and quite frankly, it takes a moment for you to process. 

“‘Good men’. What do you think it takes to be a good man?” You ask, curiosity laced into your tone. Getting to ask such questions of a convicted murderer, it’s a thrilling, exhilarating task.

His eyes don’t shift as he replies. “Good men do the acts others are too scared to do. They see the evil in the world, and rid of it with their own bare hands. You can be an ethical murderer, Doc.”

Those words, they’re – they’re authentic, and conviction aches in their structure. 

You swallow around a dry mouth.

“You think you’re a good man?” You ask.

His smile would be seen as warm to any who weren’t aware of his acts, but to you – it’s chilling. Haunting in a way you’ve never experienced.

It remains as he answers.

“I think that I’m a man who people wish they had the bravery to be.”

a/n. okay so im really nervous about posting this, cause ITS EIGHT FUKCING LOVE INTERESTS and also im a humanities girl not a science one!! sociology all the way not psych!! so forgive me for all the inaccuracies and legality issues please. im just a girl. hopefully u guys will like this one? i mean, obsessed serial killers cod is smth i need so here we are. all comments and feedback mean so muchhh ty ily mwah mwah mwah

taglist comment/msg to be added. [nothing to see here.]

[twola]

idk if this is too vague, but arthur/f!reader in the classic trope of, oh my god I can't believe we both almost just died sex? did they both almost drown? Was there a fire? did he save her life? who knows! i feel like arthur would sees the woman he loves almost die and immediately fuck about it

Okay this has been in my asks for WAY too long and it’s such a good one and I wanted to do it justice.

Left Unsaid

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

When he think's he's almost lost you in a run-in with a rival gang, Arthur quickly gets over his nervousness in approaching you.

The bloodcurdling scream jolts him from sleep, making him stumble up from where he was sitting on a rickety chair in the main room of the old cabin. At first, he thinks it's a dream, but when the sound of breaking glass pierces the night, Arthur shoots up; the chair falling to the ground in a clatter as he quickly shakes the vestiges of sleep from his mind.

This abandoned cabin off of Eris Field seemed the perfect place to spend the night instead of making the trek all the way back to Shady Belle tonight - your yawning from behind him on his horse had him chuckling as he made the decision to stay - doing the gentlemanly thing and giving you the bedroom with the old single bed. As much as he’d like to be sharing it with you - he remained externally aloof - proclaiming that he’d sleep on the chair in the main room. He certainly did not dare to ask to share your bed - not now, probably not ever. 

But the rustling and thumping behind the door where you sleep has his heart racing - his hand flies to his revolver as he readies himself to throw his shoulder into the door and shoot whatever it is that is making that noise, but the door bursts open before he gets the chance.

A man stands on the threshold - dirty, and grimy, with a faded gray woolen military uniform and a yellow bandana around his neck.

Of course, goddamn Lemoyne Raiders.

The raider holds up his knife in front of him, and in the din of movement and chaos around them, Arthur can see the liquid sheen over the steel in the man’s hand.

The knife, dripping with blood. The man, seemingly unharmed. The door, slightly ajar, to the bedroom where you slept.

A cold stone settles in Arthur’s gut as he puts the pieces together. In an instant, he snarls, diving toward the man with little regard for his own person, tackling him to the ground and ready to rip him apart with his bare hands for what he’s done to you. As Arthur mounts himself on the man’s chest and begins to strangle him, the movement knocks the oil lantern off the table, crashing to the wooden floor and immediately bursting into flame.

The man’s neck snaps between Arthur’s hands and he immediately leaps up, moving toward the bedroom where you were sleeping.

Another body crashes into him, a Lemoyne Raider dressed like he is straight out of a Civil War battle tackles Arthur to the ground, the two of them tumbling along the floor and breaking through the rickety door to the porch. Arthur rolls backward, unsheathing his hunting knife as he grits his teeth, ready to slice this damn bastard into shreds.

Of course, the wannabe soldier is no match for the hardened outlaw. They sure as hell don’t make them like they used to. Arthur easily dodges a swing of the man’s fist and throws his weight forward. He sinks his knife into the raider’s gut, and immediately shoves him to the ground. He gurgles blood from his mouth as Arthur rushes over him, back toward the house.

The flames burst out the windows as he barrels back toward the door, grabbing at the handle and cursing aloud as it burns him. 

The constriction in his chest has settled into a churning in his gut as he prepared to kick the door in. At this point would he be finding your charred, lifeless body, having bled out on the floor because he couldn’t protect you?

“Arthur-!”

He steps off the porch, not sure if he is lightheaded or hallucinating, but you move toward him, hitching your skirts, blood covering your blouse, your hair wild.

“Jesus-” He crashes into you, having nearly leaped the final few steps, crushing you into his chest, nearly causing you to stumble.

He yanks you back, large hands on your shoulders, and looks you up and down, eyeing the blood patch on your blouse.

“N-not mine.” You breathe, but he does not move his hand from your ribcage. It presses inward, against the wet cotton, splaying across your side as if he did not believe you, checking for where the knife would have marred your flesh.

“Arthur-” You whisper, your hands tight on his biceps, “I’m alright.”

His eyes dart back up to yours, searching, pupils dilated, breathing heavily.

“Ar-”

You’re cut off completely as he pulls you against him and presses his lips desperately against yours, muffling your surprised yelp as his tongue demands entrance into your mouth. After a moment of shock, you melt into his embrace, fingers tightening on his shirt sleeves as you open your mouth to him.

He kisses you like you are the air he breathes. Like you are some kind of salvation… like he thought he almost lost something.

Arthur pulls back, breathing heavily, a flush having taken over his face, “Christ-” he goes to unwind his arms from you, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

It’s his turn to be cut off as your hands immediately travel to the collar of his shirt and you pull him down to your lips to kiss him again, needy as you moan into his mouth.

His arms immediately recircle you, hands moving down from your ribs, down, down to your waist, your hips, your rear. Hooking his arms around the back of your thighs, you’re lifted up, squealing in surprise into his mouth as you wrap your legs around his waist. 

Continuing to press into each other's mouths, you barely notice him walking the two of you back, further from the flaming cabin, into the woodline, and finally against a tree trunk a safe distance away. He pulls back, panting as you recline against it, his arms tight under your thighs.

He gazes upon your kiss-swollen lips; your heaving chest as you breathe heavily, your pupils blown wide in arousal. Arthur takes the opportunity to roll his hips once, his hardening cock pressing against your cunt, and your eyes flutter closed as a needy, breathy whine escapes your lips.

“Arthur-”

He does it again, maybe for his sake as much as your own, the blood rushing to his groin and filling his cock properly. He grits his teeth as the rolling becomes rutting, your gasps driving him insane.

Before he gets to the point of no return, he slows his hips and leans over to recapture your lips in another kiss. As he pulls his 

“Thinkin’ you was dead back there-” He pushes his lips to yours again, “Christ- I… I never told you-” 

One of his hands leaves your thighs, but you have no fear he’s going to drop you. He buries it in layers of cotton, pulling at your skirts to move them from his way, reaching your bloomers and pressing against your cunt, watching your face intently as you moan, the cotton separating you quickly dampening against his fingers.

He leans in again and groans against your neck. Grabbing the cotton tightly, he yanks until he feels the seams give way, the tearing sound ringing in his ears as he delves within the ruined fabric to your soaking folds. You jolt against him and whine loudly as he slides his fingers along the seam of your body.

Arthur covers your mouth with his own as he sinks his fingers into you, working you open as you clutch desperately at his shoulders.

After you’ve cried out several times in the night, his hand leaves you and you sigh at the loss, he shushes you gently as he works at the buttons of his trousers, finally freeing his cock from his pants after moments of fiddling. His hand returns to your thigh as he adjusts you in his arms. The head of his cock presses gently against the rim of your cunt.

Your hands move from his shoulders to cup his face, your thumb tracing his lower lip gently before he sucks the tip into his mouth, his eyes trained on yours.

He pulses his hips and his cockhead slips inside you. Your brows crinkle with the first vestiges of the ache of penetration, and he leans forward again to press his lips upon your forehead.

“What did you never tell me?” You whisper as he holds you on the cusp of joining, the precipice of sheathing himself into you.

One of his hands leaves your thigh, though you are completely unafraid of falling with your legs wrapped around him and the strength of his other arm. His fingers brush back a strand of your hair from your forehead, tucking it gently behind your ear before his rough and calloused palm rests on your cheek.

“You’d have died and I woulda never told you I’m in love with you.”

Your eyebrows raise in shock as you clutch at him, and while you remain silent, after a moment, you pull him closer with your legs, nudging his back with your ankles, and he slowly slides himself inside you, inch by inch, until your hips touch and you mewl with the stretch. He hums softly before slowly, gently, rocking his hips, starting a slow rhythm as you get used to him.

His powerful arms keep you suspended against the tree trunk with each roll of his hips, each glide of the inches of him in and out of you, well glossed and hot with your slick.

Arthur’s lips press to yours incessantly, muffling your gasps and whines as he presses into you. After one particularly deep thrust, you throw your head back in ecstasy, bumping against the trunk of the tree.

“Careful there, darlin’,” Arthur slows his hips, and tightening his grip on your thighs, he pulls you away from the tree, you yelp and tighten your legs around his hips. He chuckles softly as he walks you, still joined, a few steps from the tree and slowly lowers the both of you to the ground on a patch of grass. Spreading himself out over you, he buries his head against your neck as he lets go of your thighs, his forearms on either side of your shoulders, rocking his hips into yours again.

The staccato whine of the syllables of his name escapes you as you hook your ankles around each other over his back. Carding your hands through his hair, your fingers interweave between his honeyed strands, his hat long gone in your desperation to join yourselves.

He presses himself up above you as his thrusts become more erratic, his breathing loud and heavy as he pounds you into the ground.

“God-” you cry out as your hands grasp his shirt, “Arthur, yes-”

He squeezes his eyes shut tightly, looming over you as he careens toward completion.

You arch your back, your thighs wrapping tighter around him as you begin to babble - “Yes- Arthur… I love you too-”, another gasp as he hits that spot within you, “God - I love you so much-”

That’s it. There it is, stripped bare and bleeding out like an open wound, his heart catching in his chest at your confession, and his amazement leaves him speechless as he thrusts into you once more, holding himself as deep as he can possibly get into you, feeling you pulse and clutch around him, wailing your pleasure into the night. It’s only a moment more before he has the wherewithal to yank himself from you, in the nick of time as he spurts his seed over your cunt, dripping white into the dark curls at the joining of your legs.

He’s gasping, you’re gasping, and he groans as he settles himself to the side of you, barely able to hold himself up with the exertion. Your legs hang open as you pant, flushed from your cheeks down your neck.

One of his large hands spreads out over your chest, against your racing heart, and you turn your head toward him, breathing out through your nose as a smile graces your lips.

“Probably should get outta here before any more stragglers find us.” He says, out of breath as he removes his hand to tuck himself back into his trousers. You nod and sit up, pulling your skirts down over your legs.

“D’ya think…” you trail off as you watch him rebutton his pants before he pushes himself to stand. His hair is ridiculously ruffled from the amount of times you've run your fingers through it.

“Mm?” He holds out his hand to you to help you up. 

You take it, and he pulls you up into his embrace, his hand secure on your lower back.

“Was wondering if we could spend the rest of the night in Rhodes or somewhere instead of heading all the way back to camp…” You ask as you lay a hand on his chest.

He squeezes you closer to him. 

“Sounds mighty nice… certainly wouldn't mind a stay in a hotel room tonight.”

[baka-bakeneko]

Here’s To Us - Wade Wilson x Fem! Reader [NSFW]

tags: MDNI, comic version Wade Wilson, voyeurism, shared shower, grinding, dominant Wade Wilson, sub reader, Venus Butterfly, squirting, slow sex, double orgasm, creampie (first of marathon sex series)

word count: 6.3 k

synopsis: Wade's street neighbor needs to use Wade's hot water.

a/n: i refuse to apologize for this.

Wade gave you special access to his apartment once in a blue moon. Mostly for a short list of reasons. One, your water was out and you needed a shower. Two, Wade had left the window open and wanted you to take care of the stray named Bea. Or three, when he was definitely home, trying to relax in his downtime, and wanted some serious company.

And you were surprised you were that type of company. Not that Wilson was intimidating, but you feared that if you looked too much, you’d make him uncomfortable.

But he was a rugged, scarred man from head to toe. And it was hard to take it all in without staring. You didn’t know what it was, but you weren’t trying to be rude, you just wanted to silently trace every divot of his skin with intrigue.

It was as if you were looking closely at a renaissance painting and noticing the cracks in the paint, the hardened bits on the canvas.

Thankfully, this was not that third option today. It was a shower. Your landlord had once again shut off the water in your apartment and was now the hardest to get ahold of. After a long night of fighting, you were grimy and in need of a shower.

Rifling through your bag, you found the spare bronze key detailed with a Hello Kitty key cover and a Golden Girls keychain that read ‘Stay Golden, girl!’

You bit back a low smile, that keychain always giving you a bite of happiness every time you came across it. You wondered if it ever did the same with Wade. You clenched the key in your hand and turned around in the stairwell, leaving your complex to stop at the edge of the sidewalk.

With a double take down the street, you bolted across it and directly into the complex on the opposite side. You wished that you lived right next door to Wilson sometimes; though that’d mean you’d both be shit out of luck with the water.

Taking the stairs two at a time, you rushed to the third floor and stopped in the front of Wilson’s perfectly decorated door. He’d mentioned that he used to practice throwing knives at it, and he recently got into whittling.

You shook your head at the etchings in the door, no doubt that was coming out of his security deposit, and used the key to unlock it. Pushing inside, you shut the door firmly behind you then dropped your bag to the counter.

You grabbed your phone, barely taking in Wilson’s cleaned up studio. There weren’t any pizza boxes on the counter, or any extra beers on top of the fridge. This mission must’ve been a long stay away.

With a shrug, you made your way to Wade’s bathroom and searched for his Bluetooth speaker. The second pairing on your list with how often you were over here now, with how often Wade preferred your taste in music.

Shuffling your playlist, you kicked off your shoes outside of the bathroom then peeled off your shirt and kickboxing shorts in a swift motion. You turned and saw yourself in Wade’s busted mirror, noting the already yellowing skin patch over the back of your shoulder.

You reached for it, feeling at the edges of it with a grimace before leaving it and stripping off your sports bra next.

You turned towards the shower, the curtain already peeled back with the porcelain scrubbed spotless. So he was going to be gone for a real long time.

Damn.

You turned on the old-fashioned knobs for the water, before turning on the middle knob to start the shower head. Peeling off your panties, you stepped into the spray while the music blasted into the room.

