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[ro-written]

JAILBIRD

Ghost becomes pen pals with an inmate before deciding that he wants to adopt his little jailbird.

Word count: 4.1k

Tw: inmate reader, reader is kept as vauge as possible but is implied to be younger than Ghost, violence, stalking, ghost is a perv, p in v, oral (f! Receiving), creampie, spanking (once), orgasm denial if you squint, unprotected sex, NOT edited we die like men.

Notes: Baby’s first fanfic, please be gentle. Let me know if I missed any trigger warnings or if you want to see more! I have an idea for a second part but I don’t know if anyone wants it, right now it’s tucked away safely in my drafts. Enjoy! :)

P.S. I’m thinking about making an ao3 account and publishing an edited version of this on there. I’ll link it if I do! I’ve already spent too much time procrastinating finals but christmas break is around the corner so who knows.

The letter came with the top serrated, already opened, as all your letters came. You mostly ignored them. There were a couple of programs that allowed people to become pen pals with prisoners but you’d been there long enough to know what they often contained. 

Many of the women milked poor losers on the outside. Money given and sent. Promises of butterfly kisses and blowjobs whispered over the phone. Exchanges. Some were even able to sweet talk their honeys into giving bribes. Money passed into hands of guards, currency that was then exchanged for cigarettes, which were much more valuable on the inside than the bills used on the outside.

You don’t know why you read this letter. It certainly wasn’t the penmanship, a scrawled handwriting that lay between cursive and print. Maybe it was the blue pen, you’d recognize a Bic anywhere, or maybe it was the fact that it smelled a bit like top-shelf liquor. 

It was rather blunt. But not in an obscene way. Simple and straight to the point as if constrained by an unknown word count. It wasn’t memorable, but what else was there to do? Pace your cell back and forth and wait for zoochosis to settle further in your bones. Close your eyes and remember what freedom tasted like before it dissolved in your mouth.

The pen they gave you was cheap, the paper even cheaper, but you were used to making things work. Your reply was shorter than his, than Simon’s, but it got the job done. If he wanted to write back he would. If he didn’t, well, the new prison guard was starting to get rather handsy with you. The time will pass no matter what.

___

His replies came in strange patterns. Some weeks you’d get eight in a week, other times you wouldn’t hear from him for a few months. It took a year for the first phone call of which lasted less than a minute and consisted mostly of him grunting on the other end and a schlick sound you pretended not to notice. It was his fourth phone call that he finally said a few words in a voice so low it made the phone buzz against your ear, tickling like a lover's breath. Eventually, you had some semblance of conversations, even if they were interrupted by a recorded voice warning you of the time you had left. 

He told you he was a soldier and at first, you planned on cutting the whole penpal idea off. Even before you got arrested you hated bootlickers more than anything. But Simon grew on you, and your friends all suggested you get in his good graces to see if he could pull some strings. You would’ve felt guilty if he was anything other than glorified government property. Both of you were.

The first thing he gave you was a book, The Yellow Wallpaper, which was thicker than you remembered from the time you read it in school. It was only when you cracked open the spine did you find a pack of cigarettes inside, the pages carved out so your real present could be placed inside. You couldn’t help the smile that split your lips as you pressed one between your lips, not noticing the tiny S carved into it.

You thank him for the gift by whispering his name into the phone. A mantra, a prayer, it didn’t matter as long as you kept your voice breathy. He promises to get you more and you learn not to refuse him. At one point, you notice that little robotic voice doesn’t time you anymore. The guard who couldn’t keep his hands to himself was replaced with a woman, hair pulled back into a military-style bun. And you got an extra cookie with your meals.

It took a year for him to visit. You knew it was coming eventually, men are only fine with their imagination for so long before they crave something tangible. Hell, even you were curious about the man who wanted to sink his teeth into you. It almost felt like getting ready for a date. Butterflies dropped like lead in your stomach as you tried to tidy your appearance as much as you could. You smelled, but there wasn’t much you could do about that. The whole damn prison smelled like a county fair bathroom. The lack of air conditioning in the heat of summer just added a sweet BO tinge. 

