#and the pawn shop was closed

[even-disco-baby]

CINDY THE SKULL — “Evening, officers. It’s a bit late to be skulking about, don’t you think?” Though she’s lounging around the coal room door as languidly as ever, her pale eyes ringed with coal dust seem to bore a hole in your skull.

YOU — “I’m looking for a place to sleep.”

CINDY THE SKULL — She lifts an eyebrow at you and Kim. “Did the cafeteria man finally decide he wasn’t interested in keeping a pigsty?”

YOU — “No, Kim is still staying there. I just can’t pay my bill.”

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant clears his throat slightly. “Let’s not give people the impression that officers of the RCM make a habit of dodging their tabs, detective.”

CINDY THE SKULL — She glances at Kim, lips pursing just slightly.

EMPATHY — His little comment irritated her. Curious.

CINDY THE SKULL — “Tough luck, officer.” She shrugs, the faux fur collar of her coat brushing her cheeks. “There’s a perfectly good garbage bin in the courtyard. It’s got a lovely view. Real prime real estate.”

YOU — “I know. Garte said I could sleep there, but I’d rather find somewhere else.”

CINDY THE SKULL — She blinks her coal-smeared eyes at you. Then, she turns to the lieutenant. “Is he joking?”

KIM KITSURAGI — “No,” he says drily. “He is not. If you know of any… more *comfortable* places to sleep, we would be much obliged.”

CINDY THE SKULL — She stares openly at the two of you, as if in disbelief.

COMPOSURE — The absurdity of your plight has nearly broken right through her veneer of youthful detachment.

CINDY THE SKULL — “Maybe I’m the one who should be a detective. I can solve your little case for you right now.” She points to the lieutenant. “Your room.”

KIM KITSURAGI — His face is solid stone. “No.”

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — There are so many reasons why he does *not* want to do that. He has neither the time nor any desire to share them with Cindy. Or with you, for that matter.

-1 MORALE

CINDY THE SKULL — She whistles softly. “Damn. Must be true what they say about pigs and cannibalism.”

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant does not rise to her bait.

EMPATHY — But there is something playing at the downturned corners of his mouth and the furrow of his brow. Something like guilt.

YOU — “What about the coal room, Cindy?”

CINDY THE SKULL — She outright laughs at you. “Fuck no! You want in my room, get a warrant, piggo!”

LOGIC — While drug possession is not a crime in Revachol, it doesn’t stop most cops from confiscating substances from vulnerable civilians for their own personal use. Including yourself, most likely.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — Hey, good idea! Cindy’s an artsy type, she’s probably got all kinds of shit to get her creative juices flowing.

PAIN THRESHOLD — And to get her through the cold and the hunger and the cruelty.

VOLITION — No. Don’t make things any worse than they already are.

YOU — “But then… where do I go?”

CINDY THE SKULL — She shrugs again. “It’s not my problem, is it? Ask your partner, here. Or maybe you should take a hint and go back home to the farm.”

YOU — “I don’t know if I have a home… I think I lost it.”

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant’s frown deepens. He stares down at his boots rather than meet your or Cindy’s eye.

CINDY THE SKULL — A long, almost uncomfortable silence. Her eyes are hardening as they take you in— you and your bloodshot eyes, your slightly labored breathing, your clothes that are certainly too thin to keep you warm tonight.

EMPATHY — She feels sorry for you, and she resents herself for it.

CINDY THE SKULL — She lets out a long sigh, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “All right, piggy. Just quit looking at me all pitiful… You saw the foreclosed apartment in the hall, right? If you wait for the cleaning lady to go to sleep, and you don’t stay long, it’s not a bad place. Better than the trash, anyway.”

REACTION SPEED — She seems to regret it as soon as the words leave her mouth. She’s not thrilled at the idea of trusting your honor not to rat out or even arrest your fellow squatters. But it’s too late now.

SUGGESTION — Wait. Is it really that simple? What if she expects something in return for the information? Or she could be setting a trap for you!

YOU — “Hang on. What’s the catch?”

CINDY THE SKULL — A wry smile breaks out across her face. It almost looks pained. “No catch, officer. I’m no snitch. Nor a pig.”

RHETORIC — You’ve insulted her more deeply than she cares to let on. She helped you because she knows your struggles intimately. Struggles that have claimed the lives of people she cared about. But now you’ve reminded her of the difference between you: she calls you pig because you sold your humanity for the power to strip others of their own.

EMPATHY — She’s sad. She was born sad and she will die sad. You are the one making her sad.

YOU — “Hey, Cindy?”

CINDY THE SKULL — “What?”

“I’m sorry. Thank you for helping me.”

“You shouldn’t judge me. We’re the same. We do what it takes to survive. You have the Skulls, I have the RCM.”

“Can’t we just get along?”

“I’ll pay you back somehow. I’ll make things right.”

“I don’t want to be this kind of animal anymore.”

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant looks up at you, startled. Concerned, even. He almost looks as though he wants to say something, but nothing comes to him. He just stares at you, at a loss.

CINDY THE SKULL — She levels you with a steady gaze. Even without the coal dust, her eyes would look sunken into her wan face. If it weren’t for the roundness still clinging to her cheeks, she would have lost nearly all trace of her youth by now.

“I don’t think you even understand what kind of animal you are,” she says coolly.

ENCYCLOPEDIA — Homo sapien.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — A tiny, violent ape.

AUTHORITY — Predator.

HALF LIGHT — Prey.

VOLITION — You’re a human, Harry. Nothing more or less.

INLAND EMPIRE — The saddest and cruelest animal of them all.

#disco elysium #cindy the skull #harry du bois #kim kitsuragi #i have a lot of feelings about cindy’s interactions w the player… #but anyway. this was inspired by me failing to earn enough money on day 2 to pay garte #and since i asked joyce for money on day one kim never sold his spinners for me #but like he does that to cover specifically the damages right. not for ur 20 real for the room #so he was comically uncaring about my plight LMFAO #even tho I the player knew that he could help me if he wanted bc he still had the spinners 😭😭😭 #anyway this resulted in me panicking and swearing for quite some time bc joyce was gone for the night #and the pawn shop was closed #and eventually i just went and savescummed the check to beat up measurehead until i passed #just so that i could look around the harbor for money until i had enough to pay for the bed 😭 #sorry kim for making you follow me around past 4 am but actually im not sorry #that’s what you get for almost letting me sleep in the garbage SNSGEJDHX

[goobygnarp]

my swindle with clothes design

#transformers #transformers animated #tfa swindle #transformers swindle #transformers animated swindle #wanted to keep his shape as close to his robo body as possible #keep his clothes similar as well #hes a cars sales man by day and an pawn shop dealer at night

[awkward-teabag]

Love (cannot emphasis how much sarcasm there is in that word) that an official Canadian government response to high cellphone rates is to switch carriers.

Switch it to what? We basically have three companies since one was allowed to eat the forth (with the government saying it wasn't anti-competition and the company eating the other pinky promising they wouldn't jack rates up). Even the smaller companies have to rent infrastructure from the Big Three so there's only so much they can do if that rent costs an arm and a leg.

And that's not touching on how many "small companies" are actually just subsidiaries of the Big Three. You may save $5 but you're still with Telus/Rogers/Bell.

Or that the actual small companies tend to have shit coverage because they don't have the infrastructure available to them and are prevented from getting it. Or their traffic is throttled in favour of the Big Three's customers. Or both.

Or that they're extremely regional thus aren't an option for a huge chunk of Canada's population.

We have no true options and the government has shown time and again that they're fine with monopolies, in multiple industries, and don't care when said monopolies jack up prices to make shareholders and the c-suite more money at the expense of everyone else. At most there will be a verbal slap on the wrist and a giftcard for $25 that people have to register for, for a decade and a half of price gouging.

It's not talked a whole lot about outside the country from what I've seen and heard but Canada is a country of monopolies. A handful of companies own nearly everything, every province has a family or two that owns a hell of a lot (Nova Scotia is basically owned by one family at this point), and our government ignores it. Even the branch that is supposed to be against monopolies is fine with mergers and takeovers in most cases.

Because, you know, the company said it totally wouldn't use consumers' lack of options to increase prices.

#canada #so much of our infrastructure and critical construction such as housing #has been pawned off for decades to private companies #and i forgot to mention one (1) family owns the bridge that is a major international corridor between canada and the us #which is apparently fine even though they fought tooth and nail to stop a bridge they don't own from being built #like our housing crisis can be traced back to the government deciding to stop building public housing in the 90s #because they figured private developers would pick up the slack #affordable apartments don't bring in much money so we got decades of cheap-ass 'luxury condos' instead #and once airbnb became a thing we got entire buildings with units <300sqft #and of course when the party in charge rotates between conservatives and neolibs nothing changes and that can gets kicked down the road #and keeps getting kicked until something collapses and they see the chance to fully privatize an industry #something similar is happening to our healthcare system too #it has been left to languish for years/decades with funding freezes and cuts #and private companies are quick to jump in and get the government stamp of approval to do [thing] that the public system clearly can't do #when [thing] would absolutely be possible if it was actually funded and/or staffed #so many communities were cut off when greyhound closed up shop because there's no government inter-city transportation #we lost internet/banking/cell service/etc nation-wide because one of the big three decided to push an update to live without redundancies #and it bugged and took the entire company's network down #even the government agency that demands major companies have a backup on a different network was taken down because they ignored that #and they got a deal if they kept their backup with rogers while their main network was also rogers #so they couldn't even make an emergency statement or anything about it #half my province also lost all digital infrastructure because it's a private company and making a redundancy line would mean smaller bonuse #it's just so bad #joke all you want about how canada is nice and friendly #but you are wrong and it's hell if you actually live here #the only reason canada is seen as nice is because it's hard to not seem like the better option when the us is your neighbour #and because of decades of pr work to make canada seem friendly and nice and not at all problematic #in some countries you actually have to try to hide you're canadian because of how much we colonize and the damage we do to other countries #yes these tags have derailed from the post but ugh #i take major issue with people who insist canada is nice and has never done anything wrong

[nitw]

RETURN OF THE SHAGGY MULLET

#WOOOOOOOOOOO #just came home from. the hairdresser and it was so nice #it's a tiny place close to where i live that ALSO serves as retro arcade and pawn shop for old video games n toys #and i got free coffee :DDD #definitely my new go-to #leo.txt #photos #it's my face! #trans #transmasc #gay #trans selfie

[skeletalheartattack]

is there anything you collect?

kinda, yeah! basically about maybe... 8 years ago? my grandfather gave me these two books for collecting pennies for every year.

i don't really go out of my way to look for them, since it's two different pennies for each year, but im missing ones for 2013-2015, and missing both for 2021 and 2022. if i ever get some change, ill usually look to see their year and the letter.

#ask #anon #plus it felt very bad to know my cousins and brothers got higher value of coins to collect #like at that age i was like ''damn i want to collect quarters. imagine all the things i could buy with them'' #but i guess thats why its easier to collect pennies. since youre never gonna fucking use the things #beyond that i dont really collect stuff! #closest to collecting something would be PS2 or Gamecube or N64 games but... thats not really even close #like im not looking to own every single N64 game #im mostly looking for games my brothers use to own. like devil may cry. twisted metal black. and the first two onimusha games #but idk how the fuck id manage to get them without going online to buy them #our gamestop use to sell used ps2 games but they stopped doing that like... maybe 7 years ago or more? #it SUCKS!!! #ik we have (had?) a pawn shop in town that use to sell games when i was younger #i havent been in there since i was a kid so either its not there or they wouldnt have the stuff i want #sucks! #id emulate the stuff but my dinky laptop cant handle emulating ps2 games #but yeah! i dont really collect things actively #like. maybe when i was a kid... pokemon cards? #like. i never bought them to trade them. id always buy them to have them #i still have them but. thats not for me anymore. #i remember my brothers owned an original holographic (yes thats what we called them) charizard #but they showed it to some kid on their bus on their way home and he stole it and never gave it back #they knew where he lived (in our neighborhood) but they never got it back from him #damn both me and my brothers losing things to stupid kids #my brothers that card. then me with dbz budokai and a lot of stuff in 3rd grade since a kid kept stealing shit from me #anyway!!!! thank you for the ask!!!

[mothman-ate-my-socks]

building in the sims and I SWEAR I saved before I closed my game last night, its just NOT there... like did it delete my build?? :( It remembered my lot type but there nothing there... I set my lot type halfway through, though, so a building SHOULD be there. I'm so confused...

#LIKE WHERE'D IT GOOO???? #and it wasnt even something special like. #Tirry was gonna run a gas station pawn shop to fence his stolen stuff #AND IT WAS SO CLOSE TO DONE UGH

[thevaultjewelryandloans]

The Vault Jewelry and Loan

When you visit us in Falls Church, Virginia, you’ll meet our team of experts who have been in the pawn shop business for decades. At The Vault Jewelry and Loan, we have a trained, professional team of members who are fully prepared to help you get the money you need quickly or help you find the item you're looking for.

