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falling-endlessly · 1 year ago

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Boomerang (part 2)

Vox x Female!Ex!Overlord!Reader

Summary: After being faced with a dilemma, Vox tries a new approach to get you back. All hell breaks loose.

<—Part 1 Chapter Index Part 3—>

"You're shitting me right now," Velvette's eye twitched as she stared at the snoring TV demon sprawled across your bed. "For fuck's sake, what am I? A babysitter?"

"At least he's knocked out," you crossed your arms, raising a brow. "You won't have to listen him try and tell you that he lost his hat, only to realize it was on his head the whole time, and then start crying because he forgot he owned such a cool hat."

Velvette smacked her forehead audibly, dragging the hand down her face. "Jesus Christ," she hissed under her breath, before glaring at you in irritation. "You know, none of this would have happened if you hadn't left, right?"

"Vel," you said tiredly, rubbing your temples.

"Do you know how fucking annoying it is to hear him bitch all goddamn day about you?" She growled, waving her hands around aggressively. "I'm this close," she held her fingers a millimeter apart. "To pouring water all over his monitors. This. Close."

"Vel—"

"And then there's Valentino, who's also in a fucking mood. You know what? Forget about the water. I'm going to shoot both of them in the—"

"Velvette!" You raised your voice, making her grit her teeth. "I'm not coming back. He made his choice," you glanced at the demon in question, currently drooling all over your pillow. "It's not my problem anymore."

"Is that what you think?" She snapped, crossing her arms. "That you can just, what, leave your shit in a mess and walk out? Sorry to burst your bubble bitch, but you aren't fucking Cinderella. Things aren't just going to magically work out if you hide from them."

"I'm not hiding—"

"Bullshit!" She growled.

Your jaw set tightly as you both stood in a tense silence, glaring at each other.

After a few seconds, you sighed, shaking your head. "He already knows what he has to do if he wants to fix this," you said firmly. "I'm not going to change my mind."

Velvette pressed her lips together, before letting out an irritated breath. "Always fucking cleaning up everyone else's messes," she muttered angrily under her breath as she roughly hoisted Vox's limp body over her shoulder. "I'm going to kill him. Pathetic piece of shit—keep up a good image my ass."

She was almost out of the window when you called out, "Vel."

Velvette turned to give you an annoyed what now look over her shoulder, scowling impatiently.

"Thanks," you said sincerely.

She didn't answer you, instead turning and vaulting herself out of the window, disappearing from sight.

****

Vox woke up feeling like his screen was being forcibly bent in half. "What the ungodly fuck?" he whimpered, grabbing fistfuls of his sweaty bed sheets as he tried to control his breathing.

His stomach roiled ominously, making him gag. "Nope, nope. Not here," he stumbled out of bed, staggering to his attached bathroom like a desperate zombie and nearly running face first into the wall.

Vox dropped to his knees, flipping open the toilet lid and shooting out an unholy amount of chunks.

"What the—ugh, holy shit!" Velvette coughed from the doorway, shielding her face. "God, that smells worse than that skit when Angel got shat on."

Fuck you, he wanted to say. What the fuck are you doing in my bathroom?

But instead what came out was: "FUghhhuckk!"

Velvette watched him, unimpressed and disgusted. "You're an idiot."

"Not. Helping." Vox growled miserably, screen flickering as he gripped the edges of the toilet bowl.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Velvette jeered unsympathetically. "Who dragged your pathetic drunk ass back here last night? Oh, that's right!" She snapped her fingers in a mock eureka! moment. "I did. How about a little gratitude?"

Vox lifted a weak, trembling hand and flipped her off.

Velvette rolled her eyes. "Ungrateful bitch," she muttered under her breath.

Vox heaved loudly into the toilet, making her cringe. Gross. She grabbed the hand towel off of the rack, before throwing it at his head. It landed on the top of his monitor, hanging off the corner, before he grabbed it and sluggishly wiped his mouth. "I th-think I'm sh-short circuiting," he groaned, gripping his head in pain.

"You'll be fine," Velvette closed her eyes in frustration, but internally her thoughts took a different turn. She hadn't seen Vox this fucked up in ages. Val maybe. But not Vox. He cared way too much about his public image. This erratic behavior was very, very unlike him, and it was starting to become...concerning.

"What happened?" Vox coughed, leaning his monitor weakly against his forearms. The last thing he remembered was the fight with Val, and then—a garden...? The hell?

"Well, apparently, your dumbass thought it was a good idea to pay Y/n a visit—" Vox froze at the sound of your name "—to personally deliver her flowers at three in the morning. Then you cried about your stupid hat, passed out in her room, and she called me to pick you up like an incompetent child. The end."

By the end of her rant, Vox's expression looked even more pained, if that was even possible. "Shitttt," he moaned, curling in on himself. "Fuck. Shit. Fuck."

He looked so pathetic and distraught that Velvette almost felt bad for him. Almost.

For a long moment, the only sounds in the room were Vox's labored breaths and Velvette's judgmental stare. The silence was starting to border on stifling when Vox finally broke it.

"Did she like it?" He asked quietly.

"What?" Velvette scowled, crossing her arms.

"The roses," he continued, making her raise a brow. So he did remember buying the flowers then, she never told him what kind they were. "Did she like them?"

She was about to dismiss it when a sudden memory struck her, making her pause. "She kept them. In a vase on her night stand."

Vox slowly lifted his head, a warmth (not bile this time) blooming in his chest. You kept them. Even though he'd made a fool out of himself and probably ruined your night. And you didn't kick him out, either.

You still care, he realized, with a fragile, growing hope.

And that meant—he had a chance. Not baseless hope this time, an actual, legitimate chance to win you back. A slow, goofy grin started to climb his face.

"What—what the fuck? What's with the idiotic look on your face?" Velvette cringed away, disturbed. Then realization hit her as her eyes rolled skyward. "You're going to do something incredibly stupid, aren't you?"

"Maybe," he grinned, before another bout of nausea hit him, making him retch violently into the bowl.