The first thing you noticed about Simon was his size. You had never met a man as big as he was. The next was the thick scar tissue that marred his face. Though, even without the scars you would be hesitant to ever call him handsome.

Intimidating.

That was what came to mind staring at the thick cords of muscle that covered his arms and the broadness of his shoulders wasn’t just genetics. And he just stared at you. You glanced at the phone that connected to his on the other side of the glass and back at him but decided against it.

You offered him a small smile and an awkward wave. It unnerved you. The focus and attention pinned you in place. Normally you kinned yourself to a tiger you saw at a zoo when you were a child. One that paced back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. A habit you understood all too well. But sitting in front of your pen pal you realized you were rather off. 

Simon was the tiger and you were the bird that caught his attention.

It took far too long for the guard to come and collect you. For once you were grateful to retreat back to your cell, so much so that in your retreat you failed to notice the nod your warden gave Simon.

___

After that Simon met with you in person as often as was allowed. He never said anything and neither did you. Eventually, the novelty of him wore off. Humans were rather adaptable creatures, and you could only be scared of the man for so long before your body adjusted to him. Despite your silence, Simon didn’t appear displeased with you. In fact, it was almost the opposite of it. More gifts arrived.

A pillow, high-end shampoo, a toothbrush (that you had a strange suspicion was used before being given to you), nail polish, and more cigarettes. Some of the women were jealous of the attention given to you, others tried to get with you to share your bounty. Somehow you dodged most of the conflict. But you can only run so long while trapped with so many women.

When you showed up to your meeting sporting a bruised cheek and split lip the air quickly changed. Before you thought Simon looked like a predator. 

You were wrong.

Fear coursed through your veins and you recognized the look in his eyes. Every woman in the damn place knows what a hunger for violence looked like. Slowly he reached out an arm, the sleeve of his hoodie riding up slightly showing off tattoos, before grabbing the phone and pressing it to his ear. With a shaking hand, you did the same.

“Bird.” His voice was somehow deeper in real life than over the phone.

“You should see the other guy.”

His lips twitched.

There was something uncanny about his eyes. They weren’t brown, they were black. Obsidian. You realized that before, the first time you met him, he wasn’t trying to scare you. Though, you were pretty sure it wasn’t directed at you.

“Just a little spat is all Simon. Everything sorted itself out.”

All over a bottle of nail polish. Tempers run short in prison. You spend most of your days in a cell, and what little free time you get surrounded by the same insufferable bitches, it’s a mystery there isn’t more violence. For the most part, things were settled with words. The more physical an inmate gets the more time spent in your cell. There were some weeks where you spent twenty-three hours a day in that little room. 

Simon let out a sigh as if dealing with you was the most insufferable part of his day.

“Did ye’ get medical attention a’ least?”

You nodded your head.

He gave a grunt.

That seemed to be his preferred method of communication with you. Caveman grunts and growls, the occasional moan over the phone he couldn’t hold back. You figured it had something to do with his job. He was quite tight-lipped about it, but you gathered he has co-workers (his squad? Platoon? What was the proper lingo?). Despite this, you were under the impression he spent the majority of his time alone. He always seemed more primal after those month-long stints of silence.

You always wondered how you would feel if he never contacted you again. Went out and didn’t come back. Would you assume he was dead? That he moved on to prettier things that aren’t locked away? Would it make a difference to you? 

No. It wouldn’t.

Even now you got letters upon letters from other men. Though none were as giving as Simon was.

It was back to silence and staring contests that you were used to. The both of you slipping into a familiarity. He never put the phone back. Even when your warden came and escorted you back. You didn’t glance back at him. 

Tucked away in your cell you didn’t get to watch Simon slowly rise out of his seat, chair creaking from the shifting of his weight. You didn’t see Simon lurk in the back as the inmates met with their loved ones on the out. Didn’t see him take notice of a particular girls with nails painted the same shade as his gift to you. The same shade as the tip of his cock.