Address: 6670 Arlington Blvd, Falls Church, VA 22042, USA Phone: [phone] Website: https://thevaultloans.com/

#Pawn Shop Falls Church #Falls Church Pawn Shop #Falls Church Va Pawn Shop #Pawn Shop Near Falls Church #Pawn Shop Close To Falls Church

[hiddenbysuccubi]

Everything looks smaller with my new glasses what is going on! *looks in mirror after getting home* ..... I don't hate this.

#I'm good! #I could have done better on my savings goals but I'll get super close by the end of the season #re confirmed staying at my friends for free / for dog sitting between my jobs #coworker is leaving next Wednesday for his summer job early bc they were going to move him to a different restaurant at the resort #so... sad face #I put up a tip jar for our last week of serving BBQ seeing as I'm the last server left #and pocket money has been nice #I LOVE DRIVING #hate these gas prices tho lol #Nixxed the idea to drive somewhere warm and impulsive between my jobs because money #damn it one day I'll own a little worn down home where I can just SETTLE all my things finally #Got a speaker at the pawn shop so with that and my hammock camping chair I am set for my summer on the lake! #Things could always be better #I'm just glad they're stable #About 2 years self harm free #Still have vices

[hllywdwhre]

Revenge - Tommy Shelby

Summary: Reader takes personal offense over Sabini’s attack on Tommy

Warnings: arranged marriage, graphic depictions of violence, reader leaves a message written in blood, smut, creampie, light degrading, oral smut (f receiving), overstim, p in v, let me know if I missed any

Notes: I made this text post about protective reader and decided to write it lmfao. I want Tommy with a feral woman. Thank you to @slut4thebroken for proof reading, encouragement, and suggestions💖

MDNI, 18+ only

You weren’t quite sure how it had happened.

Scratch that.

You knew exactly how it had happened.

Your father and Tommy had worked out a deal when Sabini had first started trying to intimidate your father. A bride in exchange for protection and both of them walked away with extra allies when the inevitable war against Sabini broke out. You’d protested the marriage at first, screaming that you were more than just a political pawn for your father to sell when he needed help, but it went through anyway.

You had to admit, it wasn’t the worst thing that could’ve happened. Sure, Tommy was distant and seemed obsessed with work, but you knew you could’ve ended up in a much worse situation. He treated you with respect, never let you open a door on your own if he was around, always had a protective hand rested in the small of your back, and… the sex was great.

Perhaps the thing you appreciated the most, was that he didn’t expect you to become the housewife you had feared you would be reduced to. You were your father’s only child, meaning when he died, you would become leader of his gang. You were a gangster the same way Tommy was and he seemed to realize that and respect it. You helped out with the daily runnings of the Peaky Blinders and helped with the daily runnings of your father’s gang at the same time. They both recognized your potential and weren’t afraid to use it.

It wasn’t until you were sitting in a family meeting about a year after your marriage that you realized you had grown to feel more than just okay with the marriage.

Tommy was a closed off individual and through the entire year you had been married, you felt like you were just starting to finally get to know the real him. You never pried because he never pried in your life. If you had general questions, neither of you were afraid to ask them, but anything more was left up for the person to tell. You had more questions than answers still, specifically about the matching scars on his cheeks, but you didn’t dare ask. He hadn’t asked about the scar that ran from your right shoulder blade down to your spine, so you didn’t ask about his scars.

It was a common occurrence for Esme, Ada, and Polly to sit with you at one of the desks in the betting shop, whispering things to you during family meetings to fill in any gaps and answer any questions you may have had.

“Alfie has informed me that the Sicilians are being provided aid by Sabini, in the form of cars and housing,” Tommy started, causing Arthur to let out a loud groan of frustration.

Before you could get dragged into hearing any more of it, you turned your head to Esme who was sitting next to you.

“Sabini’s a prick, I know that, but what has he done to us?” You asked quietly, your eyes still flickering back-and-forth between Tommy and the rest of his family as they spoke about what to do next.

Esme began explaining exactly what Sabini had done. How he and five other men came after Tommy in the dark of night, how he’d ripped out a tooth, sliced his cheeks, and beat him to an inch of his life.

The rage that settled inside of you was your first hint that you had grown to genuinely care for Tommy as more than just a friend and (amazing) fuck buddy. Your jaw remained clenched and set for the rest of the meeting, but as soon as the meeting was called to end, you wiped the look from your face and forced a calm expression to take over.

You stood up and walked over to Tommy, forcing a small smile to your lips,

“I’m not really feeling all that well. You go with your brothers for a drink, I’m just going to head back home, okay?” You said, meeting his eyes so he wouldn’t have a reason to not believe you.

Tommy’s eyebrows furrowed together as he tried to look for any sign you were lying. You had been fine that morning and fine two hours prior when you sat down for the meeting, but he had no reason to believe you were lying so he simply nodded, placed a hand on the small of your back to pull you closer to him, and kissed your forehead.

“I won’t be out long. Ask Frances for anything you need, okay, love?”

You nodded and the forced smile turned to a genuine one,

“I will, promise,” you told him before stepping away from him and waving goodbye to the rest of the family.

Yes. You had truly gotten lucky when it came to who you had been forced to marry.

The entire ride back to the Arrow House, you were silent and going over your plan in your head. You knew you’d have to earn Tommy’s trust back after this, but you didn’t particularly care. You were a force of nature on your best day. You were lethal when you were angry.

Once you arrived back, you immediately headed upstairs to yours and Tommy’s shared room. The marriage may have started off with the two of you in separate rooms, “I’m called the devil, but that doesn’t mean I’m some sort of monster. You can sleep in your own room until you’re comfortable sharing a bed,” but it didn’t take more than a couple weeks for you to eventually join him in bed.

Damn those blue eyes, full lips, and that jawline.

You grabbed a small bag and threw the first set of clothes you laid hands on into it, then, much more carefully, a dress. You grabbed everything else you needed and headed to Tommy’s office next.

I’ll be back soon. I’m sorry for lying, but I’ll be back.

You signed the note and left it in the center of his desk where you knew he would see it, held down by his ashtray.

As quickly as you had entered the house, you left it, getting right back into the car with the driver Tommy had employed for you. You told him the name of a hotel in London that you knew was just outside of anyone’s territory.

The drive seemed to pass by too quickly and soon you were saying goodbye to the driver and sending him home for the night. It was barely 7 in the evening when you got up to your room.

“If there is a God, please let me get through this. I’ll make it up to you… somehow,” you said quietly.

The beading on the dress swayed loudly around your body as you pulled the dress on. The pins in your hair seemed to be extra noticeable against your scalp. The straps on your shoes pressed into your skin more than usual. The blade held against your thigh and hidden by your dress seemed to refuse to warm up. Your left hand felt entirely too light with your ring missing.

You knew it was only your mind playing tricks on you. You’d worn this outfit before and it had always turned heads, which is exactly what you wanted.

You needed Sabini to notice you.

You greeted the cab driver politely as you stepped in and ignored the way his eyes seemed to follow you a bit too closely.

The doors of the club were held open for you and you made your way to the bar and took a seat, knowing you were just playing a waiting game now.

You could feel eyes on you. The wife of Thomas Shelby in Sabini’s club, hours away from Birmingham, far out of Peaky Blinders territory or her father’s territory. You stuck out like a sore thumb, even if you would have blended in during any other scenario.

It felt like an eternity passed before you finally saw the man that made your blood boil, but one glance at the clock above the bar told you it hadn’t even been an hour.

“You seem lost. I thought we had made it clear that your kind weren’t welcomed here,” Sabini said once he was in front of you.

A charming smile graced your lips and you looked up at him,

“My kind?” You questioned, playing innocent.

“Yes. Your kind. You’re the wife of Thomas Shelby and I don’t appreciate him ignoring the last warning I gave him and sending you-“

“I wasn’t sent here,” you stopped him, lifting your left hand and pushing a piece of hair that hadn’t fallen back behind your ear, “and I’m not really a Shelby or a Blinder, am I?”

His eyes were drawn to your hand and noticed the lack of a ring you wore and he quirked an eyebrow at you.

“Is that so? I was under the impression the two of you were lovebirds.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your lips and looked away, trying to come off as shy. When you looked back up to him, you hoped the look on his face meant he was intrigued and believing you.

“Perhaps we could talk about it somewhere else… somewhere private?” You asked him, batting your eyelashes as you did so.

Gods help you. The smirk he gave you made your stomach twist and you wanted nothing more than to wipe it off his face, but patience was something you’d adopted a lot of.

“Allow me to show you to my office then,” he said, offering you a hand which you forced yourself to take.

He guided you through the club and towards the back. Some amount of luck seemed to be on your side as his office was behind the stage and provided some cover for any noise you might make. Even more so as you noticed a window just large enough for you to be able to crawl out of.

Once the door was shut behind you, he sat down behind his desk and motioned for you to take a seat in one of the chairs on the opposite side.

“Trouble in paradise, I take it,” Sabini said as he poured you both a drink.

“It was never paradise to begin with,” you replied, thanking him for the drink and taking a sip.

You had grown used to Tommy’s Irish whiskey and the bourbon he gave you wasn’t nearly as smooth going down.

“Was it not? From what I’ve heard, you two have quite the fairytale. Gang leader’s daughter married off to another gang leader, uniting two empires.”

“That’s not the way I see it,” you lied.

“And how do you see it?”

“A desperate father sold off his daughter to a desperate gang leader in an attempt for the both of them to gain more power and disregarded the woman’s wishes,” you replied simply, shrugging your shoulders.

“And so you’ve come to London for what?” Sabini questioned, wanting to hear you say it.

“Because I think we can help each other, Mr. Sabini,” you said, downing the rest of the bourbon and standing up.

His eyes followed your movements, his eyes trailing up your body before resting on your legs again.

“And how do you think we could help each other?” He asked.

You moved to stand in front of him, placing one leg over the side of his and straddled him, placing your arms around his neck.

“They trust me, Mr. Sabini. They don’t suspect me of anything,” you started. The shiver of disgust that rolled up your spine due to his hands trailing up the back of your thighs was one he apparently took as excitement as he gripped slightly at the backs of them, “I can tell you everything and, in return, I get out of my marriage once they’re all gone.”

“They don’t even realize the ticking time bomb they’ve got in their fingertips, do they?” He asked and a chuckle left your lips as a genuine smirk took over.

“They don’t…” you said, trailing your hands down his chest and then up your thigh, trying to make the move appear seductive. Your fingers wrapped around the hilt of your knife, “and neither do you, apparently.”

His eyes widened and he realized the trap he had walked into at the same time as you pressed the blade of the knife to his neck.

“I’d say that if you ever threaten my husband or our family again, you’ll regret it, but you won’t be,” you told him, unable to resist pausing for a touch of dramatic effect before adding on, “Never fuck with a Shelby.”

In the next second, you were quickly slicing the knife across his neck and flinching back as his blood coated you.

You knew your next move was morbid, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. It had been morbid for him and five other men to attack your husband when he was alone. It was morbid for him to rip out his tooth. It had been morbid for him to slice his cheeks. It was just as morbid for you to quickly and quietly clear off his desk, dip your fingers into his blood, and leave a bloodied message across his desk.

Revenge is a scorned Shelby

As soon as the message was written, you grabbed one of the coats from the coat rack and slipped it on, then crawled out of the window. The coat was long enough to cover all of the bloodied mess that was now your dress.

Sabini is dead.

That seemed to be the only thing you could think of as you were driven back to the Arrow House. It wasn’t the first time you had killed a man and you knew it wouldn’t be last.

But you hadn’t told anyone about this time. You hadn’t told anyone your plan, where you were going, or why you were doing it. You had also just started a war.

You weren’t surprised to see almost every light in the house still on when you arrived, and you made sure to slip the cab driver a little extra for the long drive.

You hadn’t risked staying in London longer than you needed to. You had gone into your hotel room, grabbed your bag, and promptly left, only taking the time to slip your wedding ring back on when you were in the cab.

When you stepped into the house, Tommy was in the hallway. All he saw as you stepped in the door was you, in another man’s coat, your wedding ring still on your finger, but your hair and makeup done much differently than it had been you had left.

You stayed silent as you stared at him with nervousness written on your face.

He put out his cigarette and quirked an eyebrow at you, a silent prompt for you to explain yourself.

Your silent explanation was to undo the tie on the coat and let it fall to the floor, revealing your blood stained dress.

“I need a fucking drink for this one,” Tommy grumbled, motioning for you to follow him. He guided you to his office and poured both of you a drink, handed you your glass, then sat down in his office chair. “What the fuck did you do?”

“Do you want the short version or the long version?” You asked, a smirk on your face as he looked up at where you still stood across the room.

Despite himself, he couldn’t help but chuckle and shrug his shoulders,

“Humor me. Short version first,” he told you.

“About a year ago I got married, and tonight I started a war.”

Tommy leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk and running a hand over his face, “Long version.”