"Idiot," Velvette reiterated.

****

"Oh, hell no," you heard Vaggie say, making you glance up. The moth demon looked incredibly hostile, spear pointed at whoever was at the door.

Concerned, you lifted from the lounge chair you were seated in, taking a few steps towards them, only for a firm hand to land on your shoulder.

"Toots," Angel Dust laughed nervously, moving to block the scene with his body. "Maybe you should let the others sort this one out, yeah?"

"Angel, I know I don't look like much, but I'm an overlord," you raised a brow, peeling his hand off of your shoulder with ease. "I can probably help."

"Shit! Wait, you're not going to like this," Angel groaned under his breath, but it was too late. You'd already seen him.

Vox caught your eye, a charming smile quirking his mouth. "Hey, doll."

Your fists curled by your sides, eyes flashing dangerously as you started to dematerialize, glowing green code dancing along your skin. You glitched out, growing substantially in stature as your mouth distended horrifically.

"Ohhh shit," Angel cursed, taking cover behind the bar counter.

"What's wrong?" Charlie's confused voice came from the stairwell, only to gasp at your demonic form, glitching horribly as your voice raged like gravelly static. It almost sounded like there was another, deeper voice speaking in tandem with yours.

"Woah!" She bolted to the scene, catching sight of a pale Vox, shocked Vaggie, and gaping Niffty. Husk, Pentious and Angel had done the smart thing and taken cover behind the bar.

"Y/n," she smiled placatingly, raising her hands in a show of non-aggression. "What's going on?"

"Gonna kill him," you spat, making everyone wince. "Can't have one goddamn moment to myself without this fucker appearing like a fucking genital wart—"

"Hey," Vox laughed nervously. "I'm not here for any of that, I promise. Just—sweetheart—could you maybe not hover over me like that—"

"O-kay Y/n," Charlie stepped between the two of you. "Maybe just calm down, take a few deep breaths, and let's hear him out."

"Charlie, he blew up the hotel two days ago," Vaggie hissed through gritted teeth.

"Yeah, well, so did Pentious," Charlie raised a brow, wincing at said demon's faint protest.

"Pentious blew a hole in the wall," Vaggie argued. "This guy blew up half of the building!"

"Charlie!" Angel yelled, voice strained. "Do something before we all die!"

"Alastor's going to kill him," Niffty said cheerfully.

"I'll kill him first."

"Guys—" Charlie pleaded.

"I'm here for redemption!" Vox's voice cut through the air, making everyone freeze. It even shocked you out of your demonic form, the glowing code disappearing as you shrunk to normal proportions.

"You what?" you snapped.

"I want to...make things right," he glanced at you, making you grit your teeth and turn away. "I'm not here to cause trouble I swear—"

The door slammed in his face, cutting him off.

"Charlie," Alastor grinned, finally pulled from wherever the hell he'd fucked off to in his free time. "Tell me you're not thinking of letting this mongrel stay, are you?"

"What is this?" Vaggie hissed, dropping her head in her hands. "Overlord central?"

Charlie looked down, pursing her lips. "Well, it would be wrong of us to refuse anyone. It is open to everyone, after all."

"Think of Y/n!" Alastor said desperately, smile twitching as he clasped his hands on your shoulders, holding you out like some sort of charity case. You gave him an unimpressed look. "It's obvious he's only here to harass her!"

"And what were you here for again?" Charlie raised a brow. "To see demons trip and tumble down into the fiery pit of failure," she deepened her voice to imitate his, making him let out a screech of radio feedback.

"Look, I appreciate the concern, but I can take care of myself," you said, disgruntled as you shrugged off Alastor's uncomfortably tightening grip. "Charlie, do what you want. But I can't promise I won't kill him."

You were starting to accept the fact that there was nowhere in hell you could possibly go to escape your ex if he didn't wish it. That didn’t mean you wouldn’t put up a fight, though.

"Oh fuck," Angel dragged a hand down in face. He already knew what Charlie was going to decide. "Shoulda fuckin' stayed over with Cherri."

Charlie took a deep breath, and despite everyone's silent pleas, reached for the door handle and twisted it open. Vox perked up, turning towards her attentively.

"Welcome to Hazbin Hotel!" She attempted an awkward, welcoming smile.

****

<—Part 1 Chapter Index Part 3—>

Taglist: @pooplyface1423 @spookysisters @that-one-weeb-buts-its-the-main @neito327 @hxzbinwrites @coleisyn @bababahannah

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m1stm3 · 27 days ago

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mdni!! ( ´ ▽ ` )

oughhh thinking abt choso sucking strap. oughhhhhh

cw’s: gn! reader (reader is afab), (very light) dacryphilia, mentions of drool/spit/gagging and uhhh i think that’s it!! ^^

he was a little confused by your proposition at first but he agreed quickly after you explained. if it was something that would make you feel good why would he say no?

“so it’s just… the same way you do it to me?” his voice is soft when he speaks, his hands lightly running over the skin of your thighs as if trying to ground himself just by touching you. he looks so small from this position, on his knees while not-so subtly eyeing the piece of silicone fixed to your pelvis. it was… strange. different. but he couldn’t bring himself to really mind it. if the way his cock was already twitching in his pants said anything, you would say he was just as excited as you were.

you nod in response, bringing a hand up to graze over his jaw. he looks up at you with the small touch, so attentive and hyperaware of every one of your actions. “take it as slow as you need, cho. i don’t want you to overwhelm yourself.” you reminded him gently. he had a habit of getting overexcited and — as endearing as it was — it usually ended with you having to force him to slow down so he could have a chance to recover. cute, but you were worried about him hurting himself in this specific scenario.