You stood under the spray, allowing the water to batter your face and rush down your head to your shoulders; you took the time to stretch your neck and shoulders, then bent to touch your toes.

The hot water felt amazing for your muscles, melting the tension from them. The music helped, each song that came on a natural bop. You slowly swayed your hips to the music before really getting into it, moving slowly to roll your body with the song and mouthing off the lyrics.

It was like being at home after a minute, then five and finally ten before you realized that you hadn’t cleaned up at all. With a snicker to yourself, you searched around Wilson’s shower for a soap bar, then lathered it quickly between your hands. You moved around so quickly, you stopped at a heart-wrenching speed when you noticed someone in the doorway.

“Shit,” you said, reaching for the shower curtain and avoiding Wade’s eyes.

“Sorry,” Wade offered, quickly averting his gaze. “So sorry, that was not an invite. But what’re you doing here, kitten?”

You gulped at his pet name for you; you shrugged further behind the shower curtain, fumbling to crumple it into your soapy hands.

“My water’s out again.”

“Oh,” he stated, looking behind him and leaning back, possibly getting a good sight of his window facing your complex. “You want me to talk to your landlord?”

“No,” you shook your head. “No, it’s okay, really. I’m sorry. I should’ve asked, Wade.”

“You’re fine,” he drew out, pulling himself upright before quickly meeting your eyes. “It’s fine. Just...don’t waste all my hot water.”

You blinked slowly in recognition to his request, then nodded. “In and out, three minutes.”

Wade smirked, leaning further into the doorway. “Now I know you’ve been in here for more than ten.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but your face gave way to your efforts. “How would you know that?”

Wade casually cleared his throat, straightening up and dropping his hands to his grey sweat pockets. “Just...speed it up. This jet lag kicked my ass.”

You opened your mouth to say something else, but Wade reached for the door to shut it.

“I’m done,” you lied, still half-lathered in suds.

“Really?” Wade deadpanned, his browline quirking with a quick once over.

You gulped lowly at the thought of his gaze raking over you, taking in your body shape. You pulled the curtain closer to you, tucking your thigh behind it with a clear of your throat.

“I’m done,” you offered again, reaching for your soiled shirt now resting on the toilet lid. “I’ll get out of your way.”

Wade scoffed and reached for your soiled clothes. “As if you’re getting out of my hair that easily. Rinse off or I’m coming in after you.”

You were taken aback by his teasing, watching as he scooped up all your clothes and walked out of the room with them. He returned shortly after with a dingy red long-sleeve and a pair of boxer shorts.

“They’re clean, I swear,” he promised, bringing the blue-white striped shorts to his scarred nose for a sniff test. “Washed ‘em a month ago.”

You rolled your eyes at him then sheepishly offered your thanks. Wade tilted his head at you then glanced to the shower head.

“I wasn’t kidding, get to rinsing.”

A shock bolted through your body and you pulled the curtain closed to rinse your body off.

“You got thirty seconds,” he warned from the doorway, making your heart race as you thought of everywhere you lathered up. It was more than enough time and if you ended up soapy, that was your own fault.

“Twenty seconds.”

This man’s concept of time moved way faster than yours. Fuck it, it was time for whore’s bath technique. You spun around in slow circles, using your hands to swipe down the rolls of water from your shoulders. It was going to be good enough.

“Eight seconds,” Wade gave as a final warning, his hand already gripping at the edge of the curtain to peel it back.

You were done, all that mattered was getting out. You were going to get out as soon as Wade backed away from the curtain. Your hand reached for the thin veil of plastic and peeled it away to come face to face with Wilson, or moreso Wade Wilson’s pectorals.

They were definitely pillowy, if you ever wondered. But you obviously weren’t as you looked down to get your footing ready, only for your eye to catch onto Wade’s flaccid cock.

You shied away from looking, now bemused by the sight you’d taken in. You shifted to the opposite end of the tub, letting Wilson step into the spray while the remaining water bounced from his skin and onto you.

Wade pushed the curtain away, allowing you easy access out. You dangled a foot out of the tub, ready to dry off, but took a long glance at Wade’s scarred back, parts of his skin torn away to reveal hardened muscle. You hid back a seethe, wondering how painful that must’ve felt everyday with what he did for a living. Whatever that was.

“You wanna get my back?” he asked innocently, acknowledging your stare.

“Sorry,” you muttered under your breath then reached for the soap bar on its designated ledge. “Yeah, I can.”

You lathered the soap in your hands then carefully rested your palms to Wade’s back. Every muscle under your touch seemed to relax, allowing his shoulders to slump forward.

You ran your hands up, crossing over the backs of his shoulders, then down to follow parallel to his spine. You avoided the muscle patches as best you could, meeting your hands at the small of his back and then up again.

Wade groaned at that, bowing his head in the spray with a low ‘thanks’ at your effort.

You nodded, holding your hands into the spray of the water to rinse them. You said nothing, just stood back to watch the suds roll down his etched body. The rivulets caught into the deep scars of his skin, making intricate swirls on his body before falling.

It felt like watching a stained glass window being battered with rain, captivating and time-wasting. Wade glanced over his shoulder at you after a long moment and dared another smirk.

“Like what you see, kitten?”

You tried to speak, but stammered, diverting your eyes from Wade’s tight, scarred back to the floor of the tub. “I’m getting out.”

“No, stay,” he taunted, his tone teetering on genuine as he turned around. “I’ll let you get a look since I saw yours.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, already pushing away the want to look at his front. “I’m good. That was my fault.”

You peeked through one eye and stepped out of the tub, reaching for the boxers Wade set out for you.

You kept your back to him as you pulled them to your waist, rolling the waistband over a couple times to get the desired length for you. Then you went for the shirt, popping your damp head through the hole with your arms to follow.

“You in the mood for some Chinese? I could definitely go for some kung pao.”

You stopped in the doorway and looked back at Wade. “You want me to stay for dinner?”

“Of course,” Wade said with a shrug. “Unless you’re in the mood for Greek, then I’ll kick you out on your ass.”

You smiled, “Chinese food sounds good to me.”

-

You ordered food and sat on Wade’s couch while he showered, taking his sweet time with the remaining hot water. Not that you felt cheapened in the slightest, it was his apartment after all.

Even with the deepest part of you wondering if he liked what he saw or if anything arose in his mind, you stowed all of your emotions aside when the delivery person knocked on the door. You stood up and went for your bag, rifling through its contents to produce money for the food.

Slowly opening the front door, you exchanged the food and money then shut it with your ankle. You set the food on the clean kitchen island, going to untie the first bag as the bathroom door opened and steam billowed out.

“I’m feeling fresher already,” Wade announced, draping his towel over his shoulders while he wore his signature sweatpants low on his scarred hips.

You scrunched your nose. “Those clean or did you miss laundry day?”

Wade walked around you, letting off a little excess heat accumulated from his shower waft onto you. “You think I’d give my last bit of clean clothes to you? And miss that opportunity of you streaking around here?”

You bit back a nervous grin, biting at the inside of your bottom lip. Maybe he did like what he saw.

“I just changed into these off of my flight,” he said, reaching for the second bag and undoing its tie. He reached in, grabbing at the boxes of food then spread them out on the counter.

“How was your trip?” You asked, a trivial question in the scheme of your friendship, or whatever this was. Labels were hard. He only ever knew about your job, only ever knew what you did for extra cash.

That seemed to be how he wanted it.

Wade opened a box of lo mein noodles and selfishly took a large forkful into his mouth to avoid answering, then he raised a finger at the recognition of one of your songs still playing on the speaker.

He hummed, nodding at the song before grabbing your wrist and turning you in a circle. You rolled your eyes at him, following his movements hesitantly eventually falling into place.

Wade chewed his food quickly, swallowed then turned you around again, pulling your back into his chest. His hand raised yours in the air, his fingers slipping down your forearm and bicep then further down your side and finally grabbing your hip.

You swayed slowly in the rhythm, attempting to ignore the hardened feeling of Wade behind you. But he was a presence difficult to ignore.

You hummed at the feeling of his length brushing against your ass, falling into the music as Wade rested his chin to your shoulder.

“You sure know how to pick ‘em,” he offered, his other hand making small circles on your thigh.

You agreed inside, filing yourself tighter to Wade and chasing a feeling you weren’t sure was good. When the song ended, Wade slowly released his hold on you.

Still his chin was rested to your shoulder, lifting to brush his lips to your ear as his nose swiped against your damp hair. You turned your head after Wade’s, wanting to find something to say but your mind going blank.

You quirked a brow before Wade’s hand snaked up your arm, draping it behind his neck; he turned further into you. his lips slowly molding to yours. The salt from the lo mein cut into your mouth as your hand palmed at the nape of his neck.

You warred on pushing him away, that sliver of you wanting to keep this as cordial as possible. But inside, you were melting, your knees feeling like jelly as you gave into your arousal for him.

Fuck, Wade was a good man. A good-looking man despite his hardened exterior. His body was more of a marvel than the average man, there wasn’t anything you could take away from that. Your hand slide across his as it rested on your thigh, drawing his touch further in.

You arched into him, feeling his cock free in his sweatpants. Now you know that dance wasn’t all for nothing either. Why couldn’t you have just gotten your hands on each other sooner?

Wade’s lips parted from yours, trailing across your cheek then to your neck and down before shrugging one of the shoulders of your shirt down.

"Wade, fuck," you exhaled, already exhausted with waiting.

His lips were warm and soft, dragging against your skin and making goosebumps in their wake. You were almost antsy to have more of him, working your hips into his and getting intoxicated from the friction.

"Don't be so impatient," he said with a low snicker against your skin. "I'm trying to woo you, not fuck you in a gas station bathroom."

You threw your head back and laughed at that, folding your hands over his to feel something similar to a hug. Wade drew his lips back and took little sharp bites at your earlobe with his own chuckle to follow.

You gave up that instant, relaxing against Wade and allowing him his moment. Wade tsked against your skin, letting you go and stepping back.

"What're you doing now?" You asked, turning around to face him, chilled from his absence.

Wade stared at you, determined, while he stroked his chin in thought. "Hush, I'm thinking."

You geared yourself to say something but didn't have a moment to think; Wade rushed at you, grabbing your waist and hoisting you up against him.

Your legs crossed around him, his hands holding you steady while your chest pressed to his.

"Shit," you whispered, the sudden lift making your head go afloat.

You draped your arms over Wade's shoulders and leaned in to kiss him again. Wade carried you over to his bed and dropped you onto it, following soon behind with making your body his sole business.

His lips made work of yours, teasing his tongue into your mouth while your stomach rumbled at the hint of food. You stifled down the thought as you raised your legs, parting them for Wade to dip between them.

He rolled his hips against you, pressing right at the seam of his boxers to your clit. Your eyes fluttered at the feeling shooting through your stomach, adding to the warmth and firmness of Wade's chest against yours.

Your hands slid along Wade's shoulders, then up and around the back of his neck as you pulled him in. His tongue lapped against yours, making you submit and follow his lead.

You were aware of everything about Wade then, making out with him like a lousy teenager. His hands at your thighs slipped up under the boxers to grab handfuls of your ass.

He pushed you further into him that way, earning an unwarranted moan from your lips and into his mouth. You felt his lips curl at that, how your knees were clenched at his waist as his crotch was pressed a bit harder to yours.

Wade pulled from your lips and allowed you to breathe, your chest heaving. He rested his hand to your chest, his fingers steady and spread out between your breasts.

"That's so cute, you're so excited," he teased, dragging his hand down your body then back up, slowly pulling your shirt up to reveal your stomach.

The fabric was caught onto his middle and index finger, his ring and pinkie caressing at the underside of your breast.

"I like that. It's been a while since I've seen that," Wade whispered, leaning in and sliding his lips across your stomach. "Since I made someone nervous."

You scoffed at that, but it came out a shaky exhale as Wade's lips rested just below your belly button. His nose circled your navel then trailed a line up, his breath wafting over your skin.

The chill worked up your back, tickled between your shoulders as you curled your toes against his sheets.

“Bullshit,” you muttered, your hands rested just at Wade’s shoulders.

He hummed, smiling against your skin as his hands rested at your waist, peeling your boxers down to kiss at more skin. Your stomach tightened the further he traveled, each warm kiss causing a lick of electricity between your hips.

Your knees braced tighter at Wade’s sides until he readjusted further down on the bed. Suddenly, his nose was rested directly against your mound, his tongue carefully lapping at the top of your slit.

You stifled a swear, squirming under Wade’s tongue; you drew out a low pitch, not knowing what to do with yourself.

Wade sat up on his knees, using his momentum sitting up to strip your boxers from your legs. Wade’s eyes raked up your body, taking in each vulnerable bit of your skin. You wanted to play coy, tucking the edge of his shirt between your legs but enjoyed his raw attention more.

The dark admiration in his eyes made fire alight in your belly, suddenly realizing how wet you were for him.

He took hold of one of your knees, spread your legs apart with one draping over his shoulder as he lie down on his stomach.

“I’m trying not to drool right now,” Wade quipped, his voice stripped down as he pressed his lips to your inside knee. “You good?”

Your brain registered his question and sat up on your elbow, stomach tight while Wade blew soft air against your pussy. You nodded eagerly, your throat dry and unable to form a sentence.

“Fuck yes,” he grinned, kissing at your opposite thigh, dragging his open mouth and tongue to your inside hip. “Tap me if you want out,” he suggested, using his hand to bend your other knee at an angle.

He flattened his tongue to your clit and your ass immediately grinded to the bed. Wade huffed in amusement, drawing a hand around, touching up your thigh and to your waist before slipping under your ass and to the front of your pussy.

Wade circled two fingers before your entrance carefully, gathering your wet and spreading your lips apart. Your breath hitched, finding an edge to twitch your hips in effort to get more.

He pulled back again, “There you are, being impatient again.”

Your brows furrowed at his leaving, your clit twitching at the cool air left behind. He smiled, glancing down at your pussy as his two fingers slid into you. Your legs threatened to clamp shut but Wade’s body held them open; he returned between your legs and resumed his tongue on your clit.

Your head flopped back to the bed at the combination of sensations. Wade’s free hand pressed on the inside of your thigh, pushing it further open before gripping at your inside hip.

You felt vulnerable, spread open like that to Wade's entire apartment. To Wade. You tried to shut your eyes, clamping a hand over your mouth to stifle your noise for the sake of his neighbors.

"That's not fair," Wade hungrily muttered against your clit, taking a second away from it to grab your elbow. "I put in this work to hear you."

That caused more wet to gush from you, feeling Wade's fingers curl and brush his fingers against your tight walls. He tapped when he found what he was looking for, causing another bolt to rush straight up to your clit which he received with a lap of his tongue.