“About a year ago, I got married. Over the past year my husband has been nothing but a respectful gentleman, making it nearly impossible for me not to fall for him when you combine it with his fucking blue eyes that could bring the devil to his knees,” you started, feeling the hint of a blush creep into your cheeks, which you knew he noticed by the way his eyes flicked to your cheeks and then back to your eyes, “then today we had a meeting with his family where he mentioned Sabini. When I asked, his sister-in-law told me about what Sabini had done to him. About how my husband had been beaten to an inch of his life and brutalized, leaving him permanently scarred, and I knew I had to make the bastard pay.

“So, I lied to my husband and said I didn’t feel well. I went home, packed a bag, left him a note saying I’d be back, and went to London. I rented a hotel room where I changed into a fancy dress and did my hair and makeup, then I wrapped a knife to my thigh and slid my wedding ring into my bag and went to The Eden Club. News of a Shelby woman spread quickly and Sabini showed up to question me within an hour. I lied to Sabini, told him that I didn’t want to be a Shelby and that I had never wanted to be one. He took me back to his office and I sat on his lap and made him think I was about to cheat on my husband when I slit his throat and made sure he knew it was because of what he’d done to my husband. I left a message on his desk, went back to the hotel, grabbed my bag, and then headed back to our house.”

Silence filled the room for a long moment as Tommy stared at you. His eyes were unreadable as he watched you.

“What did the message say?” He suddenly asked.

“Revenge is a scorned Shelby.”

“Nothing about the Peaky Blinders?” He asked curiously, tilting his head slightly.

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It wasn’t Peaky business,” you answered confidently, watching him just as closely as he watched you as he stood from his chair and came to stand in front of you.

“Was it not?” He questioned, taking the untouched glass of whiskey from your hand and setting it on the desk before turning back to stare you down.

“No. It was Shelby business, but not Peaky business.”

“Explain.”

“He didn’t just harm a Peaky Blinder. He harmed a Shelby, my Shelby.” Your gaze was unwavering as you held eye contact with him. You wanted him to know you meant your words. He was yours, and the protective touches on your back when you were in public and the way he intimidated and glared at any man who tried approaching you was all the proof you needed to know that you were his.

“So I’m your Shelby?” He asked as he took a step towards you and continued to do so until you pressed against the office door.

“Yes.”

“And that means you’re mine?” He questioned, his hands now pressed against the wall on either side of your head.

You could feel that you were walking into some sort of trap, but you didn’t have a way out of it right now. All you could do was be honest.

“Yes.”

“Then you should know something about what it means to be mine.”

“What’s that?” You asked, your breathing getting shorter as he lowered his face so it was level with yours.

In a second his hands were on your waist and he had you picked up against the wall with legs instinctively wrapping around his hips.

“My Shelby is to never come home wearing another man’s coat again,” he said, pressing his lips to yours in a rough kiss.

You don’t know what reaction you had expected from him, but being pinned to his office door and him kissing you hadn’t been one you had thought of. Your shock wore off after half a second and you returned the kiss as your arms wrapped around his neck to keep him close.

“You’re not mad?” You asked against his lips.

“At you starting a war?” He questioned, leaning down and beginning to trail kisses hastily down your neck.

“Yes,” you replied, leaning your head back to give him more access.

“Livid,” he said with no hint of joking in his voice.

“This is quite the punishment,” you replied sarcastically. A moan fell from your lips as he nipped at your pulse point.

“Oh, I’m livid,” he said, looking up at you, “but also extremely turned on at the thought of my wife slicing a man’s throat over me and coming home still covered in his blood.”

You weren’t given a chance to respond before he was kissing you again. Your hands came down to his tie, pulling it loose before starting to work at the buttons of his waistcoat.

He didn’t bother setting you down, only turned the two of you around and walked you over to the couch in the office. He laid you down on it and then pulled the waistcoat off before leaning back down between your legs and kissing you again once. His lips started trailing down your neck again while your hands went to undo the buttons of his shirt.

“Someone’s impatient tonight,” he teased as nipped at your skin again.

“You’re the one who pinned me to the door after I revealed I killed a man for you,” you replied in the same teasing tone as him. You undid the last button of his shirt and pushed the fabric off his shoulders, his undershirt following a second later.

He reached his hand to the side of your dress and unzipped it, pulling the fabric down your body while his hands grabbed hold of your underwear, stockings, and garters in the same move and pulled them off, leaving you completely naked underneath him.

He stared and looked over your body a moment longer before running his hands up your thighs and giving a gentle tap to your thigh,

“Up,” he said, causing your eyebrows to furrow in confusion.

You did as told though and sat up, leaving him enough room to lay on his back and pull you up to straddle him,

“Was killing a man not enough work?” You teased, not actually minding if he was going to have you ride him. At least it meant you wouldn’t be subjected to him teasing you when all you really wanted was for him to fuck you.

“That’s cute,” he said sarcastically, gripping your thighs and attempting to pull you further up his torso, “that’s not where you’re sitting tonight.”

The man was no stranger at using his mouth to make you see stars, but you’d never ridden his face before. You looked at him, the question obvious on your face.

“Seriously?” You asked even though you knew by his face that he was.

“Seriously. You were enough of a leader to go after Sabini, you’re enough of a leader to sit on my face. Up,” he repeated again while his grip on your thighs tried pulling you forward.

You did as you were told this time, shuffling forward until you were straddling his face. You weren’t given a choice of when to sit as his hands came to your hips and pulled you down, forcing your full weight onto his waiting mouth.

If there was one thing you were grateful for, it was Thomas’ ability to use his tongue and lips in more than just outsmarting his enemies.

His tongue trailed through your lips, his hands keeping your hips in place, while his tongue slowly explored you at first.

It had only taken a couple weeks for you to crack and make the first move on Tommy, joining him in bed one night when you’d decided you could trust him, and you’d been insatiable and addicted to him ever since, though he never complained. He’d spent the first couple times figuring out every move that made you tick and every name that made your cheeks flush and used them to his advantage at every turn.

His tongue was a gift with the way he knew exactly how to use it. He dragged it up and down between your folds, drinking in every bit of your arousal before focusing on your clit, alternating between quick flicks and long drags.

Tommy’s hands on your hips began guiding them, silently instructing you to take control. You didn’t hesitate in going along with what he wanted you to do and began rocking your hips. One of your hands trailed to his hair while your other went to lay on top of one his that gripped your hip. You hadn’t realized the volume of your moans until you felt the vibration of his moan against your clit.

Your hips jerked at the added stimulation and he hummed against you purposefully, his eyes never leaving you as your hips sped up, chasing your own high. Within moments you could feel it approaching and your grip on his hair and hand tightened, moans of his name falling from your mouth like a prayer.

“Please, fuck,” you cried, whimpers falling from your lips, “Tommy, Tommy…”

Your high crashed over you a moment later and you felt Tommy’s movements begin to slow down as you rode out your high, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you caught your breath.

You went to move off of him, but his grip on your hips tightened at the same time that his tongue started speeding up again.

Your moans of pleasure turned to whimpers of over stimulation and you squirmed against him, but he didn’t let up. Your hips jerked as you tried moving away from him, but all it did was add to the stimulation.

You could practically feel him smirking underneath you as he continued on, watching as your eyes clenched shut and you relented yourself to letting him torture you so beautifully.

If it wasn’t for the way your body was on edge from not being given any type of break after your first orgasm, you might have felt slightly ashamed at the way he was able to bring you to your second orgasm so quickly.

And then your third.

Tears were freely falling from your face when he finally slowed his movements to a stop and helped you to lay down on your back.

He trailed soft and slow kisses along your thighs and stomach to help bring you back down to earth. When his lips reconnected with yours, you returned the kiss, letting your eyes fall shut at the surprisingly tender moment.

“Next time you want to start a war, at least let me know your plans,” he said, causing you to open your eyes and be met with a smirk dancing across his lips, “and don’t doubt my punishments.”

You could’ve smacked the smirk off his face if it wasn’t for the fact he had turned your entire body into mush.

“Think you can be a good girl and handle one more?” He asked.

Your cheeks flushed at the praise and his hands moved to his belt and pants, pulling them off after you nodded your confirmation.

Once the rest of his clothes had been removed, he gently lifted your legs and positioned himself between them. He was gentle as he pushed inside you, but the smirk on his face from the way your voice cracked when you moaned was obvious.

The stretch was familiar at this point, but it didn’t mean you didn’t need the moment he gave you to adjust. When you nodded your head, he started moving.

Tommy knew your body like he knew his own after your time together. His hips immediately changed position as he started thrusting, making sure to hit the spot inside you that added to the ways your legs shook underneath him.

He leaned down and placed his elbows on either side of your head, capturing your lips in a kiss right as a moan parted through them. One of his hands came back to cradle the back of your head and his fingers tangled into your hair to keep you close to him.

His other hand went to one of your legs and pulled it up so it rested in the crook of his elbow, causing him to hit even deeper inside you.

The action caused you to let out a high pitched moan and you wrapped your arms around him. Your next moan broke the passionate kiss the two of you had shared while your nails raked down his back.

“Who do you belong to?” He asked, beginning to speed up the movements of his hips.

“Y-you,” you moaned out, your back arching underneath him.

“Say my name. Who do you belong to?” He repeated.

“Thomas Shelby,” you answered and dropped your head back.

“Good girl. You’re my fucking wife,” he moaned out. He sat up, using one hand to keep your leg up in the same position while his other hand went to your already over sensitive clit, “all mine. No other man gets to touch you, look at you, or even fucking think of you. It’s my cock that you’re whimpering over right now, and it’s the only cock you’ll ever be whimpering over again.”

“I’m yours, Tommy,” you repeated, your voice breaking as moan after moan fell from your lips.

“Then cum for me. Be a good Shelby wife and make a fucking mess on my cock just like how you made a mess of this war tonight,” he commanded.

You didn’t need any more encouragement from him as your fourth orgasm hit you, causing your back to arch again and your nails to run down his arms.

His moves start to become more sloppy and his pace sped up as he began to chase his own high, the feeling of your cunt squeezing around his cock only driving him closer to the edge.

“Want to feel you Tommy, please,” you moaned underneath him, “please, cum inside me.”

“Fuck,” he swore out. His hips pushing against yours as his high hit him and his arms came down to either side of your head again while he shoved his face into your neck, completely claiming you as his own while his cum filled you.

His hips slowed as he rode out both of your highs and your arms came to wrap around him, placing a gentle kiss on the side of his head you could reach.

Once the two of your breathing had slowed down to a normal pace, he moved to push himself up and your legs around his waist tightened along with your arms.

“Don’t. Not yet,” you said in a quiet voice.

“I’m going to crush you, love.” He placed soft kisses along your shoulders between his words as he tried warning you.

“I’m a grown woman. I’ll tell you if it’s too much,” you replied and began running your nails softly along the shaved part of his head, knowing the motion worked on him every time.

“Stubborn,” he falsely chided, but relented and relaxed back into your hold.

“Little late to the party if you’ve just worked that out.” Your reply causing both of you to chuckle. “Remind me to start more wars if it means you fuck me like that every time.”

His hand came down and gently slapped your thigh in response while a burst of quiet giggles left your lips.

“Stubborn and a brat,” he teased, sitting up again and carefully sliding out of you.

“Too bad you’re stuck with me,” you responded with a smirk.

“I don’t think of it that way,” he said as he stood up and wrapped his arms under your waist and legs before pulling you up into his arms.

“How do you think of it?” You asked him as he carried you across the hall and into your shared room.

“I think I’m lucky enough to be married to a woman who killed for me over a years-old attack even though we’d never even said that we loved each other.” He set you down in the middle of the bed before crawling in next to you and pulling you into his chest.

A bright blush rose to your face as he pointed out that you had never even said you loved each other, even though you had admitted to him earlier that you had fallen for him. You didn’t know how to reply immediately and you turned in his arms to look up at him, his arms staying locked around your waist.

He didn’t seem to expect you to reply though, because he leaned in to you, pressing his lips against yours. The kiss was tender and sweet, as if he was trying to communicate what your actions had meant to him without having the words to say it.

“I fell for you, too,” he finally admitted, “I don’t know when it happened, but I know that I realized it tonight. The panic I felt to see your note and to see you come home covered in blood. The anger I felt over seeing you another man’s jacket. The way I felt when you revealed what you had done and why…” He trailed off, looking down at you and seeming to try and memorize every part of your face, “You’re mine.”

“I’m yours and you’re mine,” you replied, leaning up to kiss him.

“I’m yours and you’re mine.”

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby x reader #Thomas Shelby x reader smut #tommy shelby #Tommy Shelby smut #Tommy Shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby x reader smut #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy #cillian smut #cillian murphy x y/n smut #cillian murphy x fem!reader #cillian murphy x reader smut

[ioniiaa]

My Darling, My Honey

Alastor X Fem!Reader (Part 3)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Quick Notes:

This is when both reader/you and Alastor are both alive. (... we'll probably end up in hell later on btw so stay tuned...)

Reader is an artist/painter.

