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sexbot300 · 2 months

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౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ brat-tamer!toji

authors note: no thots, just him. this is just pure smut, sorry lollllll. need him so bad u don’t understand. with that being said, minors dni, 18+ ! thank you for the love on my first few posts! i appreciate it all of it <3 i'm not ignoring my messages btw, just extremely busy with my studies! ♡

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brat-tamer!toji who notices you acting up and simply asks, “cranky because you ain’t got dick today?”

brat-tamer!toji who only looks at you with a raised brow and (huge) arms across his chest when you purposely try to piss him off. so cute.

brat-tamer!toji who purposely puts his entire body weight on top of you when you beg him to stop due to overstimulation. he tugs you even closer, just laughing in your face.

brat-tamer!toji who stops thinking coherent thoughts when he sees you in a sundress.

brat-tamer!toji who rewards your good behavior with head (lets you squirt) and also punishes your bad behavior with head (denies you relief, gives in eventually, sometimes).

brat-tamer!toji who loooovessssss shoving your face into the pillow while you whine, pant, and moan. he loves to put your head into a headlock with his bicep, as drool escapes your lips, and you’re babbling like an idiot while he’s hitting it from the back.

brat-tamer!toji who casually lifts you up and fucks you in the air as if just anyone can do it. “such a perfect little pocket pussy,” he snickers.

brat-tamer!toji who gets you cock drunk so often (he’s starting to think that it’s your normal state).

brat-tamer!toji who likes to make you count every time he spanks the fat of your ass when arched up across his lap. slap! “24…” you say with a slight moan, biting your bottom lip in, as he soothes the red outline forming on your cheek. he grins above you, “should’ve known a cock-bent whore like you would take this as pleasurable rather than punishment.”

brat-tamer!toji who makes a safe word with you early on (which you tease him for doing so early, he only tsks because he knows YOU know how much you mean to him and he puts your well-being above anything else).

brat-tamer!toji who has a hidden collection of pictures on his phone with you smiling, his cum decorating your face.

brat-tamer!toji who grips your face in the middle of a make out session, pulling away as he notices your fucked out, panting expression. “open.” you quickly open up your mouth as he slowly lets spit hit onto your tongue. he lightly chuckles. “obedient slut.” you look at him, eyebrows furrowed and eyes wanting more. “swallow.”

brat-tamer!toji who finds his favorite position to be when his massive balls are hitting your clit and he mercilessly pounds, abusing your little cunt from the back as he strings profanity out of his mouth. or a full nelson where he just tells you to, “shut the fuck up and take it.” or even a mating press where he can pummel his cum into you while seeing your face contort in pure bliss. “y-yeah. ‘ust let loose. go dumb on this dick.”

brat-tamer!toji who regularly calls you; “slut, (needy or cock) whore, vixen, pretty, disgusting, (stupid) bitch, brat, bad girl, good girl, perfect, beautiful, gorgeous, princess, angel, (sex or fuck) toy, doll, bunny, cum-slut, cum-dumpster, sugar… etc”

brat-tamer!toji who gets annoyed at your endless ramblings about your day, he sighs and tells you to get on your knees. you promptly do that, but to push his buttons you don’t stop rambling on and on and on. somehow, this man manages to get his 8 (girthy) inches down your throat. “cant complain with my cock in your mouth, huh?” he only smirks as you become teary-eyed, moaning a little at his statement, lapping your tongue up and down like a starving dog. he throws his head back, forearms supporting him while you bob your head back and forth on his thick length. “hey… never said that my cock doesn’t appreciate your tongue. s’ch a good girl when you do what you’re made for. unh!”

brat-tamer!toji who presses against you into a mirror, his broader, massive frame encasing you while he stares into your soul. “i-i don’t understand what i did?” you look up at him feigning innocence, batting your eyelashes. fingers caress his forearms, down his hard bicep, and lightly trace his hardened outline. his eyes never leave yours, a stern, menacing look to the average person, but you can tell he’s about to have you praying for mercy in another way. “of course you don’t understand what you did.” you whine slightly when his fingers suddenly grab a fist full of your hair, burning your scalp, his voice turns mockingly softer. “all you know in that pretty, empty, head of yours is just fucking. nothing else.” he quickly releases you, eliciting a gasp, magically flipping you around in an instant so you’re staring at yourself in the mirror now. “told you not to play with yourself until i came home. but you just haaad to be difficult.” he gripped the vibrator in one hand that was tucked away, pressing it against your lips. “spit.” you spat on it, eyes full of want. he only snickered and smirked. “good luck thinking I’m going to let you cum. stare in the mirror while I do this.” he turned the toy on, a vibrating tune humming throughout the room. “need you to realize how pathetic you look begging.” you gasped slightly, “b-but-" he proceeds to pry your legs apart with one massive thigh, his hand gripping the front of your neck, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. “push your skirt up. you lost your right to cum, stupid whore. cum without permission, see what happens.”

brat-tamer!toji who loves to fuck you on his fingers. he loves the lewd noise it makes while ramming his two middle fingers in and out, or up and down. he loves to see your jaw go slack as you beg him to stop. “i-it’s… uhhhhhh! t-to- ah! -ji, toooooo-uhhh much!” he never loses focus, “yeah? yeah?” he presses his hand on your lower abdomen, “quite honestly, don’t care what you think.” he only licks his lips, his scarred lip grins with anticipation to finally taste you when you unfold.

brat-tamer!toji who degrades you like it’s a living but LIVES for your filthy mouth. he loves that you talk back, he’ll never admit it. he loves putting cum sluts like you in their place.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

brat-tamer!toji who weirdly… gets needy at times when you finish. he’ll hold you from behind, shutting his eyes while his arms are wrapped around, practically glued to your torso, the backside of your body molds perfectly to the front of his. legs intertwined, your head against his chest, a moment of pure bliss shared between you two. “who knew the big bad toji likes to cuddle?” “shut up.”

(silly toji! i need him to ruin me)

#jjk smut #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x you #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji x y/n #toji fushigro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x reader

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crowcravesmore · 22 days

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Dead Girl Walkin' (Frank Castle x F!Reader)

AKA 'Bounty & Bliss'

Frank Castle x F!Reader (18+)

+ After a mission gone wrong, you end up on the wrong side of Fisks gun, and now you're a wanted woman. You have 30 hours of freedom before every bounty hunter in New York has his eyes on you, so of course you run straight to Frank. Oh how he loves the sight of you.

Word Count: 5.1k ( It's actually impossible for me to write a "short" fic. I'm a wordy bitch, I can't help it. I love to talk.)

Warnings: Cursing, violence, reader getting beat tf up (She's got powers it's fine), explicit content/smut, Frank being such a softie for you, fluff (is that a warning?).

A/N: LETS GO FRANK CASTLE LOVERS! I absolutely adore this man, and I think it shows in how I write him. This is an oldie from my previous blog, but it's one of my favorite fics I've ever written. It's a long one so buckle up. (This fic was absolutely based on the song Dead Girl walking from Heathers the musical. Take that as you will.)

+ + +

It was an absolute fact that you weren't gonna die a peaceful death. Yeah no, you were gonna go out one of two different ways. One, a Bruce Willis, Die Hard type thing with at least two explosions. Or two, someone else is gonna punch your card for you. Full stop. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars, that's it.

Frank threw a guess in once. Said you’d probably go out saving a bunch’a kids from a burning building or something, because you're a soft ass like that, Sunshine, that’s why. He was three stitches deep on his right arm, and shooting you looks from his side of the couch. Ain’t that right, Sunshine?

Nope. nuh-uh, not even close. You get a grand total of thirty hours, all Courtesy of Mr. Kingpin himself. Fisk. What kind of name is Fisk anyway? It sounds too much like Fist, or fish, either way it’s awkward. You’re just being pissy, because you got caught, and Fisk is rubbing it in your face.

Third punch is to your jaw, and that’s the one that knocks you, and the chair you're strapped to, back. You’re taking this whole thing in stride, you haven't passed out or anything. Be proud of that. After the fourth punch Fisk finally waves his hand and lets— what's his name? Rick? This guy looks like a Rick —stop. You ever been hit with brass knuckles by a heavyweight? It sucks.

You were hired by an unnamed client to sneak into Fisks club, and put mics anywhere you could. It was easy getting in without being noticed, unfortunately for you Fisk has eyes everywhere. Fortunately for you one of your powers is strength, so a couple of blows by a heavyweight won't kill you. It fucking hurts though.

Fisk says something, but he’s standing on the other side of the room and your ears are still ringing, so he really says nothing. He turns, catches your eyes, and there's a curious sort of smile on his face. Your ears are still ringing but, over all of the noise, you catch him say ‘Again’, and brace yourself for impact.

Rick, son of a bitch, knocks you hard, just under your eye and you can practically hear the bruise forming. You must’ve blacked out for a second because when you blink there’s Fisk, dropped to his haunches in front of you. It takes thirty seconds after you start drooling blood for him to start back up.

“You’re a real woman, you know that?”

“And what does that make you?” Your voice doesn't even sound like you, it’s too scratchy, and your words are hard to make out.

Fisk sort of ignores you and says,“And Because I'm a nice guy,” Pulling a white handkerchief—Christ—out of his shirt pocket and wiping your mouth. “I'm gonna make this easy on you, how bout’ forty eight hours? Sound good?”

You’re so stubborn. Like, way too stubborn for your own good, that’s what you’re gonna tell Frank when you explain why you spit your blood in Fisks face. And because you’re a real woman.

“Thirty hours,” Fisk says, gripping the bottom half of your shirt, using it to wipe his face, and standing up. “Butch,—” So that’s his name, he looks like a Butch. “Show her the door.”

Brace for impact.

You can't be that mad though, I mean come on. After that stunt you pulled at the Quagmire tonight you’re surprised you’re even still walking-uh -running. So yeah, thirty hours and after that you’re gonna be a goddamn beacon of come get me for every baddie in New York. Okay, you gotta stop running or else you’re gonna pull something, and catching a cramp probably isn’t the best thing for you right now...just sayin’.

You pitch from a sprint to a light jog and eventually stop, bowing over and pressing your hands to your knees. A long groan crawls out of you, and you shake your head. The middle of 10th and 42nd isn’t the place to let it hit you. Clear your throat, spit, stand back up, keep walking.

You decide to swerve out of the road and onto the sidewalk, that way you’re not ass out for everyone to see. And it’s a helluva sight. You’ve got a bruise forming just under your right eye and your nose is busted to shit, not to mention the blood- that you’re not even sure is all yours- caked over you. All that and you probably smell like a back alley.

You shift and adjust, turn right toward the dock, and pick up the pace.

‘I can run,’ you think, digging your thumbnail into your palm. ‘haul ass to Seattle, become some poor fisherman's wife.’

That doesn't sound all too bad, besides the fact that Fisk has got eyes all over this goddamn city. You so much as even look toward the bridge and his thirty hours-oh-mercy are gone. Poof! You won't even make it out of New York.

A street light flicks off for a second before coming back to life, and you dig in your back pocket, fishing for your phone. It’s a mess of cracks and smeared blood, but still manageable. You click it on and the screen gives a few half assed flashes of light before turning on. Yeah, still manageable.

You wipe the screen against your shirt and pull it back, checking the time. Twelve oh five. Good, he's still up.

•

Frank's van is static under the west bridge, just next to the pier. It’s a beige camper he’s had since way back when, and is still too sentimental to give up. It’s rusted, a hubcaps gone missing, and the battery is standing on it’s last leg, but don’t ever tell Frank it’s anything less than perfect. Seriously, buddy, don't do it.

You called it a piece of junk once, something mumbled between Frank trying to turn the engine over and almost flooding it.

“If you don’t like it that much, Sunshine, you can walk back.” He shakes his head and turns the key over again. The engine makes an almost awkward sort of noise. Something like a cr-r-r-eek! Before gray smoke creeps its way from under the hood. “God fucking damnit.”

You're ninety percent sure the only reason he didn't knock your head through the window is because he's got a soft spot for you....Eighty-five percent.

Your boot knocks against an empty can, probably oil, and Max pokes his head up. He's lying right outside the van's side door, tucked halfway under it with his head on his paws. You go still and try to remember if this dog actually liked you or not.

When he doesn’t move you chalk it up to a definite maybe, and start walking again. He lets out a few half assed growls before crawling from under the van and barking, loud and proud. You throw caution out the window and speed walk toward him, forgetting the fact that he’s a full grown pitbull, and wave your hands in front of you, shh shh shh! No, doggy. Nice, Max! You got a million different scenarios playing in your head, and none of them are good.

Max is howling now, nose pointed to the sky and oh sonofabitch.

You hear a gun cock over your head and now you're staring down the barrel of a shotgun. This was the fourth scenario. At the end of that is Frank, standing in a pair of raggedy sweatpants, an old NYU tee, and-Christ he's not even wearing any shoes.

You're still a little wobbly in the legs so you press your hand against the doorframe, and lean. That's it. Play it cool, nice and steady.

“Hey, Frank.” You say, and then. “Can I come in?” You're batting against four hours of sleep and maybe a concussion, so hey, frank is the best you're gonna do.

His shoulders slump down and he points the gun away from you, eyes moving three speeds too fast. Like I said earlier, you’re a helluva sight, girl.