He was giving himself morse code, using your body as the vessel. You couldn't help the pitchy whine that escaped you then, with Wade peeling back the hood of your clit with his tongue and suctioning his lips around the nub.

"Shitshitshitshit," you metered out, trying to breathe but hold onto the air for fear it'd escape as noises. You raised up on your elbow again and stared down at him, trying to hold your knuckles away from your lips.

He unlatched from you, staring from under the shadow of his browline. "I can't hear you, kitten. You're gonna have to be louder."

You shook your head, already fighting the losing battle as his fingers regularly tapped and pumped in you. Your head dropped back, staring at the ceiling while you tried to catch your breath in a few pants.

Wade took that as opportunity to return to your clit, sucking a bit firmer and showing off with his tongue. Your toes curled, your knees trying to shift off of Wade and out of his grasp, but he held tight.

"Aww honey, we ain't even halfway done yet," he cooed, unlatching from your clit with a loud smack.

The string of his saliva mixed with your wet trailed to the hood of your clit, making you melt at the sight.

"I call this one the Wilson stamp of approval," he taunted, resuming his place at the helm of your pussy.

He suctioned his lips again, this time slowing his movement while his fingers pumped a bit harder.

A moan finally escaped your lips, followed by a seethe between your teeth. "Wade, Wade I--"

Your hand reached for Wade's shoulder though you couldn't reach it; you opted to touch at the top of his head, ready to tap out.

That was until he started using his tongue to sign his name.

W-A-D-E...by the end of his first name, your legs were officially shaking. The fingers were definitely not helping the situation.

W-I-N...He was spelling his full name? You were putty now, your hand at his head only holding him there while he slowly sealed your fate.

S-T-O-N....your eyes were twitching, your body clenched hard on the precipice of something so tortuous and euphoric.

W-I...he drew his tongue in a long, slow swoop down, meeting a tap of his fingers to dot his 'I'.

You were done for. Your breath was now a full-blown pant, your entire body sweaty from holding out. Your pitch heightened with each pump of his fingers, his warm mouth only driving you home.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, fuck fuck fuck..." you worked up, allowing yourself to actually make noise.

Wade's name spat from your lips, pushing his head just a little harder as you finally came, your body in shakes while you rode out the galvanic lashes across your back, between your thighs and up your stomach to your fast-beating heart.

You were so overcome with the pleasure, your pussy forced Wade's fingers out of you and you were wracked with a newer feeling that tightened your stomach to release.

Wade pulled away in a split second, his chin splashed with your juices, while he was in awe of your newfound...technique.

You caught your breath, staring at the ceiling while you folded your arm over your eyes. Your thighs were now wetter than before, your clit now throbbing.

"Hello waterworks," Wade teased, leaning over to kiss at your stomach again. "I wish I'd known that sooner, I'd have saved it for later."

He made his way back up your body, trailing softer pecks against your skin. Wade pressed his cock in his sweatpants against your mess of a pussy, earning a roll of your hips.

His hands were on their way to slipping up your shirt, eager to undress you, but he sat away to meet your eyes.

"You wanna keep going?" he asked, now nuzzling against the side of your neck.

You stared into Wade's eyes, then flicked your gaze to his puffy pink lips.

"Fuck yes," you nodded, meeting his gaze again and grabbing at the back of his neck.

You pulled him into a kiss, turning him onto his side while you tried to reach for his sweats. Wade chuckled against you, assisting with the shedding of his pants before turning on his back.

He held you over his waist, kicking off the ankles of his sweatpants.

You sat back from Wade to get a full look of his hard cock. It looked like the rest of him, but a bit more preserved.

You reached for his cock at the same time he reached to peel off your shirt; you allowed him to pull it off of you, his hands massaging at your breasts as you tossed the shirt off the bed.

You bent and took grip of his cock, leaning in to lick. He was already leaking pre-cum from his reddened tip, no doubt warming you inside. You had done that to him.

"Uh, babe, you don't have to do that," Wade tried, the confidence in his tone dipping.

"Oh, you don't want me to?" You asked, dragging your tongue along his cock, licking a stripe along the underside.

"I--fuck," he swore, dropping his head back with a deep exhale. He raised his head with a low suck of air between his teeth.

Wade reached to touch at the back of your neck, over your shoulder, then further before taking a tender handful of your ass in his hand.

You hummed at his touch, giving him a slow stroke.

"So," You smiled, resting his tip to your lips.

You kissed at it, your lips curling to take him in. "Do you want me to?"

Wade pulled back, staring down at you as you stroked him again. He pulled his scarred bottom lip between his teeth, not finding the words but nodding.

You slowly took him in your mouth, slipping some of your spit down his length. You slicked it with your hand, pulling more of his cock into your mouth.

Wade folded his hand to his chest, turning his nails in. You could tell, by him holding back, how eager he was.

The thought made your pussy flutter, thinking of Wade going hard. But first you wanted to reward him for eating you out so well.

The tang of his pre-cum livened your saliva, hollowing your cheeks to suck him a bit firmer. Wade's hand roamed up to his mouth, ready to stifle himself but you reached out with your free hand to clasp his elbow.

He told you, now you were throwing it right back at him. Wade grit his teeth before a strained noise escaped between them, a choked gasp before he seethed so verbally you were almost concerned.

"Fuck, okay, okay, I can't take this," Wade grit, reaching to gently pull you off of him. He kissed tenderly at your sloppy lips, puffed out and wet from spit. "You do wonders to me, kitten but I need to be inside you. Can I please be inside you, now?"

He crawled, switching up your positions again so your head almost dangled over the edge of the foot of the bed.

You followed his direction, if only to see Wade from an entirely new angle. Finally shedding the ankles of his sweatpants, he draped himself over you.

His cock touched your inner thigh, sending a warm shockwave right to your core. Your chest rose and fell in anticipation, your breathing shallowing as you met Wade's gaze.

His eyes were half-mast, inches from you, and waiting for the okay. The enthusiastic consent.

You grinned at him, tilting your chin up to peck his lips. "I wanted to suck you off."

"We got time for that," Wade whispered, nudging his nose to yours. "Later."

Your hands brushed around his broad shoulders, down to his waist before bucking his hips against you. "How long can we keep going?"

"At least all night," Wade said, taking your lips with his. "I'll take a week, if you wanna stay."

His mouth dipped to your neck with a peck. "A month if I really take my time."

Wade kissed further, leaving his warmth to dissipate in his wake. You tilted your head at the bathroom, the speaker finally shutting off.

Wade followed your diverted attention, his fingers slipping down your thigh before petting softly at your clit.

"Three months if you get distracted often, six months if I'm gone for too long..."

Wade made his way back up to you, working his best at your clit and earning an eager flex from your pussy.

"Let's just chalk it up to a year for good measure," Wade husked against your lips. "That sound good to you?"

Between the way he talked to you and how he touched you, you were feeling more eager for Wade to actually fuck you.

"Yes, so stop wasting time now." You grinned against him, edging up on your elbow to curve your body against his. "Fuck me, please."

Wade's eyes lit up, kissing you hard at the same time of his hand sliding up to your hip. He held you tenderly, angling your hips up while your legs spread further.

He guided his cock into you slowly, driving a long, thirsty pant from your mouth before his.

"God fuck, Wade." Your hand rested at his neck, your thumb rubbing against the lobe of his ear.

Your forehead rested to his, glancing down between your bodies to see his cock sink into you. Your hold tightened, feeling his tip caress your g-spot.

He spared a cocky chuckle against your lips, "I know, kitten. I call it the Tardis, it's bigger when inside."

You exhaled in his direction, noting his shitty play on words and rolling your hips further to ease him more.

"Fuck, call me that again," you groaned, Wade's cock finally reaching the hilt.

Wade leaned into you, pressing your back to the bed and raising your leg around his waist.

"Kitten," Wade drew out, taking a moment to revel in the soft, wet pulse of your pussy. "Oh baby, that pussy feels as good as it tastes."

Your eyes rolled at that, rutting against the mattress before rolling up at Wade. The minimal movement you felt with the tip of his cock grazing the hot inner core of your pussy.

He managed to pull out a couple inches, easing himself back in with a deep hiss.

"I wish I could fuck you like I hate you," he whispered, pulling back out and running his hands down your legs before crossing both of them around his waist.

Wade took grip of your hip and pulled you up in his lap. He crossed an arm at the small of your back and used his tender strength to ease you up on his cock, then back down again.

Every sink back down, you felt a new wave of pleasure roll through you. You tried to meet his upward thrusts with cants of your hips but his hand stopped you.

"Take your time, baby. I wanna savor this," he whispered, raking his eyes down your body from your breasts to your mound pressed to his.

Your hands felt over his skin, your breath catching on his words. "Me too."

Wade hummed, flicking his gaze to meet yours; his eyes were fueled with a carnal hunger, leaning in to rest his chin between your breasts.

He turned his head, resting his ear to your chest while he huffed hot air against your nipple. You crossed an arm behind his shoulders to hold him there, following his steady thrusts with deep sighs.

Wade defied your expectations, making every touch personal and each thrust targeted to a pleasant experience.

You slowly came undone in his lap, draping your body over him as you were halfway to an explosive end.

Your arms crossed behind Wade's neck, leaning your forehead against his as his hands rocked your hips forward and back on his cock.

"Little Wade's gonna be all wrinkled when he's done in you," Wade muttered.

You scrunched your nose at him, wanting to smile but feeling the heat in your cheeks kept you strained.

"I'll make your cock a part of me," you whimpered as his thumb crossed to touch your clit.

You clenched then, moaning louder in his face.

"That's it, kitten. Make it your own." He held his breath, letting you squeeze his cock with your fluttering walls.

Slowly, your orgasm built from there; each thrust driving you further until you were coming on Wade's cock, tightening your hold on it while your clit pulsed in response.

"Wade," you heaved.

It was tight again, the new sensation returning with you wetting Wade's thighs and the mattress.

"Baby," Wade grit, stopping the rocking of your hips and letting you edge him towards release.

You felt his cock twitch inside you, making you flutter again. Wade dropped his head to your shoulder, a choking moan stuttering from his lips.

Your real name, not a nickname. You gasped, hummed in response as your arms folded against his back to hold him close.

Your fingers swirled against the back of his head, swaying on his waist as come spurt into you, dousing the inner fire Wade caused.

But that wasn't enough to sate you. You two stayed molded together in the center of the bed, catching your breath while soft noises escaped you both.

Wade was the first to part from you, pulling out gently and tossing you off of him. He climbed off of the bed, bent to grab his towel and threw it over his shoulder at you.

"Stay there," Wade said, streaking over to the kitchen island to retrieve the boxes of Chinese food.

You grinned at him, flopping back onto the bed and wiggling your butt over the towel to keep the remainder of Wade's bed clean.

"Kung pao, kitten?" Wade offered, kneeling onto the bed and setting the boxes precariously on the comforter.

You nodded, staring dreamily at Wade; he moved over to you, reaching for the towel to clean up the cum that was easing out of you.

"I'm starving," you added, turning your torso on your side. You reached for the box of lo mein, tilting your chin up to beg a peck from Wade. "Thanks babe."

Wade slowly broke into a smile, leaning after your lips to get another. "Call me that all the time."

You hummed, going for the chopsticks attached to the side of your food. Wade shifted onto the bed, crossing his leg and taking his box of kung pao with stealing the fork from your lo mein.

He opened the box and stabbed at the biggest piece, bringing it to his lips before stopping.

Wade watched as you picked up a sliver of broccoli intertwined with noodles and held his fork out. You quirked a brow at him, tilting your head before tapping your chopsticks to his fork.

"To a year of us," Wade smiled. "Hopefully more."

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

(y'all remember when YY did a full seven minutes in heaven with several different anime characters and it dragged on for a bit? that's this fic for me. anything I'll want to write for others, I'll try it out with my wade wilson 😝)

[archangeldyke-all]

can we get dealer!Sevika & hyper-feminine reader plssss 👁️👁️

reader has long ass nails so she sucks at rolling but thankfully since Sevika has a liking to her, she sells reader pre-rolls with a huge discount, and says it’s just a special deal for her only. & maybe one day she invites reader to smoke with her in her car and they just act all cute and high 😭

hhhghhhg... yeah. i'm a sucker for sevika. i'm a sucker for weed. let's fucking goooo

check out the nail inspo for the nails in this fic hehehe

men and minors dni

be outside in 5. the text on your phone reads. you grin, then look back up in the mirror, putting a fresh coat of lipgloss on and fixing your hair.

you suppose you could just buy in bulk. it would save sevika the two or three trips to your house a week. but she doesn't complain, and you've got a pretty good guess as to why.

a horn honks outside your home. you giggle, give your outfit one more look over in the mirror, spray a bit more perfume on, and run out of your house.

sevika's windows are tinted so dark it has to be illegal, and the presence of her car makes the whole block smell like weed. she rolls her window down as you come out of the house, turning down the music she was listening to, to grin and wolf whistle at you.

you giggle, spinning in a little circle in front of the driver's door, giving her a good view of your outfit. she chuckles. "c'mon, get in." she says, nodding to the passenger's side. you quickly run around her car and let yourself in, pressing a quick kiss to sevika's cheek as she pulls off.

she groans, scrubbing where your lipstick has stained her cheek-- a bright, glittery pink print left behind, now being smeared by her hand. she's driving the two of you to the abandonded lot you guys always sit in-- what used to be a strip mall is now cracked pavement and giant, overgrown trees. it's the perfect place to park, in the shade, and remain unbothered all day as you smoke and chat.

sevika's been your dealer since you met her at a party last year. your old dealer, a grimy old man, was... fine. he grew the weed himself and gave you real good prices... but he was also your history teacher in the sixth grade.

you gave up on him when you met sevika, gorgeous, charming, sevika. sevika who had woman sitting all around her at the house party you'd met in, but whose eyes only caught on yours. sevika who'd snatched her blunt that had been being passed around out of the nearest girls hands, and into hers as she rose from her seat and approached you.

sevika who you've been in love with ever since.

you guys have been spending a few evenings or afternoons a week together. sometimes here, in your spot, sometimes in a park, sometimes at sevika's place. sometimes she'll take you along to her deals, driving you to houses all around the city as you help her weigh bud and count cash.

it's fun. a lot of sevika's customers are old friends of yours, people you thought you'd never see again. you get to catch up and chat with them for a bit-- then spend the rest of your night gossiping about them with sevika once they leave.

she's your best friend.

you're just trying to make her make you her girlfriend.

you know she wants you. she doesn't even let you pay for weed anymore. and when she's high, her eyes all pink and her lips curled in a goofy little smile, her gaze wanders. and it catches on your lips, most frequently, but also your tits, your thighs, your stomach-- really, anything she can see.

but she doesn't act on it. because she's a gentleman.

and you don't act on it because... well... sevika's attractive. and she makes good money, and you know that you and sevika don't hang out on weekends because she goes to parties to sell on weekends.

and you wouldn't be surprised if you aren't the only girl riding in her passenger seat.

it's hard to know.

people leave shit in sevika's car all the time when she's doing house calls. they'll sit, chat for a bit, and leave behind their water bottles or hair ties or cigarette butts or press on nails when they get out.

and besides, if you confront sevika, who'll roll your joints for you? certainly not you. not with your nails.

speaking of...