Part 3:

Shutting the door to your house, you slide down to the floor, back against the door. Your hands come up to your chest, clutching the fabric of your shirt, heart racing.

Looking around the room, you felt suffocated. Every inch of the wall had some reminder of your husband, paintings, photographs, newspaper clippings of every accomplishment and accolade of his. It made you want to tear your hair out.

A silent scream leaves your throat as tears run down your face. Silent crying was something you've mastered after all these years..

But never have you cried and broken down like this, with something giving you a glimmer of hope. That something was Alastor, he made you feel appreciated, you felt free when you were with him, like all your worries were washed away and you were helplessly in love.

With the realization that you were in love, your hands fell to the ground with a quiet thud. For too long had you suffered the control, the physical and mental abuse at the hands of your husband and your family that only saw you as a pawn- a means to an end for them.

The tears dried up as you sat there silently for hours till the sun rose, feeling like an empty husk of a human. It took you a long time before you could collect yourself.

Though you felt so weak, you had to go out and do some errands. Having to keep up the image of perfect housewife, after all.

With a vacant and empty look in your eyes, you left the house, barely presentable.

You didn't even know what you were going out for, but you'd find something, anything.

During your walk around town, looking for something to buy so you wouldn't go home empty-handed, an odd feeling and urge came over you to take a route home that you've never taken before.

The way you took this time was full of twists and turns, leading to many shady backstreets and alleyways.

One sign reading "Arabella's Apothecary" caught your eye, prompting you to enter.

The door opens with a chime, the shopkeeper giving you a smug smile, "Welcome in dear, how can I help ya this fine morn'?" You nervously tell her that you were just looking around.

The shopkeeper, who you found out was indeed Arabella, like the sign outside indicated, "You know, people don't just come in here for nothin'... Hun, I think we both know you're looking for a key to freedom."

Arabella's words shook you to your core, "A... key? T-to freedom?" You laugh nervously, wondering if this woman was a witch. But then it came to you, maybe you did need... something.

She laughed at your face, "Bwahaha, I can read you like an open book! I'm no witch, I just deal in... specialty medicines, you might say."

After a short conversation with Arabella, you find yourself in possession of some arsenic. This little powder was your freedom, and you thank your lucky stars that fate guided to this back alley hidden apothecary shop.

During the week of your husband's absence, you didn't visit Mimzy's bar at all, actually. You were planning your husband's demise. You had to be methodical, careful, every single minute detail needed to have a plan and a backup plan- including your escape and how you would remove yourself from suspicion of being involved in your husband's death.

When your husband opened the door, announcing his return, you felt a pit form in your stomach. The bile rose in the back of your throat at the thought of freedom being so close and yet so far.

According to your plan, your husband would be dead in the next couple of weeks. It would be hell to not visit Mimzy's bar in hopes of seeing Alastor again, but if everything went according to plan, you'd be free of your shackles. So two weeks, give or take a few days, was nothing compared to the near decade of pain you've had to endure.

There were a few close calls during this time, but your husband was just diagnosed with food poisoning each time until he was found dead at his desk at the office he worked at.

You had slowly poisoned him slowly and consistently enough to evade suspicion. You knew this much when the police came knocking on your door informing you that your husband was found dead. The gates holding back the flood were unlocked, and you crumpled to the floor crying. The police tried to console you, but little did they know that you secretly crying from being overjoyed at the news.

At the funeral, your family and in-laws looked at you with distaste and all they did was tell you to get out of their faces, telling you what a disappointment you were for failing as a wife to keep your husband happy and healthy.

That was all you needed to hear. You turned away from them and left town, not bothering to stop by your home. You left only with the clothes on your body, making your way to Mimzy's bar. If anyone was able to help you, it would be Mimzy, your only true friend in the world.

You get to Mimzy's bar a bit too early, sometime in the evening, as usually the bar only opens late at night. So Mimzy was prepared to ward off any suspicious people that could get the bar/speakeasy in trouble, but she rushed up to you immediately, fawning over you, seeing you in all-black funeral attire with puffy eyes, " (Y/N)! Darlin'!! What happened to you??"

Mimzy ushers you into her office, gives you a warm cup of tea and a blanket as she barrages you with more questions. You smile weakly at her and make her promise not to tell a soul, and she pinky promised that she would take your secrets to the grave. And she kindly offered for you to stay with her as long as you needed.

You took Mimzy up on her offer, but you offered to help out at the bar for as long as you did. It was the only way you would accept her generosity.

-> Part 4

#hazbin #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x you #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor x y/n #fanfic #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor #radio demon #alastor the radio demon #x reader #x you #x y/n #part 3 #reader insert #fem reader

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - unhealthy relationships, non/con, mentions of overstimulation, dehumanization, semi-public sex, and abuse.

[commissioned piece. donate to palestinians in gaza here.]

If Arlecchino had it her way, you think you’d be more of a doll than a person.

Not that it would make much of a difference when it comes to how she treats you. To her, all the world might as well be pieces of a chessboard; playthings to pose and position as she deems fit. Knights are sent into righteous battles, pawns are burnt to ash on first line of fire, and you’re made to watch it all from your place on a glass-enclosed pedestal, where the cruelties of the world are visible, but at a distance. That’s a flaw in her little world that Arlecchino hasn’t realized, yet – your eyes, unlike those of the delicate figurines she favors, are not only painted on.

You suppose you should count yourself lucky, when compared to the rest of her unfortunate collection. Most of her pieces are chipped and scarred, sharpened into fine, deadly points only to be discarded when they begin to dull. You, on the other hand, have proved yourself worthy of her maintenance. Your wardrobe is curated to her particular tastes, every style of bow and pattern of lace hand-selected to suit her preferred aesthetics, and she spends each morning running comb after comb through your hair, brushing rouge onto your cheeks, taking leisurely minutes to decide if she’d rather see you in blue or pink or lilac – always light colors, always gentle. You think, sometimes, that you must look like a groomed dog next to her, pastel and ridiculous next to her monotone elegance. Often, you try not to think about how little of a difference it would make if she added a leash and collar to your daily ensemble.

She rarely lets you leave her sight. Of course, obligation does draw her away from you from time to time (a rarity she laments as often as you pray for), but whenever possible, she has you sitting pretty by her side or, better yet, perched in her lap, straddling her waist and sobbing quietly into her chest as her clever fingers bring you to the brink of climax for the nth time in the past hour. The company she keeps rarely makes a difference when it comes to how or when she touches you – although, you do try not to remember how many of her colleagues have seen you with teary eyes and open legs. A doll’s owner rarely questions the way they choose to handle their toy, and so, she’s content not to think about how she handles you. Her only acknowledgement of your suffering is a quick kiss to the cheek as she coaxes you onto your own feet, a muttered comment about the new stain on the dark fabric of her pants. It’s a miracle that you can bear the humiliation of it, but your endurance is a convenience, not a necessity. There’s no reality in which your limitations alone would be enough to stop her.

Arlecchino does, at least, make the occasional effort to pretend she thinks of you as a partner, rather than a plaything. She’s made it clear that, in her ideal world, you’d happily accept the total loss of your autonomy and thank her for each and every second you spend under the torment of her obsession, but she settles for the occasional, trembling smile when she presents you with a gift or confection you lingered on while passing by an especially charming shop, the tender intimacy of your head resting on her shoulder when yet another meeting proves to be more long-lasting than your attention span. On her best days, she’ll even respond to your timid requests to please not leave another bruise on your neck, another fang shaped indentation on your collarbone with a breath of a laugh and a hushed explanation of why she has to, rather than just an outright, wordless dismissal. You wouldn’t quite say she listens to you, but it’s as close as she comes.

Dolls, after all, are incapable of requesting to be played with in a certain way, or asking their owners to treat them more gently, or speaking up about anything at all.

A doll, Arlecchino’s ideal doll, can only watch with a smile as it’s broken apart.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #genshin impact #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshinx reader #genshin imagines #yandere genshin #genshin #yandere arlecchino #arlecchino x reader

[hazashiovo]

Remember in "Sleeping Beauty" the live action how Maleficent had a crow? That's what we're doing now,but with Malleus.

Malleus x crow shifter!Reader

Genre:Fluff, master and loyal servant trope.

Little bird

You always had a thing for shiny,pretty things. No matter whether it was some trash on the ground or a nice ring in a pawn shop.

Shiny objects never failed to grab your attention.

Malleus is shiny and definitely pretty, and you, being you, got attracted to him. Naturally of course.

Malleus is a shiny,pretty fae.

It was near impossible for him not to attract your interes.

Once he realized a certain bird was stalking him, the fae started leaving small amounts of food for you. It always brought a smile on his face when the mysterious bird tilted its head,its dark eyes filled with curiosity. In his eyes,it was such a cute action to do.

He must admit,the bird got his attention,and soon enough it became a habit.

Like crows usually do, you started leaving small trinkets that you personally found pretty, at his window.

It might be a flowery metallic hair clip that attracted you,or maybe some bottle cap with a pretty color.

He appreciated neither less ,it was a curious habit the fae and the animal picked on.

So malleus started reading. About crows,their habits and soon enough he found stories about them.

Those little creatures are quite interesting,it's what he would think while reading a particular sentence that made him think about the bird,once again.

Some say if a crow is fond of somebody they leave gifts as a sign of appreciation and sometimes, loyalty.

When this little black feathered animal chooses a person to grow attached to,it's quite the view to other people. And it means that you, as a person,are enough to gain one animal's trust.

Dark, beautiful creatures of the night, growing attached to complete strangers.

What Malleus didn't know was that inside the dark bird,there was a human soul.

Free to transform whenever they pleased, not really.

You can't shift whenever you want to,unless you want to be seen bare by other students,and you definitely do not want that.

When you're in your animal form you feel free, peaceful to do as you please,fly wherever you want.

Even if you're not truly a crow,the tendencies to behave like one are real besides eating worms and insects. That's not you.

Bleagh.

Before Meeting the tall guy,you used to collect the shiny things you found,but now that he's here, most of the objects you pick up are for him.

He leaves outside his bedroom window bread crumbs,cookie crumbs and whatever the indulging boy thinks is good for you or that you would enjoy.Even if you don't need it,you take them. Mostly to show him you trust him with.

They taste better when somebody gifts them to you. It's a fact.

Soon,Malleus allows himself to touch your head. A gentle rub on your black feathery small head. His green eyes whiden when you push your head in his hand, practically telling him to keep going.

He smiles,as he rubs below your dark beak. Malleus notices the way your eyes close affectionately. He could even imagine a ghostly smile on your beak.

It's one truly cute interaction.

Malleus's friends soon started to notice a particular bird on his shoulder, always watching.

Silver even had a feeling that you understood what they were saying,simply by your body language.

But most of the time crows and ravens are smart birds,some reaching the level of understanding of a 5 year old child.

It's very interesting,you are interesting, especially in Silver's eyes.

But he doesn't pay much attention to you,more busy to focus on Malleus.

You like Silver,he cares about Malleus a lot.

The first time Lillia has met you,he knew that you're not what you seem.

His age isn't a young one, therefore he's been through stuff,and learned things in his life.

Like now,he knows that you're not just a bird. You couldn't fool the older fae even if you tried.

So he silently watches,and he's not ashamed to make comments when you're alone, which isn't often since you're with Malleus most of the time,but still.

This man has you sweating,even if you don't particularly hide yourself on purpose.

Even if you're most comfortable around Malleus in your shifter form,the truth can't be hidden from him forever.

At the same time,you can't just shift in front of him back in your human form.

Meeting him with no clothes on,for the first time even, doesn't really seem like a good first impression.

Unfortunately,that is exactly how it happens. Not the naked part,but let's just say you're not clothed either.

Almost 6 months of constantly being on Malleus's shoulder taught you his schedule. So seeing him in his dorm room,eyes wide open watching your form,that's covered by his blanket.

Your original plan was to shift in his room, quickly change in some clothes that belong to him,and tell him the truth about who you truly are.

Simple as that.

It wasn't simple as that. Malleus arrived in his room earlier than he usually does, barely giving you time to cover yourself up.

Now this situation is exactly not the kind that you wanted to land in.

It's not like you could've brought your own clothes in Malleus's room. Your animal form can't carry that much weight,after all it's a small bird.

"Who are you?" Malleus's voice breaks your line of taughts,all thinking of your failed plan and the embarrassment of being in such a situation.

"This isn't what it looks like." The fae holds a curious expression,after all not every day he's met with a naked person in his chambers. Now that he thinks of it,you do white look familiar,but he just can't figure it out from where.

"Malleus,I swear I'm not a creep or anything of the sort." His silence allows you to continue explaining yourself,the blanket around you getting squeezed tighter around you, praying to whatever God was mocking you that this blanket remains on your naked body.

"You know my name?" You watch as the said boy moves closer towards you,now more curious than before.

You squint your eyes, focused on the floor,trying to find the right words to explain yourself.

How do you tell the boy you're completely loyal to,that you're actually a person with the ability to shift forms.

Exactly,you try explaining it.