“You look like the back end of hell.” He says, side stepping to let you in, eyes catching on your knuckles. They aren’t the worst of it, but you can tell a lot about a person from their hands, and Frank’s getting the whole goddamn story.

You step up into the kitchen—living room?��and focus on everything you’ve already seen before. The sketchy stain on the ceiling, the empty Budweiser cans, your feet. Just for good measure you pick up a roll of gauze and turn it over in your hand, because this is the most interesting thing in the world, not your bloody knuckles. And definitely not Frank who’s staring down your back, shooting imaginary laser beams your way. Pew pew pew. I’m calling it now, he’s gonna get mad. You know it, I know it, so just fucking face the music before he-

“So,” oh-Kay. He clicks the third deadbolt, and leans his back against the door, gun cocked on the wall, and arms crossed over his chest. “You gonna tell me what happened or am I gonna haveta’ guess?”

He doesn't have to guess, because he already knows. But, he's gonna lean back and give you a chance to say it before he starts pulling teeth.

“This was once in a lifetime, Frank.” You're pushing out excuses and he's barely said anything. “There was an opening-”

“Y/n, what the hell did you do?”

Franks more worried than actually confused. He knows you're in some deep-I'm talking chasm into hell deep- shit, he's just worried he's not gonna be able to pull you out.

“I went to the Quagmire, and Fisk was there.” You wring your hands because of the look he gives you. Priceless. “I had a shot, I took it, I—”

“Tell me you killed him.” He's shaking his head, tilt up, and looking at the roof. He's about to start praying, and lord knows he hasn't done that in a while. “Tell me you killed him, Y/n.”

The throbbing behind your eye is enough to remind you that no, you didn't. You came damn close though, I'll give you that.

Frank blinks, slow squeeze, and groans something low in the back of his throat. He drops his head and drags a hand down his jaw, you're gonna be the death of him if you keep this shit up.

“And,” you gotta get it out now, if you don't do it now you're gonna hate doing it later. “I got a bounty on me.”

“Course you do,” he's looking at you again, but his foot is tapping against the linoleum, so he's beyond mad now. “Is it active?”

You shake your head. “No, I got thirty hours.” You would have forty eight, but he doesn't need to know that...or why you don't anymore.

“Shiiit,” he almost laughs. “Bastard gave you a helluva’ lot more time than me.” His eyebrows tilt down and you catch the way his eyes track along your knuckles. You're standing in front of him, and in this light he can finally get a good look at you. And he doesn't like it. “What'd they do to you, Sunshine?”

There it is. You let out a halfhearted dry laugh and say. “Butch, son of a bitch has a solid right hook.”

“I bet I got better,” He says, lips upturning a bit.

You say. “Oh, I know you do.” And that's it, you're both drawn back into a moment that definitely shouldn't happen. Christ, girl, the man's a vigilante with a truckload of baggage. Stay away. Don't do it to yourself.

You gotta dodge this shit, so you say. “So, what do I do now?”

He gives you a quick once over and pushes himself off the wall. “First, you gotta take a shower, get your mind right.” He stalks over to the hall closet, and starts pulling out random things; a towel, a washcloth, sweatpants, and one of his Rolling Stones T-shirts. He tosses a Then we'll talk, and figure out our next move. over his shoulder and that knocks you back a minute.

Our. Don't dwell on that. Nope, nope, do not do it. You nod, walk over to him, and say. “Thank you, Franky.” Franky’s something only you’d get away with saying, just like he gets away with the whole sunshine thing. It’s weird, you’re weird, leave it alone.

When you reach him he pulls back, giving you this half look between you really okay? and it's okay if you're not. Oh, God, he's gonna have your eyes in the shape of hearts if he keeps this up.

“I'm fine,” You reach a bit more, and he meets you halfway, pushing everything towards you. “You better have hot water though.”

“Baby, you know I do.”

“Mhm, that's what you said last time.”

He says. “Just tell me if it's not hot enough for you, I'll fix it.” And you're positive it's borderline flirty. You gotta occupy yourself with turning on the bathroom light, or else he's gonna see fuuuck written all over your face.

You gotta say something back or it's gonna be one sided, and awkward so you push out. “I'll call you if I need you, Franky.” Low and slow.

Did you just?

Franks mouth pulls up into a grin and he's gotta wipe his hand over his cheek, as if he's just feeling the stubble. Look what you did, you're making him nervous.

Before either of you have a chance to react, the door’s closed and you're pressing your back against it. If you didn't know any better you'd think the man was making a move, but you've got a migraine from hell so you're gonna chalk it up to friendly banter.

You're gonna opt for a cold shower though, just in case.

•

The shower does wonders for you. Your regenerative powers help too, giving your body the chance to heal a bit under the water. You walk out dressed and unstressed with your clothes balled up in your arms, just about to call out Franks name when you hear him say. “Back here.”

You turn and walk into the small bedroom space, just big enough for the two of you. He's laying on his back with his arm thrown over his eyes, looking like absolute sin. Okay, yeah, you're cut off from reading tacky romance novels.

“You can just put your stuff on the table, we'll get em’ washed tomorrow.” He sounds tired.

You walk to the kitchenette table and drop your clothes on top of it, before walking back to the room and saying. “Or we could just get my clothes from my apartment, that's a pretty good idea.”

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “We could, and, you know what, why don't we go to the police station while we're at it and tell them about the bad man named Fisk?”

“What?”

“Oh, sorry, I thought we were stating dumb ideas.” He says nonchalantly, before adding. “You and I both know that it's not safe for you to go to your place, or else you wouldn't be here, right?”

He lifts his arm off of his face and looks at you. Yeah, right. You nod and he nods back, covering his face up again. “Right.”

Truth be told, you'd probably still be here even if it was safe. Truthfully.

You crawl onto the bed next to him and the springs groan out something light and metallic. Lay down, face up, be quiet.

“Y/n.” That's not quiet.

“Hm?”

“You're not doin’ this alone,” Okay. You turn your head to look at him but he's still got his arm over his eyes. “Not while there's air in my lungs.”

You say, “It's not your fight.” And Frank finally looks at you. His brows tip and he props himself up on one arm so he's leaning over you a bit.

“Hell it's not, you think Ima’ just let that bastard have at you? Nuh-uh,” He shakes his head. “Sorry to disappoint, but that's not how this works.”

“Then how does this work?” You're not mad, just curious. If this is going where you think it's going, God willing, Frank’s gonna be the one starting it.

He's the one with the brick walls here, so you're gonna let him be the first to break them down.

His eyes drop to your lips and roll over the curve of your jaw. It's sharp and soft at the same time, just like the rest of you. You shift, catch his eyes, and his sight slips off to the wall.

“I, uh.” he rolls onto his back and clasp his hands on his stomach. You're making him nervous and he's the one doing all the work. Jeesus, one of you do something. This is embarrassing.

“I don't wanna die.” What? You-pfsshhh. Yeah, okay, start there.

Frank has to blink that in, but he's still too chicken shit right now to look at you. So he asks. “Why not?”

For the love of God.

“Why not?” You repeat, frowning at the ceiling. Frank squeezes his eyes closed and shakes his head, backtrack.

“No, not-” He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand and gives himself a second to get it. He doesn't, so he just nods and says. “Yeah, okay why not? Why don't you?”

You sit up and turn to look at him. He's circulating between frowning at you, and the ceiling, and the door, so when his eyes hit you on their third rotation you say. “I don't wanna die, because I'm not ready yet.” Simple.

“Says the girl who went all Annie Oakley on a mob boss tonight.”

“It was his henchmen-”

“-henchmen?”

“-and that's not the point.” You ignore him. “The point is I'm scared. I thought I could do it tonight, but I didn't and now look at me.”

He does. In the weak light from his bedside lamp he can see all of you. The bruise forming (and healing) under your eye, and on the bridge of your nose. The scratch along your neck that dips just below the collar of your-his shirt. It's a lot. You're a lot.

He shifts and pushes himself up a bit before opening his arms. “Come here.”

Then your head is pressed against his chest, with your hand resting on his abdomen. Fingers curled in. You can hear his heart beating, thu-thump. Thu-thump.

His arm wraps around you and you can feel his fingers brush against the middle of your back, right at the dip. A train's horn blares in the distance and suddenly you feel really mortal.

This is it, Kid.

You've finally hit fuck it, because now you're lifting up and kissing Frank Castle. You half expect him to push you off, but nope, his hand pushes straight to your hips, your shirt hitching up around his forearm.

There's no awkward is this okay kisses, nope, you're both just diving for it. You push your hand up to his shoulder and-oh okay, yeah you do that- slide your leg over him, so you're halfway straddling him at least.

You push both of your hands to his neck, thumbs pressed against his jaw, and lean in. It's an awkward approach, something he wasn't exactly ready for this time because your teeth collide, and you're about to pull back and apologize when he reaches down and grips your ass.

Oh-Kay. He tugs you back up toward him and this time you're both ready. Especially you, because your tongue dips into Frank's mouth and he's just here for it.

After a while of just that, you lift up and press your hands against his chest. His other hand scoots up to your hip, and he starts rubbing up and down your thighs.

“Y/n-”

“Hold on.” You scoot so you're really on top of him and sit back a bit, feeling him rub against your clit. He lets out a sharp exhale of a groan and you lift up, before sitting back again and grinding against him. Frank tugs off his shirt and you follow suit, pulling yours up and over your head before tossing it off to the side, and Frank is on you.

You’re not wearing a bra, so he just dips his head down to lick your nipple into his mouth. He reaches up to gather your other breast in his hand, and you bring your hands up to his shoulders just to hold onto something. You bury your face in his hair, shift, and kiss along his head.

Frank starts peppering sloppy kisses across your chest before biting down on your other nipple.

“Shit,” you whisper. “Frank.”

“Mhm,” He’s got a vice grip on your hips, and then he’s bucking up into you. Slow and steady, and meticulous, and—Jeesus. His tongue swirls and bites, and you’re tilting your head back. Eye’s closed just feeling him.

Okay, you gotta-hold on. You push against Franks shoulders and his mouth comes off of you with an almost obscene pop. He starts to ask what’s wrong when you dip your head down and catch his mouth against yours. It’s slow and nasty and good, something almost too sensual to be Frank, but it is. It’s just you and him.

He mumbles. “Com’on.” Against your lips and rolls you over so he’s pressed on top of you. You’re rubbing your hands up his arms and over his shoulders when he —oh Christ, okay—reaches up to grab each of your wrist pinning them over your head. This is more of what you expected, you’re not gonna stop him though.

He peppers kisses along your jaw and down to your neck, before sucking.

“Fra-ank.” God you’re whiney right now, and Franks sucking hickies into your neck, so who the hell cares?

“What’s wrong, Baby?” Frank is an A-1 goddamn tease. Before you can get an answer out he pushes against you. Languid downward rolls of his hips, catching against you and pushing your body up juuust a bit with each thrust. “Hm?”

Your mouths open in an ‘O’ shape, and you’re positive you're not gonna be able to make clear sentences, so you lock your ankles behind him and drag him closer to you. He groans out a breathy ah, shit and pulls his head back up to kiss you again. When he lets your arms go he’s quick to get back on you, sucking and biting his way down your body, and you’re still too dazed to really get what’s happening until he says.

“Y/n.”

He’s sitting up, leaning back a bit onto his legs, with his hands resting on your hips. You prop yourself up on your forearms. “Yes?”

His mouth tips up into a half smile and he says. “I said you gotta lift up,” His fingers tap the waistband of your sweatpants. Oh, yeah, okay. You lift up your hips and he starts tugging your pants down, fingers hooked in your panties too. You lift up your legs and then he’s got everything up and off of you.

He settles back down, onto his stomach, with his head between your legs and looks up at you. You’re still propped up onto his shoulders, and you’ve got a pretty damn good view of him. He dips his head down and starts kissing along your thighs, and again it's strangely intimate for him. Out of your peripheral you catch a car's headlights move past the window, and you think to say something when you feel Frank slide his hands to the back of your knees and fold your legs back on either side of you towards the bed.

You feel him blow cool air against you and you gotta take deep breaths. Scoot, shift, and his face is right between the junction of your thighs. Your hand is in his hair when he drags his tongue up your pussy and over your clit. Your head hits the pillow and you push your other hand into the other one next to you. Gripping.

“Frank,” You breathe for no reason other than it’s just him. “Oh, God, Frank.”

He moans into you and that’s enough to get your back arching a bit. He starts in earnest, jumping between circling your clit, and looong strokes up your vulva. You start to wonder if he’s spelling his name down there, when he pushes his tongue aaaalll the way in until his face is practically buried inside of you. His tongue is pressed flat against your labia and then he’s licking inside you. There’s a pause while you gasp out a ‘Fra-a-ank’, before he starts tongue fucking you. You’re not sure what your sound limit is here so you’re doing your best to keep it to a minimum. Rotating between a string of Oh god, Yes, fuck, and Fraa-aank-just to be safe.

And then he plants his mouth over your clit and sucks, pushing a finger inside of you. Your back is almost full rainbow, pushing your head into the pillow, and your moaning out a loud. “Ooooh, fuck, Frank!”

He hums, and, without missing a beat, his tongue starts circling your clit, and he adds a second finger. Languid and intinse. Faster, tighter, you’re really pushing the sound limit here. He’s still working you to the edge, but has enough time to say. “Come on, Y/n. Come in my mouth, baby.”