"show me your nails." sevika demands as she pulls into your little spot, under a big willow tree. it's like your own little world here, under a green dome of leaves. sevika rolls all her windows down, and you wiggle your fingers over the middle console.

you told her you were getting a new set last time you smoked together. you asked for color recommendations-- she suggested purple, her favorite color.

so, of course, you got purple.

"fuck, they look sharp." sevika smiles, poking the pointed tip of your nails. you laugh.

"i forgot i got 'em so sharp 'n almost took my eye out this morning putting my lashes on." you admit. sevika giggles, still holding your fingertips in her hands and examining the way they shine in the light.

"so shiny. fuckin' pretty, baby."

you're pretty damn sure you're the only one she calls baby but... you happen to know that back in the day when sevika was scamming rich idiots by selling them baby powder and grass in exchange for hundreds of dollars, she had a lot of women riding along in the passenger seat of her car. and getting fucked in the back seat. which has yet to happen to you.

so you don't know. you just tell yourself you're here for the free weed.

"how's your day been?" you ask, snatching your hands away from sevika. you recline your seat, putting your feet up on the dash as she opens her center console.

"meh. been lookin' forward to this all day." she says. then. "oh! look." she reaches between your seats into her back seat, grabbing a plastic bag and pulling it into the front of the car. "snacks!"

"you're the fuckin' best, sev." you moan as you tear into a bag of chips. she chuckles, and hands you a preroll.

"strawberry flavored wrapping paper, you'll like it." sevika promises. you chew on your chips, take a quick swig of your drink, and then put the joint between the lips. sevika lights the tip for you, her eyes locked on yours.

you tear your eyes away just in time to jerk back before the entire joint goes up in flames, and take a long drag. it's truly delicious, like candy flavored smoke, and you hum, happy. sevika grins.

"good?"

"very." you nod, leaning back against your seat and taking another puff. "oh, i'm sorry." you pout, like you do every time you smoke with her. "i got lipgloss on your joint."

sevika giggles, snatches the joint back, and takes her own puff. "fuck off. i like it. 's like extra flavoring." she shrugs. your stomach twists. she blows smoke out in your face, then takes another puff, her eyes dragging up and down your body.

you guys smoke in silence for a while, passing one joint, then a pack of chips, then another joint, then a bag of candy between one another. and now, the sun's setting and your little world under the willow tree's all golden-greeen, and sevika's rolling another joint.

you sigh, happy, and your eyes trail down sevika's exposed arms-- she's wearing her signature wifepleaser. you speak before you can help yourself. "you look delicious today." you mumble. sevika raises an eyebrow at you.

"'s that mean you got the munchies or is that your way of flirtin' with me?" she asks. you giggle, then shrug.

"whaddya think?"

"i think you stole my line." she says around her joint, smirking as she lights and takes the first puff of it. her eyes dart down to your outfit-- intentionally skimpy, showing a little more skin than necessary for this pleasant spring day.

she lets you take a puff. you feel like you've melted into the seat. all your inhibitions are lowered. the words come out before you can stop yourself... again. this is what you get for smoking so much fuckin' weed. "'m i the only person in your life?" you ask.

sevika blinks at you. "what?"

"like... the only person you flirt like that with." you clarify, cringing. sevika's confused smile grows wide.

"has that not been obvious this whole time?" she asks. you gulp.

"uh." you whisper. your heart's beating a mile a minute, and you suddenly sit up from your relaxed posture in her passenger's seat. "i don'--"

"yes. am i the only person you let dictate your nail color?"

"yes." you whisper. sevika grins.

"so..." sevika trails off. you gulp.

"y'know... it's really hard for me to roll my weed with my nails like this." you say. sevika takes a drag off the joint nodding along as you speak. "it'd be nice to have a girlfriend who could help with that." you say. she grins, blowing the smoke out the side of her mouth as she leans across the center console to speak, her lips an inch away from yours.

"i coul--"

"okay." you agree, grinning. sevika giggles, then leans forward to kiss you. you stop her with a finger to lips and she pouts. you chuckle, take the joint from her hands, and take a long drag. when you exhale, you speak again. "the nails also make it really hard to keep myself satisfied." you whisper, intentionally shifting in your seat, squeezing your thighs together.

sevika chokes, and she's not the one with the joint. you smile, then pull your finger away from her lips, letting her speak again.

she doesn't. instead. she reaches out, grabs the joint, and flicks it out the window, smirking at you. you bite your lip in anticipation (and trying to hold in your scold about wasting good weed.)

"only if you promise to scratch the shit outta my back with those claws, baby." she whispers, her lips brushing against yours as she speaks. you shiver. "your place or mine?" she asks. you gulp.

"...the backseat? i've kinda been fantasizing about it since the first time we smoked in the car together..."

sevika doesn't answer. she just bursts into laughter, and launches forward to pull you in a kiss.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub

[ssahotchnerr]

I just had a bit of a spooky experience, and I was wondering if you could do something fluffy with Aaron and a reader whose afraid of the dark? Just need something sweet and reassuring. Love your stuff xx

hold onto me

omg i'm so sorry i hope you're alright <333 cw; mild descriptions of anxiety and fear of the dark, established relationship

storms were scheduled on the forecast all week, so it was bound to happen at some point. and of course, at the most convenient of times.

aaron and yourself were in the old bau bunker, or as dave strictly corrected you both - the bsu bunker. the two of you were in search of some old files that had been collecting dust, files that would hopefully be helpful and a reliable reference in a project the team was collectively working on.

you had to admit, going through the contents of the room was fascinating. it held an extensive amount of history and memories; it was the literal beginning of the bau and what it has come to be. in addition to the ancient files, both of you would occasionally come across other various items to show one another: old photographs, some of gideon's ancient bird books, and aaron happened to find an old wedding ring lost in a drawer - which you swore had to be one of dave's.

and both related and unrelated, the most important factor to you, the bau had brought you to your aaron.

it was another world down there, so you'd nearly forgotten that it was storming gravely outside. but, a sudden crash of thunder shook the entire building, and the room submitted to darkness faster than you could blink. and it being as old as it was, it didn't contain emergency lights, or windows for that matter, hidden deep in the basement. the two of you were surrounded by a seemingly endless void; you wouldn't even be able to see your hand in front of your face if you tried.

you jumped immediately, the side of your thigh hitting the table and rousing all the items on it, some even clattering to the floor. you didn't even notice the instant ache that shot down your leg, your fear all-consuming.

"shit. stay where you are." you could hear aaron moving about, bumping into things as well as he attempted to make sense of the darkness, and to get to you, fully aware of your intense fear of the dark, "honey, are you alright?"

you didn't answer, eyes squeezed shut as you shrunk back against the closest wall you could find. besides the sounds of aaron cursing under his breath, 'of course my damn phone is in my office' or his reassurances, 'i'm almost there, it's going to be okay', it was deathly silent; so quiet it was almost threatening.

you didn't even realize you were shaking profusely until you were in secure in aaron's arms. he wrapped you tightly in his embrace, your face pressed into his chest as he shielded you. instead of the grimy, stiff smell of the bunker, you were encircled with the familiar scent of aaron, something soft and sweet but still vastly masculine.

"you're okay sweetheart. here, let me..." he reached into your back pocket, finding your phone and turning the flashlight on, unforgotten to yourself in your panicked state. the light illuminated his face, thankfully, but also casted shadows from the furniture and whatnot onto the walls. it made the musty old room more menacing, terrifying.

your fingers gripped onto his dress shirt, closing your eyes once more as your face burrowed into the crook of his neck, searching to be closer, "aaron."

"i know, i know you hate it." he consoled you, one of his hands spanning your back. "stay close, hold onto me."

his hand placement, and the fact you were clinging onto him, allowed him to guide you easily, without you having to remove yourself from him - to be fair, you couldn't even if you tried. he navigated the two of you out, vaguely manhandling you and taking the brunt himself as he ran or tripped into lingering objects. he only had one objective, removing you from the situation as safely and quickly as possible.

once in the hallway, could you finally breathe. the power was still absent, but it was brighter, emergency lights on a bit further down the hall. it took you a second to regain your senses, your heart rate slowing to normal.

aaron's hands cupped your face, his thumbs running against your cheeks gently. his eyes searched yours, lined with concern and a gentleness, "you okay?"

you nodded, pressing your forehead to his for a brief moment.

"you're okay. you're safe." he repeated, in case you needed another reminder, another reassurance. he pressed his lips to yours for a moment, a hand moving to the small of your back, "i'll have dave and reid head down here a bit later instead. let's get you upstairs love."

[hauerhoetime]

Lockpick

Kaz Brekker x Reader

Summary: you're injured on a job and Kaz finds you

Run. That’s the only word pulsing through your mind. Everything went wrong and now here you were running through the dirty and wet streets of The Barrel. Now how did you end up here? Well the answer is two simple words; Kaz Brekker. Well maybe not simple but still.

You have been working for Kaz for a handful of years and have watched him become somewhat of a myth amongst fellow Barrel rats. You however have not. You prefer to stick to the shadows and fight with the other shadowdwellers than bare your teeth in the light. That however is a conversation for another day. 

Through your many days and nights working for Kaz you have proven time and time again that you are more than trustworthy. That and only that is why you were given this job. Alone. You were to do the simple task of breaking and entering into one of the Merchant Councils houses and take his wife's jewelry box. That was it. All you had to do. Clearly however that’s not how it went.

Just as you grabbed the box off of the pristine and perfectly white counter of the dark bathroom you were suddenly bathed in light. “Well you aren’t no bastard of The Barrel but that don’t matter to me” you turned your head towards the voice and squinting through the nearly blinding light you can barely make out the face of a Stadwatch officer. Fuck.

Time seemed to stop for just a moment before all hell broke loose. You made a dive for the window you had just entered from and the officer made a dive for you. He missed. 

You wanted to take a deep breath in celebration but you knew the Stadwatch; where there was one there were many. You didn’t know why or how but they expected you- well Kaz- to come for the box that was now being roughly shoved in the bag you had slung over your shoulder. You took three great strides across the roof before you quickly slid down the drain pipe.

“HEY!” You heard being yelled from your right. You didn’t even take a second to look before running to your left. You already knew who was there and they weren’t people you really wanted to meet. You didn’t know the best route off the property anymore, there are too many unknown factors. Well the best option here seems to be blindly run to try and make it out of here with this stupid box.

“Whatever's in here better be worth it Brekker” You can't help but murmur to yourself as you run your mad dash to the bushline at the back of the yard. You’re running a huge risk going through the nearly open yard while men with guns are chasing you but you don’t see any other option. “Better be fuckin’ worth it.”

You make it to the bushline and push through the shrubbery as fast as you possibly can, definitely acquiring a few dozen scratches but you must ignore your stinging skin and push on.

Taking half a second to assess your surroundings you find yourself in some rich snob neighborhood and honestly your brain can’t move fast enough to tell you where you are so you make the only logical choice that you can think of; run west. You may not know the street but you know directions. If you had the time you'd thank the random old man you stole your first compass from as a kid but alas you didn't have a moment to spare.

You could hear the footsteps chasing you but you had the advantage of distance. Distance you couldn’t afford to lose. You made a break for The Barrel because then you’d be back in your wheelhouse- not the Stadwatche’s. They may patrol the main streets but they don’t know the back alleys and the little holes to hide.

Less than ten minutes later you finally made it to the bustling and grimy streets of The Barrel. You lost some of the ground you had but you'd take anything you could get at this point.

And that’s how you got here. Running through the hustle and bustle of the city of sinners. You nearly fall on your ass as you skid around a corner trying your best to throw off the Stadwatch. You have almost fallen a handful of times during your run but you’ve always had a talent for saving yourself just before you ate shit.

You couldn’t bring them to the Crow Club or the Slat. They could guess you were one of Kaz’s crew but you couldn’t give them the confirmation. You devised a plan to run through the northern end of The Barrel towards West Stav. The crowds of West Stav would provide some much needed cover and provide the veil needed to disappear.

Every step you took felt like you were losing more and more ground and you were running out of energy and once you turned a corner and were running into West Stav your worst nightmare came true. You turned onto a straight shot and the crowds you were counting on were thin at best. That's when you felt it. A quick horrible sting in your left shoulder. Shit. You’ve been shot.

You kept pushing and pushing, running as fast as you could without aggravating your shoulder. You took a chance that you hadn’t even dared to take yet. You looked behind you to see how many there were. Two. That’s two more than you'd like but you honestly expected worse.

Ducking into one last alleyway between two pleasure houses you climbed a pipe over a small separation wall and sank down to the other side hoping it was enough to hide. You’ve lost a lot of blood and your shoulder was consuming every thought after your hurried and frantic climb.

You tried to quiet your rapid breathing as you heard the officers enter the alley and kick around some piles of trash in search of you. Luckily they were apparently inexperienced enough not to know how to climb a pipe. Stupid assholes.

Now the real fear set in. Bleeding alone in a dark corner in West Stav. Who would find you? Would they even look? Well Kaz might look for the box but he wouldn’t care if you died in this dark dingy hell hole would he?

Your head begins to feel light and the world begins to spin. Oh god this was faster than you thought. Was this it? Is this where you die?

“Don’t you dare close your eyes” You hear a sharp voice quickly approaching you.

You lift your head and keep your eyes as wide as you can. That’s when you see him. The tall dark shadow of a man, Kaz Brekker. “You found me-?” your voice was weak and scratchy as if you hadn't spoken in the last three years.

“You have a love for the north end of The Barrel. You were late to the Slat and so I came to look and to my surprise I found a foot chase'' he crouched down on the ground next to me.

“I was trying to find a shadow to hide in” you crack a smile. Just a few moments ago you were convinced that you were going to die in this dark disgusting corner and your body was going to rot before you were found but now here you were being saved by your angel. Don’t ever tell him you just called him an angel.

“Lean forward for me” he basically ignored you and your joke but he placed his gloved hand on your side in an attempt to pull you forward.

“I got the box” you croak out as you attempt to lean forward but admittedly he was doing most of the work for you.

“I knew you would.” he spoke as he pulled a piece of cloth from his pocket and wrapped it tightly around your shoulder. The pain was almost blinding as he tied the strip in place but as every second passed the pain became more manageable. 