"I know everything about you, not in a weird stalking way,don't get me wrong." Swallowing the lump in your throat,you meet eyes with the dark haired fae.

This situation is less than comfortable for you.

"Then do explain,what are you doing in my bedroom and why are you bare?"He leaves out the part where you mentioned knowing him,and focused on the important matter.

"Well,I wanted to tell you the truth,or rather show you the truth but..." A sigh leaves your lips at the failure of your oh so great plan, "I didn't have enough time."

He watches as you follow his steps with your eyes,the deja Vu clear as day.

Just who is this interesting person who claims to know Malleus Draconia?

"Say, child of man, what might the truth be? The one you desired to tell me so bad that it was necessary for you to be bare in my room. Enlighten me." Malleus speaks,voice steady and calm,unlike yours. Shaky and anxious.

"I will gladly talk to you...mind if I ask but, can I borrow some clothes?" The question leaves Malleus a bit shocked,only nodding in agreement.

What shocked him even more was that you knew from where to take the clothes.

Excusing yourself to change,you don't miss the unusual expression on Malleus's face. Not so often do you get to see him expressing such an emotion, especially one you caused.

Finally dressed,you dare to properly meet eyes with Malleus. Ready to explain yourself properly.

"Now,I owe you an explanation." The boy takes a few seconds to take in your new appearance,his clothes looking quite nice on you.

"That you do,child of man. Starting by why you were in my room?" He doesn't take his eyes off you,instead fixates them in your eyes. There it was again,that sense of familiarity. Like he's known you for a long time.

"I came to your room, because I wished to show you who I truly was." A deep breath in,and an exhale. It's time to break it to him,that's the whole reason why you came here , right?

Your eyes dart around the room,a singular object catching your eye. A shiny silver ring you found on campus a couple months ago.

Making quick effort,you move towards the table to pick up the ring.

Malleus realizes it,and before your hand could make contact with the piece of jewelry his palm wraps around your wrist, stopping you immediately.

"How is you touching my belongings going to answer any of my questions? Are you perhaps here to steal,human?" His green radiant eyes narrow at you,gaze burning into your own. This ring could never be worn by the fae. Unfortunately you learned that one of Malleus's weaknesses is silver.

If you had known before you would've kept the ring to yourself. Even with his condition,Malleus still kept it, because it was a gift from his loyal little bird.

"Allow me," your soft eyes break contact with his narrowed ones,just for a second. He allows you to pick up the ring,his gaze fixated on what you're trying to show him.

"I brought this to you 3 Months ago,you fed me candy bits,even if it's unhealthy for a bird,I accepted them." Malleus's narrowed eyes widen he seems to be doing it a lot nowadays,or is it just the effect you have on him? Maybe.

"Now how could you have known that,and why would you refer to yourself as a bird?" He's not quite getting the hang of the situation,in his defense,this has never happened before.

You sigh,maybe the best thing to do is just show him,but then when you'll turn back you'll be naked again. Ugh...this is a curse.

"What if I just show you instead?" This was more a question towards yourself rather than for him,even so,Malleus nods. Carefully watching you as you back away.

You take a deep breath in,and there it is. The clothes you just borrowed from the tall male in a pile on the ground.

His brows furrow, was this a trick? Did you wish to play a prank on him?

He doesn't get to drown to deep in his thoughts,the sudden movement in the pile of clothes draws his attention.

The boy slightly bends down, trying to get a glimpse of whatever might be there. And out of the clothes,a crow emerges, a black feathered beautiful crow.

Not just any Crow,but you.

Now it's clear,why you were so familiar in the boys eyes.

Even so,the realization hits him hard, especially when you take your designed place on his shoulder.

Malleus's eyes link with the bird's,your eyes."It's...you?" Voice questionable,you knew he wouldn't have an extreme reaction. The time spent with him taught you that.

From your beak, the ring lays securely gripped. The fae's hand extends, allowing you to drop it in,only for a few seconds. The metal burning his porcelain hands. The ring quickly lands on the table, remaining as nothing more than a gift,and a decoration to his dark room.

You cow,like Malleus could understand you. It feels good to show yourself to him,not having to carry what felt like a horrible lie in your chest.

Once the shock wears off, he smiles. That warm beautiful smile that warmed your heart every time you saw it.

Fortunately,most of the time it was directed to you,after you brought him something nice from one of your trips outside the school.

"You're quite the interesting one,little birdie." He takes the liberty to adjust your position, setting you on his wrist.

"You never fail to surprise me." His white,large hand gently pet your little head,right above the beak. He swears he could hear you purr,like a cat.

Maybe it was only his imagination,but the way your head once again leaned into his palm,that wasn't his mind.

You two make quite the pair.

.

.

I had this little idea and I just had to write it. Maybe I'll make a part two to it, depending on what ideas I get next.

#malleus #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia #malleus twst #malleus imagine #malleus x crow reader #malleus x gn reader #malleus x reader #twst imagines #twst malleus #twst malleus x reader #x reader #reader #x gn reader #gn reader #twst fic #twsited wonderland #twisted wonderland malleus #lillia vanrouge #lillia x reader #silver #silver x reader #twst silver #fae #sleeping beauty #shifter #shifter reader #x shifter #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland

[toxicanonymity]

consider this: down on her luck reader who needs cash and tries to sell something at joel’s pawn shop but he lowballs her and she insists she needs more money and he says “there’s something else you could give me” 👀

Pawn Shop

2.3k / sleazy GILF!Joel x fem!reader / masterlist

mood board by @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

WARNINGS: I8+ Big girthy age gap (68/20s+) dark / perverted old creep Joel, dubcon nudity. Joel jacks off. Sex dream (oral m & P in V sex) and coming in public. Non-outbreak AU. TW Clowns, Drug/addiction references, transactional. Accidental horror then I kinda rolled with it, possible nightmare fuel?

He sighs, puts down the magnifying glass, and swivels his stool around to face you. "Best I can do is twenty, darlin'." His tired eyes are apologetic, wrinkling under the shade of his brow as he looks up at you.  "And that’s pushin’ it.  Rock's not real, no market for this." 

Your face goes cold. You don't know what else to do. The ring is all you have.  You need $75 for your bus ticket, then you're out of here, going to get a fresh start somewhere new.  You hold your hand out and the chain of the necklace pools into your palm as he lowers it into your hand.  You swallow thickly. It comes out in a broken whisper: "Thanks anyway."  

You walk to the door, dejected, being careful that your backpack doesn't hit any of the junk piled up everywhere on your way out.  You’ve never seen so many ceramic clowns. There’s a market for all those, but not a necklace?  You barely have the energy to push the metal bar of the door.  It’s so bright outside your eyes ache as soon as you touch it.  When the bell on the door jingles, the man says,  "Hold on, sweetheart. C'mere." 

You look back to the register and he's sitting with his arms crossed, thumbing a suspender. You walk halfway back to the counter. "Told ya I don't have anything else," you say, tears welling up in your eyes.  

He squints and looks you up and down, then scratches one side of his silver beard.  "How 'bout that pretty dress?"

You sigh. "I can't, I don't have anything else."  Your eyes fall to his biceps bulging out of his short sleeves.  There’s a faded tattoo you can’t see.  He has the face of a grandfather but the body of a muscular DILF with sun damage.

"Gimme a minute, darlin'."  He puts his hands on his thighs and stands up with a groan.  He quickly adjusts himself then reaches under the cash register, unzips something, and his hand emerges with some bills.  He turns away to thumb through them, pockets them, then hobbles around you to the door, his denim brushing the skirt of your dress.  He turns the sign to "closed" and turns the lock.

"Lunch time," he says with a raise of his eyebrows.  A pit forms in your stomach, but you suppress it. "Come on back, I'll show ya what I got." 

-

You hesitantly follow him to the back of the store. He walks slowly, like he's in pain. His jeans are tight on his ass, and one side of his shirt collar is creased. If you only saw him from the back, you'd peg him for fifty or so, but his face and mannerisms are older.  In the back of the store, there's more junk.  One corner has an old sofa and an armchair.  He sighs and his knees pop as he sits down in the armchair.  He looks at you and nods at the sofa, as if you should know what to do. 

"Fifty for the dress."

Your eyes burn with tears of frustration.  "I don't have anything else to wear." 

"Oh, you'll get it back, darlin'. Don't worry," he says soothingly. 

The blood drains from your face as you realize what this is.  He stands up slowly again with his hands on his thighs and shuffles over to a desk to get a bottle of lotion. A ceramic sad clown in a bowler hat sits atop the desk. On his way back to the chair, he looks you up and down and his voice goes up an octave like he's talking to a pet. "Hey, it's okay, sweetie. I'm not gonna touch ya."  He takes down his suspenders and sits back down with a sigh.  He leans back in the chair with one hand on his beard as he watches you think it over.   He spreads his legs and rests his heels on the ground.  Your eyes follow the grooves in the tan soles of his boots as you think. 

Finally, you ask, “Is there anything you need help with? Any work you could give me?” 

He smiles and chuckles to himself, looking down. His smile fades when he looks up again with a darker tone.  “Fifty for the dress, sweetheart.  And ya get it back.”

You take a deep breath. 

He lifts his hips and shoves a hand into his pocket. He peeks at the cash and takes out a fifty-dollar bill to show you.  "If ya don't want it, I'll let ya go." 

You put down your backpack. "All I have to do is take it off?" 

"And lemme look at ya for a lil bit," he adds.  He folds the bill vertically and holds it between his middle and forefinger on the arm of the chair and palms himself with his other hand. It makes your stomach turn.  But it's fast money, and you're so tired, you just need to get on the bus and sleep.

"Okay," you agree quietly and feel a little piece of yourself float away. 

"Good girl," he says.  

-

You rip the bandaid off, pulling the dress over your head right away. You hold it in front of your body timidly. At least you still have your shoes and underwear on. 

"I'll hold onto that," he says as he lifts his hips to unbutton his tight jeans.  You stand frozen as he unzips then reaches into his pants.  He takes a deep breath as he takes his cock out.  You’ve never seen an old one, and you’re curious, but you don’t look.  He extends his free hand for your dress.

You stand as far away as possible and lean forward, extending your arm and practically tossing the dress to him. You avoid looking, but it’s hard not to see it in the corner of your vision.  You quickly go back to the couch and sit down.  

He drapes the dress over the arm of the chair and pumps some lotion into his hand. Then he wraps his hand around his cock and his fist begins to go up and down, moving a distance that tells you he's well endowed. 

You cover yourself with your arms, cower, and look away. 

"Don't be shy, darlin'. Only make it take longer."  

You put your hands down by your sides.  He strokes himself slowly and watches you. "Sure are pretty," he mutters. "sorry you're down on your luck."   You look away. "Nuh-uh " he says.  "You look right here."  Your eyes begin to water.  You look past him, to the sad clown on the desk. You're never, ever coming back to this town again. 

When he closes his eyes for a moment, you steal a glance and curse the pang between your legs when your eyes fixate on the thick pillar in his weathered, veiny hand.  He sees you see him.  He looks down at his cock then at you and a wicked look spreads across his eyes.  "Yeah, that's right," he murmurs. "Like what you see?"  He nods slowly as he pumps himself.  He adds more lotion. 

The slurping sound makes you sick. Sick enough to snap. You're never coming back, why are you doing this? You feel yourself floating back together.  

You offer a small nod of admission, stare at his cock, and wet your lips.  Because you know that's what he wants.  

“You can have it if ya want,” he says.  You act tempted but shy.  "That’s okay, sweetie.  Just take off the rest and this'll go faster." You don’t take anything else off. “Another fifty for the rest.”  He pauses his hand, holding his hard cock at attention as he gets out another bill from his pocket.  Arousal stirs between your legs, looking at his stiff member jutting into the air, ready to be mounted.  But no, not with this sleaze. 

-

You “pretend” to be turned on.  "How much faster?"  You ask. He accelerates his stroke  considerably to demonstrate, then slows it way down. He wets his lips with the darkest look on his face, and now that you're looking at his cock unabashed, butterflies swarm in your lower belly. 

"Ok," you say, and stand up.   You walk toward him slowly, taking down the straps of your bra, eyeing the bills in his hand.  "How much is in your pocket?" His eyes rove you hungrily. You stand in front of him and ask, “How much if I just do it myself?" You put your hands on his jeans and squat down.  He's pumping himself at a snail's pace now. 

"Hold it for me," he says as he digs in his pocket. “Lemme see.” 

"Not for free," you tell him. 

He chuckles and hands you the two fifties. You yank your dress out from under his elbow and make a break for the front of the store.

"Hold on now, darlin'," he protests over his shoulder.  You're putting your dress on as you scurry away, leaving your bag. The chair groans as he slowly stands up.  You bump into a clown and it crashes off its table to the ground, shattering. You reach over the counter and under the cash register.  His silhouette hobbles down the hall, suspenders swinging at his hips, as you grab the pouch of cash. 