You groan. “Oh shit,” But he pulls his fingers back a bit, curve, and he’s finger fucking you against your G-spot. He’s an angel.

You’re loud. Like-you’re voice is probably gonna be strained in the morning- loud. Frank pumps into you, tongue circling tightly, and gets just a little rougher with it. “Ah, fuck, Frank. Please-God-please…” He latches his lips around your clit and sucks, and it's gotta be biblical the amount of times you’ve said God’s name tonight. He presses against your legs and tucks his fingers, moans against you. Your jaw drops and you squeeze your eyes shut, pushing your other hand down to the back of Frank's head and pulling his face into you.

A strain of ecstasy pushes its way through you and you just can’t get out fast enough. “Frank-frank, oh GOD AAaaahhh!!” Your chest has a slow rise and fall to it, and Frank is back to being sensual. Kissing around your still sensitive clit and up your thighs. He lets go of your leg and pushes both of his hands onto your hips, you can feel your wetness on his fingers.

He pulls himself on top of you and this kiss is rougher, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. He props himself up onto his forearm and reaches down to push off his sweatpants, throwing them off to the side with the rest of his clothes.

“You ready?” His voice is wrecked, something you’re really not used to hearing from Frank. You think, and push up on his shoulders before wrapping your leg around his hip and rolling so you’re on top. Franks got this dazed smile on his face, and lord he is cute. Really, Frank Castle is cute.

He grabs onto your waist and lifts you up with almost ridiculous ease, before shifting his eyes down and watching as you wrap your hand around his dick and slowly guide yourself down onto him.

You press your hands against his chest and raise up, just to grind back down, and Franks gotta focus on his breathing or else he’s gonna cum way too fast.

You go like that for a while, a slow and steady rock, but Frank’s been sporting a hard on since you laid next to him so he’s not as patient as he could be. He adjusts his grip on your waist, hikes his legs up so he’s digging his heels into the mattress, “You ready, baby?” and starts to buck up into you. And you thought you were leading the show.

You’re panting out little ah’s with each thrust, and you gotta brace your hand on the headboard for some kinda leverage. Frank pulls you down onto his chest and kisses you full, mumbling a string of “You like that? Huh? Ah, fuck.” against you, before wrapping his arm around your waist. You grind down and meet each of his thrust and he’s done for. He pushes his face into your neck as he starts pistoning into you, lips mouthing at your neck. His thrust start getting sloppy, uncoordinated, and he moans out. “Com’on, Y/n.” Before reaching down and circling your clit.

And it's building and building and you rasp out. “Frank, I—”

He bites down on your shoulder and Oh, okay, yes that. You dig your nails into his shoulder and he’s forcing every ounce of himself not to scream. “Y/n!” Low and breathy. He still does. His hips stutter as he cums, and you pick up your pace, fucking him through it. His hips eventually stutter and he bucks a couple of times before sighing into your neck, spent.

You both just stay like that for a while. Breathing in each other, enjoying the come down. You can’t help but let your mind drift to thoughts of Frank outside of this. Domesticated, and lovely. He just came inside of you, so the idea of having his kids passes through briefly. You’ll deal with that tomorrow. He coaxes you off of him and onto the bed, sliding the sheets onto the both of you. Sliding his arm under your back he pulls you into his side and closes his eyes. You rest your head against his chest, hyper aware of how intimate this is. Neither of you are sure whether or not you should dwell on that or not.

He, Christ, reaches down and plants a kiss on your forehead before laying back and saying. “You’re not getting your card punched, not while I’m still here.”

Does he know what he’s doing to you? You just nod, because you’re not really sure if you believe him or not, and he sees that.

“Hey,” He says, nudging you a bit. You sit up and look at him, and he’s got this look in his eyes. Something like worry, and hope, and so much love for you it almost breaks your heart. “I’m serious, I’m not letting him or any a’ them get to you.”

You’re the closest thing this man has got to a friend, hell even a family, so yeah. You believe him. You nod and lean up to kiss him, before laying your head back onto his chest.

Thirty hours.

A/N: I'm actually obsessed with this man. Y'all please leave comments letting me know if you liked this / what you think. I wanna hear back from you! Have a great day, beautiful.

#I love writing so much what a great outlet #frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x female reader #frank castle fluff #the punisher #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #kash writes

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greenboyfriend · 1 month

Text

choose a fantastic green thing (tarot reading)

"what do you need to know?" image 1: ahh, a classic. woman with fish. iridescent fish, no less. image 2: women want him, men want to be him. whether you love him or hate him, you can't deny... he is a bug. image 3: the bowl. image source not everything may resonate with you, and that's ok! take what does & leave the rest. don't force it.

1.・。.・゜✭

hello friends. what a nice pull! you may be giving or receiving a gift as an act of charity or kindness. it seems like you’re unaware of something, but it’s not a bad thing. consider it blissful ignorance. it may be wise to stay in this state, shunning negativity/corruption. also, some of you may be dealing with children/ a child? maybe someone is having a baby?!

nevertheless, you’re trusting your intuition at this time, and it’s serving you. however, you may be a bit apprehensive about a change/transition you’re going through. know that it’ll happen no matter what you do! you’ll have to eliminate excess one way or another, cutting down to the bare essentials. it’s scary to go through change where you’re unsure what will happen, but you’ve got to do it at some point.

and anyway, you’ve got your intuition at your side. tune in with yourself however you know best, whether that be taking a walk outside, listening to your favorite song, etc, it will help you to regroup.

being sympathetic and loving towards others will also work in your favor. try to open up, and give others what you would like to receive yourself. “forgiving and forgetting” may also be relevant for some of you.

(6 of cups, death reversed, ace of cups)

2.・。.・゜✭

holy FUCK, you need to pump the brakes. holy FUCK, whatever it is, SLOW THE HELL DOWN!!! four of swords literally came flying out of the deck before i even got the chance to shuffle. take this as the universe/your future self urging you, begging you, pleading on hands and knees, to CHILL OUT!

yes, we all know you are very determined and forthright. yes, we all know it, and we all know that has turned out very well for you in other situations. however. at this point, you’re gambling whether things will go your way, and you can tell. loosen your grip on those reigns! resting ain’t so bad!! not every moment needs to be jam packed with activities.

i feel like you know that, but you don’t want to accept that it’s true, or can’t. despite this, you’re feeling the effects. the 10 of swords spells exhaustion & burn out– finding yourself depleted, full of swords, and on the ground (in vain); all the while, the call for action has not even arrived yet.

consider yourself. if you need to have a goal, think of it this way: how can you most effectively relax? what activities (or lackthereof) will make you feel the most refreshed when the time comes to get moving again? in a sense, take all the anxious energy you’re feeling, and put it to use by taking care of yourself. you’re not going to be able to succeed in the way you want to if you’re completely exhausted from ignoring your own needs.

so relax! if you’re not sure how, beg the universe for help. that’s what i did, and now, i have a cat.

(the chariot reversed, 4 of swords, knight of swords, 2 of wands, 10 of wands)

3.・。.・゜✭

your cards strike me as very sweet, my bowl lovers… after going through a trauma in your past, you’re working towards healing by opening up to those around you. now is a great time to be intimate, and not just in the romance way! maybe you’re interested in moving forwards with this, but you aren’t sure which path (which person/people, perhaps) to take. not to fear, however!! page of cups is here! let your heart/intuition lead you, and don’t be afraid to have some fun with it.

consider your emotions exactly as they are: does this person make you feel happy? secure? take your knee jerk reactions and mix them with your observations. after that, the choice should be clear.

six of swords is not always the most fun of cards (typically denoting healing, sloughing through the slop, ect) but trust that where you’re going certainly is… a blast, that is!! it may be a celebration you’re heading towards, but more than anything, it seems like you’ll gain a new sense of freedom. with the page of cups and six of swords present, this is likely how you approach your feelings & relationships, and how they’ve been impacted by your past. expect to shed some light on these patterns, and even overcome them entirely!*

these last two cards cement this message. if you go after what you want, you’re certain to meet success! it can be scary, and it might take a while, but keep trying! you can do this!!!

*for the time being, anyway. progress is not linear! sometimes it's 2 steps forwards to go 1 step back and that's ok!!!

(4 of wands reversed, page of cups, 6 of swords, 7 of cups reversed)

(pulled later: 6 of wands reversed, page of pentacles)

Ws all around my friends

#tarot #tarotblr #tarot reading #tarotcommunity #tarot cards #pick a card #pick a picture #pick a pile #pac #spirituality #witchblr #spiritual #witchcraft #witch community #pick an image

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itsmeatballworld · 22 days

Text

| it ends in heartbreak |

pairing | daryl dixon x f!reader

summary | you both knew he would break your heart. he couldn't help himself.

wc | 1400

warnings | cursing, sadness/heartbreak [aka the title]

a/n | I've had this in my drafts forever lol I forgot about this one! Also this is the first time I've ever written pure angst so go easy on me <3

You always knew this day would come.

There were signs pointing to the downfall of your relationship, signs you chose to ignore to enjoy the moments of happiness.

But the signs couldn’t be any clearer–it would never last. It couldn't.

It was the end of the world, for starters. Life was always in shambles. The group never stayed in one spot long enough. Even the prison wasn’t safe. With everything unstable, it should’ve been obvious this would happen, but you were naive to think you’d would be any different.

Because the reality was: this was always how it was supposed to end.

He was built on a fractured foundation. He set up walls and built his life around a broken base, worn down by his past that he couldn't escape. First, parents had cracked and hardened his outlook on life. Then his brother taught him he meant little to others by leaving him behind. Not once did he ever learn how to fix the ache in his heart.

Yet when he met you, things changed.

It was gradual. Pieces of him started to align and heal. The tough outer shell wasn't as indestructible as he first imagined. After some time he opened up and let you in.

But you both knew he would break your heart.

He couldn't help himself. It was in his nature to push back, to fight and wrangle away from anything that became too real. Too good.

But for the time being, you enjoyed the blissful moments of his affection.

When he kissed you goodnight it was over.

He lingered, almost as if he was allowing his lips to memorize the feeling of your skin on his. His fingers fell against your curves as you pressed into the cellblock’s cool cement wall. It was in these seconds of quiet where you both had a chance to breathe.

Pulling back, Daryl rested one arm above your head. He leaned in close, gazing sweetly down at you. His other hand slowly traveled to your face and Daryl’s thumb brushed against your bottom lip.

Without hesitating you whispered the words he never imagined hearing from you.

Love you.

There. Right there. You saw the spark in his bright blue eyes dim. The crystalline color washed away into a deep ocean blue. Rocky and turbulent. Daryl’s eyes were no longer filled with love, but rather, fear.

You lost him, right there, pressed against the concrete wall of Cellblock D.

This was destined to fail.

“Please don’t do this.”

“Have to.”

“No…no you don’t have to, Daryl.” Your chest tightened. It was like the air was on fire. No matter how deeply you breathed in and out, pain still resided in your chest. He was crippling you.

“Daryl–”

“Ain’t up for debate.” He stepped back, snatching his crossbow from the watchtower’s metal flooring.

Your hands fumbled to find your shirt, hating how he sprung this on you in the middle of the night. He didn't have patience to wait, apparently. Just break your heart and go, like it was nothing.

“I’m not trying to…I just…” you groaned. “What happened? Was it me? Did I do something?”

His eyes went wide. That scared, fearful expression washed over him once again.

Fuck, you squeezed your eyes shut. That was it. That look. It was just like the other night. When those stupid words stumbled out of your mouth, falling to the ground at Daryl’s feet. Just before he crushed them with his silence.

“Was it something I said?”

He didn't answer and his silence (unlike most nights) wasn't good enough. You needed answers.

“So that’s it then. You say ‘I’m done’ and leave before sunrise?”

The broody man fought to glance in your direction. Instead, he focused out towards the tree-line. He grabbed onto the windowsill and squeezed so tightly that the white of his knuckles appeared. But his tactics to avoid the conversation at hand weren’t getting past you tonight.

You shot up from the floor. “Daryl.”

“I ain’t got time for this.”

“You fuck me, say we’re done, and leave? Like this was all nothing? Like we mean nothing to each other?”

Daryl paused. He turned to you with lips curled into a tight frown. Even in the darkness of the watchtower, through the bright white moonlight, his frustration was clear.

“I said ‘I love you’, Daryl.” There was a desperation behind your words. Your voice was so deeply distressing it made your chest ache. It was heavy and exhausting to display your feelings out to him in the middle of the night. But you wanted more–deserved more–than a shitty ending to whatever you had with him.

“You think this is love?”

You gawked, “yes!”

He paced the small room like a caged animal ready to pounce.

You love this man.

“This ain’t love.”

You love this man. This jerk.

“Then what the fuck is this, Daryl? Tell me.” You paused, tears welling in your eyes but you refused to let them fall. “Fucking tell me!”

The shirt in your hands balled up tight around your closed fist. You were hurt. Everything about him was trouble and you let him in.

“I said ‘I love you’. I said it and now you’re pulling away.”

As he watched you, just for a moment, his eyes didn’t fill with fear or confusion. There was something there. Between the declarations, he looked apologetic. His blue eyes softened, letting the emotions he desperately tried to conceal slip past those walls he built back up.

“Well, shit! I’m sorry I said it. I fucked this up, didn’t I?” The gravel in your voice scratched your throat. Everything burned.