“i’ll be careful.” he reassured you, his voice a hoarse whisper as his eyes drifted back down to your strap-on. his movements were careful when he brought a hand up to wrap around the base of your cock, his eyes wide and watching your reactions as his tongue tentatively kitten-licked around the tip. the heady look you were giving him must’ve given him more confidence because soon enough he was wrapping his lips around the silicone of your dick, the tip tapping against the inside of his cheek while he practiced the shallow back and forth motion that had sent his eyes rolling to the back of his head whenever you did it to him.

you hadn’t even realized your hand had moved to rest at the top of his head until his eyes had met yours, snapping you out of the small daze you had fallen into. he looked so pretty, so desperate for your approval even when his mouth was filled with your cock. he made sure to keep his motions slow as he took you deeper and deeper, allowing his throat to adjust to the new intrusion. his hands unconsciously gripped at your thighs, the pads of his fingers creating small divots in the plush skin while he took you deep enough for the tip of his nose to kiss! against the bottom of your tummy.

he held that position, his eyes desperately searching yours for approval while his nose remained smushed against your pelvis. you moved your hand to push his bangs back, a soft groan leaving you when you saw the tears dotting his lashline. “doin’ so good, cho. look so pretty takin’ my dick down your throat.” you swore you could feel the way his throat constricted around the silicone when he let out a small whimper at your words, a breathy curse leaving your lips at the deep, almost shocking warmth that filled your stomach.

you almost whined when you saw him start to move again, your head falling back in an attempt to get away from the sinful view in front of you so you could catch your breath. you could feel everything if you focused hard enough. the tight warmth of his throat, the soft vibrations of his moans when you gripped at his hair, the way his throat tightened with every small gag and bob of his head.

“fuck my throat.” his hoarse little whisper cut through your thoughts, his hands holding an almost bruising grip on your thighs. you could only breathe out a small, dumb “huh?” before he repeated himself. “fuck my throat, please… wanna know how it feels when i do it to you.” his hands massaged your thigh like he was trying to persuade you to say yes (as if you’d ever say no to an offer like that).

you nodded eagerly as soon as his words registered in your dazed brain, your breath hitching when he started taking you down his throat again. you let him readjust before starting with slow, shallow thrusts. you had to get used to the new rhythm just as much as he had to get used to the new sensation, but the both of you got the hang of it quickly.

your moans were unrestrained when you started speeding up your movements, choso’s teary eyes and soft gags as he struggled to take you sending you practically hurdling towards the edge. “gonna cum, cho… gonna fill up your pretty throat with my cum.” your words were strained and desperate, your thrusts becoming more and more sloppy as that warmth in your stomach finally unraveled. you threw your head back in a silent scream as your hips pushed forward, your tip bumping against the back of choso’s throat. everything felt warm and deep and oh-so intense, your hips rhythmically spasming as you came down from your high.

you pulled out of your boyfriends throat, your lips forming a small o when you saw the trail of saliva that connected his lips to the silicone. your hand moved to cup his cheek, lightly guiding him to look at you. “you okay, cho? was i too rough?” your voice was hazy from your orgasm but your eyes studied him as intently as you could manage.

he nodded meekly, his hands folded in his lap and pressed against his aching cock.

poor baby… might as well return the favor, right?

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aka-indulgence · 10 months ago

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Thoughts? Thoughts you said? Dealer thoughts? 👀 pls?

YES THANK YOU FOR ASKING HHH

(CW: portrayal of gun and violence + random character’s death)

He seems like a guy with a twisted taste for entertainment. Obviously he doesn’t care for human life, regularly dealing with people who gamble their lives for money (or not), you wouldn’t think he’d care about… anyone.

But he cares about you.

He would’ve just finished his last game for the night. The player died on the last round, no defibrillators or blood transfusions left, transported to the dealer’s version of the afterlife. He had 2 defibrillator charges left. He’s been shot about 7 times, but he’s not dead, just on the brink of death- another weekend night for him. He’s not in the mood to die tonight, is all, and he makes his way down to the club where the music blares, the lights are flashing neon colors and the air smells like booze and smoke.

He’s delighted to see you- he’s favorite server in the club. People quickly move away from him- even club regulars who’ve seen his face- are still unnerved by the large man(?) with the crooked teeth and hollow eyes. And even if his face didn’t scare them the shotgun slung over his back certainly would. His delight soon sours when he sees you’re not alone at the bar. Why are you sitting there in the first place? Looks like one of the club-goers caught you, having pulled you to the seat beside him. He’s uncomfortable close, leaning into your space. That alone is enough for him to reach for his shotgun. But even worse…

While you’re distracted, the guy putting his hand on your lap (something the dealer already wants to shoot him for,) the guy reaches over to your drink… and slips some powder into it.

He’s going to have his face blown off.

He crosses the floor, disregarding the club goers and knocking them down like bowling pins.

As you’re being pressured to have a drink (“hey c’mon babe, I went and bought it for you…”), a large arm slams heavily next to you on the bar, calloused hand gripping the glass so hard it’s shaking. The guy jumps back, having seen the face of horror just above your head.

“Hey angel, mind if I have this?” He says, voice strained. He doesn’t wait for an answer. He proceeds to pick up the glass as if to drink, but shatters it against the bar instead.

People stop dancing. The music is still going.

“Hey w-what the hell man?!” the guy stares at the Dealer, as if he didn’t know what he was just doing.

The Dealer shuts him up real quick when he cocks his shotgun. He’s holding the shotgun in front of you, with his arms boxing you in.

“You look familiar. Never seen you upstairs though. Too bad, you didn’t even get to play one round.”

“You should look away, angel.”

Those were the only warnings before a BLAM suddenly rang out, red splattered all over the bar and the floor- and the guy no longer has a face.

Everyone’s screaming, scrambling out of the club. You’re also screaming, but the Dealer can’t help but smile. You were shaking and pushed back into his chest, trying physically distancing yourself from the body.

Just as satisfying as killing the player after a round of double or nothing.

#dealer buckshot roulette #buckshot roulette #ask #aka writing #maybe?#very unpolished writing #love the idea of him violently protective of you #heheheh #also ofc his petname is angel because of the ost #tw depictions of violence #tw blood mention #tw gun mention #the dealer x reader #dealer ask

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spacebubblehomebase · 8 months ago

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Ur art style is edible💕

Is it now? 🤔 Well, if you say so! Ty!!! 💕

-Bubbly💙

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ffverr · 9 months ago

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This is an official Warreneissance blog. Join the Warreneissance or perish.