___

The girl was transferred. For a singular moment, you thought Simon had something to do with it. Then laughed at the idea. Simon may be in the military, but you highly doubted he had anything to do with the bitch who got transferred. At least you got your nail polish back. It was a strange shade, and the idea of a man as big as Simon standing in an isle trying to pick out a shade made you chuckle, it was the thought that counted.

Time marched on. Penpals came and went but Simon stayed the consistent part in your life. 

Eventually, the possibility of parole was on the horizon. 

Freedom. 

So close you could practically taste it.

Unfortunately, that meant a laundry list of to-do items. Court hearings, lawyers bankrolled by Simon, arranging for transportation and housing. Simon handled most of it. By now, the lingering guilt of using your soldier fiance had long left you. He seemed like the kind of man who needed to learn lessons the hard way, and entering a relationship with a felon was a lesson most didn’t need to learn. Still, he had been putting in quite a hard amount of work. He deserved a treat.

And after years of forced celibacy, you needed it bad.

The two of you would enjoy each other for a week or two. Simon would realize he made a mistake moving you in. He would kick you out. You’d pawn the ring he’d give you and use the money as a cushion as you landed, getting back on your feet. The two of you would go your separate ways and never see each other again.

Being in prison taught you a lot of things. Despite everything, patience wasn’t one of those lessons. The day you were gaining your freedom passed was the slowest part of your life. The checking, double checking, retrieving your stuff, checking again, until finally,

Finally,

You were outside. You were outside in something other than a uniform that stunk of sweat, there were no handcuffs. Anxiety crept everywhere. You wanted to get as far away from the prison as you could, if you breathed wrong a warden would drag you back. A pair of arms snatched you.

You looked up and couldn’t help but laugh, pressing your lips against his scarred ones.

“Fucking Christ your tall.”

He chuckled against your lips before taking them again, hands digging near painfully into your ass. The two of you somehow managed to walk back to his car peeling off one another before Simon peeled away, hand clutching the fat of your thighs as he drove.

“Never pictured you as a reckless driver.” You giggled.

The adrenaline and giddiness of being free hadn’t worn off yet. If anything it seemed to slowly be morphing into a different beast entirely. You pressed your lips against his bicep causing him to groan. You glanced up at him, watching as his jaw clenched weaving in and out of traffic in a way that was certainly not legal. You would’ve been worried about being pulled over if he wasn’t driving a military vehicle. They answered to a different police, or so he told you.

Eventually, he pulled into the yard of a house with an honest-to-God white picket fence. You smiled as you got out, curiosity creeping in about what his house was like. Simon opened the door for you, which would probably should’ve made you swoon at his gentleman-like behavior, but truthfully it was how he hauled you out of the card and dragged you inside that got your heart racing. 

Impatient.

The door barely closed before his body was pressed against yours and his lips were pressed against your jugular. One of his rough hands slipped up your shirt, grunting when he found a clear path to your tits instead of meeting the edge of a bra. The other dipped into the waistband of your pants, running over your clothed cunt, no doubt feeling the wet spot against your underwear. Your hands slid over his arms, squeezing at the muscle, before slowly sliding them up and up, going to the back of his neck, a hand threading through his short hair the other cupping his face to kiss yours. 

A large thumb found your clit, only the thin cotton stopped him from rubbing directly against it. He pressed down hard on it, causing your breath to catch in your throat, his thumb moving down your slit. The seam of your mouth parted in a moan and he used that to stick his tongue down your throat. 

The kiss was obscenely wet, beastly as his spit passed from his mouth into yours. Before prison, you would’ve pulled away with a grimace. Too much tongue, too much teeth, too much. But your whole body was on fire, years of pent-up orgasms made you desperate for it all. For someone to press against you, to be inside you.

Simon was oh-so-convenient. 

You tried to pull away, lungs burning enough to convince you that air was in fact a need, but the door stopped you. Pressed between it and Simon you had no escape. You whimpered against his mouth, again and again until he finally got the hint and pulled away, a string of spit connecting your mouths as if it too was reluctant to pull away from you.