The apologetic stare turned pitiful. A deep scowl crossed his face and your heart sank. “Can’t mess it up when there was nothin’ here, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. It was so condescending as his drawl pulls at the syllables. That tightness in your chest balled into a pit of rage. Fire that burned you before ignited an anger inside.

You moved closer towards him. “You sleep with me every night. You kiss me before leaving on runs. When you think nobody’s looking, you hold my hand. We talk about our past. Our future. This is real, Daryl.”

“Nah.” He grabbed his belt, twisting it through the loops. “This ain’t real.”

Your fingers tightened on the fabric as you tugged the shirt on. “That’s not true—“

He huffed, staring out into the cloudy night sky. “You’re better off without me anyway.”

“Don’t. Don't say that. I’m not better off without you. I’d be worse.”

Daryl paused.

But the hurt and anger fueling your body didn’t stop. “So don’t make me feel crazy for falling in love with you. Like it was a choice? If I was fucking smart, I would’ve ran far away from you the second we met. But I didn’t. Because I saw you for more than the asshole you pretend to be. So excuse me for feeling blindsided by your decision to leave me.”

“Leave you?” He spat. “Get it through your head, girl. You ain’t mine! You’re just some bitch I screwed.”

The frogs croaking down by the creeks ceased to exist. Trees stopped rustling in the breeze. Crickets no longer sang under the stars. The world froze as his words were thrown at you with such haste. Like he didn’t think twice.

Your arms wrapped around your waist, tugging at the fabric clinging to your body.

He didn’t look back at you. His eyes seemed to drift anywhere but you like he couldn't face the fact that he said it out loud.

No, no. He doesn’t really think that…

Your voice cracked as the tears from earlier were not going to wait much longer. “Daryl–”

He turned on his heels and was out the door. Down the ladder, each step was louder than the last. You paused, bawling your fists as the tears finally spilled across your cheeks. Loud and heaving gasps, muddled together with hot tears.

He broke you down within seconds. The tears and sobs continued on for what felt like forever until you finally had a moment of rest. The tightness in your chest subsided, thankfully, but this was the easier part. Tomorrow will be harder when you’ll have to put on a fake smile, wipe away tears in the dark prison hallways, and avoid him.

Forget him. Forget him…right like it would be easy. It’ll be fucking impossible to forget him.

You wished you could hate him. But you don’t.

So for tonight, you let yourself feel the heartbreak and planned to stand taller tomorrow. Because in the end you knew it would never last.

But it didn't matter.

You loved that man.

Yet after everything, he might have been right. You weren't truly with him.

And maybe he never really cared for you at all.

-xx-

a/n 2.0 | daryl PLEASEE {as if I didn't write him to act this way}

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #dary dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #y/n x daryl dixon #reader x daryl dixon #you x daryl dixon #angsty angst #sad reader and broken daryl #daryl twd #daryl x reader #the walking dead daryl

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mlm-ficcollection · 2 months

Text

Jasper Hale X Male! Reader (part. 2)

(I'm only a little bit ashamed that I forgot to post the second chapter on here. Anyways, enjoy!)

(Part. 1)

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

The newborn lay in bed, glaring up at the unassuming and undeserving roof, and wondering how someone had just managed to come out for him.

After the incident, (y/n) stormed off into his room to cool off a bit (before he murdered Edward. Which he would be justified in doing thank you very much).

Coming out was, or had been, important to him. It was supposed to be a heartfelt moment of acceptance and love, a chance at something he'd never gotten before. And he knew that the others weren't blind to that fact either. He'd seen the look in Carlisle's eyes. The doctor certainly wasn't stupid. He knew he had his suspicions.

But this was not how coming out was supposed to go. He wished he had a rock or something just so he could chuck it at something (someone).

A soft knock came from the door, interrupting his seething. (Y/n) growled in frustration, turning over in the bed and facing away from the door.

"Fuck off Edward! Apology not accepted, go fuck yourself."

A small pause came from the other side of the door, sounding vaguely like someone stifling their laughter.

"... Well, what if it's not Edward?"

(Y/n)'s eyes shot open and he sat up with a start, recognizing the southern drawl on the other side of the door as definitely not Edwards. He slowly laid down again,

"Come in Jasper."

The door opened and closed, and the man approached the bed. (Y/n) did not avert his gaze from the roof. He felt no need to. The sheets of the bed shifted a bit as Jasper laid down next to him, staring at the roof as well.

For some reason, it didn't feel awkward. It just felt... safe, and calm.

"What're we lookin' at?"

Jasper asked, blinking at the empty grey roof. The newborn hadn’t the heart to tell him he was just glaring at the roof and imagining chucking rocks at his brother.

"It's new to me, this whole vampire sight. I can literally see the tiny insects on the roof." (Y/n) answered, not technically lying.

"... I'm not sure I like it. I lived in blissful ignorance of how I was surrounded by bugs before."

Jasper let out a huff of a laugh, and then they fell into a comfortable silence once more. There was tension brewing under the surface though, as if Jasper was waiting to say something that he didn’t quite know how to phrase. That wouldn’t surprise him. The man wasn’t exactly a star at navigating social interactions, mostly opting to stand back and observe.

Brooding, (y/n) had called it once, to which Jasper had responded with the most unamused of looks, making him throw his head back in laughter.

"You know it's okay right? To be gay, I mean."

Jasper stated, breaking the silence, but not the gaze on the roof. The poor roof had been subject to their scrutinising gazes for quite a while now.

(Y/n) didn't know how to respond. He couldn’t exactly argue. He knew it was technically not wrong - but some part of him still believed it was. His whole life he had been told he was wrong, a sin, a disgrace.

"... Is it?"

He mumbled, more so to himself than as an actual question. Life lessons were not always so easily unlearned. Then again, he had been taught vampires weren’t real too, and that had been unlearned pretty quickly.

Jasper frowned. (Y/n) wondered if he had upset him, as the silence between them stretched on.

"... I'm gay too, y'know. Sorta. I don’t really know all the… Words. Labels. Alice, uh, tried explainin’ but it ain’t sticking." He motioned noncommittally with his hand,

“I like women and men.”

Bi, (y/n) thought to himself, while also reeling from the weight of the words Jasper had just spoken. (Made sense though, that he had a hard time with the labels. From what he knew, Jasper was from a time you were either gay or not. Preferably not.)

…

Bi. Jasper was Bi. Jasper liked men and women.

“Wasn’ easy to come to that conclusion. Confederate Texas wasn’t the most open a’ places, believe it or not.” (y/n) snorted. Jasper smirked at the reaction, but continued. “I had to… Unlearn a lot of stuff, I’m sure you can imagine. Alice helped a lot. Anyway, it’s not wrong.”

They fell back into silence again after that. They tended to do that. Neither of them minded it.

(Y/n) couldn’t just… Unlearn everything on the spot.

But with time he’d get there.

“Thank you, Jasper.”

He responded eventually, looking over at the blond. He nodded at him.

“It means a lot.”

And Jasper simply nodded in response, returning the newborn's gaze before averting his eyes, back at the roof.

They both laid there, watching the roof. Or maybe just thinking. It didn’t matter.

Eventually, Jasper stood up to leave, nodding goodbye to the newborn once in the doorway. The newborn held up its hand, tipping a pretend cowboy hat at him, eyes twinkling mischievously. Jasper rolled his eyes. The fond smirk on his face was still there when he closed the door.

…

Jasper was bi. A tingle of hope spread through (y/n)s body, shooting through him like adrenaline.

————

Time passed, and… Nothing happened.

A couple of longing looks, a couple of too many lingering touches at training, but still, nothing. Let it be known that neither of the two men had a reputation for being fantastic at communication. It was likely that neither of the men wanted to assume the other one liked them back for fear of being wrong, of accidentally pushing the other away, of ruining what they had.

It was disgustingly adorable and horrendously frustrating to watch.

“I don’t get it.”

Alice declared, standing by one of their very large windows and peering out. In the woods, Jasper and (y/n) were training once more. Jasper brushed a hand against the newborn's shoulder, and Alice had to turn away from the window to stop herself from throwing a rock at them.

“How can they be this oblivious! I don't understand!”

“They are both afraid of making a mistake,” Edward stated from his place on the couch, distantly gazing into the trees. He seemed to be listening to them, more so than watching them. “Each wallowing in their own personal pit of self-doubt.”

“Yes, but it’s so obvious!”

Alice dramatically gestured with her hands - and it was obvious that this was killing her, not being able to just… Tell them that they were both wrong, that the feelings were requited. To not be able to help them.

“We have to let them take their time.”

Alice spun around, and there was Carlisle, coming down the stairs slowly. His gaze was set on the two men in the woods as well, before he looked over at Alice, his eyes gentle, and kind, and understanding.

“They have to realise it on their own. We can’t force their hands on this.”

He was right, of course. And Alice, if anyone, knew they’d get there eventually.

But holy shit could they take their time.

#jasper hale x male reader #twilight #jasper hale x reader #x male reader #male reader #twilight x reader #gn reader #jasper hale x gn reader #jasper hale #jasper whitlock #jasper cullen

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k-marzolf · 7 months

Text

experience.

low key Mafia!Billy, dark themes, nightmares, insomnia, alcohol consumption, kissing, possessive behavior, f!reader.

summary: you wake up to find your shared bed empty after a nightmare.

words: 421.

Rabbit Heart Masterlist.

&&&

You tossed and turned, a sweat breaking out as your heart rate picked up, and you whimpered. You jerked awake, sitting up and gasping. The windows were open, and the curtains blew in the wind as leaves rustled outside, making you shiver in a cold sweat.

You touched his side of the bed, feeling your heart still racing. It was cold. He wasn’t with you. Your heart rate spiked. Why? Your anxiety told you something was wrong, the remnants of whatever you’d been dreaming about, lingering.

You felt alone, a sudden feeling you were alone in the house.

You kicked the duvet off, before standing up and moving to the door, peeking down the hall. A light was shining in the den. You weren’t alone, you told yourself. Your feet moved softly on the wood, as you pushed open the door to the den.

He was there, sitting on the couch, hair mussed in a pair of sweatpants and a shirt, drinking, looking as though he was fighting personal demons. He looked up as you stood there in your nightgown, his eyes had dark circles under them, and he looked exhausted. “Can’t sleep, bunny?” He asked, stretching his legs and patting his lap. He could tell you’d had a nightmare. You looked shaken up.

You eagerly moved over to him, climbing into his lap. “I can’t sleep without you.” You said, tucking yourself under his chin.

“What am I gonna do with you, bunny?” He husked, playing with your hair, nails scratching your scalp. The same hands that shed blood were tender with you, gentle. As though you were treasured.

You purred softly. You knew Billy wasn’t a good man. He had probably killed and threatened more than you knew to maintain what was his, but you felt safe with him because he’d always treated you well—better than your father had who had traded you to Billy, even though you knew Billy kept most of what he did away from your eyes.

Ignorance was bliss.

You pressed your lips to his, tasting the bourbon on his tongue, his fingers still tangled in your hair. “We could chase away each other’s demons.” You said against his mouth.

He smiled, a tired but dark edge to it as he squeezed your hips. “My sweet girl.” You were the one shining light in his life.

“I want to be with you forever, Billy.” You said sweetly, fingers curling into his shirt.

He hummed, “I ain’t never gonna let you go, bunny.” A dark promise.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 1 year

Text

Write Love on My Skin

Summary: Y/N's bored and wants to play a game with Dean. Who will win?

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Not much. Fluff, lots a fluff and silliness. Smidge of angst. Bit of kissing/making out, nothing too explicit. All fairly fluffy sexiness.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Y/N

Word Count: 2,233

A/N: So, my dear friend, @winchesterfanatic1967 has been feeling down and out lately, and having a really rough time of it. So, she made the following request for a fluffy/sexy Dean fic:

I've really been missing Supernatural and Dean lately and also been sort of down. If it's ok I would like to request some major Dean x reader fluff where he's tickling her and while doing so he discovers how ticklish underneath her arms are for the first time maybe while tickling her ribs and he gets too close? She's desperately trying to keep him from getting her there but fails and while holding her arms up she's begging him not to and he can't help but laugh along with her cause he's never heard her laugh or beg like that before while tickling her and he finds it super cute?

So, I've attempted to give her what she was looking for in this fic, and I hope you all enjoy it as well.

If you do enjoy it, please don't forget to Reblog and Comment. Means the world to us writers! ❤️

The beautiful divider below and at the bottom was created by @talesmaniac89.

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Y/N looked up from the incredibly boring book she was reading and groaned towards Dean who was sitting on the other bed in their cheap motel room, methodically cleaning his weapons.

“I’m bore-duh!” She whined at her best friend.

Dean’s lips quirked up slightly as he pulled off the etched slide barrel of his silver, 1911 pistol, but otherwise he ignored her cry of distress and continued to pull apart his favorite gun.

Annoyed by his unwillingness to drop everything and make her boredom go away, Y/N tossed her book across the room, hitting him in the upper arm.

“What the fuck?” Dean grunted, turning to give Y/N an extremely offended look. He picked up the book and tossed it back onto her bed. “Did you just throw that at me?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Oh, it’s a barely two hundred page paperback, you’ve taken worse.”

Dean scowled at her and Y/N let her face crumple in misery. “Deeeeeeeaaaan.” She whined again. “Entertain me.”