#xmen #marvel #x men comics #warren worthington iii #angel #archangel #x men #do i enjoy cloging his tag with stuping things? ofc i do #xmen meme

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jays-bonnie-on-the-side · 9 months ago

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𝐋𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐀 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

PAIRING : dean winchester x original female character

SUMMARY : maricela is a hunter who's been in love with dean winchester for years. given the age gap, he's made it clear he only sees her as his little sister. when she officially joins team free will after the angels fall, dean begins to see she isn't a kid anymore. with abaddon on the rise, dean takes on the only weapon that could kill her: the mark of cain. sam, mari, and cas watch as dean suffers the effects of the mark. after metatron kills dean, what's left of team free will does everything to find and save the beloved winchester. with the news of dean becoming the very thing he hunted for a living, sam and mari set out to bring him home. once dean's back in the bunker, they begin the demon curing ritual, hoping for success. when demon dean gets loose and finds maricela alone, he does what dean could never do. before he could kill, they finished the ritual, curing dean. though the eldest winchester was no longer a knight of hell, the curse remained, only worsening the effects from before. as they desperately search for a way to remove it, maricela deals with the marks dean gave her and the aftermath that goes with it.

WARNING : mature content. pining. age-gap. angst. fluff. smut. violence. murder. death. alcohol use. depictions of torture. graphic scenes. sexual abuse. mental abuse. verbal abuse. physical abuse. corruption. degregation.

each chapter will have it's own warning. i would include more but i don't wanna give anything away!

𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐫

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝…

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST | JOIN THE TAG LIST

: do not steal, plagiarize, translate, and/or republish any of my works* on here or another platform

*beside my writing, my works include : all banners, dividers, and gifs that i use (which were made by me,) unless otherwise stated.

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darksigns-exe · 1 month ago

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be my angel | three - september 1991

warnings: swearing

word count: 3.6k

masterlist | series masterlist | taglist sign-up

Standing in front of the Bell Tower, Teddie suddenly feels awfully nervous. She hasn’t spent a lot of time with Nick alone and now that she thinks about it more, asking him to help with the photos feels like a dumb idea. Nick had been the one who had brought it up – asking about how and where she gets her films developed. And now – a few days later – Teddie isn’t so sure what had convinced her to tell him to join her in the darkroom if he wanted to.

She can’t quite see into the bar, but she can hear the music they’re playing. It’s loud and harsh, and Ted feels a little overwhelmed with it. She gives herself another moment, before she makes her way inside. The sound hits her like a brick wall, and she has to reorient herself before she feels good enough to really enter the bar. She can’t immediately spot Nick, and she stands idly in the middle of the bar for a good minute. Ted considers her options, but before she can decide on a course of action, Nick emerges from a door behind the bar.

“You’re early.” he states blankly, setting down the tray of clean glasses he’d been carrying.

“It’s four.” Ted offers, suddenly unsure if that was actually the time they had agreed on.

His face falls a little when he rushes to check the watch on his wrist. The quiet swear that falls from him almost disappears under the still thundering music.

“Give me five minutes. Sit, do you want something to drink?” the words come uncharacteristically rushed.

Nick tosses a small back of chips her way before he vanishes into the back of the bar once again.

Teddie feels like a child waiting for her parent. She doesn’t belong here and without Nick - or Noah - to ground her in this place, she feels more and more like an intruder with every minute that passes. But the bag of chips sustains her until Nick returns, stuffing a set of keys into the front pocket of his jeans.

“Alright,” Nick announces as he comes to stand in front of her, “Lead the way.”

Her fear that the walk would be quiet and uncomfortable seems to be unfounded. Nick is surprisingly easy to make conversation with, even without Noah being present to bridge the gap between them. And while it’s light and surface-level, Ted learns a few new things about him. Nick also grants her a few more entries on the seemingly never-ending list of music she wants to catch up on. Contrary to Noah, he doesn’t make a big scene when she doesn’t recognise a title he tells her about. Not that Noah's upset was ever meant seriously, but sometimes his antics do get to her.

By the time they reach the building that houses the photo studio and dark room, Ted’s list has grown by a good few items. And while she isn’t entirely sure what Nick is gaining from this, she can’t deny that she is at least a little excited to spend more time with him.

Nick walks a few steps behind her when they enter the building, and Ted can’t decide if it’s because he doesn’t know where he’s going or because he too feels a little out of place. She leads him up the winding stairs of the stairwell that’ll take them to the darkroom quickest.

“Are you here a lot?” Nick asks as they make another turn through the unchanging hallways.

“Not that often. The drawing rooms are in a different building, I only come here for the dark room and the printer.” Ted explains.

Nick asks about what she actually studies, claiming that Noah hadn’t really made a lot of sense. Teddie can’t exactly blame him because she knows that Noah is prone to jumbling facts around, and who really knows what Noah actually told him.

Through a little bit of sweet-talking, she had managed to convince the guy who usually hands out the keys to the non-photography students to let her keep one of the keys, allowing her to come and go whenever she pleased. Teddie doesn’t like that she can charm her way around people like that, but with how easily some people placed stones in her way, it’s only fair that she also plays the game.

Nick quietly follows her into the antechamber. He remains by the door while she takes off her jacket and tosses it over one of the chairs.

“You can leave anything you don’t need in here. The door doesn’t open from the outside.” she explains, pulling her hair out of her face with the little red and white plaid seersucker hair tie her mother had made for her some months before she had left.

Nick shrugs off his denim jacket, hanging it over the back of the same chair hers is lying on.

“Anything I need to know?”

“Room has to stay dark, or your photos are gone. Don’t touch anything and don’t taste anything? Noah tried to dip his finger into the fixer one time when I took him. I would not recommend that.”

From the way Nick shakes his head, she gathers that he isn’t exactly surprised.

“Got it.” he replies, still quietly laughing to himself.