Can you stand up?” he was almost entirely focused on getting you out of this alley and back home as safe as he could. You slowly moved onto your knees and tried your best to rise but ended up stumbling to your knees once again. Kaz’s hand that wasn’t gently resting on your back shot out for your arm only pulling back when he remembered it was your injured arm. “Here let me help you” he mumbled as he scurried to your other side allowing- encouraging you to grab into his clothed forearm to aid you in pulling yourself from the ground.

Once he got you off the damp ground he pulled your uninjured arm around his shoulders and started walking you out of the alleyway onto a street that was crawling with a mix of tourists and Barrel fiends. Great, there's the crowd you were counting on.

The walk was silent for a few minutes but what you thought to be the elephant in the room was crushing you. “Kaz I’m sorry for fucking up the job”

“Don’t worry about it, that was my fault I left too many clues and sent you into the trap.” He didn’t look at you even once while taking the blame.

“I could have chosen a better route, I could have found some slippery way out Kaz I didn’t need to stick to a beaten path.”

“Don’t blame yourself. It’s my fault, okay? You did good with what you had. You even got the box” the longer he talked the more pain he let into his voice “Now will you please just stop saying it’s your fault?” He glanced at you once. One glance was enough for you to see underlying panic in his eyes.

You didn’t talk for the rest of the walk back to The Slat. The Slat was further than the Crow Club but you couldn’t really waltz into a gambling house with a bullet wound subtly. The silence was no longer anxiety inducing from the apologies that wanted to spew out of your mouth but instead you could feel the slightly frantic panic radiating from the quiet man beside you. Fear of your death.

Once you walked into The Slat there were a few heads that turned toward the pair. “Don’t ask” Kaz’s voice boomed across the room with so much authority that even you felt startled. Without another word he walked you up the stairs and as much as it pained his leg he ignored it as he pulled you toward the room at the top of the stairs.

Every step you took you felt more and more woozy and slowly you were relying on Kaz more and more to pull you up. To say you were grateful when he basically kicked the door to his room open would be an understatement.

“You can leave me in the bathroom Kaz I’ll take care of it” you croak out trying to take as much of your weight as you can.

“Are you crazy-?” Kaz stopped in his tracks as he looked at you; his face filled with a mix of confusion and anger. “I didn’t take you this far just to let you die in a Barrel bathroom, MY Barrel bathroom at that”

“What do you care if I die? You have other employees much more capable than me” You mumble as you go to take a step by yourself towards his bathroom.

He felt you pulling away and not even a second later you began to drop. He jolted forward to catch your weight once again. “You are an incredibly valuable asset to my team. Now if you would please allow me to make sure you survive the night” he spoke through gritted teeth.

All the fight that was in you previously left your body. All you could bring yourself to do was nod helplessly. Once he was satisfied with your compliance he took you to the bathroom and propped you up against the vanity. 

“Thank you Kaz. Thank you for everything” you say as he rolls up his sleeves and opens a small cupboard looking for something.

“Stop talking like you’re going to die” he emerges with a rag and a bottle. He opened the bottle and soaked the rag completely and then turned to you. You knew that it would hurt but once he pulled the makeshift wrap off your shoulder and pushed the wet rag to the wound you felt like you were about to bite through your tongue.

“Holy shit” you say through gritted teeth. Your knuckles are white as you grasp the counter trying your best not to crumble to the floor. White hot pain. Honestly if it was anyone but Kaz holding the rag you probably would have punched them. 

“I know I’m sorry” Kaz almost whispered. There was a slight panic in his eyes as they flickered from your face to your shoulder. “This is the best I can do. Nina will be here in a few hours and she can help you more. "His voice was gentle as he continued to apply pressure.

You were definitely still bleeding but it has calmed a little. You won't die and at this point that’s all Kaz cared about. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if you died. He wouldn’t only be going after Peeka anymore he’d be gunning for the entire Stadwatch. Well that's what he was telling himself. Really he'd be gunning for himself. He sent you to steal the box. He was the one that slipped up and got you caught. He was the one that didn’t tell you a plan for if you got caught. If you died there would be no one to blame but him. That would have been the end for him and he knows it.

At this very moment Kaz Brekker swore he would do everything in his power moving forward to keep you safe. You meant too much to him. You were everything to him. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, not even himself but he loved you. He loved every fiber of your being and that made you much more important than anyone else on the crew. 

You were a better lockpick than him for you have picked the lock to his heart and you were never going to leave. He hated the weakness that he showed when you were around but he would do with it the same as he always did. Make is dangerous. Weave it into the myth that he has become. You would be part of his story for years to come and he would make sure of it.

[tommysversion]

dbf!joel catching you staring at his biceps….

Here you go, Anon! 💞

There are about a dozen reasons why you shouldn’t be interested in him. Firstly, and probably most importantly, he’s your dad’s best friend, which leads to secondly, he’s about twenty odd years older than you, maybe. Next, he’s a smuggler. A criminal. Which, you know you can’t judge, given that your dad is, too, but still… Joel is Bad News, capital B, capital N. Everyone in the QZ knows not to fuck with him. Even FEDRA officers; hell, they’re more likely to buy whatever he brings into the zone than bust him for it.

There’s a certain element of danger to him that draws you in, and hell, the fact that he’s your dad’s buddy? Doesn’t really bother you like it should. It’s not like you’re ever going to act on your interest, after all.

That’s not going to stop you from staring, though. It’s the middle of the afternoon, your dad’s out on a job - repairing one of the security systems, he won’t be home til late - and you’ve helped yourself to a glass or two of the illicitly made bourbon kept in the pantry. More importantly, Joel’s come past to drop something or other off, and he’s helped himself to your booze stash too, because, in his words, no girl your age should be drinking this shit. What does he know? You’re in your mid twenties, old enough to drink. More than old enough.

Anyway, the point is he’s sitting on your couch, drinking your shitty booze, the sunlight pouring through the grimy window, lighting up all the silver streaks in his dark hair, falling onto his bare forearms. Does he know how goddamn illicit he looks in a t-shirt? Surely he does.

You’re just minding your own business, sipping your liquor, admiring the view, wondering how many other women in the Zone have the same opinion, when he breaks the silence.

“What’re you lookin’ at, sweetheart?”

Oh, shit. He’s caught you. There’s absolutely no way you can plausibly deny it, either. Doesn’t mean you’re not going to try.

“Uh…”

“What? Didn’t anyone ever teach you it’s rude to stare?” He doesn’t sound pissed, more amused than anything as he looks at you over the rim of his half-full glass.

You shrug, deciding that saying nothing is better than putting your foot in it.

Apparently, that’s the wrong decision.

“Still haven’t answered me.” He was very, very clearly waiting for you to, as well.

Okay. No way out of it after all. You drained the rest of your glass, took a little comfort in the warmth it spread through your body. They called liquor liquid courage for a reason.

“You, I guess, but you already knew that.”

He smirked, lopsided. It didn’t comfort you; this was a man who had been through hell and walked out the other side. He was dangerous, he killed people! What on earth had made you think this was a good idea???

You were just about to open your mouth to apologise when he held up a hand, then motioned for you to come sit. Not next to him, oh no. He motioned right to his lap. Your mouth went dry. Not that the idea wasn’t appealing, it most certainly was. You were just once again, startlingly aware of how dangerous this man was. It didn’t stop you, though. He set the glass aside and watched you, expectant.

You got up from your armchair, crossed the small, shabby living room to sit yourself down in his lap, straddling him. Maybe not what he had expected, but you weren’t going to half ass this, especially when you weren’t sure if he was going to change his mind. You honestly weren’t sure if you were going to change your own mind; you probably should have, but the second you sat down, his hands went to your waist, holding you in place.

“This what you were thinking about?” He asks, eyes half narrowed as he looks at you; trying to get a better read on you. He’s suspected your interest for a while now, but he’s tried to be respectful. Tried. It’s not been fucking easy, that’s for damn sure. But, well, when opportunity arises…

It’s not only opportunity that’s risen, not with the way you’re straddling him.

“Sort of,” you admit. The liquor has given you a surge of courage, and for that, you’re grateful. You’re not sure you would ever have had the courage to do this without it.

“Oh? Something else?”

You huff. You’d only been staring at his arms, those muscled biceps, trying to imagine how solid he would feel around you. You didn’t have to imagine now; with his hands on your waist you were comfortably enveloped by his arms.

“C’mon, pretty girl. I’m sure you can use your words. God knows I’ve heard you sass off enough times before.” Joel is absolutely amused by this; he knows you’ll fall for the bait, because that’s precisely what he’s doing. Baiting you, playing with his food before he eats it. It’s not necessarily the nicest thing to do, but he’s not necessarily a nice man.

“What, you wanna hear all the questionable thoughts I’ve ever had?” You ask, rising to the bait.

“So they’re questionable, huh?” Another smirk as you realise what you’ve said.

“I mean, uh- no? Not all of them?”

Only most of them. Only when you’re alone, or when he’s distracting you by simply existing.

“Not all? But most? Huh, nice to know pretty things like you think of me in such a way.”

“Like you don’t know what women think of you.” You snort, refusing to believe that for a second.

He shrugs. “Not my main priority.”

“No?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“No, but when an opportunity presents itself… well… I’d be stupid not to take it, wouldn’t I?”

You roll your eyes.

“I don’t see you taking anything.”

He stares at you for a moment, as though assessing you, trying to decide something.

“Brat.” He says finally, before he fists his hand in your hair and yanks you into a rough kiss.

You don’t bother to deny it, not sure you even want to. You’re more focused on the kiss, the way he devours your mouth like a starving man. This? This is exactly what you wanted, though you’d never have been brave enough to ask. But he’s not asking, he’s taking, leading the way in this, and you’re absolutely fine with that.

He’s eager and demanding, and when he pulls away you’re a little dazed.

“Is that what I’ll get every time I stare at you?” You dare to ask, cheeky.

He gives you a half exasperated look, rolls his eyes, before he leans in to kiss you again, effectively shutting you up this time.

[darlingshane]

Violent Desires

Pairing: Frank Castle x F!Reader

Summary: Frank doesn't like being called 'daddy' but you do it anyway to rile him up and have him punish you.

Content/Warnings: 18+, Explicit, Smut, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex, Dom/Sub Undertones, Overstimulation, Spanking, Light bondage, Mild Daddy Kink, Brat!Reader, Mention of Alcohol, Mention of canon-typical violence.

Word Count: 3k

A/N: This is loosely inspired by some events at the beginning of The Punisher’s season 2.

— You can read below or at AO3.

Spending the summer in a grimy motel with no AC in bumfuck nowhere with an asshole you met only a few weeks ago isn't exactly a dream vacation. But trouble always has led you to the strangest of places. And considering that you might be dead if you hadn't met Frank Castle that night, you can't really complain about your current status. You got yourself here, and you should be thankful for still having all your limbs and head attached to your body.

Still, it doesn’t make it easy to show gratitude to a prickling jerk with a fucking savior complex, when all he does is boss you and hustle you around however he desires.

You can’t help but wonder what’s in this for him. At first, you believed he just wanted a piece of ass, like every other bastard you’ve met, but no, Frank is not about that. At least he hasn’t shown any interest in you in that way.

This isn’t about money for him, either. You’ve offered, and he’s declined any of your offers.

Perhaps, it’s all about doing the right thing – being a hero, whatever that means. But you’re not a saint, or a damsel in distress, and he knows that. Messing with the wrong people by holding onto something that Greenway wanted, and never got, thanks to your unyielding knight in shining armor, is what got you into this mess in the first place.

Eventually, you figure out why and realize that this arrangement has nothing to do with you or being noble in the slightless.

It’s about the fight.

He lives for it. Welcomes it. Seeks it. Needs it like oxygen.

Violence fuels him to keep going. It courses through his veins, thicker than his own blood.

Every day, it becomes more obvious you’re merely a means to an end in the hands of The punisher. You figured who he was too when you found an old newspaper piece with his face taped on the back of an old van’s window, when you stopped for gas once.

Frank or Pete. Neither name means anything to you.

His life is a tragedy, there's no denying that. But that doesn't give him a pass to be that inconsiderate towards you.

You’re a stranger to him. He doesn’t owe you shit, and vice versa. But when he saw you in trouble, unlike the rest of the world, he didn't hesitate for a second to risk his own life by getting between you and the men that were chasing after you.

After getting out of that roadhouse, he drove you from town to town for the most part of the last month, killing any dumbass that dared to track you down, until they stopped following you.

Living closely together with him is no picnic. He watches you like a hawk, always alert, and acts as more of a captor rather than a protector sometimes.

At this point, you're not sure what comes next. Is he going to be your keeper forever? Cause you’re getting tired of this situation and you just wanna go back to your life, or whatever is left. The truth is, Greenway killed everyone you knew, so you don’t have much to return to. Maybe sticking by Frank’s side is the best option for you right now.

Warranted or not, this isn’t over yet. He took down some of Greenway’s most dangerous men, and more are on the way. You’re both sure that the big boss is still looking for the woman, you, who has the key to bring him down. It consists of a pesky pen drive that if were to fall into the right hands, it'd mean the end to his crime ring. That's the only insurance that’s keeping you from pushing daisies in an unmarked grave somewhere.

That and Frank.

It’s been a couple of weeks since you were last tracked to that motel in Wyoming. The mileage of Frank’s van has collected thousands of miles since, and tonight you’re up for an adventure. So, you sneak out past your guard the first chance you get to explore the new town. Temperatures are painfully hot, and you just take shelter in a bar with a good air conditioner. You play pool, have a drink or two, and dance with newfound friends for a couple of hours past Frank’s dinner time.

“Where the hell were you?” his voice grumbles, one hand reaching to pull the beaded string from the old-as-fuck lamp on the night table between the twin beds when you step into the room.

It’s past midnight, you said earlier you were going to get some snacks from the bending machine and that’s when you decided to go on a walk around town instead. Because you’re not a goddamn child, or a helpless girl who can’t keep herself safe. He acts like you're both. You’re neither.

You simply shrug indifferently at his question, toeing off your slip-on shoes by the foot of the bed.

“You got anything to say, huh?” he mutters, rising from his bed to tower over you.

“I'm sorry, daddy,” you turn your back to him, and start shedding clothes off.

“The fuck did you just say?” he snarls oh so gravely. Tone laced in anger. You can feel the rough texture of his voice on the surface of your back when you pull your shirt over your head.

“Said I was sorry, daddy,” you pout, slipping out of your pants and kneeling on your bed, stripped to your underwear.

“Are you drunk?”

“Just a lil buzzed, daddy.”

“Stop calling me that. For fuck's sake! What the hell is wrong with you today?”

“Isn't that what you are, though? You act like it. You sound like it. Always telling me what to do, what to eat, where to go… If you don't want me to call you that, then stop trying to control me.”