“Bedroom?” You panted, though if he took you here against the door you would die happy.

Simon threw you over his shoulder and took his stairs two at a time before tossing you on his bed making you laugh. The caveman and his prize. Simon took the moment of being away from you to pull at the collar of his shirt. You watched in appreciation as it lifted higher and higher until it was discarded on his carpet. 

His body was marred in scar tissue, muscle, and a layer of fat that made for a solid fine specimen of the male species. His pants were discarded next, and either he pulled his underwear down with them or he just wasn’t wearing any to begin with. You didn’t have much time to ponder that thought distracted by his hard cock.

Jesus Christ.

Big was an understatement, monster was the word that popped into your mind. It crossed the territory between delicious into scary. Large and thicker than you thought possible. You swallowed and for a second hoped he would forget about the blowjob you promised him after he gave you a pillow. 

“Yer’ wearin’ too many clothes Birdie.” 

Quickly, though not as quickly as Simon was, you wiggled out of your pants, shrugged off your shirt throwing it in the same pile as his clothes. He stepped closer to you, one large hand grabbing your ankle before retching you towards him.

He leaned down, mouthing at your bare tits, slobbering over them. The soft press of his tongue flicked over your nipple before he moved to the other and grazed his teeth over it. His hands were everywhere. He was everywhere. Impossibly big and pressed against you everywhere. Until all your senses were filled with him. As if Simon was the only thing that mattered in the world.

The artificial sun in your glass cage.

His mouth moved lower, nipping at your skin before he moved between your legs. He settled his body in between them, the calloused palm of his hands pressing your legs further and further apart until the stretch burned in the muscles where your legs met your pelvis. Quickly the pain faded into the background as he pressed a kiss against your bare clit, before taking it in his mouth and sucking. You felt the rough pad of his fingertips press against your hole rubbing against it but never quite dipping inside. Again and again, he moved it against you but never in you. 

It was maddening.

You tilted your pelvis against his mouth, trying to coax his fingers into your welcoming body. He growled against your clit, removing his mouth causing you to whine. A sharp sting met your ass cheek and you yelped.

He spanked you.

“Behave.”

You never took the man to be hungry for anything other than missionary, but it seemed he had learned a few tricks over the years. He did have a few on you, you were sure of it. Your thoughts leaked out of your ears as he moved back up, slotting his hips in between your legs. Liquid lust ran through your veins at the sight of him rubbing his dick against your mound, a mess of your slick and his pre dragging along your pussy and up to your belly button. Your poor hole clenching around nothing at the image of how deep he was about to be in you.

You took a deep breath, mesmerized as he pressed the tip against your entrance, catching it before pressing himself inside. He went slowly, and you couldn’t help the moan that left you as he finally began to sink home. Throwing your head back you closed your eyes as he stretched your body out.

You weren’t a virgin before you were locked away, but years of celibacy made you feel born again. Hell, with the size Simon was even if you had fucked him before he would’ve made you feel virginal with the way he was splitting you open.

When you opened them again you caught his gaze, he stared at you watching your expression pinch as he gave small thrusts, working the last of him inside you. When his balls pressed against your ass you let out a shaky breath. You had passed your limit two inches ago but somehow Simon had managed to coax your sweet pussy to take the last of him inside. The pain of him had taken you away from the edge of an orgasm he was working you towards, but when his hand found your clit again you knew you weren’t going to last long.

If his shaky breaths were anything to go by Simon wasn’t going to last long either. 

He kissed you again, this time it was softer. Sweeter. Made your stomach turn in a moment of guilt. It was replaced when he drew out of you, slowly letting you feel inch after inch leave your body, before slamming back in.

He moved again against you. And again. Building up a punishing rhythm. You couldn’t help the small ah ah ah’s that left your lips as he rutted in you. Your hips pushed against his, working with him as you both chased your highs. 