Nick follows her into the actual dark room.

She goes about her usual preparations, getting all of the solutions and developers out of the shelves. Nick looks a little out of place, but putting him to work is turning out to be a little trickier than she had expected.

“Can you get the scales? Should be in the cupboard on the right.” she points vaguely towards where they should be.

After a little rummaging, Nick places the digital scales on the workbench next to her.

“Do you have to measure all of this?” She nods, “Ratios need to be right or else we’ll end up with something indistinguishable. And you only really get one shot with this.”

Teddie doesn’t know how much Nick actually cares about any of this, but she explains the process anyway. Noah’s disinterest had been much more obvious.

“The longest part is the drying. I have three rolls, but it shouldn’t take much longer than an hour or so – clean up included.” “I thought this would take at least half a day.” Nick sounds a little surprised, “But then again, I don’t know anything about this.”

Ted gives a chuckle in reply.

Nick hovers behind her while she continues to prepare the rolls of him. She manages to sneak a glance at him. In the harsh red light, his features look much more exaggerated. Ted briefly wonders if he’d let her take more pictures.

The actual developing goes smoothly. Nick hovers a little, but she hadn’t expected anything else from him. He’d come to help and there wasn’t a whole lot he could do except hanging lengths of film up to dry while Teddie continues to work on the next batch. At least he’s more helpful than Noah had been the last time she’d brought him. Working with Nick like this feels surprisingly easy. It’s almost as if they’ve done this a thousand times already. He asks a few clarifying questions, but for the most part, he seems to have figured out what she needs him to do fairly quickly. And while they work in silence for the most part, Ted does enjoy the brief exchanges they have.

“How long have you been here now?” Nick asks after a while.

“Little over a year.”

Ted just sees him shaking his head as he laughs, “I could have sworn that Noah said you just moved here.”

“Feels a little like it.” Ted admits quietly, “I haven’t really felt like I’ve arrived here before I moved in with him.”

“Where did you live before?”

“Dorm. The people I lived with were new too, and it was all a little – sedentary. I think living with Noah has been good for me. I get out a lot more.”

He gives a knowing nod in response, “Noah’s good for that. That boy knows just about everyone that you need to know. He’s a little – oblivious, I guess – sometimes, but he means well.”

Ted hands him the last section of film to hang up. She thinks that she knows what Nick means. Noah has an interesting way of thinking about finances sometimes. She’s sure that he doesn’t make enough at the record store to finance the place they live in. Even with the additional money she brings in, it should be impossible to for them to afford the loft. The portion Ted gives to the rent cannot be large enough to cover the rest.

“It’s hard to hide that you come from money when most of the people you hang out with have at some point questioned how they’ll buy groceries.” Nick finally adds, “He’s trying, but sometimes it’s just very obvious that he’s never really had to worry about a thing.”

The way Nick talks about him makes it sound as if Ted should be aware of Noah’s upbringing. But whenever they’d talked about their families so far, he had been quick to dismiss the conversation. Noah had told her more than once that his relationship with his family just wasn’t good, and Teddie had never thought to dig much deeper.

“Where did you say you’re from again?” Nick asks then, as he hands her one of the bowls they’d used.

“Place called Brevard. North Carolina.”

“You’re a long way from home, huh? How’d you end up here?”

And so Ted tells him about how she’d always seen New York on the TV and thought that it was the best place for an artist to go. Another girl from her street had gone to New York to become a writer, and when she’d come back she’d told them all how great it had been there.

Nick’s amused look tells her that he’s heard this tale a thousand times before.

“I thought that the best place for a guy who wants to be in a band was the Bay, so I get it.” There's an awfully sentimental – and almost sad – look on his face then, “Sometimes it works out, and sometimes you have to crawl back home with your tail tucked between your legs.”

Ted wonders if she should dig deeper, but with Nick, it’s always so hard to know. She watches as his front teeth dig into his lip for a moment.

“But you like what you’re doing here? Fine arts.”

The little accent he puts on makes Teddie laugh out loud.

“I do. It’s nice.”

Nick fixes her with a curious look, but ultimately doesn’t push further.

It does feel a little like a lie.

It’s not like Ted doesn’t enjoy the program she is in right now, but she also can’t deny that she loves taking pictures. Swapping programs just like that feels a little daunting, though. She’s never been one to just give up on something, just because it feels a little tricky at the moment.

“When will you know if you’ve won this contest?” Ted asks, instead of dwelling on the matter for much longer.

“End of October.” Nick replies, “We have a friend who’s getting the zine for us before it officially releases, so we should know before the end of the day on the 31st.”

“Have you played over there before?”

Nick shakes his head, “We’ve been around the states a few times, but that’s it. It’s been a little slow.”

“So what I’m hearing is no pressure at all.”

Nick laughs in response, shaking his head.

“Whatever happens, happens. If we win that’ll be great and if we don’t – at least a few more people will know about us.”

“Assuming you win, what happens then?”

“Ideally, we figure out a way to get to Europe, play a bunch of festivals, make some money and new fans, see some new things.” he explains, “Don’t get me wrong. The album is selling so much better than expected, but Europe would change everything. I didn’t think that we’d sell more than a hundred units at all, and now they’ve told us that we might have the bestselling debut on that label. I don’t even want to think about how many more it could be if things go ideal with this contest and the festival.”

Nick looks as if the excitement about this all is bubbling just beneath the surface of his skin, but he’s not quite allowing himself to feel it properly. She can see the beginnings of a smile twitching at the corners of his lips, but it never becomes more, and Ted wonders if he doesn’t show it because he doesn’t know her well enough or if he actually won’t allow himself to be excited about this. Judging from how reserved he usually is, she’s inclined to believe that the latter is true.

The tomato shaped timer rings.

The blaring noise of it tears through the momentary silence that had spread between them.

Ted quickly moves towards where they’d hung up the strips of film, to check if the first ones had already dried.

She picks one of the dried strips up, holding it up in front of her face. She brings the strip over to the enlarger, sliding it under the lens. Ted fiddles with dials for a moment. And once the image has cleared up, and she’s faced with the test image she’d taken of Noah just before they had left or the show, she steps away from the device again.