“You'd be dead in a ditch somewhere if I hadn’t done all that. Hate me all you want, sweetheart, but you and I both know that’s true.”

“So you keep saying, Oh Almighty Savior, but I was doing fine until I met you,” you stick out your pointer finger and poke his chest twice with malice.

“I doubt that,” he shoves your hand away. “And we still gotta find what kind of shit you bring to our door after your impromptu outing tonight.”

“Relax, if the punisher couldn't track me down, neither could they.”

“You better be right. Christ! You’re such a goddamn brat. You say you wanna stop running, but you’re being utterly careless,” he starts pacing the short length of the room, peeking out the window here and there.

“Why are you always so angry?” your lips turn into a half grin, as you shift on the bed, getting on all fours, showing your ass in his direction as he walks past your bed. “You wanna come take it out on me, daddy? I’m sure it’ll make you feel better.”

“So help me, God! Call me that one more time…” stopping in his tracks just for a beat, his teeth grit together, as the muscles of his jaw get all worked up.

“And what? What are you gonna do, daddy? Tape my mouth and handcuff me to the radiator again? You wanna know what I did tonight? C’mere and make me tell you.”

You’re not sure what’s gotten into you tonight, you’re not even that drunk. But you find it quite entertaining to rile him up like that.

For a moment, he stares at you like he wanted to rip you apart, like all those men you’ve seen perish in The Punisher’s wake.

You want him too.

You need him too.

Frank just stares and swallows anxiously, unable to decide what to do with you and your erratic behavior.

“Stop being a pussy and show me what the big bad punisher can do,” you keep provoking him, wiggling your ass in the air. “I know you’ve been sitting there all night, just itching like crazy to beat the hell out of someone. Or fuck someone’s brains out. I guess it’s just the same feeling.”

“Keep running your fucking mouth like that. See how far that gets you.”

You press your teeth on your bottom lip, glance at him over your shoulder before spelling the magic word, “do you wanna use my mouth, daddy?”

There's no doubt you're in big trouble when he abandons his pacing, and closes the window’s blinds in one harsh motion before standing behind you with such an imposing dark shadow it makes the hairs on your skin rise.

Silence takes over for three seconds and without a warning, that silence is broken by the sound of your panties being torn apart effortlessly with his fingers. It makes you ache in a whole different way when you look over your shoulder again to see his nose flaring and his eyes falling into the depths of lust as his fist clutches to your now-ruined underwear.

“Don't fucking look at me like that,” he mutters, lip curling into a snarl. And before you can say anything, he reaches with his free hand to hold your jaw while he shoves the shredded panties into your mouth. “You call me Frank or Sir, but I don't wanna hear you say that word again. Got that? Nod if you understand.”

The brat in you wants to say – yes, daddy – but you do as you're told. Dip your chin, and keep your head low.

His large warm palms roam the sides of your hips now. Gripping firmly to your skin as if he wanted to dig his fingertips past the delicate surface of your body to get his hands covered in your blood, and taste it; drown himself in it. That’s exactly how it feels.

It’s nothing but desperate. All this time without a companion has turned it into something he never was, at least not in bed. A bloodlust creature he’d sworn once he would never become. But you’re a different kind of breed, one that can take him places he’s never dared to visit, he recognizes. And right now all he wants to do is satisfy the monster sharpening its teeth under his skin, and feed him with your desire.

With one hand anchored to your hip, he sends the other to undo his belt. You hear the familiar unbuckling sound and the rustling of the fabric as he slides the fine leather off the jeans’ loops.

For a second, you think he’s going to strike you with it, but no. He instead slides the leather around your neck.

“Stay still,” it falls under a heavy breath between his lips.

A pitched sound echoes in your throat as he buckles it tight around your neck. It doesn't have a notch to hold on to up that high, so Frank curls the end around his fist to keep the leather snug around your neck.

“What? Isn’t this what you wanted, little brat?” he tugs on it a little.

The pace of your heart picks up, but you nod again in your makeshift leash. You trust him, nonetheless. He wouldn’t have gotten you this far if he was going to kill you.

“Use your words.”

“Yes, Sir,” you mumble around the fabric of your underwear.

Then, you feel the deft fingers of his opposite hand, gliding from your ass and up your back to unclasp your bra. He lets you slip one arm at a time or off the straps as he presses his bulge against your ass. It stirs at burning arousal in your core. Your walls soften and flutter deliciously in anticipation.

Enjoying himself, he presses his hips a little harder, making sure you can feel the hard outline of his cock swelling behind the denim fabric. It's substantially bigger than you thought. It's daunting and exciting to think about him defiling your pussy with it.

“Let's see what you're made of,” he tentatively moves one hand between your legs, shoving his twitchy finger in your folds to collect your slickness. “Christ, you're so fucking wet.”

In his power play, as he rubs circles around your clit, every time your face dips lower, he pulls the belt to keep your head straight up, facing the ugly headboard of the uncomfortable bed. You can only imagine what people do in places like this, and how many dirty secrets this bed and these four walls have seen. They're about to witness another when Frank releases the end of the belt, letting the leather lose its constriction around your neck.

You let out a shaky breath through your nose as he takes his other hand away from your sex. A second after, both his palms land on your chest and feast on your tits. He fills his eager hands, squeezing as hard as they did on your ass to mark his digits on them. Claiming them as if they existed only for his enjoyment.

Working himself up, he lets out a grunt, and pinches your nipples with vehemence just to hear you squeal again.

“Sh, sh, sh,” he soothes his palms softer on your puckered peaks and frees them at once to finally undo his fly and release his erection.

Frank glances down, spits on his palm, and spreads his saliva around the blunt tip of his cock before guiding himself into your pussy. You're already drenched, but your entrance welcomes the extra lubrication as he slowly sheathes himself inside you.

Your eyes flutter shut, feeling the breadth of his swelling stretching your opening in that first stroke.

“God, you’re so tight,” Frank's lips part as a shy, beautiful moan slides past his teeth at the fine pressure of your slicked walls. He pulls himself out fully, and repeats that motion again to capture how your entrance grips around his length when he breaches you.

Abandoning himself to the depths of your walls, his thrusts are nothing but experimental for a few strokes before unleashing the violent desires of his inner monster to let his hips slam against your ass at full force.

Claiming every inch of you, he keeps your body in submission with his hands clutching the curves of your ass, and you gladly surrender to his whims. His fingers sink in new places, stamping their prints and half moons when his nails press harder on your skin.

The room oozes of sweat and sex and the lewd sounds that come from his body colliding against yours over and over, and the creaking of the bed.

Yours fists ball the flowery bedspread for a long time before sending one of your hands between your legs to care for your clit.

“Did I say that you could touch yourself?” he spanks your ass twice to put a stop to your hand.

“Please… I need it,” you articulate with difficulty.

“Stop whining, and fucking take it,” his palm smacks your rear once more, harder.

Ignoring your pleading, the punishing rhythm of his cock, crawling up to the hilt, becomes more desperate as it brings you closer to ecstasy; thrust after thrust. Your body shudders in delight, and every time you cry out his name, curl your hips against his moves, or beg, you're gifted with a new smack.

As you reach the tipping point, his force turns sharper, meaner. It's at that moment that all your muscles seize up, and everything becomes blurry before letting the orgasm take over your body. You groan and pull yourself away from Frank's reach to lay face down on the mattress.

You might have had enough, but he's not satisfied yet and before the orgasm ebbs he grabs the curves of your ass, pulling them up to their former position, while you keep your head and shoulders pressed to the bed. He keeps you like that with one hand and uses the other to shove his cock back inside, capturing the relentless flutters and contractions of your walls from your orgasm.

“Did I tell you to come?” he breathes fire, using a harsh palm to chastise you once more.

Still up in your high, you can only hum in response.

“Answer me!” he demands, extending his fingers to your lips to pull the fabric out of your mouth.

“I… I’m sorry, Sir.”

The overstimulation barely lets you word that out, as he grows overjoyed, watching you struggle between battling your orgasm and the new strange entity that overcomes your body. It’s a different kind of beast, fueled by a great amount of stamina, that doesn’t waver when it comes to picking up the same wild rhythm as before. He sweats it out, works it out, growls it out like a fucking animal until all his seed is poured into your tenderness and the lust-hungry monster is finally sated.

As that creature goes back to its cave, Frank goes limp on your side.

You stretch your legs and lay on your stomach, as he rests on his back. He notices just now how his clothes are still on and how annoying they become as they cling to the layer of sweat trying to cool down his body.

Glancing to the side, you see his chest rising and falling at a fast rate, as your heart starts to settle.

“That was…” he starts, and you can see a glimpse of a tiny smile taking over one corner of his mouth.

“Yeah,” you let out a sigh, sliding the leather that was still partially hanging around your neck, letting it fall to the floor.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, Frank. You didn’t.”

“I know you said that I could. But for a moment I thought– I don’t know what came over me… I never wanted to… didn’t mean to…”

“Frank,” you put a palm on his chest to stop that complicated thought. “We had sex. It was great. Don’t overthink it. I’d have hit you at any point if I felt threatened or unsafe. Trust me.”

“Bet you would’ve.”

Your lips curve up, observing his body completely relaxed for the first time in weeks.

[fruitcoops]

Because I think you'd make this unbelievably adorable.

21. Logan and Katie

(21) "We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain?”. Character credit to @lumosinlove :)

"This way!"

"Hey--stop--"

"Hurry, hurry!"

Logan shook his hair out of his eyes; the wet slap of it against his ears and forehead and fucking soul made him shudder, fingertips squeaking against plastic. Unbelievable. "Katie!"

A happy squeal answered, followed by a splash. And another. Several more followed in quick succession with the ecstatic joy of a young triceratops--or, rather, a six-year-old let loose in a group of sidewalk puddles. She tromped around with the reckless abandon of someone who did not know how to work a washing machine and did not need to.

Un-fucking-believable.

"We have to go home," Logan tried. They just had to make it one more block.

SPLORK. "We are! I see Papa in the window!"

"You're going to get..." He sighed, rubbing his thumb over his forehead. Thunder rumbled a distant warning. "Muddy."

A foregone conclusion, at this point. Katie launched herself feet-first into the puddle at the edge of the park and cackled with unbridled glee at the ker-plunk of her sneakers in four inches of water. Rain dribbled down the back of Logan's neck and into his eyes all at once. With her bike in one hand, sparkly helmet under his arm, and all hope of getting home without a vicious cold out the window, he probably looked like the world's worst single teenage father.

"Please," he attempted, though she showed no sign of hearing him as she reached down to pull a handful of sticks from the storm drain.

"Tremzy!"

Please, Lord, be gentle on my spirit. "Ouais?"

"We should go in the backyard when we get home!"

He just had to look at her for a moment at that. "Why would we do that?"

"I like the rain on my skin!"

"We're in the middle of a thunderstorm, and you want to stop and feel the rain?" Logan blinked a few gallons of water off his eyelashes. "Katie, my socks are so wet."

"Feel the rain!" Katie gasped. She grabbed the sides of her skirt in grimy, grass-covered hands and squelched her way out of the puddle, making a beeline straight for him once her feet were on flat land again. She didn't slow down; Logan winced more from the sudden rush of cold and wet than the impact. Tiny hands grasped his wrists and yanked, sending about a cup over water cascading from her helmet over his left shoe. Gryffindor in April was officially hell on earth. Goddamn spring storms.

"Please, can we--"

"It's like mama's song!"

"Katie, please--"

"FEEL THE RAIN ON YOUR SKIN--"

"I'm so cold--"

"--SOMEONE ELSE CAN FEEL IT FOR YOU, ONLY YOU CAN LET IT IN--and, um--FEEL THE RAIN ON YOOOOUUUUR SKIN--"

[getodrools]

𐙚 CHEATING BUT PASSING: CHOSO KAMO!

IN WHICH, virgin! choso is more than willing to do all of your assignments as long as he can keep his grimy — incel freak hands on you.

I 𝓲. I MDNI ୨୧ f! reader. college au. dry humping + panty fucking manipulation. he whimpers :(. premature ejaculation. cumshot. mentions of: gojo x reader. | WC –> 1.0k+ est ! !

NOTE. this is a repost from my old blog !! :p

CHOSO ALWAYS THINKS THIS is a win-win situation—of some sort. being able to clasp clammy hands to your sides and to rut shamelessly against you; as long as he did your jujutsu tech assessments, first. but even as he does work hard on your own homework, he still gets to hang out with a pretty, popular girl like you.

so, win-win.

“c–choso, wait! i-- slow down—hey! be careful.” you sigh heavily before blowing messy hair out from your face, trying to stay calm as the man behind you fumbled around with your skirt to pull over the globes of your perk ass.

feeling warm breath, “pretty… so pretty… ” choso lays all ten lithe fingers across your ass before squeezing at the jiggly flesh into a vice grip—dammned he would leave an outline of his print, jagged nails too, feeling them cut the shape of crescents into your soft skin. gross.

“i know, just… take it easy.” without having to see that cherry kissed face of his, you know he unconsciously nodded, frantically too.

you still felt him groping and molding your ass around in his hold regardless though. that hollow promise was quickly thrown out the window.

especially, when choso catches the view of your soiled, cute little panties; a damp, dark spot circling around your sopping slit, almost drooling down the thick of your thigh.

choso could feel his heart jump up his throat and bounce straight down to his cock, feeling himself beginning to swell then get harder – it hurt too at the sudden ache panging between his legs, but this pretty sight of you bent over and…

turned on..? by him? was certainly etching a core memory into his brain.

his slick tongue runs over dry lips, “are you—”

“i just got back from gojo’s. you're not special.” you wiggle your ass upwards in hopes he would just get on with it… and the distraction works, hearing him suck in a breath of air through gritted teeth at the remark but quick with his hands.

soft cloth from the crotch of his pants presses hard against your body. choso jerks his hips upwards – his cock practically beating through his brutal confines, almost bursting through the buckle as he jutted against you hopelessly, searching for a rhythm…

choso’s head cranes back, lolling off to the side as he held you close while bending his knees, almost buckling to get a better angle to press more firmly against your clothed cunt. wriggling his own hips to feel more of that warm wetness seeping through, but through thick clothes like his own was a restriction, a brutal one at that.