Dean scoffed and returned to the task in front of him. “What, you want me to do a song and dance for you?”

Y/N nodded, eyes bright. “Yes, please!”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, that ain’t gonna happen.” He said as he began rubbing his finger along the inside of the barrel with a soft cloth. Y/N tried not to notice just how nimble his thick finger was as he pushed it back and forth along the chamber.

Those fingers had skills.

She’d been best friends with Dean since they were kids, and there wasn’t a person in the world that she trusted more. They’d been through everything together, including a slightly inebriated night of sex and laughter nearly five years ago. When they’d woken the next morning, though, they’d both been slightly panicked that they were going to ruin the best thing in either of their lives, and neither of them were willing to risk it. So, they’d agreed to forget it happened, and worked at getting back to being buddies.

There had been many weeks of awkward hunts and even more awkward rounds of drinks afterwards, but eventually things leveled out, and they got their easy, incredible friendship back. And Y/N was grateful.

But she also never truly forgot.

She never forgot the way his mouth felt, hot and soft against her hammering pulse, or the way his body made her vibrate with pleasure as she skimmed her hands across it, or the way his strong fingers felt dimpling her skin and pushing into her body, strumming and plucking bliss from head to toe.

She never forgot, but for fear of losing him, she pretended she did.

Now she shook her head and pushed the intrusive, dirty thoughts to the back of her mind and renewed her attempt to get him to solve her boredom.

“Come on, seriously. Clean your guns later, let’s play a game.”

“Okay,” Dean said, glancing at her, “let’s play the quiet game. First one to talk loses.”

Y/N shot him an unimpressed look. “Ha. Ha. I lose. Let’s play something else now, shall we? Pick a game!”

Dean pushed out his lips and closed one eye in concentration. “Hmm…strip poker?”

Y/N felt her stomach dip and she answered instinctively. “Kay.”

Dean’s head whipped towards her. “Really?”

Y/N affected a laugh. “No. Not really.”

“Cruel woman.” Dean pouted teasingly, but Y/N wondered at the real disappointment she could see in his gaze.

But she ignored that too, and just smiled, picking up her phone. “I’m gonna Google us a game to play.”

Dean just shook his head and went back to his gun.

After a few minutes, Y/N found a game that she pretended was going to be perfectly innocent, and bounded over to Dean, forcing him to drop the pieces of his pistol back onto his bed, as she pulled him over to hers.

Dean was laughing in exasperation. “Jesus, Y/N you’re like a rambunctious toddler today.”

Y/N pushed him down on the side of the bed and climbed up to kneel behind him. “K, so the name of the game is, ‘Messages’. So, we each take turns tracing words onto each other's back, and the other person has to guess the message. It’s like Broken Telephone for two people.”

Dean shook his head, and sighed. “Wow, sounds like fun.” He said with unconvincing cheer.

“Shut up, it will be fun.”

Y/N thought about what she wanted to write first, and then began tracing it across the plaid flannel that stretched across Dean’s back.

“I’ll write one word at a time, and you try to guess after each word.”

Dean shrugged, playing along. “Fine.”

Y/N spelled out her word slowly, and Dean guessed. “Y/N?”

“Uh huh.” She said and continued.

“…is…”

“…the…”

“...worried…?”

“No.” Y/N laughed. “Here, I’ll do that one again.” She said and spelled it out once more.

“...world…?”

“Close enough.” She allowed and continued with the next word.

“...best…”

As Y/N spelled out the last word, Dean snorted in disbelief, and turned to look at her.

“Y/N is the world’s best hunter?”

Y/N beamed at him. “Why thank you, that’s very kind of you to admit.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever, sweetheart, my turn.”

He lifted her up and set her on the floor in front of him, making her giggle at being tossed around like a sack of flour. He was tall enough that even with her standing, he could reach her back easily.

“This is a very simple phrase. Just two words. I’ll spell them both, see if you can guess.”

“You…wish.” Y/N recited and then spun around to punch him lightly in the shoulder. But Dean caught her fist before she could land it, and yanked her forward while he fell backward, pulling her down on top of him.

Y/N was laughing breathlessly as she tried not to relish the feeling of Dean’s hard body beneath her own. They were behaving like children, and no doubt that was what Dean was thinking as he ran his hands up her ribs, though she was sure she saw a familiar kind of heat come into his expression just before he rolled her over and pinned her underneath him and began tickling her sides.

Y/N laughed loudly as she writhed, pushing at Dean to get him to stop. “You’re so mean!” She gasped out. But the corded muscles in his forearms easily withstood her attempts to stop him, and after a minute he slid his wiggling fingers up under her arms, tickling her mercilessly as she screamed in laughter and delight, even while losing her breath completely.

Tiring of her pushing against his arms and shoulders, Dean grabbed up both her wrists in one hand and held them easily above her head, allowing his free hand to alternate from right side to left, as she bucked beneath him and cried tears of laughter. Before long, Dean was laughing hard too, enjoying Y/N’s simple joy and pure soul shining up at him.

Finally showing her some mercy, he stopped and let go of her wrists, shifting slightly so he straddled her hips, lifting his weight off of her, and digging his knees into the mattress on either side of her.

He ran his hands up and down her sides soothingly; Y/N closed her eyes and sighed with pleasure, and Dean groaned.

Y/N’s eyes popped back open, not sure she’d interpreted that groan correctly, but as she looked up at him there was no mistaking the heat in his gaze this time. His pupils were wide and his mouth slightly parted, his tongue pushing gently between his teeth. She had just a second to take it in before Dean’s lips were on hers.

Her memory had served her poorly over the last five years.

It was not vivid enough to properly capture the way her blood rushed from her head, leaving her woozy, or to remember the exact flavor of his tongue. She had forgotten too, how possessive he was when he kissed her, stamping her with his mouth, pulling the air from her lungs and feeding her his.

She’d forgotten the precise timbre of his voice as he growled his pleasure into her ear, and how perfectly textured his callused fingers were as they scraped along her sensitive skin.

He moved his lips to the hinge of her jaw and his hands moved to cup her breasts and she was reminded of what it felt like to be worshiped by Dean Winchester. Every caress, every nip of his teeth and slide of his tongue along her skin felt like adoration, like love.

Ironically it was this feeling of being loved that made her freeze and whisper, “Wait, Dean.”

She wanted to cry when he stopped immediately and then practically vaulted himself off of her. She didn’t want him to stop, never wanted him to stop. But she knew she’d never survive another fun romp with him. She wanted too much out of it. Friends with benefits was never going to work for her. Tears swam in her eyes as the blinding truth slammed into her.

She was madly in love with her best friend, and had been for a VERY long time, long before they’d ever slept together.

Dean was shaking his head now. “Fuck, Y/N, I’m sorry.” Before she could even formulate a response, he jumped up from the bed and slammed his way out of the room.

She laid still on the bed, staring at the door he’d walked out of, before hearing the Impala’s engine roar to life and recede into the distance. All Y/N could concentrate on was the fact that she’d driven Dean out of the room unarmed.

She should have just let him clean his guns in peace.

***

Hours later Dean still wasn’t back, and Y/N finally changed into pajamas and climbed into her bed, falling into a fitful sleep. She woke with a start when she felt the bed dip behind her as she lay on her side. She had no idea what time it was, but she recognized Dean’s scent, gunpowder and laundry soap, as he stretched out behind her.

“Dean…?” She said croakily, and started to turn towards him, but he put a hand on her shoulder, halting her.

“Please, sweetheart, don’t turn around. I…I want another chance at the game.”

“What?” Y/N asked, confused and not entirely sure she wasn’t still sleeping.

“I’m gonna write something on your skin, and if you don’t like what I write, you can just pretend you didn’t understand it, and we’ll both just move on.”

When she was quiet, he prompted her. “Okay?”

She nodded. “Okay.” She said quietly.

She heard Dean take in a deep breath before she felt his callused forefinger begin tracing letters across her bare back above her tank top. She shivered slightly and then concentrated more than she ever had before, desperate to know what he was telling her.

“...Don’t…” She guessed the first word and Dean made a sound in the affirmative.

“...hate…”

“...me…”

As she guessed the last word she was shaking her head. “Dean, I could never -”

But Dean cut her off. “There’s more.”

He began again immediately.

“...But…

“...I…” She said when he stopped after a simple line down her back.

“...can’t…”

“...help…”

“...being…”

Y/N could feel her heart accelerating as the words continued.

“...in…”

“...lov-”

Y/N started the word and then gasped, missing the next word altogether and just catching the lowercase y-o-u Dean spelled onto her skin.

She twisted around to face him, and wanted to weep at the look of fear she could make out on Dean’s face. Her bold, brave, undaunted warrior was clearly terrified of what she was going to say, and Y/N wasn’t going to wait a second longer to put him out of his misery.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth down to hers, putting all her love into the embrace. Dean seemed surprised at first, but quickly wrapped his big hand around the back of her head and deepened the kiss, stealing all her breath and sense for the second time that day.

As he pulled away, panting hard against her cheek, he frowned. “But, you wanted me to stop earlier, you didn’t want this.”

Y/N shook her head. “I’m in love with an idiot.” She said ruefully. “I wanted to stop cause I knew I wanted more than a fling, more than some sort of friends with benefits crap.”

Dean’s whole face lit up as she spoke, a wide, dopey grin settling on his face. “I’m the idiot, right? The idiot you’re in love with?”

Y/N giggled. “Yes, idiot.”

Dean whooped and rolled her over so that she was on top of him. Y/N laughed with sheer delight and Dean smiled up at her warmly, with just a hint of sadness.

“You’re too beautiful to love me, Y/N. But please don’t stop.”

Y/N pushed open Dean’s flannel and then slid up his t-shirt so she could write across his chest, over his heart.

N-E-V-E-R.

“Never.” She whispered.

“Never, never.” Dean agreed with a nod before pulling her down to seal their promise in kisses.

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays. @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @impalaslytherin @maggiegirl17 @akshi8278 @candy-coated-misery0731 @nt-multi-fandom @deanswaywardgirl @slytherinlyn314 @globetrotter28 @jensensgirl @perpetualabsurdity @tristanrosspada-ackles @djs8891 @muhahaha303 @kayyay1219 @emily-winchester @recoveringpastaaddict @maximumkillshot @mimaria420 @sacriceria @envyaurora95

2 - Dean Winchester Fics Only. @saikosheadcanons @lgranger67 @carryonwaywardgirl

3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.) @sunshineandwings86 @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @alexxavicry @nancymcl

4 - Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well) @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @awkward-and-indecisive @maliburenee @supernatural4life2022 @spn730015 @b3autyfuldisast3r @kickingitwithkirk @waywardbaby @foxyjwls007 @deanwanddamons @deandreamernp @deanwithscissors @myloversgone @snowlovespie @leigh70 @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @charred-angelwings @hopefuldreamers-world @mysherlock221b @jensensgotyoudean @stixnstripesworld @thoughts-and-funnies @magssteenkamp @norman1967 @princessmisery666 @eevvvaa @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @deepsketchsupernaturalcowboy @b-i-t-c-h-i-e @twirpbunwarrior @mysweetlittledesire @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @bernasaurus @jensenslady79 @courtn92 @avanatural @ellie-andthemachine @this-is-me19 @roseblue373 @katbratsupernaturalwhore @fanfic-n-tabulous

#dean x y/n #dean x reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester smut #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fan fiction #fic request

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emmymaehereeeeee · 2 years

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Birthday sex for the birthday girl. Austin Butler

i gotchu bby- here is my bday gift to you :)

warnings: oral f receiving, breeding kink

The night had slowly dwindled to a close, Austin and you stood at the doorway bidding your guests a goodbye. Austin closed the door behind the last one giving them a friendly wave. “Finally.” He huffed

You furrowed your eyebrows at his comment, “What do you mean finally? I was having fun!” Austin made his way over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and lowering his face so that he was making eye contact with you. Seemingly ignoring your question he eyed the table full of gifts, “You like your gifts?” He asked, rubbing the pad of his thumb against your cheek. You nodded in response, gazing at the table of gifts, each one adorned with your name.

Not trying to be rude you turned to Austin, “Where’s yours?” You asked, looking up at his face. Austin simply smiled, giving you a devilish look. “Let’s go upstairs.” He all but whispered into your ear, you felt the heat in your face. Austin chuckled at you. “What little bit flustered now are you?”

You broke the imminent stare he held with you, “No, not flustered.” He grabbed your hand and led you up the staircase. The heat between your legs was growing to become more prominent as you allowed your mind to run rampant with lustful thoughts. Austin pushed the bedroom door open and you instinctively made your way to the edge of the bed. Your eyes looked over at the unmade bed, remembering the remnants of your early morning spent together. Running your hand along the comforter in an attempt to smooth it out Austin shut the door behind him. His eyes were locked on you, your stomach turned not out of fear but of anticipation. Austin made his way over to you and reached out his hand to you. You quickly accepted it, he pulled you from your seat. “Hm, such a pretty little thing. Why don’t you slip of your panties for me, let me get started on your present?” He didn’t have to tell you twice. Your panties were soon discarded and on the floor, Austin pushed you back on to the bed, “Move up for me, all the way, want your back up against the headboard- atta girl.” Austin praised you, he pushed up your dress, “Look so good.” He flashed you a quick smile before opening his mouth and licking a long strip up your folds. You let out a small moan, Austin hummed against you in response. He continued to lick long stripes, soon shifting his attention to the small bundle of nerves, he placed his mouth atop and began to softly suck, your hands instantly found his hair, pushing him down onto it. He chuckled at your needy actions, lapping at your clit as you squirmed under his touch.