“Do you want to have a look?”

Nick steps forward, mimicking what Ted had done a moment ago. Ted starts to move the film toward showing the remaining photos on this strip. He remains stoically silent the entire time, almost making Ted believe that he doesn’t like a single one of the pictures.

When she’s reached the end of the strip, Nick steps away from the enlarger again.

“Ted.” he says after a long moment of silence, “I don’t know what to say.”

Ted wrings her hands together, nervously awaiting Nick’s judgement. Somehow, this more nerve-wracking than she had expected. She understands now how much actually rides on these pictures, and she really does not want to be the thing that ruins their chances at winning this contest.

“If the rest are anything like this, we’re practically in Europe already.”

And this time she sees a little bit more of a smile on his face.

“I’m sorry that we doubted you like that.” he sounds so very sincere in his apology, “These are incredible, Ted. I think we stand a real chance now.”

They have made a preliminary choice to take back to the rest of the band. Nick understandably doesn’t want to make this decision on his own.

Ted thinks that the batch that they’ve marked for printing is really good. She’s proud of how the pictures have turned out, especially considering that she’d never taken pictures of a concert before that. And hearing how impressed Nick had been with the pictures had lifted her mood even further.

“Have you ever thought about doing this? Like full-time?” Nick asks as they’re putting their jackets back on, “I know a couple of people that could need a photographer – and they’d probably be able to pay you in real money and not store credit for a Blockbuster and stale sandwiches.”

“I don’t know, Nick.”

“I mean it. Half of the pictures in magazines look the same, but you could add a breath of fresh air. Show some old dudes how it’s supposed to be done.”

The trace of excitement in his voice is almost infectious.

Ted can’t deny that she had thought about it before, but her parents had always insisted that she needed stability. She had seen first-hand what could happen if someone loses their job. During the brief period when her father had been out of work in 1985, they had only managed to come by because her mother had decided to work again. Fortunately, they’d only had a few months when things had looked truly dire, but other families in the community hadn’t been that lucky.

The experience had left her with a lingering fear, though.

And now that she is living somewhat on her own, she doesn’t want to risk losing the little bit of income she has. Crawling back home because she can’t afford to live here anymore sounds like the last thing she wants. Just the idea of having to admit defeat to her brothers is enough to make her want to stay in her lane.

“How about this, next time you come around the Bell Tower I’ll introduce you to a couple of people. And if you feel like you can, you do the show. No one says that you have to jump into the deep end of the pool and go full-time immediately. I’ve been in bands for years, and I still have to take multiple jobs in between tours to keep myself over water.”

Ted tries to find a fault in his reasoning, but his logic seems sound.

By the time they’re back at the apartment, Ted as agreed to his offer.

If Nick was willing to extend her grace and trust with something as important as these pictures, she should be able to do the same.

Ted hadn’t realised just how much time they’d spent in the darkroom until they step back out onto the street. The sun is already significantly lower in the sky.

Their conversation continues on the way home, and while Ted still feels as if he’s holding her at an arm’s length, she thinks that she’s starting to get a little bit of a better picture of who Nick is.

The route he shows her back to the apartment is quite a bit shorter than the one she’s been taking so far, and Ted tries her best to memorise it.

They’re greeted by music and laughter as the elevator door slides open. Ted unlocks the grate, letting them into the main space of the apartment. The music is too old to be something Noah has picked, so she assumes that Jesse has come home with him after work. Ted doesn’t mind it at all. Jesse feels like a little piece of home in this big city.

“There you are.” Noah exclaims as he exits his room, “I was starting to get a little worried.”

“Just a little?” Nick asks as he throws his jacket over the back of the sofa.

“Between you two, you’d be fine.” he shrugs, “You’re just in time, though. I guilted Jesse into cooking.”

Ted hangs her jacket up on the little rack next to their door, before she does the same with Nick’s.

“What’s he making?” she asks, as she toes off her shoes.

“You’ll have to ask him. All he said is that you’d be happy about it.” Noah replies.

Nick shakes his head, and Ted is sure that Jesse had told him what he’d be making. It wouldn’t be the first time that Noah just stopped listening to a conversation.

Ted pushes past him into the kitchen.

As soon as the smell hits her, she finds herself back in her grandmas' kitchen.

“Chicken and dumplings. Thought you could use a little bit of home.” Jesse says, without turning away from the stove, “I know I did.”

Ted comes to stand next to him, trying to get a peak into the pot.

“You’re an angel.”

She can’t stop herself from wrapping Jesse up in the tightest hug. Jesse gives a chuckle in return. He pats her back softly.

“Almost done. You wanna get some plates out?”

Maybe she’d tried a little too hard to remove herself from home in the attempt to feel less homesick. But even after being here for a little over a year, she still feels herself longing for the comfort of her mother's kitchen.

The conversation around the table is comfortable. Noah’s account of the guy who tried to scam them with counterfeit Queen tapes makes all of them laugh — Nick included.

Once dinner is cleaned up, and Noah is done complaining that he had to help with the dishes, the four of them reconvene in the living room. Before Ted even has the time to say something, Noah is digging through her bag for the photos.

Ted is glad that Nick convinced her to get all of the pictures printed instead of just the ones they’d use for the contest. Getting this moment of looking back at that night together makes her feel a little more grounded in the group. When she’d taken the pictures, she was fully convinced that Nick would never speak more than a few words to her.

“If you don’t take this one, I’m throwing you out. Both of you.” Noah argues, waving a close-up of Nick in Ted’s face, “I’m not saying that this is the best one, but – Jesse, help me out here.”

“I’m staying out of this debate —”

The conversation quickly escalates into a half-hearted argument with Noah and Ted on one side and Nick on the other, who is adamant that he doesn’t want to be the face of the band. Nick doesn’t yield though, but at the end of the day, Ted knows that she can always just slip the picture into the batch when he’s not looking.