“can... can i take off my pants and—”

“cum on any of my clothes, i will kill you.” that's all he needed to hear, being quick with it too; clasping his buckle and letting his pants crinkle to the floor.

the sauntering man quickly curled long fingers around the base of his cock; gripping a firm grasp to stroke his length hard with a slight twist to his tip – watching how the uncut skin glides over and swipes away the pearls of drooling pre as he did.

and you sat there, impatiently tinkering with the charms on your phone – ‘till the hefty feel of a nudging cock prods at your panties.

the sensation of his bulbous crown kissing your clothed slit was new… to say the least as he felt on you, sliding the hardness of his warm pulsing cock up and down your panties. even between the globes of your ass, and squeezing them together to suffocate his shaft.

this was new—actually, feeling choso’s length caress against the folds of your cunt was altogether, new. it brought a new sort of imagery from him to come flooding; fuck, he's big… and a lot more than you expected—damn, something no one would expect.

pure chastity. his cock wasn't just thick in size, but overwhelmingly big, practically feeling the pulsing veins wrapping around his base beat at every feathery touch.

maybe… he was special…

scratch that, choso let out a soft… whimper?

total loser.

this is the closest he's been near pussy—ever. and it was so obvious the first time you brought up this deal with him; the shock on his face was almost paralyzing, practically stuttering even through heavy breaths of confusion. but luckily, choso—of course, bought it. and ever since, he's been a feen to even do extra credit work for you even when it's not needed – too hooked up on the thought of humping your body every time he gets you an a+…

the fabric softener you used helped his cock smooth easier across the cloth.

so soothing, he thinks, while frothing over your body that bounces along with his. watching how the curvature of your spine arches into a deep bow, and how your hips fill in nicely into his hands, even how your puffy lips pressed through your panties, practically kissing and sandwiching his cock every time he slid himself over was mouth-watering.

yet, this was still the same thing you've both been doing for a very long while now, just fewer clothes…

oh?

your eyes peel open wide, pretty head even spinning around like an owl at the foreign feel of choso pressing the crown of his cock harder against your clothed cunt; almost pressing your panties inside of you at the rough thrust forward.

“heh, are you trying to actually fuck me?” you want to giggle. the soft lewd expression drooling over his face was adorable. his mouth left hanging agape, eyes hooded and set low, even his nose crinkled up at the suctioning feel wrapping around his blushing tip.

“euuh, i--” he’s trying so hard to mutter out words, but only incoherent babbles spew out – all thoughts and focus were set on this new feeling. practically, fucking you with a condom—a heart-lacey condom of thin cloth…

“you wish.” you roll your eyes and make yourself more comfortable; settling your tummy on the desk in your dorm and wriggle your ass up more for him.

choso takes this chance to wisp the tips of his fingers to hook around your sides harder to help stable himself from buckling as he watched with greedy eyes; entranced how he's practically fucking you. choso was trying so hard to push himself deeper, but the restricting panties blanketing around him as he attempted, forces his hips back in a ache.

it tickled – for you, the fabric of your own soiled garments tease at your gummy walls at each frantic thrust choso barrels into you with. this new, almost fuck was intriguing… and pathetic how hard he was trying to feel more of you.

catching your bottom lip between your teeth, you hear his breathing become heavier. it was cracking into whines as he was losing it from this enticing reality.

choso’s hands grip hard around your sides – bruising too as he felt his balls tightening. his hips were beginning to stutter, legs almost buckling. he reached a certain limit to rut harder—desperately, feeling a sudden rush shoot up his spine.

he lets out another, final whimper.

“ah!-- what did i tell you!” the warmth of a puddle of creamy cum spurts right against your clothed slit, almost oozing through your panties and seeping between your folds from the hard press of his hips trying to shove himself as deep as he could.

it was a lot. warm too. choso popped his heavy knot of spunk right on you, and in no shame, his head rolls to his chest with squeezing eyes.

“get… gojo to buy you some new clothes then…”

<– BACK: PINNED ౨ৎ NEXT: MORE CHOSO –>

[v1ct0la]

kindergarten - abby tlou2 x reader oneshot [SFW]

Months after landing on Catalina island with Abby and Lev, many of those months spent recovering from your injuries (both mental and physical), you decide to volunteer at the fireflies’ kindergarten. When Abby visits you one afternoon while you’re teaching, you and the kids force her to join in your game of hopscotch…

SFW oneshot

1,719 words (I GOT CARRIED AWAY HAHA SORRY)

TLOU2 au, set on Catalina island after the events of TLOU2

Inspired by the WLF school and someone who headcannoned Abby playing hopscotch (I can’t remember whose blog it was so if you know please tell me so I can tag them!!!)

TWs: description of injuries in the beginning 2 paragraphs - other than that, just pure joy, love, and peace 😊

let me know about any mistakes!

After you, Abby, and Lev reached the island in the spluttering boat, the three of you collapsed onto the rickety Catalina boardwalk. Blood gushed from the stab wound in your side, mixing with the salty brine of the ocean, running in rivulets down to where it dripped off your fingers and splattered onto the wood. You spat the rusty taste of old blood from your mouth, struggling against the pain, and hauled yourself to your knees. Your wound pounded, and you shot your hand up to clamp it down in an attempt to stop the bleeding after your sudden movements. You looked up at Abby, who already was on her feet and staggering to pick up Lev’s limp form.

You stood, swayed with lightheadedness from loss of blood, and stumbled towards the pair. Abby heaved Lev into her arms and started shouting for help, causing the boy to stir through his unconsciousness. After her repeated calls, other voices stirred and began to ring out, but the blood pounding in your ears, muffled it. You couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, could only hope they would help. Heavy footsteps made the boardwalk beneath you shudder and before you properly registered them, the ground beneath you suddenly felt much too far away. 

Your vision swam, your legs buckled, and as you collapsed onto the ground, you heard Abby shriek your name. All you could feel was hands grabbing onto you before you sank into the inky black of unconsciousness. 

* * *

Sunrays filtered through the grimy windows, throwing the cozy classroom into a glittering spectacle of glowing afternoon light. It had been almost a year since you escaped the violence of Santa Barbara, months you had spent recovering with Abby and Lev at your side. Most recently, however, you had asked to take up the position of teacher at the island’s kindergarten. It was a little classroom of about 15 young kids that you absolutely loved. Before you met Lev, you didn’t really like kids - found them sticky and loud. But they had grown on you, always little faces beaming with joy and curiosity, despite the state of the world. 

Today had been as fun as always, albeit long. You had been teaching the kids about various marine animals, and presently, were showing them old images of spotted seals. 

“Okay, now, who call tell me where to find spotted seals?” You asked the children.

A chubby little hand shot up, and you called on the little girl to answer. 

“Spacific Ocean!” She shouts, and you giggle.

“Pacific Ocean,” you say to her, “but yes, good job!”

You hear a knock on the door, and you look up to check the clock. It was nearly 2pm, which meant it was time for a break. You smile at the other teacher through the door’s glass, nodding to let him know you’d take the kids out.

“Alright goobers, it’s break time,” You call out over their little voices, “everyone, line up by the door, double file!”

Outside in the warm sunlight, you guided the children over to the playground. Once you gave them the go-ahead, they all scattered, splitting off to play their little hearts out. You stood off to the side in the shade with your hands propped on your hips, surveying. A cool breeze rustled through the foliage, and you were grateful for the relief it brought you.

A tug on your pants caught your attention, and you looked down. The girl from before, Natalie, was staring up at you with big brown eyes. “Play hopscotch with us pleeeeease?” She asked. You grin at her cuteness and agreed. She grabbed your hand and dragged you off to the chalked concrete where a few other kids were already hopping along. 

It was your turn. Little Natalie clapped and cheered loudly as you jumped forwards and into each square. As you got to the other end, you held your hands out in triumph, and the kids all laughed with you. 

“Reigning champion, are we?” You spun around at the sound of her voice, face already breaking out into a grin.

Abby stood a few feet in front of you, arms crossed. “How long have you been standing there?” You asked, stepping towards her. A sheepish smile and warmth spread across your features in slight embarrassment at yourself. 

“Only long enough to watch your turn” Abby smirked, uncrossing her arms to pull you into a tight embrace. Her chin nestled into the crook of your neck and your breathed in the comforting scent of pine that clung to her short braid.

You missed her long hair, but after Santa Barbara, she was still growing it out again. It sat just beneath her collarbone, and you thought it was perfectly endearing, even though she still opted to have it pulled away in a tight braid. 

“How was your day?” She asked softly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. 

You pulled back to reply when you were cut off with the shouting off the kids behind you. You turned to them. 

“Miss y/n! It’s your turn again!” one of them whined, and you looked back at Abby with an eyeroll. She untangled herself from your embrace and pushed you away gently.

“Go,” she smirked, “I’ll be right here, watching you.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” you reply, a grin spreading across your face. Her brows furrowed, and you grabbed her wrist before she could realise what you meant. You spun on your heel, dragging Abby with you.

“No- I’m not- y/n!” Abby protested, trying to pull herself free, but you were on a roll. 

“Oh yes!” You say in a sing-song, “it’s your turn.”

You pulled her forward and pushed her towards the starting square. The little kids had all gathered around the two of you to watch. “Look, it’s Abby’s turn! Look!” a little boy shouted out, much to Abby’s dismay. 

She looked back at you with an exasperated, making your laughter ring out across the playground. “C’mon Abs! Show us what you can do,” you giggle as you speak, egging her on.

She takes a tentative jump forwards, and you clap along with your students. She jumps again, and again, wobbling slightly each time she lands. She looks at you with a confident smile and your heart warms at the sight of her. The sunlight catches softly on her hair, haloing her in gold. 

The Catalina sun has been good to her the past year or so - her freckles are more visible than ever, her hair has lightened considerably, and you loved it. The recovery months had been long and painful - and not just physically. She sat by your and Lev’s beds for the first few weeks, only getting up when she was dragged away for meals by the nurses. Being inside for so long made her look gaunt and drawn, but now she shone with newfound radiance and peace. She was safe, and so were you. 

In a few more jumps, Abby was near the end of the hopscotch. As she leapt for the final square, she made a fatal mistake. She tilted her head to look at you right as she jumped - and lost her footing as she landed. Abby stumbled, falling right on her ass.

You burst into laughter, as did your students, and Abby’s head snapped to you. It was so ridiculous, the way she tumbled and looked absolutely mortified, and the more you replayed it in your head, the more you doubled over. You howled and fell to your knees - you had been so serious all day, and all your pent-up tiredness finally caught up to you. Tears streamed down your cheeks and your midsection started to hurt with your laughter. You watched Abby, who’s back was to you, as she slowly got to her feet.

Her head turned, and she glared at you. That shut you up. Her brows were knit together when she said “Oh, it’s over for you now!” The kids all screamed and laughed and cheered. She grinned evilly and stalked towards you. You jumped to your feet, shrieking and giggling. You spun towards the open field next to the school, and bolted.

You were never very fast, but then again, neither was Abby. Right now, however, you wished you had taken sprinting practice a little more seriously back at the WLF stadium. You could hear her heavy footfall behind you as she got closer and closer. The tall grass of the field whipped at your legs as you laughed and ran as fast as you could. “Get back here!” Abby shouted, which made you squeal loudly.

“Got you!” Abby’s hand caught your arm, and she yanked you back into her. You struggled against her, shouting and laughing, but you were fighting a losing battle. She pulled you to her chest, right as you tried to yank yourself free, and the two of you tumbled.

You both fell into the soft grass, and Abby’s hand shot out around your head to stop herself from crushing you. She had a huge grin on her face and you huffed a breath. “Not so fast anymore, huh,” she puffed. Abby trapped you in, encasing you in her warm body.

“Shut up, I almost escaped,” you smiled up at her.

You could feel your heart beating rapidly in your chest, both from your running and her closeness. She never ceased to make your head spin and your heart flutter, even after the past year the two of you had been dating. 

You tucked away a strand of her honey-coloured hair that had fallen loose from her braid during your scuffle. You watched her piercing eyes as they snapped down to your lips.

You trailed your hands up to cup her face, smiling as you pulled her into a soft kiss. You could feel her smile against your mouth as the two of you connected. It was sweet and slow, full of love. You brought a hand to rest on her forearm, and she trailed a hand to your waist. 

“Ewwwwww!” You heard a little voice call out, and the two of you pulled away from each other with a giggle.

“Oh shut it,” Abby called to the little boy and leaned down to plant a kiss on your forehead.

[stanheightsimp]

This sick strange darkness | Adam Stanheight x GN(afab)!Reader (NSFW)

Sitting on the balcony and watching the rain fall with Adam | 2545 words

(this is an AI-generated image, to illustrate what I had in mind)

I cannot sleep I cannot dream tonight I need somebody and always This sick strange darkness Comes creeping on so haunting every time - I Miss You, Blink 182

🪚 Content Warning : NSFW smut, vaginal sex, creampie, unprotected sex, spit kink

MINORS DNI

You're an urbexer living in Jersey City. Two months ago, a young man about your age, Adam Stanheight, disappeared. You were particularly affected, because he was your age. He could have been one of your friends, or even you. You'd often, if not every day, seen a sad-faced woman pasting missing person posters on the gray walls of Jersey. On several occasions, you went to her aid. She was Adam's mother. She often talked to you about him, about how, despite appearances, he was a good boy, passionate about photography, rock music and animals. Despite the fact that you helped this woman with all the determination you could muster, you were certain that Adam was gone for good. And that made you sad.

Despite the worrying climate of disappearances in town, this didn't stop you from doing your usual urbex. While exploring an abandoned house, "a great spot" according to your buddy who'd put you onto it, you found Adam. He was chained to a wall in a squalid bathroom, having not eaten for… days, weeks, perhaps? You still had one of his missing person posters in the back pocket of your jeans. Reassuring him as best you could (which wasn't easy), you called for help, and Adam was released.

Adam spent several days in hospital, before he was able to return home. But as soon as he stepped out of his shithole of an apartment, he felt very, very bad. Partly because it was the apartment in which he'd been captured. And secondly, because after spending several weeks alone, in complete darkness, he had a very, very hard time with solitude.

You were the first person he thought to call. Because you found him. Because you'd seen him at his worst, clinging to your leg, begging you not to leave him behind, as you were just about to leave for the front door to greet the paramedics.

You ended up sleeping at his place more often than you slept at yours, even finding his old sofa a pleasant place to sleep.

That evening, it was a stormy night. You couldn't get to sleep, listening to the sound of rain beating against the window and thunder rumbling in the distance. You didn't hear Adam's little footsteps approaching. He was curled up in his blanket, staring blankly at an invisible spot on the grimy living-room wall.

Hey, you you said. You okay?

He lowered his eyes and shook his head, before coming to sit on the sofa beside you.

Easy, Adam, breathe, you said, feeling the explosion near.

You'd learned to recognize the warning signs of Adam's mental breakdown. So you pulled him against you.

Another nightmare, eh? you guessed.

He gave you no response other than a slight nod, and a whispered sorry as he buried his face in your shoulder. You proceeded to rub the back of his hand with the palm of your hand, repeating comforting words in a low voice:

You're here with me, Adam, you're not in that squalid bathroom anymore. You're all right now. I won't let anyone hurt you, I'm here, Adam.