His hand never left your clit, as if glued to it working in tight fast circles. His other hand traveled along your body as if he couldn’t get enough of you. Squeezing at your tits so hard you thought it might bruise, running up your bare skin, constantly moving and feeling. As if he couldn’t believe that you were real. That you were out of your cage and underneath him panting his name in his ear instead of against the end of a phone. 

Your own hands wandered. Moving over his arms, God’s gift to you, his chest. But mostly they moved down his back, feeling his muscles move and contract under your hands. Before you left you would convince him to put a mirror over his bed, so you could watch his shoulders shift and move as he thrust inside you.

It was too much. The feel of Simon, the stimulation on your clit, the thick cock pistoning like a machine inside you, pressure built and built inside you. Your nails dug into his back, dragging down as he pushed you off that ledge.

Simon’s thrusts stuttered as he felt your walls fluttering around him, suckling at his cock, coaxing him. He came with a groan soon after you, painting your walls with thick globs of his cum.

You panted as he rested against you, letting his cock soften inside you as you ran your nails over the nape of his neck and caressed his short hair. It was oddly soft, comforting to run your hands over.

Simon began to untangle himself from you, slowly as if reluctant to part from your embrace. He moved to what you now realize was the on-suite connected to his bedroom. You could feel his cum start to drip out of your cunt and down your asshole, shifting at the uncomfortable feeling. You couldn’t find the energy yet to move, not even sure if your legs could support you right now. Simon came back to you, wash-cloth in hand, and began wiping up the mess he made.

“We’ll have to get a Plan B tomorrow.” You murmured as he crawled back into bed next to you.

Simon didn’t say anything, but he had always been a quiet man. He maneuvered the both of you until you rested under the covers, your hand running along his bare chest. Tracing his happy trail before moving back up, not ready to go again.

The adrenaline from before had worn off, leaving you suddenly exhausted. Sated and free you dozed off against him.

When you woke up again it was darker outside. Not yet the full black of night but rather the soft blue that came after the sun had only just dipped out of sight. Simon wasn’t in bed next to you. You rolled over with a sigh, sitting up and smoothing your hair. Thirsty you threw the covers off your body and padded across out of his room entering into a small hallway. There was a door directly across his room and with a shrug, you went into it. 

It wasn’t snooping if you lived here now too. Even if you were only going to stay for a little bit.

The handle turned easily but the room was darker than you expected, no windows to let in any natural light. Your hands patted at the wall until you found the edge of a light switch, with a click the room was bathed in a soft glow.

Your breath hitched.

The room was bare except for a small desk and chair, the walls were covered in photos. Photos of you. Old photos, from before your prison stint. Mugshots. But what made your skin crawl were photos of you in your cell. You sprawled out on your uncomfortable cot. You sitting cross-legged across from your cellmate. Images of you in the cafeteria. Images of you in the yard. 

You took a step back, then another, and another.

You flicked the light back off and slowly closed the door. You took a shuddering breath and yelped when you felt a chest pressed against yours. 

Simon’s hands dug into your hips, pulling you tight against him.

“You look like you’ve seen a Ghost, Birdie.”

Poor little bird, trading one cage for another.

___

[ro-written]

Hi CaitVi shippers (me) idk if anyone’s pointed this out yet but Hailee Steinfeld (aka voice of Vi) has this song and now all yall can imagine Vi singing it too 🤭

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I wanna be her controversial young girlfriend.

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Heavy are the hips...

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sevika with an undercut sevika with an undercut sevika with an undercut sevika with an undercut sevika with an undercut sevika with an undercut sevika with an undercut sevika with an undercut sev—

[ro-written]

The worms in my brain are scratching at me to write a fic based off Closer by Nine Inch Nails…but here’s the question…

Is it for Sevika? Or for Simon/Ghost?