"You don't wanna do that," he says flatly, footsteps getting closer.  You glance back and he's got his pants still undone, grabbing a shotgun off the wall. You tip over a display shelf behind you on your way to the door.  You fumble at the lock, then push it open and it jingles as you spill onto the sidewalk, blinded by the sun and  stumbling with nerves, part of your dress hung up on your panties. 

You fall on your knees and as you're getting up, he emerges from the store with his gun raised.  Thankfully, there are other people on the sidewalk who stop and stare at him with his pants and suspenders hanging down exposing his silver pubic hair, biceps bulging as he points a shotgun at you. He notices the stares and lowers the gun as you run away crying, pulling down your dress.  

The worst part is your primal brain finds this image of him to be one of the hottest things you've ever seen.  You stuff the pouch in the band of your bra under your arm and it gathers your sweat as you walk to the bus station. 

-

At the station, you open the pouch. It's quite a stack of bills and also a few loose pills. Oxy which is the last thing you need, but god, after that experience.  You count the money, close to $1,600, and you feel a rush.  It’s more than enough to replace everything you lost. You walk to the pharmacy across the street to buy some water, a snack, and some wet wipes to wipe down with because you feel filthy. 

Once you're on the Greyhound bus, you settle into the big, gray velvety seat with an eighties-looking rainbow design on it.  You still feel disgusting, especially because you can't shake the image of him in your head or the feeling between your legs.   A DILF sits next to you but you're too ashamed to let yourself look at him.  You discreetly take one of the pills from the pouch and doze off.

-

You're back in the pawn store, sitting on the sofa completely nude. He's shirtless with gray and white chest hair and a little tummy, but he's not too wrinkled. He’s wearing red suspenders. There’s a faint trace of faded makeup or tattoos stemming down from his eyes - narrow triangles, pointed downward. Somehow he makes it look sexy. 

"Spread your legs for me, baby," he says gruffly as he moves his hand up and down his cock. You spread your legs wide and touch yourself. 

"Fuck me," he exhales. "Gotta have ya, darlin'," he sighs in resignation.  He stands up with no difficulty, crosses the room cockily with his big dick in in his hand, and puts his hand on the wall behind the sofa. He looks down at you darkly, looming over you, stiff cock less than two feet from your face as he strokes it.  You scoot forward and suck his tip between your lips. He puts his other hand on the wall and thrusts his huge cock slowly into your mouth, bracing himself with both hands.  

You suck him hard, salivating around his delicious cock as his hips push him into your mouth. He grunts and moans and says "yeah, just like that," fucking himself with your mouth.  His soft, deep voice stirs a feral desire within you.  "Just like that, baby.”  You take him out of your mouth and he watches from above, stroking himself as you stretch out on the sofa. "You want this cock, sweetie?" You nod. He brings a hand down to the back of the sofa then cages you to the cushions with his body. "You want it in your pussy?" 

He reaches between your legs and lightly taps your cunt a few times, wetting his lips, then rubs your slick around it. You grab his dick and gently tug him closer. You wrap your legs around him and he slams his big cock into you, stuffing you completely full of him. "Yeah," he sighs. He retreats slowly then slams into you hard.  "Take it, sweetie."  You moan and he grunts. 

He repeats the action again and again, and it feels better and better.  His belly grinds into your clit and you watch his biceps flex. He pounds you and grinds into you and finally you burst.   

You wake up moaning on the Greyhound bus and the DILF next to you looks away, blushing. 

All Joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose  @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @lokanda @blackvelveteen1339   @manazo @wolvesandvampires  @taeslarityy @str84pedro @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl

#gilf!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller drabble #joel miller fic #dark!joel miller #pedro pascal fic #perv!joel miller #pedro pascal #pervy!joel miller #pedro pascal smut #toxicanonymity ☠️ #creepy!joel miller #cw clowns #cw sex work #cw dubcon #PPCU jacks off #PPCU jacks off ☠️ #someone jacks off

[chestharrington]

Fixation

Rating: E (18+)

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings: SMUT (fingering, handjob, p in v). Dubious Consent (coercion, power imbalance, failure to pull out), unhealthy/probably illegal power imbalance, stripper!reader, gator is an asshole (like extremely), degradation, misogyny, sexual assault (by a non major character), brief violence, kind of stockholm syndrome if you think about it, unhappy ending

Summary: Gator Tillman’s fixation of the week just so happens to be you, for better or worse.

A/N: If you know me personally please do not read this thank u <3

The foggy clouds of your breath were painted pink by the glow of the neon sign— The Venus Lounge— with a cute little clamshell opening and closing and everything. 

You had a velour sweatsuit pulled over the skimpy costume you’d wear for your next dance, hot pink and bedazzled across the ass. It was trendy maybe fifteen years prior, so it cost just about nothing when you bought it at a bin sale. 

Sweet, strawberry-scented vapor poured from your lips as you exhaled. You hated this stupid thing— you’d rather smoke a cigarette like a goddamn adult. But the owner insisted, “You ladies gotta stay smelling nice and sweet and respectable for our clientele.” Which was fucking stupid considering they came in smelling like sweat and mud and body odor. 

From the alley, you could get a sneak peek of whoever was coming your way for the night— the big spenders, the handsy ones, the cheap ones… and Gator Tillman’s stupid entourage, who you avoided like the plague.

You made the mistake of getting cozy with him. Once. A few well-paid lap dances, then a private dance in one of the dimly lit back rooms. He’d been handsy, and you relished in it, in him. A handsome, powerful guy who looked at you like you were the hottest woman he’d ever seen. You sucked him off in the private room and he gave you a hundred to shut the fuck up about it. Like you were some sort of whore.

Gator. What a stupid fucking name. His dad was a grade-A cocksucker, so it made sense that he’d name his son something so goddamn stupid. The other girls were scared of Roy, with good reason. Their boyfriend get too rough? He’d brush it off— no domestic abuse charges on his watch. The man is the master of the house, and the woman is his property. One girl swore he came onto her, and she got a broken arm when she brushed him off. A lot of people thought that stepping to the Tillman’s meant winding up dead. 

Fuck that. 

You hadn’t wanted to wind up in this town anyway. You were married, once upon a time. You had the tattoo of his name on your hipbone, a shitty rental house in West Texas, and a wedding band he bought from a pawn shop. He found a job up north, and you followed like an obedient puppy. 

It wasn’t your fault he’d racked up gambling debts— that he owed the wrong people money he didn’t have. And it wasn’t your fault that he was fucking a waitress at the local diner— thin, blonde, perky. The divorce was settled quickly— but you were left penniless, in bumfuck North Dakota, in Tillman territory. 

Well, it was a good thing you still had your looks. 

You saw the police cruiser pull into the lot, heard the slam of the car door and the mindless chatter between the valiant boys in blue. Those assholes did about as much for the city as a tick does for a dog. Your phone buzzed against your hip, warning you that your break was up. You took one more puff from your vape and slipped back in the door to the dressing room. 

You warned everyone that Gator and his boys were out there as you slipped out of your jogging suit and adjusted your dancewear beneath— a baby blue bikini set that you’d bedazzled by hand. You slipped a sheer skirt overtop and surveyed yourself in the mirror. There was still a flush on your cheeks from being out in the cold, but it would be fine. 

You slipped out onto the floor, passing by crowded tables. It was busy, even for a Saturday, which meant more money to take home. A hand grabbed your ass and squeezed it in a meaty paw. It was some drunk old guy who probably couldn’t even get it up anymore but had maintained his pervy inclinations. You bit your cheek to keep from saying anything and kept making your rounds.

“You want a dance?” You’d ask the safe guys— the ones who looked nervous to be there, whose eyes kept flitting around like they’d get caught any moment. Their button-ups were ironed, their slacks pressed. Usually, they had a nice fountain pen in their pocket. Clerks, CPAs, any of those nerdy desk jobs. 

Most of the time they declined, too nervous to go that far, but occasionally you’d get a yes, do a bit of grinding, and walk away with a nice tip. 

You’d done a few lap dances by the time you passed by Gator and his crew. Your money was tucked into the band at your hip, concealing your ex-husband’s name. 

He called you like a dog– whistling low. You froze, and turned to face him, all smug and pleased with himself. 

“You need somethin’, Deputy?” You asked, jaw clenched, raising a brow. “Because if you do, you can ask like a gentleman. I’m a lady, not a dog.”

He laughed, glancing back at his pack of asshole cops to make sure they saw the next part. “Really? ‘Cause it seems to me you’re actin’ like a bitch.” They all laughed, because of course they did. They thought he was so, so clever. Before you could respond, he held up a fifty-dollar bill between two fingers. “C’mere, girl. I want a dance.”

Your eyes flicked between him and the fifty between his fingers. You were broke, but was it worth it? He saw your hesitation and his smug grin grew. “Aw, you need it that bad, huh?” He patted his thigh twice. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Anyone in their right mind would’ve said no, and walked away with their dignity intact, but he was right— you needed it bad. 

So you approached and tried to pluck the money from his hand, but he pulled it away, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. “Nuh-uh, Sweetheart. Gotta earn it first.”

You huffed in disbelief, taking a step back. But meeting his gaze told you how serious he was. You swallowed your pride and straddled his lap, grinding to the beat. 

It felt degrading, dancing on him while his friends all leered. Your tits pressed against Gator’s shirt, his hands firm on your hips, even though he knew he wasn’t allowed to touch. If you called him out on it, he’d probably just say it was nothing he hadn’t done before.

It could’ve been one song, or maybe more. Probably more. When he finally removed his hands, he nodded for you to get off. You swallowed uncomfortably and took a few awkward steps back. 

“The money,” you said weakly.

His face scrunched slightly, like he was considering it. “Eh… I don’t think you earned it, Sweetheart. I mean, I’m not even hard.” 

He got a real kick out of that, and out of the kicked puppy look in your eyes. You swallowed it down like a bitter pill and met his gaze. “It’s not my fault that all the blow you do is killing your dick. Keep your fuckin’ money, Gator. I don’t want it.”

Which was a lie. You wanted it more than anything… but you knew you’d pissed him off. You could see the vein popping at his temple, the way his hand clenched around his beer bottle. Better to pretend you were better off without it and walk off with some dignity left.

It took about three steps to realize that there was a little less pressure on your hip than there used to be. Your hand felt along the band of the bikini and came up blank. He’d taken your fucking money. 

You heard him giggling behind you once he knew you realized, but what was the point? Who would you call to get it back? The police?

By the end of the night, you counted your meager earnings and tucked it away in your bag. Without your dancewear and the makeup and the heels, you could pass for the average citizen of Stark County. 

You bundled up in a parka before you walked to your car, a shitty, beat-up car nearly older than you were. One of the side mirrors was ripped off, and the bumper was caved in, but she ran. 

Tucked into the windshield was a tiny note, in a messy, nearly illegible scrawl— Impress me next time. You crumpled it and tossed it onto the asphalt.

  You saw him again on Monday. The club was closed on Sunday, due to an ordinance that Roy Tillman had put in place about businesses of ill repute operating on the holy day. You wondered what he thought about his son bankrolling the lives of half of the strippers who worked at the club.

He was alone, though, which scared and comforted you in equal measure. You watched him from afar, sitting at the bar, drinking a White Claw and puffing on that stupid fucking vape. 

There was a girl in his lap, one of the newer dancers who didn’t know better. Whatever. She’d figure him out soon enough. 

Mondays were slow. You did a few dances onstage, made the rounds, flirted with some of the regulars. Gator was blissfully elsewhere, which you loved. 

The night had been pretty tame until just before last call, when an overserved realtor got loud and handsy. 

“C’mon, why don't you take me back to one of those rooms without the cameras?” One asked as you gave him a half-hearted lap dance. His breath was like a punch bowl at a senior prom, and his fingers dug into the plush of your ass. 

You winced as he pulled you harder against him, and you felt the uncomfortable prod of his dick against you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He was grinding up against you, sweaty at his temples and forehead. He was deceptively strong, holding you down against him so he could rut against you and get off. “Ya know, the private rooms for the big tippers. Better than all this over the clothes stuff.”

“You need to stop,” you said, as firmly as you could, shoving at his chest to really get your point across. He didn’t let up, and gave you a smarmy grin as he began roughly moving your hips of his own accord. “Hey, stop it, asshole.”

“Hey, you’re the one offerin’ me a dance,” he said. “I sold a nice big house today, got a real good commission. I could tip ya real good if you’re nice.”

“Let me go!” You shoved at his chest, slapping at him, but he just grinned. You were just wondering if biting his ear off would do the trick when you felt yourself pulled off him and tossed aside on the floor like a rag doll. 

Then there was the soft sound of blows landing against a stomach. Then the crunch of a broken nose. The wheezy rattle of the realtor’s breath once he started spitting up blood and teeth. Each punch made you flinch until finally, it relented. 

“Should’ve let her go, asshole.” Gator’s knuckles were bloodied, and you realized he was holding out a hand to help you up. You took it, nervously, and readjusted your costume where the realtor had tugged at them. “You hurt?”