Teasing your clit with his tongue he slowly pushed two fingers inside of you. You gasped, “A-Aus!” The sudden wave of pleasure seemed to hit you out of nowhere, he continued to slowly pump his fingers in and out of you.

He removed his mouth from your clit to speak, “Look at you taking my fingers so well, bet you’re gonna take my cock so well, hm? Yeah?” Austin’s blue eyes stared intently into yours, you couldn’t form a coherent answer so it came out as a string of moans. “Sound so pretty moaning my name like that. Begging for me, such a good girl.” He lowered his mouth back down and continued his assault on your clit, your mind soon turned to pure bliss as your hips bucked up into Austin’s mouth.

“Please, please!” You moaned out, his tongue swirling and lapping at your heat. Your mind was sent straight into a state of pure bliss, the wave of pure pleasure came and left you with shaking legs and Austin nestled in between them. He happily lapped up the remnants of your orgasm, lifting his head up from his place. A smile plastered across it, his chin glistened with the remnants of your juices.

“Mhm, taste so good, doll.” He leaned his head on your inner thigh, gazing up at you as you attempted to catch your breath. “I ain’t done with you yet though.” He rose from his spot in between your legs and removed his shirt, he kicked off his shoes and tugged off his socks. He paused for a moment, “Might wanna take your dress of, baby girl, make this a whole lot easier. If you don’t want to then I could always tear it off of you?” He chuckled, pulling down his pants, you sat there simply taking him in. Austin tugged off his pants then pulled you to your feet, he ripped the dress off of you. “Lay down.” He growled out to you, you listened to him backing up and falling onto the bed. He pulled his underwear off causing you to bite down on your lip. He made his way over to you, climbing over your frame, “You ready, we can-“ “No, keep going.” Austin smirked at your response. He slowly pushed himself into you eliciting a small groan from his own lips. “God, so tight f’me.” He mumbled out, he had one hand on your hip and the other pinning your hands above your head. “You gonna be good and take it?” He asked, slowly moving himself in and out of your aching cunt. You nodded ferociously, he chuckled and began to pick up his pace. The way his eyes roamed your body seemed to fill you with even more pleasure. The aching pain of his firm grip on your wrists soon set in, he adjusted his grip on your hips. He lifted them ever so slightly so that he could have a better angle on you, whenever he completed this he began to rapidly increase his once slow and mundane pace. “Taking my cock so well, look at you, so fucking cock drunk. You fucking need me don’t you?” He growled lowly into your ear, you let out a loud cry. “Yes fuck! Please, need you need you!” You continuously babbled, Austin slammed into your needy cunt harder.

“Gonna make you feel so good, doll. Gonna make sure you’re all mine.” He let go of your wrist and placed both hands on your hips, he pulled them close to him and began to feverishly thrust into. His actions seemed almost animalistic, but you didn’t seem to care. “Please! God fuck!” You screamed out.

“I’m gonna fill you up so good. You want me to fill you up? Wanna carry my babies around?” Austin groaned into your ear, you tongue felt heavy in your own mouth. You nodded, “Fucking say it. Tell me how much you need me.” He growled out.

“Please Austin! Need your cum! Need it, FUCK PLEASE!” You begged him, your words sent both him and you over the edge. The feeling of him bottoming out inside of you left you in utter bliss. “Shit, hah.” Austin grunted out, thrusting into you a few more times. He stayed there for a moment, gazing down upon you, sweat glistened off of your chest. “You alright?” He asked, lowering himself down to kiss your lips.

“M alright, I’m alright.” You mumbled out. Austin slowly pulled himself out of you, he moved over to the side of you. The two of you sat in the silence for a moment, Austin soon left the bed and headed for the bathroom, you presumed he was using the restroom. But when he came back with a damp towel you were confused, “Gotta clean up.” He mumbled, gently wiping away some of the cum that had begun to run down your inner legs. After cleaning the two of you up, he went to the dresser drawer and pulled out some clothes. He handed you yours and you got dressed & he did the same. When he finished getting dressed he picked up the clothes that had since been long forgotten and put them in the hamper. “Mmm cuddles?” You asked, already snuggled deep into the blankets. Austin smiled and pulled the covers up and pulled you in close. “Of course cuddles.” He pressed a kiss to your hair and slowly rubbed your back. “Happy Birthday, doll.”

#emmymaetalks #emmymaewrites💜#emmy mae talks #austin butler #austin butler smut #austin butler x reader #smutttt #smut #FLUFF #oneshot #austin smut #austin butler x y/n #austin butler imagine #austin butler edit #austin butler fanfiction

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 2 years

Photo

reader pronouns: unspecified warnings: mentions of addiction and substance abuse, implied domestic violence (no description) “How come ya never talk ‘bout yer family? From before,” Daryl asked, shaving another curl of wood off the stick in his hands aimlessly with his knife. You chewed the crisp bite of your apple slowly, taking in his expression. “What do you want to know?” “Well...” he shrugged. “I dunno... I mean—I told ya ‘bout mine...” You nodded. “Yeah. You did.” His blue eyes were still fixed on you and you couldn’t help but let out a dry laugh. “Alright... Umm. Everything was pretty normal until I was about nine and my dad lost his job and started drinking and using. Then everything kind of went to hell in a hand basket, as they say.” You paused for a moment as sounds and smells flooded your senses, memories surfacing from the bottom of a deep, mucky pool. “Hey.” Daryl touched your sleeve and snapped you out of your frozen state. You cleared your throat. “It—it was bad. Mom did her best but with my dad spending every penny we had—we went hungry a lot. And he had a temper,” you shrugged. You didn’t need to say anymore, not to Daryl. “‘M sorry,” Daryl drawled softly, a frown furrowing his brow. “Maybe I shouldn’ta asked ya.”

“It is what it is. I’m not there anymore. Besides,” you said, shifting and seeming to come back into the present some, “you can’t be a decent villain without daddy issues, right?” you joked sardonically. You took another big bite of your apple, savoring the sweetness and tang. Daryl rolled his eyes and let out a small huff of amusement. “Ya ain’t a villain. ‘Bout the farthest thing from it,” he countered, his knife carving another flat facet into the wood. “No, see, you’ve just fallen directly into my trap. You won’t realize it until it’s too late,” you laughed. “Yeah, sure...” he drawled, rolling his eyes at you. “Well, I guess I’ll just continue to live in ignorant bliss until it’s time. Somehow seems worth it.” His blue eyes flickered up to your face, but only for a brief moment before he felt too bashful and turned them back toward his aimless work. Prompt: “You can’t be a decent villain without daddy issues.”

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl x y/n #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles

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theflyingfeeling · 5 months

Text

Twelfth Day of Gift-Giving: Gift Ideas

Prompt(s): jewelry + polaroid camera

We can have a little Christmassy angst & pining. As a treat 🖤 (another standalone, the main story will be continued...later this week 😌)

“Janne told me he’s buying Joel a dildo."

Olli snorted the mouthful of coffee he had just sipped back into his paper cup.

“What?!”

“For that stupid Secret Santa thing," Tommi explained. "He got Joel. Said he’s gonna write him a card saying ‘Merry Christmas, go fuck yourself’.”

With his mouth now empty – and provided with proper context for the anecdote – Olli was now able to laugh at it.

“Just what he needs, really.”

“D’you mind if we pop down to some stores on our way? I still need to buy mine for Porko.”

“Yeah, sure. Haven’t bought mine either.” Olli didn’t have much else scheduled for his Tuesday than a coffeeshop slash passport picture date with Tommi, so he might as well try to get the whole Secret Santa gift exchange fuss over and done with in time before the band Christmas party on Saturday.

“Who did you get?” Tommi asked and bit into his Christmas star pastry.

“I ain’t telling you. It’s Secret Santa, if I may remind you.”

“So Aleksi?”

Olli brought his cup back to his mouth, hoping it might at least partially hide the sudden blush creeping on his cheeks.

“When are you gonna tell him?”

“Tell him what,” Olli said laconically. Somehow, playing dumb was much easier than facing the truth. That was why it annoyed Olli to no end how he never stood a chance when Tommi as much as raised his eyebrow at him.

“Why should I tell him?”

“Don’t you think he deserves to know?”

The question made Olli sigh heavily, out of sheer frustration.

What right does Aleksi have to know, huh? How does he deserve to know that I can’t stop fucking thinking about him any more than I deserve this bullshit misery I’ve dug myself into? Or perhaps I do deserve it, in fact, just as a punishment for having fallen for him in the first place. Aleksi, on the other hand? All he's done has been just being his amazing, funny, sexy self to deserve nothing but blissful ignorance.

“Dunno.”

The creases on Tommi’s forehead softened.

“You’ll make your own decisions of course, but just… consider it. It might help you… you know…”

To get over him? To move on and forget about him, because it’s not like he’s ever gonna feel the same about me, and even if he did, by some goddamn miracle, it wouldn’t change a thing because he’s engaged to be married next spring? If anything, it would only make matters worse, thank you very much.

“Sure, I’ll think about it.” Olli chucked down the rest of his coffee, still so hot it almost burned his throat. “Well, let’s go then?” Without waiting for an answer, he stood up and grabbed his coat from the back of the chair he was sat on and headed towards the shopping mall escalator, not stopping to see if Tommi was keeping up with him. He did hear the long sigh with a beaten undertone to it but hoped that would be the end of that conversation.

~*~

Still empty-handed after visiting a number of stores at the mall, Tommi pulled on Olli’s sleeve as they passed a jeweller’s.

“I wonder if they have something under twenty euros there?”

“Worth a shot,” Olli shrugged, although he had already more or less given up on finding anything he’d want to give Aleksi for Christmas that wouldn’t scream either ‘I’m crushing on you so fucking bad that I will go insane if you look at me like the way you did that night in Berlin one more time’ or ‘hey, bro, have this stupid boob-shaped flower pot as a token of my brotherly affection, because I’m totally cool with the fact you’re getting married to someone that’s not me and that I’ll never get to have you the way I want you… bro’.

As soon as they entered a shop, Tommi’s face lit up when he spotted a display of cheap children’s earrings.

“Hell yeah, now we’re talking. Oh, look, Little My ones!” Tommi picked up a box with a pair of stud earrings inside, a poorly-painted Moomin character as decoration.

“They sure would fit Porko’s new stage fit,” Olli smiled wryly.

“Yep, that’s my gift for Porko settled,” Tommi agreed, checking the bottom of the box for the price. “Have you found anything for Aleksi yet?”

Olli then pretended to look around the selection of jewellery and shrugged.

“How’s about one of those fake septum rings? Since he seems to like the one he already has.” Tommi nodded towards a shelf displaying a collection of fake piercings in various colours and styles.

Olli swallowed. He did not need a reminder of Aleksi’s new-found love for piercings, not after that one night Olli had, lying in his bed at night going out of his mind missing Aleksi’s stupid face, been browsing Aleksi’s social media accounts until a picture of the man Olli had never seen before, with his neck and eyelids painted black and a ring decorating his septum, appeared on his phone screen. Promptly Olli had ignored the other piece of jewellery Aleksi had been wearing on his left ring finger and had begun grinding against the mattress with his eyes nailed to Aleksi’s face until he had come inside his boxers, his moans and gasps muffled by a pillow.

He hadn’t felt proud of himself afterwards, even though it was hardly the first time he had masturbated to the thought of Aleksi.

“That one looks cool,” Tommi pointed at a septum ring with decorations imitating brass knuckles. “I think Aleksi might like it,” Tommi pointed out helpfully before heading towards the check-out counter, a self-satisfied smile on his face as he admired the perfect gift he had found for Porko.

Aleksi would like it for sure, but what about Olli’s own sanity?

Fuck it, he thought nevertheless and grabbed the damned ring before walking after Tommi.

~*~

So far, Olli had succeeded in keeping a sensible distance to Aleksi without seeming like he was avoiding him, while also holding on to the last bits of his mental health. At least Aleksi wasn’t wearing that ridiculous(ly hot) fake piercing, even if Olli did have to restrain himself from staring at Aleksi's unruly hair and the front of his tight black t-shirt for too long, or else he might have actually begun to weep by Aleksi’s feet.

Joonas loved the Little My earrings Tommi had bought him, and Janne did, indeed, gift Joel a large, pink dildo just as he had threatened, which resulted in a round of immature laughter as the silicone sex toy was passed around. When it came to Aleksi’s turn to open his present, Olli made sure to look everywhere else except at him.

“Oh, wow, this is cool.” Aleksi brought the little box almost to his nose for a closer inspection. “Really cool, actually.”

In his moment of weakness, Olli dared a glance at Aleksi, only to find he was looking straight back at him in return.

“Thanks,” Aleksi said. Olli wasn’t sure he even wanted to know what had blown his cover.

Not exactly in his best Christmas spirits, and even less in the mood of being everyone’s centre of attention, Olli dawdled unwrapping his present until everyone else was already gawking at the silly knick-knacks and tacky accessories they had been gifted by fellow bandmates or members of the crew. Luckily his was hidden inside a simple paper bag, so he could easily sneak a look in without making a show of tearing it open from wrapping paper.