From their they eventually turn to lighter topics and Ted allows herself to sink into the background for a moment.

She watches them talk and laugh and joke, and maybe it’s then that she realise that she feels as if she’s a part of this group.

taglist: @deathblacksmoke @circle-with-me @sitkowski @ladyveronikawrites @baddestomens

@malice-ov-mercy @chels3a-smile @ferduttini @somebodyels3 @itsafullmoon

@shilohrosechicken @poisongirl616 @mysticdoodlez @agravemisstake @th4t-em0-k1d

@thisbicc @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @mrsnoahsebastian @blackveilomens @sorrowsofsilence

@fadingangelwisp @lacy1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @thisisntablogspost @tintadecirco

@rumoured-whispers @cheyyyyr @mathfairchild1 @thewrstinme @Follow-me-down-to-wonderland

#Nicholas Ruffilo x ofc #nicholas ruffilo fanfiction #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens au #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #fic: be my angel

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angels-silhouette · 2 months ago

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Ten Years Gone {d.w.}

1. Strangers in a Bar

Hi everyone!! This is my first Dean Winchester fic! Please let me know what you think of it, happy reading!

Summary: Dean hasn't been out of Purgatory for long and finds himself in a small town on the coast of Maine. He runs into a mysterious woman and she makes him question his retirement? Will Dean actually step away from the job? And what is this woman hiding from him? Warnings: slight aggression. +18 MDNI (even though there’s nothing R rated in this)

It’s late on a Tuesday night, the jukebox is humming in the corner of the bar playing slow country music. The air smells of liquor that’s dried on most surfaces of this place, a smell that’ll cling to your clothes until you wash them. It was the kind of late where only the restless or wrecked hung around, and tonight, Dean Winchester felt like both.

He sat at a table nursing a whiskey, tracing the edge of the glass with his middle finger. The bar was mostly empty, but Dean always made it a point to observe even when it’s not needed; the bartender wiping down the counter, two guys at a table loudly arguing about whether the Bruins are going to the playoffs or not, and a woman a few seats away from Dean, scribbling away in a notebook. He can’t tell if she comes here often or if she’s in the same boat he’s in, restless. Making sure to keep a watchful eye on her, especially since she’s the only woman in the building.

Dean shifted in his seat, trying not to think about the fact that he’s on the road by himself, again. It wasn’t the first time his brother needed a break from this life, and it wouldn’t be the last. They’ve been hunting nonstop for eight years, and after everything Sam has been through with the demons and Lucifer, the Leviathan’s and not knowing if Dean was dead or not for a year—he was bound to crack. The two of them fought over the fact that Sam didn’t hunt for a year, that Kevin was abducted and nothing was done about it. Sam was adamant about stepping away for a while, so he’s with his girl, while Dean is on the lookout for The Prophet.

For some reason this time feels different. Dean’s gotten older, he’s not young and stupid anymore, and he sure as hell has been through the wringer more than he’d like to be. He has a hard time lying to himself that he’s fine on his own. He needs Sam. The feeling of crippling anxiety that won’t cease is new, and it’s a feeling that’s not easily quieted by liquor. His hand shakes while he downs the remainder of his whiskey. The job is his life but is his life worth the job? It’s a hard decision to make, almost impossible.

He was so lost in his thoughts he almost didn’t notice that the woman had gotten up and started walking towards the bar. She distanced herself as far away from the other two men as she could then ordered, “A margarita with a salt rim and a double whiskey, please.” It didn’t take long for them to notice that she’d gone up there. Dean didn’t like the looks of them, they had a mischievous gleam in their eyes when looking at her. One of the Bruins fans stood up and advanced towards the bar.

“Hey there, pretty lady,” the man slurred, propping himself up against the counter. “What do ya say I buy your drinks for ya, sweetheart?”

Dean sighed, his grip tightening around his glass. He knows how these movies end, and they don’t end well.

The woman didn’t so much as flinch, without turning to look at him, she said, “I can take care of it myself, thanks.”

Her voice was cold and sharp, the kind of tone that could cut through steel, but the drunkard didn’t take the hint. He leaned in closer. She could smell the alcohol on his breath, see his eyes narrow in determination, and sense his bad intentions.

“Aw, come on honey. Let me treat ya, then maybe we can head back to my place, if you know what I’m sayin’?”

“I said no. Walk. Away.” Her gaze finally snapping to him, one so chilling that it could turn a man to stone if she tried hard enough.

Dean was not expecting her to be as harsh and as direct with the guy, he admired that. He knew that a guy like this wouldn’t take no for an answer, so he pushed out of his chair loudly and started to make his way towards them.

As she was turning to leave the counter, the guy grabs her by her bicep and pulls her into him, “You’re a good for nothing bitch, is what you are–”

Dean walks faster, boots thudding against the worn out floorboards. “Hey!” he barked. His voice low and dangerous as he got right in the drunk’s face. “When a lady says no, you listen. Now, let her go before this gets ugly.”

The man sneered then released her, muttering curses under his breath as he stumbled back to his friend. Dean turns to the bartender, his expression sharp. “And you–what kind of place are you running where this shit flies? Do better.”

He turns around to meet the woman, “You okay?”

She nods, her hardened features softening just a fraction at his kindness. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“It’s not a problem, Miss..?”

“Novena.” She smiles up at Dean and reaches her hand out to shake his.

“I’m Dean.” He gave her a warm smile back and took her hand in his. Her handshake was firm, he’s even more impressed.

“I was actually getting you a drink, believe it or not.” Her voice was rid of any trace of bitterness that had been there before, “I saw you sitting by yourself and you looked upset. Thought I’d bring you another round.”

“Thank you, I definitely need it.” Dean takes the glass from her, his fingers brushing against hers. Novena tenses up and her gaze immediately meets his, but within a second her state of shock is gone. Dean notices but doesn’t think too much of it. He doesn’t mean to be cocky, but a lot of girls in the past have frozen up around him before. Usually from being a flirt but he’s made no effort tonight—maybe he still has the juice after all.