Outside, the storm was raging. Adam hiccupped, before starting to sob softly against your shoulder.

Adam, breathe, you whispered in his ear. Remember what we said. It's all right, Adam. Everything's all right.

He nodded weakly. Suddenly, an idea crossed your mind.

How about a smoke on the balcony? We'd be out of the rain and we could watch the rain fall. What do you say?

He raised his head and sniffed.

Yeah, I could use a cigarette.

You got up at the same time, Adam still wrapped in his blanket, he grabbed the pack of cigarettes from his coffee table, and you went out onto his balcony. The cold was biting, and you shivered.

As you both sat on the balcony, backs against the wall, Adam spread the flaps of his blanket so that you were both wrapped up in it, like a cocoon. His body was warm, you couldn't help but notice.

It feels good, he confided. You know, to be outside. It'd be better if it was somewhere else than in a place that's crap.

He pulled a cigarette from his pack, and proceeded to light it. And that's when, for the first time, you saw Adam. Of course you'd looked at him many times before, but now it pierced you. He was beautiful, painfully beautiful. Under the light of the moon, the flashes of lightning and the artificial illumination of the street lamps, the angular shape of his face was highlighted. So were his long, slender fingers encircling his cigarette.

He then handed you the pack of cigarettes, offering you one, which you declined:

I don't fancy a whole cigarette. Maybe I could have a few puffs on yours?

Yeah, no worries, he replied.

As he brought his cigarette close to your lips, allowing you to take a few puffs, he asked:

You know what's strange?

You brought your face close to his hand, took a drag on his cigarette, tilted your head back as you exhaled the smoke skyward.

Tell me, Adam?

Knowing that I could have died and no one would have cared. Not a single person in the world.

Your parents cared! you corrected him. Your mother put out missing person poster every day! And then… I cared.

That's what I don't get! he exclaimed. Why did you even care? Do you know how many people disappear every day? People who probably had a better life than me and a better chance of being found. People who deserved to be found!

His depreciation of himself, so sudden, so angry, brought tears to your eyes.

Because your mother told me about you! You're not the boy with the best life, but you're someone like me. Someone who does his best. Someone who's trying to keep his head above water in this rotten world. Someone who's imperfect, but who's human, sincere! you cried, your voice breaking.

Your gaze slid over him, and you whispered:

You're wonderful, Adam.

He flinched slightly when you raised your voice, and his gaze locked with yours, glistening with tears. A deathly silence now reverberated, interrupted only by the rain pounding on the roof and the thunder. His breathing seemed to freeze in his chest. So you did the only thing that made sense to you at the time. You took the cigarette that hung between his lips, half-open in surprise, placed it in the ashtray and then put your lips to his.

The first thing that popped into your mind as your lips finally met was the taste. They tasted of tobacco and mint toothpaste. Adam tastes warm. He tastes alive. His lips parted, allowing full access to his mouth, and your tongues intertwined. Who knew his tongue was so soft?

You deepened the kiss, coming straddling him, growling with pleasure as the kiss continued, Adam placing his hands on your cheeks. His teeth nibbled lightly on your bottom lip.

Adam… we… we should go inside, you said, your tone unequivocal about what's going to happen once you're inside.

Inside… he repeated. Yeah, good idea.

His lips were still touching yours, even if it had amounted to a gentle caress, his breath all against your skin. His hands slid down to your hips, and Adam let out a muffled growl before beginning to nibble your earlobe. Almost instinctively, your pelvis pressed against Adam's, and your hands went under his shirt, caressing his slim torso.

In one motion, you both stood up and walked back into the apartment, still kissing. Adam tackled you to the wall, devouring your lips with an avidity you didn't suspect, his whole body pressed against yours.

Fuck, Adam, I want you…

Yeah, I want you too, YN, he replied, breathing heavily, all against your lips.

With erratic movements and fingers trembling with desire, you started to unbutton Adam's pants, before giving up and attacking his t-shirt instead. Adam, raising his arms, let himself be undressed. You dropped his T-shirt to the floor, then ran your hands over his torso. He was really skinny; his captivity had left scars he hadn't yet healed. On his right shoulder, the bullet hole was still visible. He slid your pants down your hips, and his hand came to rest against your crotch, through your underwear. He smiled, his middle finger brushing against your already moist intimacy.

So wet for me, he said with a sneer, nibbling your lower lip.

Shut up, Stanheight, you replied, the end of your sentence choking in your throat as, through the fabric, you felt his finger sink viciously into your folds.

Hm? he said lightly, his lips sliding against your neck. You say?

Still groping, you made your way through the apartment to Adam's bedroom. You dropped onto the bed, Adam removing his jeans and rushing over to you with a hungry glint in his eye to remove your tshirt. Then, delicately, he grabbed your hand, slipping it between his legs. Through his underwear, your fingers wrapped around his cock and he let out the most glorious moan you've ever heard.

Take off my underwear, Adam, make me fucking naked, you moaned.

He made no bones about taking it off you, then taking off his own, sitting on the bed for a moment to see the mess you'd both become. Both completely undressed, both excited, both sweating and trembling with anticipation.

I want to do things to you, he says, his breathing shaking with excitement.

You pulled him against you again, naked body against naked body, eager to taste every inch of his skin. You kissed him full on the lips, savoring the taste of mint and tobacco, something new and yet so familiar. When you broke the kiss, a thin trickle of saliva connected your lips.

I want you to do things to me, I want you to ravage me, you said breathlessly, your mouth sliding down his neck to leave hickeys, as your fingers titillated his nipples.

Adam hiccupped with desire, his breath catching in his chest. His hand slid down your back, bringing your bodies together. He let his lips roam to your chest, kissing, biting and suckling your nipples with almost sloppy impatience. It was almost too overwhelming, almost too good.

You're incredible, you gasped.

He grabbed your hair, gently tipping your head back, and proceeded to devour your neck with ever so much ardor, while with his other hand, his fingers moved in and out of you

Adam… fuck me, you said, eager to have something other than his fingers inside you. You want it as much as I do, and I know it.

You proceeded to suck on his right nipple, tasting the salty, moist flavor of his skin. Adam let out another moan, more desperate than ever, and, moving his hips against yours, began to thrust delicately inside you. His forehead was pressed against yours, your panting breaths almost synchronizing. When he was fully inside you, everything seemed to stop. You stood still, as if suddenly aware of some kind of sacredness in the act. And also, let's be honest, that if you started to get wild already, you'd both cum very quickly.

Your hand grazed Adam's cheek and you got lost in his eyes. He gently began to initiate a movement, slow, ample. His fingers clutched at his sheets, nervously.

Your bodies were like two pieces of a puzzle. Don't think about the puzzle now, you are mumbling to yourself. Think only of Adam. You drew his face against yours, kissing him, and giving him tacit agreement to pick up the pace, which he did, kissing you almost desperately at the same time. Your nails dug into his back, probably leaving a few marks.

It's so, so huge, you whispered in his ear. You fill me up so good, baby.

In response, he grabbed your legs, and pushed them against your shoulders, sinking deeper into you. Your cry of surprise and pleasure echoed throughout the room. You opened your mouth, eager for sensation, but above all, eager for him.

Spit in my mouth, Adam.

Surprise flashed across his eyes for a moment, then, still pounding you mercilessly, he leaned forward, dripping a fine trickle of saliva into your mouth. Adam's taste invaded all your taste buds. He abruptly let go of your legs to place one of his hands on your cheek, kissing you passionately. A kiss filled with an almost indecent desire. Like, he'd just spit in your mouth in such a dirty way, and now he was taking you wildly.

Adam, I… you started, trying to hold back the climax that threatened to come. I love you! I love you!

Oh my God, I love you so much… he replied in a hoarse voice.

He kissed you almost brutally, almost as if he couldn't control himself anymore, as the rhythm of his hips increased at an indecent rate.

Then… orgasm reaps you. Just after he tells you he loves you, you cum, screaming his name so loudly that, if they didn't already, the neighbors must know his name by now.

Come inside me, you managed to articulate. Come inside me, I want to feel you.

I'm not wearing any... he began, hesitantly.

I don't give a shit about condoms, you replied, almost desperately, wrapping your legs around his pelvis. Come on, I want to see my beautiful boy cum in my little pussy.

Oh fuck… he murmured, burying his face in your neck.

You felt him spread inside you, and his hip movements continued for a while longer, before he came to rest, lying on top of you, his face still against your neck, his breathing short and choppy.

It was… he started.

Yeah. It was. you replied, stroking his hair.

He withdrew gently, and you felt all the cum he'd injected flowing out of you.

Oops! he said, chuckling lightly. Don't move, I'll get you something to wipe with.

He disappeared into the corridor for a moment and returned with a damp washcloth, which he ran gently over your crotch before caressing your cheek, looking at you with a look that expressed nothing but pure love.

I suppose now that we're… you begin, before interrupting yourself.

Maybe, after all, what you'd just done didn't have the same meaning for you as it did for Adam? Maybe it was just comfort sex in his eyes. He looked at you, tilting his head slightly to one side. Then the reasons for your hesitation became clear to him, and he gently kissed your forehead, before coming to nestle beside you:

Yes, we're together, and yes, you can sleep here. I promise you that by tomorrow, I won't regret anything I've done or said tonight, he said in a gentle voice.

You purred and snuggled up to him.

Outside, the rain had stopped. And deep down you knew it: this was the first night of a long series of nights at Adam's side.

[xsapphirescrollsx]

Dominion

Written: Oct 17 2023

Just a lil story I wrote today. I haven't written in some time. I hope you enjoy it! I wrote this story to this song ^.^

@titty-teetee <3

The best lie ever told about them was that the sun kills. But that falsity never really affected your life, mostly. You moved through levels of society like you ruled the night, and told the sun when to rise. Your mother called you aloof, a lazy rich girl- that is if anybody outside your kinship actually knew only you pretended poverty. You didn’t need to wear a disguise like the rest of them. There was a permissive, creeping, effortless prowling that came to you naturally. You wanted to fit in, but that was like a cat feigning to be a mouse and you never outgrew that proclivity. 

And it was this attitude that made you catch hell from your sister and father when you showed up late. The building was in the shitties part of town. Barrels burned with stank garbage for warmth as you stepped out of the alley opposite. Forty floors of culture they said. Consequently hidden by poor souls soothing and numbing their bashed spirits the best they knew how, drugs. They weren’t even worth eating.

Thin black sling backs lightly tapped as you walked across the street, onto the cement sidewalk and toward the farthest left front door. Puffs of snow gathered in the corners of the brick pocket near the door. You glanced again and on closer inspection a body lay there, away from the fires out front but you kept walking.

Past the dirt covered, shabby peeling wallpaper and rusted gates separating the inside of the building from the outside grunge. You were buzzed in and immediately approached by Mer’gene, a friend, well one of the people in this world who has known you the longest besides your mother.

“You are not dressed appropriately,” she hissed and stared at the thin black shawl you wore.

Your eyes rolled from her prim expression to the crowd in the foyer that was beginning to thicken like coagulating platelets. 

“It’s busy tonight,” you half said to her, but more to yourself.

Mer’gene glanced that way, “Yes, they want to pick who’s going to be President of the United States tonight. All the Elders are here….like your forefather.”

At the mention of Charlemagne you began to peel off the shawl and handed it to Mer’gene. “Well we can’t let him get in the way of a little fun.”

Passing through the foyer you followed the flow of people dressed in their best. Opulent comes to mind once you set eyes on the familiar market. What should have been a lobby for an apartment building was lined with shops, stacked on top of other shops. Bright lighting from eternal fire flames atop of metal poles lit your way. The direct opposite of what was being the brick outside, here, inside was spotless, clean and smelled of incense. 

You window shopped for the most part, just listening to Mer’gene talk about everybody and nothing at the same time as you imagined owning a five thousand year old human leather purse. A normal Wednesday night.

A pop and flash came from somewhere on the fourth floor shops. You ignored it at first and chalked it up to a grieving kin who decided to self immolation. A scream, shrieked inhumanly into the air. All stopped and turned toward the sound. It was an alarm. It was a call to evacuate and didn’t have to be told twice. 

Once again you were ushered out with the crowd toward an exit that emptied out into an alley. Bright daybreak rose over the galvanized fence to the east in the grimy alley. Beyond it police cars lined the street, a smile began to crease your lips. A bushy haired man in a sweater and his badge clipped on his hip near his gun stood. 

There he was.

Outside on the streets in this location had you looking wholly out of place. But it didn’t stop you from approaching the cops. Innocently you gazed around, swayed in your step, maybe applied phony little hiccups. That caught his attention, god you were great at pretending weakness. 

“Ma’am, what made you think you could cross that yellow tape?” the man pointed back behind you but choosing not to look you stared at him forcing your eyes to dilate in the morning light. “Are you on somethin’?” he questioned again. 

You stepped forward, attempted to speak and promptly fainted. 

“Shit,” you heard him say as he caught your waist. 

“You got that one?” said another cop's voice. “She looks thick, might hurt your back.”

You made note of that remark and silently vowed to see what he tasted like - later.

“No I got her. She’s probably a rich asshole hopped up on something. I’ll take her back to the SUV.”

The man dragged you the best he could around the waist as you completely let yourself dead weigh him. One car, four cars, and finally around the corner away from the crime scene you heard the door open as he still struggled with your body. So you decided to start slurring your words and reacting to be held by a ‘stranger’.

“Let me go you fuckin’ bastard,” you spit out, wiped your mouth and struggled to stand. “You took me out here! You said we would have a great time…” you began to cry a bit to make it look convincing. 

The cop pushed you into the back seat and slammed the door. You leaned against the door and watched him walk around the front. His head pivoted while his eyes seemed to look for people who might be watching. You shut your eyes as he opened the door and got in the back seat with you. 

You breathed lightly as if you were sleeping.

“Did you get your self drugged?” he asked quietly. 

Your non beating heart would've jumped if it was alive at the insinuation. 

You felt him move closer and move his arm over the back of the seat. His other hand was on your knee.

Suddenly he was closer to your face, your ear. “Hey. Hey are you awake?” he whispered. His hand began to caress up your thigh.

A dirty cop! You felt yourself begin to get wet. 

“You’re in safe hands sweetheart,” his lips murmured on your cheek. He moved his hand from your thigh. He grabbed your wrist and placed your hand on the hard chub underneath his jeans. 

“How’s that feel?” He forced your hand to continue to rub him. “Slutty little bitch on the streets, huh?” he croaked.

Your teeth pricked the inside of your cheek. Fuck it, you couldn’t hold out any more.

“It feels like I need to make you mine,” you opened your eyes and stared back at him completely lucid. Your lips drew back over the sharp canines in a lovely, perfect smile.

----

....to be continued?