When he saw what was inside, he swore his heart stopped for a second or two.

He was looking at a polaroid camera, but instead of a brand-new, never-before-used one, he had been given his own polaroid camera, the one he had lost during their European tour in the fall. It had been broken that night, dropped on the floor one too many times, and on top of that someone had stolen it right from their table towards the end of their afterparty in a crowded local bar. He had pretended not to be bothered by the loss, even though snapping random, aesthetic shots at their tour locations had been his favourite pastime during those weeks; at least it had given him something else to do and think about than drowning himself in his heartache.

Aleksi was the only one who would’ve known how upset he actually had been about the stolen camera, for Olli had (literally) cried about it to him afterwards in their hotel room, too tipsy on cheap German beer to care how Aleksi might have perceived him. It was Olli’s best and worst memory from that tour; falling asleep with his face buried in the crook of Aleksi’s neck, waking up with a throbbing headache and his yearning for the man stronger than ever.

Although Olli had immediately recognized the camera from the slight dent on its side, he still reached for it to pick it up in his hands, just to make sure it really was the same one he had lost – or thought he had, it now seemed. With a trembling finger he turned the camera on and couldn’t help the soft gasp that left his mouth when he saw the device coming to life, which had not happened the last time Olli had held it in his hands. Then he proceeded to take a picture of the pile of torn wrapping paper on the table in front of him and watched as a still blacked-out picture slid out of the machine.

Suddenly the private room they had rented for the night at a downtown Oulu restaurant felt too small and suffocating around him, so he set the picture and the camera on the table and stormed outside.

The frigid coldness of the outdoors punched the air out of Olli’s lungs, forcing him lean against the brick wall by the back door of the restaurant to catch his breath. At least it was winter and the terrace was empty; he didn’t exactly need witnesses for his little meltdown.

He wasn’t granted the privilege of privacy for too long, however, because a moment later, the back door opened, letting out the cheerful chitter-chatter of the restaurant for a couple of seconds before muffling it again.

“Everything okay?” Aleksi asked him. Olli could only bring himself to nod.

“I, ummm… I had your camera fixed.”

“I noticed."

“Sorry I had to steal it first though. I didn’t meant to, in fact I was just trying to make sure you wouldn’t lose it, but then I just… then you… fuck, nevermind.”

A small cloud erupted in the cold winter air as Aleksi sighed heavily.

“It’s fucking cold in here,” he said when the cloud had disappeared and stroke his bare arms. “Let’s go back inside?”

“Yeah, you go, I’m just gonna… I need another breath of fresh air, if you don’t mind.”

“Okay,” Aleksi said quietly, but showed no other signs of leaving his side.

Olli wondered if the silence between them was as deafening to Aleksi as it was to him.

“Thanks for the piercing, by the way. It’s fucking cool.”

“How did you know it was from me?” Olli couldn’t help himself any longer and blurted out the question or else he’d go mute for good.

Aleksi chuckled. “Christmas magic, I guess.”

Olli almost felt like telling Aleksi to shove his ‘Christmas magic’ to you-know-where for giving him such an annoyingly vague answer instead of a serious one, and he supposed Aleksi understood his passive-aggressive silence as the man continued a moment later:

“I, uhhh…” he paused to chuckle, “I may have gone through everyone to figure out who was your Secret Santa and then switched with them. And now I sort of regret it, I mean… I should’ve just given the camera to you weeks ago. I’m sure Niko would’ve gifted you something that wasn’t as… creepy.”

“It’s not creepy,” Olli shook his head. “It’s very thoughtful, actually. Thank you. I… god, I hadn’t even thanked you yet,” he groaned, hiding his face in his hands for lack of anything better to do with himself. Aleksi had just given him the sweetest, most unbelievable Christmas gift Olli could have dared to wish from the ridiculous Secret Santa humbug Joonas made them do every single year, and he couldn’t even bring himself to be thankful from all his pining and grief? Such a friend he was.

(Aleksi did deserve better.)

“So you’re not mad at me for taking your camera and not telling you?”

Olli shook his head again.

“No.”

How could I ever?

“Good,” Aleksi nodded. His teeth had begun clattering. “Fuck, it’s freezing tonight. I could never live this up north.”

Please don’t remind me.

“You should go back inside. I’ll be right behind you.”

“No, I can wait. Keep you company.” Aleksi shoved his hands in his jean pockets, casually as if he wasn’t literally shivering from the cold. “I mean. Unless you want me to go.”

If Olli had been even half as strong as he would’ve liked to be, he would’ve ordered Aleksi to leave him alone so he could dwell in his misery in peace. Tragically, the part of him that craved to be near Aleksi always trumped any other feeling.

“Just stay. If you want to. Although I’m afraid I’m not the best company right now.”

He could feel Aleksi look at him, patiently waiting for him to elaborate.

“Is there anything I can do to help that?”

Is there? Let’s see. You could throw that ring of yours in the Bay of Bothnia and call off the wedding for starters, or if you can't do that, then at least cross my name off the guest list, because I’m not sure I’ll be able to witness your happiness next May, as selfish as it sounds. Or then I guess you could pull me in your arms like you did when I cried to about how grief-stricken I was about having my camera stolen and maybe even let me fall asleep on your chest one last time, for old times’ sake, before I’ll pack my bags and move to the North Pole perhaps, or some place else that’s too cold for these thoughts of you to follow me.

“Not much, I’m afraid.”

Next to him in the dark, Aleksi nodded. Yet, he made no effort to leave his side, although by then he must have been struggling to appear unbothered by the cold in just a thin t-shirt and jeans.

After a while, when Olli himself was starting to feel the effect of the minus degrees, Aleksi shuffled closer to him; not quite touching him, but close enough to easily rest his chin on Olli’s shoulder if he wished to; close enough for Olli to hear his shivering breaths in his ear.

“Olli, I… I should tell you. While I still can.”

It was laughable how just one sentence was all it took to bring Olli’s hopes back up from the gutter. Not awfully high, but on the surface, as if to make sure they'd still be alive to maximise the pain on the way back down to the depths of his agony.

Because there were times Olli had asked himself if the lingering looks or touches they shared meant as much to Aleksi as they meant to him. He had spent many a sleepless night wondering if there really had been something other than friendly fooleries going on in between them when Aleksi had pinned him against the backstage couch in Berlin or whether Olli had only imagined the thirst he had seen Aleksi’s his eyes. Sometimes he stayed up until morning, trying to come up with a rational explanation to why Aleksi had been texting with him throughout the night instead of being asleep next to his fiancée.

Maybe he was just bored. Maybe he couldn’t sleep for whatever reason; literally any other reason than what Olli hoped would be the truth.

“Tell me what?” His voice was shaking, but not because of the cold.

“That I, ummm… that I’m… Oh.”

Instead of finishing what he was about to say, Aleksi reached for his back pocket and took out his phone, a soft buzz sounding from it. Another cold silence fell on them as Aleksi stared at the screen, studying the notification that had popped. Only then Olli could dare a look at the man, his face illuminated by the blue glow of the phone screen.

Olli decided he’d be better off not asking who it was that was missing him, afraid he knew the answer already.

“Ummmm… Nevermind.” Aleksi sighed at the phone before putting it away. Then he reached his hand to brush the back of Olli’s palm lightly. Aleksi’s touch was surprisingly warm and gentle, yet it sent shivers down Olli’s spine.

“Don’t freeze yourself to death, okay? I’mma head back inside.”

Olli was left staring at Aleksi’s back before it disappeared inside the restaurant, leaving him to voice his response to the pitch-black wintery night instead.

I might as well, he said in his mind, as I’m sure it would be less painful a way to go than dying from this torture of being in love with you.

#blind channel fanfiction #blind channel rpf #24 days of gift-giving by theflyingfeeling #ollixallu #this is awful actually. like. downright mean even and i'm sorry (no i'm not <3)#but at least this was inspired by /those/ pictures of aleksi 👀#shame about the septum being a fake one tho :\#ironically this is also the only one that's a little more christmassy #in the sense that there's christmas shopping and a pre-christmas party (pikkujoulut) involved #i promise tomorrow we'll be back to funsies again 😇#i've just been writing one sappy story after another lol i needed a break 😮‍💨

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sacredcyber · 10 months

Text

Found something in my wips, red string fated lovers silverV shenanigans. I think I’ll work on it when I feel the angst, which is often lol.

The bliss of an after coitus glow was something Johnny found himself experiencing less and less these days. He lay in bed, a blonde on one side and redhead on the other. The dark ambiance of his apartment feels appropriate. Nothing but cigarette smoke, the smell of sex, and the soft red ambient glow of his thread. He holds his arm up and stares at it, the thread flows gently, tightly wound on his ganic arm. He chuckles, it used to be on his other wrist, that was before, well, before having it blown the fuck off.

He remembers how he felt, for a moment it felt like freedom, like he could do whatever he wanted, be with whoever he wanted. Until it appeared on the other, then the feelings of frustration returned again. He sits up and rips the blanket of himself and his guests. “Hey, yo what the fuck?!” the redhead yells. Johnny rolls his eyes, “Got a show to get ready for doll, time for you to start fucking off.” He turns and plants a hard smack on the blonde’s ass, she immediately shoots out of her dreams and yelps in pain. “Use your FUCKING GANIC HAND!” He ignores her.

“You too, this ain’t a home for wayward whores.” He hops out of bed and stretches, taking a look at himself in his floor length mirror. The damn string is still glowing, for some reason it looks a little brighter. ‘Maybe if I try real hard, I can hang myself with it.’ he thinks to himself. He notices a pair of slender arms wrapping around him from behind. The redhead plants a kiss on his back, “so...are we getting VIP tonight?” Johnny rolls his eyes and removes her arms from his waist.

“Whatever, just leave. And lock the fucking door behind you.” She huffs in irritation as he grabs a pair of black boxers from the dresser and walks into his bathroom, turning the water on the hottest setting.

The cool tile and steam is a strange combination, but it doesn’t matter. He stands with his back under the hot water, the temperature slowly making his pale skin a rose pink. ‘You work too much’ he opens his eyes and sees her. Alt standing in front of him, a small smile on her face.

‘Thats kind of the point, lover.’ she laughs. ‘I adore what I do.’ Johnny felt a pang of jealousy in his chest. It’s a silly thing, to be jealous of something as intangible as “work” but for Alt it’s more than that. Being a netrunner is everything to her, it’s second nature, as natural as breathing air for her. Johnny pouts a bit ‘More than me?’

She tilts her head and brings herself closer to him, she plants a small kiss to his chest. She lets out a breathy chuckle ‘You can’t tell me you don’t feel the same about your music, your cause.’ she swirls small patterns on his skin, Johnny sighs. ‘You mean more than all that shit.’ He holds her tighter, as if he were to let go she’d disappear. Alt smiles, she runs her fingers down to Johnny's hand, a ghostly sensation tickles her fingertips as she caresses his wrist. Her eyes close.

‘For now.’ she whispers.

“FUCK!” the scalding water finally registers on his skin. He moves and quickly turns the faucet to cold. The steam quickly dissipates as ice water pours down his back, bringing him back to reality. The reality that she’s not here, not Alt and certainly not the bitch this thing was attached to. He grabs his shampoo and starts to work up a lather, his thoughts wander from his old flame to who this person was, his “soulmate”. He always wrote it off as bullshit, he knew who he was meant for, and that was fucking Altiera Cunningham. He knew it, fuck who this bullshit string was attached to, no one could compare.

#cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand #cp2077 #cyberpunk2077 #female v #keanu reeves #fanfic #fic stuff #writing stuff #alt cunningham

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bmodiwrites · 1 year

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It's 1990 & Steve's finally comfortable in his career. He's planning to put his head down and create more art but Eddie's return to the shop changes everything. Not only are his tattoo wants to die for, Steve is still so desperately caught in his feels for his first real client. Catch up on chapter 1 to build up the anticipation before you check out chapter 2!

He must’ve been obsessing over it hard because Wayne eventually jolted him from the dark hole of artistic concentration. “If you add anything else to that, you won’t have any room for a little freedom on the skin. What do I always tell you about hyperfixating?”

Rolling his eyes, Steve repeated one of Wayne’s well used slogans. “It ain’t good for nobody. Especially an artist.” Pushing the sketch pad away, Steve sat up with a sigh. “I know that but I can’t help it… or stop myself. I want it to be perfect.”

The look on Wayne’s face softened. “He asked for you specifically, Steve. That alone is something. Don’t sweat it, buddy. It looks good. I am half tempted to have you do a couple of those characters on me, even.”

Affronted, Steve covered his drawing haphazardly. The idea of sharing Eddie’s masterpiece made Steve’s stomach turn. Not even Wayne, who felt like a father to him, deserved this particular effort.

Wayne laughed then, not even try to stop the punched out chuckle as it bubbled up. “Easy there. I’m just joking with you.” Shifting on his feet, Wayne peeked at the design over Steve’s errant hands. “Are you thinking black and white or color?”

Glad to be back on a more recognizable foot, Steve moved so Wayne could see the drawing fully. “Black and white, I think. At least to start. Color could be a nice finishing touch at the end if requested.”

“Stick to your gut. It’ll impact better with the shading you’re so good at doing.” The compliment rolled so easily off Wayne’s tongue, though neither of them acknowledged it. The rough disposition was just a cover. Wayne, underneath it all, was a big teddy bear. No one wanted the behavior to end, so everyone pretended it didn’t exist.