You shook your head. “I’m fine but is— I mean, is he gonna be okay?”

Gator’s brows furrowed as he spared a glance toward the bloodied pile of meat on the floor. He spat in his direction and shrugged. “Who fuckin’ cares? Goddamn lowlife.”

You wondered if he could sense the irony. His face lit up in recognition, then he knelt beside the realtor, patting him down, searching for something. He stood and held up a fancy, monogrammed leather wallet. 

He sifted through, retrieving bill after bill. “Here. Y’earned it.” It was more cash than you brought home in a week. More cash than anyone should carry on themselves at once. 

“I’m not taking that,” you said weakly. “I can’t.”

He rolled his eyes, tucking the money in your bra. “Such a fuckin’ bitch, you know that? Can’t even say thank you or nothin’.”

He left you standing there over the broken body of the asshole realtor, who may or may not have been dying. Either way, you figured the Tillman’s would handle it. For better or worse.

  “I didn’t fuckin’ do anything,” you argued, which was a lie. And it’s not like anyone would listen even if it wasn’t. Police are on their way, they said. They’ll deal with thieving filth like you.

Well… they didn’t have to get quite so personal. You sat outside the Manager’s office at the stupid fucking sex shop, picking at your cuticles until you heard the police cruiser roll up outside. You heard the door slam, and muffled chatter until you saw him walk in.

“Well… look who got herself into some trouble. And here of all places too.”

Fuck. Gator Fucking Tillman. 

You glanced up at him for a moment before returning to your nails. The shop owner was talking the deputy’s fucking ear off until you heard the question you dreaded. 

“What is it she was tryin’ to steal? I mean… there’s a lot to choose from, I’ll tell ya that.”

You watched with a thin sense of dread as the shop owner laid out your would-be haul of lingerie that had been stuffed into your purse. Gator grinned as he glanced over at you, then back at the lingerie. 

“Can I have the office? I need some privacy to interrogate the perp.” The manager complied, bending to the will of the law or whatever. Gator grabbed you by the arm and tugged you inside, closing the door firmly behind him. 

You watched as he strode towards the nice armchair behind the desk, then sat down, legs spread wide. He unzipped the stupid police vest and shrugged it off, so it landed in a pile on the floor. For a moment, it was quiet as you stared at him dumbly, then he snapped his fingers. 

“What? You want me to tell you why did it? Three fucking guesses.”

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “No, I want you to try it on.” 

You swallowed, and when you spoke your tongue felt dumb and heavy. “What?”

“You heard me. Try it all on, and tell me if it was worth the trouble.” He looked at you expectantly, and when you didn’t move, he sighed. “It’s this, or I take you to the station, get you booked, and all that. I doubt anyone’s gonna pay your bail, so that’s a few days before arraignment. Then it’s a court case for larceny, and let’s be honest, you’re guilty.”

You stared at him, speechless. He stood up suddenly, grabbing his things before you interrupted— “Wait! Wait. Just… sit back down.”

He grinned. “There’s a good girl. Make it good for me, yeah? You know how.”

You huffed, heart pounding as you grabbed the first set and turned around to change. You had just pulled off your shirt when he cleared his throat behind you. Your hands shook as you turned around, barely covering your tits. 

“C’mon, I said to make it good, Sweetheart,” he said with a thinly veiled sense of amusement. “Nothin’ I haven’t seen before.”

The fucking asshole. But you took a breath and steadied yourself. “Okay,” you whispered, more to yourself than anything. 

His gaze was intense, tracing each curve and dip of your body as you moved. You slipped the bra on, clipping it shut with shaking hands.

“Alright, now you can turn around,” he said, nodding towards the panties in your hand. “And do it nice and slow for me.”

Your face burned with embarrassment as you turned around, working the buttons of your skirt so you could slip it down your legs. It fell into a pile around your ankles and fanned out like a flower. You hooked your thumbs into the panties you were wearing, pink with little flowers spotting the fabric. As slowly as you could manage while terrified and pissed, you slipped them down your legs. 

When you spared a glance at Gator, he was smirking right back at you. “Give those here,” he said, holding his hand out expectantly. 

“What?”

“Geez, you’re fuckin’ dumb. Lemme see ‘em.” He more or less snatched the panties from your grip, smiling like the cat who got the cream as he held them up. “Might have to keep ‘em. Evidence.”

You swallowed down your annoyance and pulled the lacy panties up your legs. When you were finished, you turned, arms crossed over your chest protectively. Shockingly, he was quiet as he looked at you, eyes raking over your tits, and every bare piece of skin he could see. It felt like you stood there under his gaze for hours before he finally spoke up. 

“It’s not doin’ much for ya, sweetheart. I mean, you don’t look very fuckable.”

It landed like a blow to your gut. He was an asshole, so it should’ve meant nothing… but he knew exactly where your soft spots were, and just how hard to dig his fingers in. “Fuck you, Gator.”

“Aw, c’mon, sweetheart,” he cooed, patronizing and smug. “So fuckin’ sensitive, huh? Can’t take a joke. C’mere, lemme see you.” He grabbed your wrist in the tightly packed office and tugged you forward, so you practically stumbled on top of him.

You flinched as his hand moved up the back of your thigh, warm and calloused. When he gave your ass a rough squeeze, you closed your eyes and shivered. 

“Ya know, I saw your husband the other day.” His finger traced along the name on your hip— Jack. Every loop and whorl of the cursive claimed by his touch. “Looked real happy with that girl of his. Sarah, right? The waitress he was fuckin’ behind your back?”

You swallowed hard and said nothing, but he was more than happy to keep running his mouth. “Well, she’s not special. I’ve fucked Sarah too, and she just laid there like a dead fish the whole time.”

“Maybe you just weren’t that good.” You smirked as you replied, unable to resist being a bit of an asshole right back. 

“You gettin’ smart right now?” He gave your ass a quick slap, making you squeak. “I was trying to give you a compliment, but you don’t fuckin’ deserve it. You’re so fuckin’ used up that you don’t even know what good is.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m sure you think that. It’s easy to blame it on the girl when you can’t make ‘em cum, right?”

His jaw clenched, anger painting his features. “Wouldn’t you fuckin’ like to know, huh?” He caught sight of the smirk on your face and shoved you back. “Put on the next one.”

Fucking dickhead. You rolled your eyes and quickly stripped off the lingerie, throwing it in his general direction once it was off. You weren’t as graceful in dressing in the next set. Why give him a show and let him win? Once it was on, you crossed your arms and looked at him expectantly. 

“Well?”

He cocked his head to the side, a smirk playing on his lips. “Well, I like it better than the first, but I don’t think your heart’s quite in it. Gimme a twirl.”

You gave a slow turn, then met his gaze again, raising a brow. He ran a hand over his mouth, looking you up and down. You caught the slightest movement as he spread his legs a little wider. It only served to highlight the bulge in the front of his stupid fucking cargos.

“You’re really enjoyin’ yourself, huh?” You snapped, eyes narrowed. He laughed, following your gaze to his lap. 

“Well,” he began, lazily moving a hand to cup his growing hard-on. “I could always find a way to enjoy myself more. Bet you’d like that, huh?”

You ignored him and began trying on the last set you’d attempted to steal. A bright red set, skimpier than the others, which you were sure he fucking loved. Before he could ask, you gave a slow twirl. 

“Atta girl,” he cooed. He was blatantly stroking himself over the fabric, eyes half-lidded. You swallowed hard, watching the sight before you. It was like something out of a bad porno. Or a really good one. Jury was out. He patted his thigh, nodding you over. “C’mere, I won’t bite.”

A moment of hesitation passed through you, wondering if this was really what you wanted. It was like you could hear his voice in your head, asking if you could do any better. You sighed and slowly settled onto his lap. He looked at you with a funny sort of expression— not so much that he was smug, just… a bit pleased. 

“You gonna give me a dance?” His hand rested on your thigh, fingers tapping erratically. You shook your head and he rolled his eyes. “Is this ‘cause I didn’t pay the other night?” You scowled. “I mean, I think you owe me now. I paid ya back a hundred times over thanks to Mr. Realtor from the other day.”

   You stayed silent and still, looking anywhere but his face. He took your chin between his fingers and turned you to face him, so close you could taste the fruit flavor from that goddamn vape on his breath. 

“Remember how turned on you got just from havin’ my cock in that pretty mouth of yours?” He said, voice barely above a whisper. He ran a thumb along your bottom lip, tugging at it slightly. “I still remember the way you had to slip a hand between your legs to play with yourself.”

You made a weak sound in the back of your throat as you remembered it— that desperate, all-consuming need. Maybe it’s because he was an asshole, or maybe it was all of the authority. Maybe that’s why you shoplifted anyway. Because you knew he’d be the one to show up. 

“You ever been with someone as big as me before?”

You shivered. “No.”

A wide smile spread across his lips. “Since?” You just shook your head. “Betcha been dreamin’ about it too. Stuffin’ that greedy little pussy full of your fingers whenever you think about me.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t quite deny it. It wasn’t a frequent fantasy, but it was there. “You’re a real narcissist. You know that?”

He grinned. “That’s not a no, is it?” He leaned in closer, nuzzling against your throat, his breath hot. “Bet if I slipped my hand inside those panties, they’d be fuckin’ soaked.”

And despite your better judgment, you fucking whimpered. All but confirming it. 

“Yeah, I thought so,” he cooed. His hand found purchase on the small of your back, and when he applied the smallest bit of pressure, you found yourself giving in. Slowly, your hips ground against his, making a soft sigh escape your lips each time your cunt met his clothed dick. 

“Want me to find some music?” He asked with a boyish grin. “I bet I have Pony somewhere on my phone.”

You shook your head before he could even try to grab it. “I’ll kill you if you even try.” He laughed, just a bit. It was rare to hear him laugh and have it not be at your, or anyone else’s expense. 

You grabbed his hands, moving them to your waist, just at your ribcage. The tips of his fingers brushed against your tits, and he smiled.

“Takin’ charge now, are ya? You could’ve just put ‘em right here.” He moved his hands up, cupping your breasts in his large hands. You moaned softly as he gave a slight squeeze, arching into his touch. “ See? That’s much better, huh? Just take what you need, baby. I’ll give it right to ya.”

Take what you need? You could do that. You moved your hands along his chest, fighting the urge to just tear off his shirt and reveal the white tank top you knew he always wore beneath. Instead, you slipped your hands to his goddamn cargos and made quick work of the button and zipper. 

He sat back and watched as you spit into your palm, his eyes hazy with arousal. You slipped your hand inside his pants and slipped beneath the band of his plaid boxers. A low groan escaped his lips when you wrapped your hand around him and squeezed.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Just like that.” His head fell back, leaving the plane of his neck for the taking. Your lips pressed against the skin there, leaving a mixture of soft kisses and bites as you worked him in your hand. 

Gator’s stamina was absolute dogshit. You could tell when he was close from the way he’d pulse in your hand and whimper like a fuckin’ girl. You’d just have to squeeze him at his base to stave it off, give him a few seconds to cool off before you kept going. 

“You want me?” You asked, lips brushing against the shell of his ear. 

“So fuckin’ bad.” He was bucking up into your fist, chasing the sweet pleasure of your soft hand around him. 

A smile spread across your lips. “Then earn it.” You pulled back, meeting his gaze as you removed your hand from him. 

He sat there, panting and staring dumbly as you sat atop the desk and spread your legs invitingly. “C’mon, Gator. You’re a smart boy, you’ll figure it out.”

He huffed with annoyance as he stood, towering over you as he pulled off his shirt to reveal that fucking tank top. He leaned down just slightly, so his arms were caging you in. “I’ll fuckin’ earn it, alright. I’m gonna own this pussy by the time I’m through.”

He knelt between your legs, kissing his way up your thighs. You cried out as his teeth dug into the plush skin, leaving an indentation that would probably turn purple the next day. 

“You’re such a fuckin’ asshole.” He just grinned, clearly pleased with himself. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of your panties and tugged them down. 

He was quick to drag his fingers through your slit, coating them in your arousal. The wet sounds of him playing with you, spreading you open for him, made your cheeks burn with embarrassment. 

“I’m an asshole, but you clearly fuckin’ like it, huh?” He said, holding up his fingers, glistening with your juices, as proof. His smirk made annoyance and arousal bubble up within you, tangling in an utterly infuriating way. “Relax for me, yeah? Gonna stretch you out, make you feel real good.”

You moaned softly as his fingers pressed against your entrance, teasing you with the idea of being full. A gentleman would start off slow, work you up to two fingers gradually. Gator Tillman wasn’t a fucking gentleman, but you didn’t care. 

“Shhh… open up for me,” He said, speaking not to you, but to your cunt. “That’s it, atta girl.” A low whimper escaped you as his fingers pressed inside, thick and stretching you just right. Your walls fluttered around the intrusion, needing him deeper, more, more.

“Jesus Christ, Gator,” His fingers flexed at just the right spot, making you cry out desperately. He grinned, then pressed a kiss to your thigh as he began fucking you with his fingers, acutely aware that the slightest twitch of his fingers could make you fucking sing for him. 