[ro-written]

Arcane Masterlist

[f] Fluff ||| [a] Angst ||| [s] Smut/NSFW (18+)

Sevika

What's Mine - Sevika's wife is pretty possessive over her. ~~ Sevika x Femme!Reader

[ro-written]

What's Mine - Sevika

Was based off this ramble

General Tags/Warnings: Femme!Reader, reader is cuntyyyyyyy (and we love it), pet names (Baby, Doll, “My Wife”, Pretty, “Sweet Thing”, Love), alcohol mentions, uhhh like a little suggestive at the end (do i do a follow up? do i do i do i)

Word Count: 1.1k

“Baby…”

“Mm?”

“I want a drink.”

Sevika’s eyes glance up at you away from her cards for a brief moment. The cigarillo between her lips drifted smoke from its burning end into your face, allowing you to smell the sweet tobacco scent from it. You sat politely in her lap, one of your arms rested around her broad shoulders. You fluttered your eyelashes, quietly asking for some money for the drink. 

You knew you never really had to ask for her to pay for something. Actually, it was more likely you would have to beg to pay for something for her. If she ever found out you paid for a gift for her? She would buy something worth five times more for you.

“Hold these real quick, doll.” Sevika’s metal hand handed over her cards to you. Smiling, you grabbed the cards, holding them close to your chest as the men around the table glanced at you, hoping you might slip up and show what Sev had. Her flesh hand, wrapped around your waist to steady you, gave your hip a light squeeze as her metal hand grabbed her wallet from her pocket. Swiftly grabbing the money out, she sets it on the table, taking her cards back from you and letting you stand up to grab the money. Before you stepped away from the table, you leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Turning around, her flesh hand smacked your ass and you giggle, shaking your head as you head to the bar.

After ordering your drink, as well as Sevika’s dark whiskey on the rocks, you turned back around, leaning against the bar top. Immediately your eyes landed on your wife. She was focused on the game, and it was one of the most attractive sights you’d ever seen. Her eyebrows resting, not giving anything away about her cards. Her gorgeous gray eyes studying over each of the men, trying to catch one of their tells. Her pretty nose and the curve to it. Her tanned skin and the lighter colored scars that peppered it, ones that you enjoyed kissing along. 

You pulled your attention away from her just to glance around at the other people in the bar. Nothing too interesting happening, a few people dancing in the designated area, some couples cuddled up in corner booths, and–

Oh?

Another woman across the room, staring at the poker table, right where Sevika sat. Your face twisted, eyes narrowing as your lip curled. Your tongue ran over your teeth and you tilted your head, staring right at the woman.

“Here’s those drinks.” The bartender tapped your shoulder, sliding over the two drinks to you.

Keeping your eyes locked on the woman, you grabbed the drinks and stepped back over to Sev at the table. You set Sevika’s whiskey in front of her, but remained standing with your own drink in hand. You sipped on it, keeping your attention on the bitch woman still watching your wife. 

She must have an overabundance of audacity with the way she kept making eyes at Sevika while your hand ran across her upper back, scratching lightly just how she liked. You could feel Sevika’s flesh hand come up to the back of your thighs, rubbing along them as she stared at her cards, slightly oblivious to the tension building within you as she locked into the game. 

Your anger simmered, causing pangs of electricity to run through your skin just under the surface. This woman was disrespecting you, blatantly checking out your wife in front of you. And, well...you can’t allow that to happen.

“You got a staring problem, or?”

Those words were what shocked Sevika to straighten up, looking up at you to finally realize you were staring off at someone. Her head turned to the other side, catching a woman moving her gaze off Sevika to look up at you. The stranger’s eyes narrowed back at you, eyebrow twitching up.

“Just trying to figure out when she’ll start giving me attention is all.”

Your eyebrows shot up as you let out a laugh. Your hands went up to your ears to pull out your earrings, setting them on the table in front of Sev. But the moment you stepped back from Sevika’s grasp to step up to the woman, your wife was standing, moving her body between yours and the stranger.

“I think it’s time for us to go home, hm?” Both her hands were resting on your shoulders.

“I think it’s time for me to beat her ass, actually.” You bit back as you tried to look around her frame to get at the stranger.

“Nope, time to go home.”