Ignorance, it seemed, was bliss for everyone.

Read the rest of chapter 2 on AO3!

Tagging (please let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for chapter 2 by comment below!): @writer-in-theory, @zerokrox-blog, @whatthefuccck, @patchworkgargoyle, @estrellami-1, @thefreakandthehair

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington/eddie munson #eddie munson/steve harrington #steddie fics #steddie au #tattoo artist steve #bobbie writes #the architect of this cage

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divinegoddess1177 · 2 months

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It’s crazy how we out there downgrading each other speaking negatively into each other reality..and it’s also crazy how we don’t get along we out here beefing with each other do to jealousy, judgement, criticism, y’all don’t want to hear the truth but christianity and religious is the same thing you are praying to the god eye keep saying it satan has many names. lucifer, antichrist, jesus christ, lord, allah, he is the same dark forces with different names...it doesn’t matter if you are a christianity, religious, muslim, catholic..they all a cult of destruction, that has been taken place in our lives. It’s a man image that was made up to brainwash us it’s time to wake up..so hate on each other because that’s how we was programmed to do because they know we are powerful together then we are apart it’s time to realize everything in your life you was programmed to do..we was taught to hate each other..we was taught to believe in someone else’s image christianity/religion..eye am saying this because eye hear a lot of my neuromelanin being talk bad about other african neuromelanin being when we all have african, indigenous in our DEA bloodline..

..remember you feed the negative force your energy when you are jealousy, judgement and show hatred towards each other. Again it’s time to wake up and remember who you are and get your power back our people has lost so much that it turned us against each other it’s time to fight back not each other stop taking the blue pill and taking the red pill.

🔴Red pill you go down the rabbit hole to see how far it goes and wake up.

🔵Blue pill you continue to believe what the want you to believe and stay sleep.

———————————more———————————-

Also christian’s folks keep saying everything comes from god himself. But they think the rainbow is gay and a sin but he created everything right..yea ok..the rainbow doesn’t represent nobody gender or sexuality it represents energy from your aura of the electricity from your body and its called chakras and christian’s folks don’t even like the color red because they say it’s the color of the devil..but they be talking about calling on the blood of Jesus but when you bleed out ain’t your blood red but y’all don’t like red..

———————————-more———————————-

And have anyone ever noticed that demonic force comes from christianity, religious, muslim, catholic everything always led back to the churches..they show it all the time in these movies and shows they won’t just be putting it out there in every movie unless it’s true.. christianity, religious so annoying ignorance is bliss. It’s time to wake up.!

❤️Red the blood our people shed.

🖤Black the people we fight for.

💚Green the land we lost and will regain.

Asé 𓋹𓂀🤎👁️🫵🏽😘

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direwombat · 10 months

Note

stay like this + [ reach ] for jakesyb?

also paging @cassietrn who asked for the same dialogue prompt! Thank you both! <3 <3 <3

“You keep havin’ me run down your little feral experiments, I’m gonna have to start chargin' ya,” Sybille says, dropping the Judge Cougar’s hide, claws, teeth, and a sample of its muscle tissue sealed in a ziploc baggie onto Jacob’s desk. The pelt reeks heavily of Bliss and she nearly got high off the fumes just carrying it from the Henbane. It’s a fucking miracle no one noticed her gingerly scaling the Veterans Center edifice as she climbed towards Jacob’s balcony.

Her head is light and she feels a little dizzy from inhaling the creature’s ambient Bliss for the better part of an hour, but now that she’s finally unloaded the pelt, the haze around her brain is beginning to clear.

Jacob looks at her from where he sits at his desk, his feet kicked up and reading glasses slipping down his nose as he glances up from the report he’d been reading. His eyebrows raise and a small smile tugs at his lips. Removing his glasses and setting the papers down, he rises from his chair and takes the fur in his hands. “That was fast,” he remarks.

With a small shrug, Sybille leans her hip against the desk, taking a half-seat against it. “Wasn’t doin’ it just for you,” she says. “This little kitty’s been causin’ trouble for my people too.”

He hums thoughtfully, picking over the claws and teeth before holding the tissue sample up to the light. “And yet I’m the one you’re bringing the fur to.”

Sybille shrugs again. “Was either this or sell it for like two-hundred dollars.”

“Two-hundred dollars is two-hundred dollars,” Jacob says.

“And what am I gonna spend it on?” Sybille scoffs. “Mall ain’t exactly open no more.”

Lowering the muscle sample and setting it back down on the desk, he flashes her a toothy grin. “Mm-hm,” he nods. “And the idea that you might have wanted to see me again is entirely out of the question, right?”

Sybille smiles and huffs a small laugh. “Now you’re gettin’ it.”

He leans forward, pressing his palms against the desktop and smiles at her fondly. The corners of his eyes crinkle, and there’s no malice to be seen shimmering in those icy blues. Just affection. But as his gaze roves appreciatively over her body, that smile falters when he notices the tatters of her right sleeve clinging to the bloody mess of her forearm. His brows immediately furrow in concern and he frowns. “You’re bleeding.”

“Ah, it’s nothin’,” Sybille dismisses, turning her own attention to the wounds. She had managed to take the beast down, but not before it lashed out at her with its claws. “Just a scratch.”

Jacob frowns and he moves the cougar remains to the side. “Up,” he says, patting the empty space of his desk.

“‘Scuse me?”

“Up,” he repeats a little more firmly — less of a suggestion and more of a command. “Let me take care of that.”

Her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline and she looks at him incredulously. “You bein’ for real, right now?”

He ignores her question, falling back in his chair and rolling over to a nearby set of drawers and he pulls out a first aid kit. Rolling back to the desk, he sets the kit down and pops it open all while leveling her with a stern look. “Ass. Desk. Now,” he orders.

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, but she does as he says. With a quiet, but sarcastic, “Yes, sir,” she hops up onto the desk and swings her legs around to the other side so that she’s facing him.

“Arm,” he says, motioning for her to extend it while he pulls cotton balls, bandages, and a bottle of disinfectant from the kit. Once again, she does as told. He takes her arm, and while his grip is firm, it isn’t bruising — not how she’s used to. Gently, he peels away the torn pieces of leather and flannel, exposing the deep gashes oozing blood down her forearm. He sighs heavily and reaches for his canteen. “You’re lucky the Judges didn’t smell you,” he mutters, pouring water over her arm to wash away some of the blood.

Sybille crosses her ankles and begins absent-mindedly swinging her legs back and forth in the air. “Your dogs ain’t caught me yet,” she says flippantly. “Thought I’d give ‘em a fightin’ chance.”

But Jacob doesn’t laugh. A vein throbs in his jaw and he clenches it. Wordlessly he presses an alcohol soaked cotton ball to the edges of her wounds and she hisses at the sting. Her arm twitches, but his grip tightens. “Hold still,” he grumbles.

She watches his face as he tends to her. She takes in the worry lines creasing his forehead as his brows knit together. She observes the way his lips press tightly together and his jaw remains tense, as if he’s biting his own tongue. But despite his harsh, dour expression, he moves with a thoughtful tenderness, carefully cleaning the deep gashes and gently rubbing his thumb in small circles over uninjured skin each time she winces.

He’s pulling the first stitch through her skin when she huffs out another quiet laugh.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothin’,” she answers. “Just funny how you’re perfectly content to have your Hunters usin’ me as target practice, but a little scratch from a kitten gets you all worried.”

It’s almost sweet, she doesn’t say.

Briefly, he glances up at her from beneath his heavy brows, and then he pulls the curved needle through her skin. “It’s different when you’re doing work for me,” he says quietly.

With a click of her tongue, she says, “Aw, and here I was thinkin’ you were sweet on me.”

His nostrils flare and his mouth twists — a million things he could say, but he bites back all of them, save for a quiet “I don’t like it when you’re getting shot at either.”

The confession causes her pause. Stunned into silence, her eyes go wide before her heart does a strange little flutter in her chest and her expression is softening. “I’m a big girl, Jacob. I can take care of myself. Ain’t need you protectin’ me.”

“Stop talking,” he snaps, and she realizes that she must have been hitting all the wrong nerves. He’s normally so easy to banter with. Antagonism is what their relationship is founded on, even if it did grow into something more playful later on. He pulls on her pigtails, she flushes his homework down the toilet, and then they make out behind the bleachers. Classic schoolyard shit. Fun and games.

And even their little game has its rules.

But he isn’t playing anymore.

Which means she has no idea what the hell he’s doing.

The seemingly genuine concern and tenderness she’s receiving from him is as enjoyable as it is concerning. The only times he treats her like this, which such caution and reverence, is after he fucks her into a trembling mess. This is the first time he’s shown her an ounce of compassion outside of his bed. “Alright,” she whispers, and she shuts her mouth, remaining quiet while he finishes sewing up the remaining scratches and wraps the bandages around her arm.

She pulls her arm back once he’s done and cradles it against her chest. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He disposes of the bloody cotton balls, sweeping them into the tiny waste bin underneath his desk. “I take care of what’s mine,” he grunts, tossing the remaining supplies back into the first aid kit and snapping it shut.

The words shouldn’t fill her with as much warmth as they do. He doesn’t own her. She isn’t some tool in his arsenal, and she sure as hell isn’t his blood, but he looks after her like she is. There’s only one other person left in the county who has probably had Jacob personally tending to their wounds, and that person is his family.

She’s a little bit honored, if she’s being honest.

Jacob Seed isn’t a nice or good man. She’s known this from the very beginning. But behind his rugged exterior and the towering walls guarding his heart, she suspects that there might be a kind man, hiding somewhere deep inside.

“Well…thank you,” she says.

He grunts again, standing up to return the first aid kit to its original home.

The smart thing to do would be to leave. To slip off his desk, disappear out the open doors to the balcony — doors he leaves open just for her now — and vanish into the night. But she doesn’t want to go just yet. Not with this bizarre tension thickening around them. So she remains where she is, sitting on his desk, waiting for him to return to her.

He ultimately does, coming to stand between her spread legs, and she reaches towards him to drag his face towards hers. She aims for a kiss, but is abruptly stopped when his forehead knocks lightly against hers. He leans against her, dragging her hips forward. She wraps her arms around his neck and arches against him to press her body against his. Both their eyes flutter shut as they embrace.

“What am I gonna do with you, Jackrabbit?” he asks.

A number of answers flash through her mind — keep me here, never let me leave, prove your strength and keep me safe — but saying any of them aloud would make things too real. So, in lieu of something clever, she just hums and angles her head to brush her nose against his, a silent plea for him to kiss her.

He lifts his hand to cup her cheek. The pressure against her forehead disappears. The heat of his breath fans over her face.

A knock sounds at the door.

“Brother Jacob!” a Chosen calls.

She feels the growl reverberating deep in Jacob’s chest at the interruption and she buries her face in his neck to stifle a laugh. Just their luck.

“What?” he barks.

“The Deputy’s been spotted in the area,” the Chosen says. “Patrols are already looking for her, but I’m just letting you know — as per your orders.”

Jacob sighs heavily. “I have to take care of this,” he murmurs. His voice is heavy with regret, and reluctantly, he begins to pull away from her.

“Wait,” she breathes, and when he pauses, she hesitantly takes his hand. Her long, slim fingers snake between his, and she gives it a squeeze. He stares at her, wide eyed. His gaze darts from her pleading face to where her hand grasps his, and back to look her in the eyes. Swallowing thickly, she says, “Stay. Just…” She sucks in a shuddering breath and licks her lips. “Stay like this. Just for a second.”

Just as hesitantly as she reached for him, his fingers wrap around her hand — so big, so warm and rough — and he lifts it to his mouth. His lips brush over her knuckles before he presses a kiss to them.

The Chosen knocks again.

“Yeah, just a second!” he snarls towards the door. Then, he’s leaning his forehead against hers again, his mouth twisting apologetically. “You have to go,” he whispers.

“I know,” she nods.

But she doesn’t move.

And neither does he.

His breath fans hotly against her face, and he squeezes her hand.

Another, louder, series of knocks bang on the door. “Brother Jacob?

“If they catch you I won’t be able to —”

“I know,” Sybille whimpers, and she squeezes her eyes shut to fight back the tears burning at her eyes. She tilts her head to brush her lips against his but before Jacob can lean in with her, she’s pulling away. Untangling her fingers from his, she runs her knuckles down the side of his face. “Can I at least get a five minute head start?” she asks.

“I’ll make it ten,” he says. “Now, go.”

Slipping off the desk, Sybille rushes back out onto the balcony, but before climbing back over to make her descent, she shoots him one last heartbroken look. It’s cruel, she thinks, forcing him to watch as she disappears into the night knowing full well that he’ll have to hunt her down. It fucking sucks being limited to stolen moments and clandestine meetings like they are. Things would be so much easier if one of them just gave in to the other. No longer enemies but allies, fighting side by side rather than against each other.

Which isn’t going to happen. They’re both too damn stubborn.

But as she darts through the woods, trying to outrun the sounds of the snarling Judges, Sybille isn’t sure how much longer she can take this.

#r: define your meaning of war #oc: deputy sybille la roux #my fic #i lost steam working on this so it's not as polished as i'd like #but i wanted to get this finished. so. woe. jakesyb be upon you

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