It’s a funny thing he does with his fingers— not quite jackhammering them in and out like most of the other guys you’d been with but not exactly too far away. And you were fucking whining for it, your hips canting against his fingers until he finally had to throw his arm across your pelvis to just, in his words, keep you fuckin’ still.

It felt good, but you were also very aware that he was purposefully, or, worse, unknowingly avoiding your clit. The more you considered it, the more convinced you were that it was the latter. He was homeschooled, apparently, by his religious nut father, which meant his sex ed was probably just porn, and not even the decent kind. 

You squirmed slightly. “Gator—”

“’M busy.”

You rolled your eyes and huffed. I mean, sure, he was good with his hands, but you would also appreciate that skill applied elsewhere. Whatever, you weren’t helpless. 

His eyes narrowed as you moved a hand between your legs, circling your clit in time with his fingers. Your head fell back as a string of moans escaped your lips. That’s what you needed. 

“God, you’re desperate,” he muttered, but he didn’t bother to redirect your hands. “I coulda done that.”

You would’ve laughed if you weren’t already so close, the pressure and attention to your clit exactly what you needed to fall over the edge. 

“I feel you squeezin’ my fingers,” he said, voice low and dripping with satisfaction. “Wanna cum that bad, huh? Can’t even take what I give ya? Are you that fuckin’ needy?” When you didn’t think to answer, he leaned over and bit your thigh again. Harder.

“Fuck!” You shouted, annoyed that you’d have a second set of bruises to cover. But your annoyance melted right back into the siren call of pleasure. 

Moans tumbled from your lips before you could bring yourself to answer. “Yes, I’m that needy,” You gasped as his fingers moved deeper, harder with every thrust in. Your fingers moved faster on your clit, making your legs twitch on either side of Gator’s shoulders.

He let you teeter there on the precipice for a little longer, until you were sure you were going to tumble straight into sweet ecstasy. So close you could taste it, sweet and heady on the back of your tongue. 

And like that, Gator pulled away, slipping his fingers from your cunt and leaving you wanting. You sat there, panting and frustrated as he wiped his fingers off on your thigh. “Too fuckin’ bad. Bend over.”

He slapped the side of your thigh as he stood and looked down at you expectantly. Your legs wobbled as you stood in what little room he provided you, tits brushing against his chest for just a moment as you turned and bent over the desk. 

“Isn’t this a pretty sight?” He grabbed your ass, kneading the plush skin roughly before landing a rough smack. You winced at the sting as you spared a glance over your shoulder. He landed another slap on the opposite cheek, then spread you apart with his thumbs. “You’re fuckin’ killin’ me, you know that?”

He was quick to free his cock from the confines of his cargos and boxers. Over your shoulder, you could see the heap of clothes he’d made on the floor. In the back of your mind, you noted the very careless way he treated the gun in his thigh holster, but said nothing. It was hard to focus on improper gun handling when he had his length in his hand, stroking it slowly as he took in the sight of you. 

“You’re gonna pull out, right?” You asked, chewing your lip as you looked at him.

He rolled his eyes, the tip of his cock notched right at your entrance, making you arch against him. “You’re such a fuckin’ bitch. I’m not stupid, I’ll pull out.”

The prettiest groan escaped him as he rocked against your cunt, coating himself in your dripping arousal before the head of his cock nudged at your entrance. 

“You want me?” He asked, his breath coming in pants. Your body felt like a fucking live wire, hyperaware of the feeling of him, just barely outside of where you craved him.

You nodded. “Uh-huh. I want you. So bad, Gator.”

He sank into you, nice and slow, so he could relish in the warm, soft feeling of your walls around him. A sappier man would’ve said it felt like heaven. Gator wasn’t sappy. 

“Goddamn, you’ve got the tightest fuckin’ pussy,” He managed once he’d bottomed out, every inch of him fully sheathed inside. “Forget what I said about you bein’ used up.”

What a gentleman. You whined softly, pushing back against him to silently beg for more. He put a hand on the small of your back and pushed down so your back arched even more. Then he fucked you in earnest. 

The noises you made should’ve been illegal— some form of indecency or something. Loud and whiny, desperate for more. Your nails scratched at the laminate of the desk, seeking something, anything to hold onto for purchase as he fucked you within an inch of your life. 

He was so big you could’ve sworn you felt him deep in your stomach, even though you knew physically that was impossible. Each thrust punched out a keening moan from your lips, a swear, a breathy whine, or just his stupid fucking name over and over again. 

He reached a hand beneath you, so his rough fingers could play with your clit. “This is what you wanted so bad, yeah?” He asked, voice breathy as he quickly rubbed your clit. “Say thank you.”

“Thank you, Gator.” You were practically babbling. Thank you thank you thank you. 

Over your shoulder, you watched him using your body, chasing his high. Every slap of your ass was for his own gratification, just to see it jiggle. He was only rubbing your clit so he could feel you squeeze him even tighter. 

You didn’t care. You fucking loved it. Even as he manhandled you, lifting your thigh and placing it on the desk so he could fuck you deeper, you just laid there and took it like a fucking champ. 

“Woulda fucked you sooner if I knew it’d be this good.” His voice wavered slightly with the effort it took to maintain the relentless pace he had set. He slapped your ass hard, making you yelp and clench around him. 

What you’d said earlier was right— you were needy. You rocked back against him, meeting him with each thrust. The sounds of his hips hitting your ass with each thrust were nearly as pornographic as both of your moans. 

Gator didn’t shut up most of the time, but when he was buried inside of you he could mostly only manage pretty moans. 

“F-fuck, sweetheart. You’re… you’re really workin’ for it, huh?” His words were interrupted by low moans and grunts. “C’mon. Give it to me.”

He let you do most of the work, rocking back against him, making you fuck yourself on his cock. And he looked fucking smug about it too. 

The switch snapped suddenly when he grabbed your hips and fucked you without abandon, skin slapping against skin as he roughly bullied himself inside of you again and again. 

“That’s it. Just lay there and take it, sweetheart.” His voice was breathy and strained. Sweat beaded on his forehead. “Fuck! That’s it. Just like that.”

He came suddenly, thrusting deep and hard as he spilled within you. It annoyed you that he looked pretty when he came— his mouth ajar, eyes fluttered shut, his body trembling just slightly. 

And then you were annoyed because he fucking lied. He pulled out after he had ridden the aftershocks with a few shallow thrusts and quickly redressed. 

“You didn’t pull out,” you said, your voice was strained with annoyance and anger as you looked back at him. He was getting dressed, making sure he looked alright. He didn’t even care to get you off. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He shrugged, trying to appear unbothered by it all. But you saw the annoyed tick in his jaw, the anger beneath it. Like a rattlesnake all coiled up, ready to strike if you made the wrong move. You were never on equal terms. You were no better than prey. And you should have known better, right?

Annoying, hot tears welled on your lashline, and you prayed to any higher power that he wouldn’t notice as you wiped at your eyes. You stood, doing your best to redress in silence, doing your best to remain small. He slapped a fifty on the desk and you flinched. “Buy some Plan B if you’re that fuckin’ worried about it. Jesus Christ.” He paused as he reached the door. “I’ll tell the manager we got it all sorted out. Isn’t that good enough for ya?”

You stood there, unsatisfied and used, with his cum leaking out of you, and stayed silent. It wasn’t good enough. It wasn’t anything at all. 

You walked out with fifty dollars, streaked mascara, three sets of lingerie you’d throw in the trash, and a newfound desire to get the fuck out of Stark County. And, maybe, some misplaced hope that next time might be different.

#it's here it's finally here #gator tillman #gator tillman x reader #gator tillman smut #anyways if you read this pls like and leave a comment idgaf if you reblog truly just wanna know if u enjoyed <3

[daintcas]

love languages rafe & jj like to give/receive !

rafe. contrary to popular belief, i think he kinda subconsciously shows his love through acts of service. it's just second nature for him to help you, even (especially) with the little things. he likes you having to depend on him because he's always just craved that validation. makes him feel important and needed, especially when he can help his girl out - even though i think he would be a bit passive-aggressive about it. stuff like brushing your teeth when you're too tired, washing your hair when you shower together, pulling your leg over his thighs to tie your shoe when it comes loose. all with a straight face.

his whole life i think he's just been needing reassurance. it's hard to calm him down and get him out of his head but when you reach up and gently hold his face, repeating how much you love him, he melts. once again trying to brush it off but that's all he has to hear and his head is dropping to your shoulder, taking sharp breaths to try and hold it in. the words of affirmation you whisper in his ear bring him back together.

jj. his hands are always all over you. like no exceptions either. when the group is just lounging around the chateau he's got you as close as physically possible. he doesn't really even realize it either, focused on the stupid debate between the pogues and really trying to get his point across while throwing his arm around you. your head tucked into his side, knees curled up to your chest all cuddled up against him. it gives him a boost of confidence with a pretty girl - his pretty girl - always with him, equally as blinded by his touch.

maybe it sounds bad but he loves receiving gifts from you. nothing expensive or too like.. thought out? little things you pick up from a thrift store, pawn shop, even shells from the beach and rocks from your walks. the most ridiculous trinkets and he just finds it so adorable that you thought of him. when you look up at him so sweet and hopeful as he looks over the literal bolt you picked up for some change, thinking he could 'use it on his bike'. and he just smiles and shakes his head, pocketing it to add to his collection of knickknacks from you.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader

[angelwood-if]

DEMO (EDITING)

Genres and tropes: urban fantasy, romance, found family, enemies to lovers, exes to lovers, friends to lovers, murder mystery, action

LUNAR CITY: a gritty but bustling city where supernaturals and humans live in (relative) harmony. Humans live alongside Fae, witches and warlocks, vampires, and so many more. It's normal. It's your normal.

When your father died, he left you with one thing: his antiquities/pawn shop. Decades upon decades of collecting and trading bits and bobs from all types of supernatural histories sit right here in Angelwood Antiquities, a staple of Lunar City and the shop you have now inherited.

It was his life's work, and you've done everything in your power to keep it running.

But when someone comes in bloodied and begging for you to take hold of a magical object, you don't know what you're agreeing to. You definitely don't expect him to die at your feet, telling you to take good care of...them.

Them?

Turns out the object is no object at all, but an ancient being that could be the key to stopping a multi-species war that's been brewing right under your nose..and your father may have had something to do with it. And when that being chooses and bonds to you--giving you its power--you are now thrust headfirst into the world of supernatural. The same world you've managed to avoid.

Entangled with a cast of characters who will help you save the world, you are now both human and supernatural, a rare feat. And the most important person in the city. And it will be up to you to save it.

Angelwood is an urban-fantasy inspired by stories by Sarah J. Maass, Cassandra Clare, and Holly Black. It is primarily centered around romance, with a fantasy, murder mystery, and war brewing at its core. The demo is already written and undergoing editing.

FEATURES.

Customize your MC's gender identity, pronouns, appearance, personality.

Navigate a gritty city of supernaturals.

Embark on an adventure to find out what war is brewing in supernatural circles and how to stop it.

Romance a multitude of supernatural and human characters, including a Fae, a Greenwarden, and an entity bonded to you.

Angelwood is a primarily romance and character-driven.

Play in a gritty, supernatural world where not everything is what it seems.

CAST [ROs]

IVAN CROSS (M)(FAE) - Ivan is the cold and distant Detective of the LCPD. He is also a powerful Fae, with a menacing reputation that makes most people scared to cross him. Ivan is not exactly a team player and he seems insistent on railroading this tentative partnership you didn't even want to have with him, but he's also the only one who can make sense of whats happening to you. Seems like you're stuck with him.

It doesn't help that you two aren't on the best of terms considering he closed your father's case without much effort.

FREYA (F)(GREENWARDEN) -- Ivan's second-in-command and your other partner that forms this...odd trio. You expected Greenwardens--powerful sprites that manipulate all things nature--to be smooth talking and caring. Wrong. Freya is snarky and punchy, and determined to get her mission done. Maybe it's because she's half human. Who knows.

DOMINION (DOM)(UNKNOWN) - Dom is the smooth-talking entity that is now in your head and giving you their powers. You...don't really know what to say. They sure are a flirt, at least.

KALEL/KALIS (M/F) (VAMPIRE) - K, once your old friend (and possible ex partner) is now insistent on joining your group considering they seem to have a stake in this too. (pun non intended)

SELINA (F)(SERPENT/HUMAN HYBRID) - Selina the Serpent is the owner of the biggest gambling den in the red light district, and also someone you don't want to cross. Over the years, she's traded with you on all sorts of things people leave behind in exchange for information...and now she wants to join in one the group. Having her around would really help, considering she has eyes everywhere.

QUINN (F/M)(HUMAN) - your best friend and the one you hired for Angelwood. And a human, which seems to be rare these days.

#cog #choice of games #interactive fiction #interactive novel #interactive game #wip #interactive wip #dashing don #interact-if #dashingdon