Suddenly you were in the air and over Sevika’s shoulder, her flesh hand coming up to your ass to keep you steady and a squeeze to remind you to behave.

“Sorry fellas, I’ll have to beat you another time, I gotta take my wife home now.” Sevika emphasized, saying the words fairly loudly and grabbing up your earrings and things with her metal hand. You look up at the stranger from Sev’s back. She was frowning, rolling her eyes at the scene. You smirked, your hands resting on Sevika’s waist to keep yourself anchored and rub your wedding band in that woman’s face.

Once a bit away from the bar, Sevika sets you down, grabbing your shoulders to keep you from stumbling.

“Can’t behave yourself for one night?” Her eyebrow arched as she tilted her chin up. Your eyes rolled, grabbing her flesh hand and playing with her own wedding band.

“I just don’t like when other bitches look at what’s mine.” You muttered, eyes locked in on her fingers. Sev ducks her head down a little, trying to hide the smile on her face and the shiver that went through her spine. It was one of the many things she fell in love with about you. How fierce you could be, your strong headed-ness, your attitude. And that she was the only one to settle you down.

“My pretty doll, you get a little jealous?” Her metal hand came up to cup one of your cheeks, and you looked back up to her face. 

“Not jealous. Just…possessive.” You mumbled, a pout appeared on your lips without you realizing. Sevika’s smile only grew, a strange mixture of fondness and heat within her chest. Her metal thumb came up and played with your bottom lip, running the smooth and cold texture along your soft skin.

“I think we should get back home so I can show you just how much I’m yours, sweet thing.” Sevika offered. Your lips curled into a wide smile, and you brought her flesh hand up to kiss her palm.

“Now I like the sound of that, love.”

This was written by @/ro-written and is not to be plagiarized, translated, or distributed anywhere else. Copyright 2024.

All comments, reblogs, and likes are always welcome!

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[ro-written]

[ro-written]

PLEEEEEEEEEEAASE I need sevika w her bitchy femme ohhmygod

Well now i kinda have to write it I suppose 😭 It has in fact been moved up on my list of fics to write 😁↕️😁↕️

[ro-written]

Yes yes possessive Sevika, yada yada…but let me offer…Sevika with a femme who has so much attitude and sass…and when someone is giving eyes towards Sev?

Sevika has all of 30 seconds to get her femme out the building before she’s having to step between her femme and the bitch person giving Sev eyes because femme went off on them

Update: Okay the worms in my brain got to me and i did it

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JUST HAD THE MOST ANGSTY SOAP FIC IDEA THAT I WILL BE WRITING WHEN I FINALLY GET THE MOTIVATION AND OH MY GOD I JUST NEED TO TELL YALL AHEAD OF TIME IM SO SO SORRY

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People sleep on Gaz when his introduction to 141 was basically him ranting to Price how they won't let him do the war crimes and Price going "you wanna do war crimes come with me"

Following them to go to Russia and threatened with killing a woman and a kid in order to get information from their pretty sure illegal POW

I feel like people in this fandom obsess over masked people when it's the unmasked ones that are psychos

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i wish i knew more about islam so i could further explore the idea of gaz being muslim

bc like we talk about soap being potentially catholic all the time, but i just love the idea of gaz knowing arabic because it's how he learned to read the qur'an, of him disappearing throughout the day to pray and soap misinterpreting it as him sneaking off to a closet somewhere to shag a secret girlfriend, of him keeping halal and insisting to ghost over breakfast that pigs are too smart for him to feel comfortable eating anyways.

idk man i just love the idea of him being a black british muslim and all of the complexities those intersections of his identity bring. to me that's just so compelling..

[ro-written]

i’m like if a writer did not write and did other things instead

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kinda insane at the thought of Price breaking in a new virgin but the moment he does, she can’t get enough. she’s always pawing at his chubby cock or nuzzling her cheek on his crotch during movie nights…and Price almost regrets it because he can’t keep up anymore when she rides him like a bull or drags his balls into her mouth. he almost regrets it. almost.

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Gaz, the king of consent

Your boyfriend seems to care more about your own wellbeing more than his. He always knows how to check in and never break the mood. His mama raised that boy right, I know she did.

Gaz, who when you were at the end of your first date walks you up to your door at the end of the night and leans against the wall. After giggling together for a moment and expressing your feelings about the date, he pauses and anxiously chews his lip.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I just…” He scans your face, eyes lingering on your lips for a second too long. “I just really want to kiss you.” He chuckles anxiously, scratching the back of his neck, looking down to your eyes in silent question.

You step forward, interlocking your hands together infront of you. “I’d like that.” You whisper sweetly, your half lidded eyes flicking down to his lips.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Gaz hesitates for a second before cupping your face and interlocking your lips with his. You both close your eyes as he sighs into the kiss. After a few seconds, he pulls back and rests his forehead against yours, bearing the biggest smile you’ve ever seen. He huffs a small laugh in disbelief.

“I’ll see you soon?” You ask, focusing on his gorgeous brown eyes.

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “Yeah, whenever you want.”

—

Or what about Gaz, who when you were watching a movie with on his couch for the first time, slides his hand up your thigh. Slowly inching higher as he gauges your reaction.

He leans in, movie completely rejected as he whispers in your ear, “Tell me to stop.”

You squirm slightly as he keeps his place, slowly rubbing the delicate skin between your soft thighs. “Please…”

“Please, what?”

“Fuck- please touch me.” You whine, watching his smile grow as he wraps his arms around you, slowly working his hands up your shirt.

—

How about Gaz, who when you first have sex, whispers praises and small questions as he works his way up your body, worshiping every inch of you.

“Is that good? Yeah?”

“Yeah, you like it when I touch you here, don’t you? What about… here? Shh shh shhh that’s it, good girl.”

“Show me what you need, baby.”

“Oh you like that, huh? You want more?”

“Such a sweet little thing, telling me what you want. So good for me, aren’t you?”

—

Or maybe even Gaz, whose respect for you and your consent goes beyond intimacy and into your normal daily life.

You’re in the kitchen busy making something for yourself? Gaz makes himself known as he steps into the room, not wanting to sneak around and scare you.

He lets you know when he approaches you from behind, whether it’s letting his shoes shuffle on the floor louder than usual, purposefully stepping on that one squeaky floorboard, or announcing his presence verbally.

“Coming up behind you, love.” He says gently with a hand on your lower back as he scoots past between you and the kitchen island.

It’s very domestic. Whenever you’re looking pretty, Gaz always wants to capture the moment to treasure it forever. Whether you’re cuddling with the pet, covered in dirt in the flowerbed, or maybe indulging in one of your many hobbies.

“May I take a photo of you, love? Just for me?” He asks softly as you sip your wine across from him at the table. You smile and nod, watching as he quickly gets his phone out from his pocket, snapping a few photos and showing you to get your approval.

Sometimes, Gaz doesn’t ask first in fear of ruining the candid shot, but instead takes a sneaky photo and checks with you after it’s taken.

“I took photo of you, gorgeous. Would you like to see? How do you feel? Do you want me to delete it?” He asks as he shows you the sneaky photo he took of you playing with your new baby niece, who’s laughing as you throw her up in the air.

—

Finally, Gaz who doesn’t argue when you say no.

Not in the mood for something? “That’s okay love. Thank you for letting me know.” He smiles, squeezing your hand.

Gaz doesn’t continue anything if you’re unsure, he slows or stops what he’s doing immediately if he sees you hesitate even for a second. “Not sure? That’s okay, baby. Take a minute. It’s okay to say no.” He assures you slowly.

Apologising for saying no to something? Nope, he can’t have that.

“Hey, you don’t need to apologise, alright?” He reminds you gently. “You did good. I want you to tell me if you’re not into something. You’re allowed to say no, okay? No one’s forcing you into anything.” He chuckles, hoping to reassure your nerves as he leads you away from the roller coaster that’s too big for your liking. “We’ll go do something that you do like, yeah?”