Novena gives him another smile, then makes her way back towards her seat. This was the first act of kindness anyone has shown him since he got back from purgatory, and it was refreshing. A total stranger noticed that he wasn’t doing alright. He had been standing in the same spot, staring into space long enough for the bartender to give him the look of, “dude, you good?” He wasn’t good, but maybe he could distract himself from his anxiety for a little while, she was mysterious and that intrigued Dean.

Making his way over to her slowly, he notices that she had been making a sketch of someone. “Mind if I sit with you?” She closes her book when she hears his voice, as if not to be caught with her doodle. “I know it’s late and I, I don’t wanna seem like that scumbag over there—“

“Sit. I can tell a tortured soul when I see one,” she gestures with her hand for him to take the chair opposite from her. Novena emphasizes, “Please.”

Also not what he was expecting, but her voice was calm. Demanding but gentle. He does as he’s told.

“Yes ma’am.” They stare at each other, scanning each other's features in a way that is more intimate than it should be. Dean finally speaks up, “So, if you’re a tortured soul like me, what’re you doing out so late on a Tuesday?”

Novena sighs and takes a sip of her drink, “There’s a lot going on but to keep it sweet and simple, my dad recently passed, my boyfriend, well…ex now, destroyed my car when I ended things,” with sad eyes, she looks down at her fingers, fiddling with one of the rings she has on. She clears her throat before asking, “What about you, Mr-New-In-Town? What brings you into The Salty Dog?”

Dean lets out a small chuckle at her enthusiasm when saying the name of the bar, but says seriously, “I’m sorry to hear about your dad, I am. It’s not easy losing a parent,” He takes a swig of his whiskey, thinking of Bobby especially. “I uh, lost my father figure not too long ago as well.”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry.” Novena’s brows furrow and she places her hand over Dean’s so naturally, gently rubbing her thumb over the top of his knuckles.

He’s taken aback by this, he almost jumps at her touch. His eyes dart to hers and he’s met with empathy and compassion; there’s a lump in his throat that’s unbelievably painful with the grief that’s been hidden away. Not one soul has been able to break through Dean’s wall as easily as the woman before him. His eyes are jumping from their hands to the table, scoping out the rest of the bar to see if anyone is paying attention, which no one was, then back up to Novena. Tears were threatening to escape the corners of his eyes and once he saw that her mascara had run down her face, was when Dean let go. She removed her hand from his, leaned over the small table, cupped his face and wiped away the dampness on his skin.

It almost felt like Novena was taking away his pain with her touch, and it looked like it too. The eye contact hadn’t broke since he looked up at her. Dean was a mess and he couldn’t decipher if what he was seeing was a figment of his imagination or not—but it seemed like his struggle was held within her eyes? There was this humming noise that was coming from somewhere, the jukebox or the overhead lights maybe, that was soothing. Ultimately easing Dean to breathe slower and to quiet his racing thoughts.

“I, I don’t know what that was.” Dean whispers, “I’m sorry, that’s embarrassing. This never happens to me…” he gestures at himself.

Novena pulled away from him concerningly, “Showing human emotion never happens to you?”

“Wow—that’s not what I was expecting you to say. But, yeah. I usually don’t allow myself to show people how I’m feeling. To be frank, I don’t know why I’m telling you this. Long day I suppose.”

She didn’t know how to respond to him. He’s different from other men she’s met, that’s a given. Dean almost immediately crumbled under her touch. It felt like he was begging to let someone in, wanting to be understood. If they hadn’t mentioned that they’ve both lost someone dear to them, then Dean probably wouldn’t have been easy to get a reading from. Novena liked that he related so much to her, that Dean felt so deeply that his emotions had transferred through their touch.

He was trying to brush off what had just happened. Novena could see it in his eyes, that he was questioning the intense moment they shared. Dean covered his face with both of his hands and sighed. This was the perfect moment to change subjects.

“I better get going, it’s getting late–I have to be up early for work. But I’ll see you around?”

—

A/N: Any and all feedback is appreciated! Feel free to send me asks or dm’s :)) I'm just making things up as I go, so be patient with me lol. This will be multiple parts as well as blurbs. I have a busy schedule but I’m going to try my best to write these chapters cuz I’m really obsessed with the idea I have!

tags! @ambiguous-avery

#dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #spn #supernatural fanfic series #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x ofc #writing #angels-silhouette

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xxplastic-cubexx · 3 months ago

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sorry just got reminded of the entirety of uncanny x-men #309 and how it's charles having a therapy session with himself about his love life and desires and how he kept sacrificing himself and his wants for The Cause and the whole time he imagines erik to represent his innermost thoughts in the form of a therapist to have him unravel all this

#snap chats #i was going to read the fic i had saved and i remember the angel who recc'd it to me mentioned this issue #and bruh .......... //screams//#there's an onslaught joke in here somewhere but i aint diggin for it it's 3AM and im goin to the mall with my bro later #this is brought on by scott and jean recently announcing their plans to be married and charles gets I-Refuse-To-Admit-It jealous #this is such a depressing issue and that's probably why i love it. there is a happy ending tho so that def lightens the load jaELKVEJKA #ironically @ my last ask this issue also tackles charles' issues with feelin loved only this time its more concretely in the romantic sense #which. very interesting to use erik as your 'therapist' there charlie.......#anyway usin erik is wild but i get it makes perfect non-ship sense in context but anything can be ship related if youre ill.... like me ...#but no genuinely it's an interesting issue.. i fear i'll have to buy it so i can look at it every day and throw up #not neglecting the opening is charles realizing erik saved him from a snowstorm (unlimited x-men number 1 1993)... ofc.....#UGH FUCK now i gotta get THAT issue too.... sorry im building a cherik library i guess i just love the angst so much <- im deranged #any time theres mentions of charles' suppressing his wants or just suppressing anything in general i go insane its my favorite thing Sorry #ok ima go read that fic now. after i bookmark a listing of uncanny xmen 309 vejarVERVJEAJ bye

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freshbaked-bread · 6 months ago

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my attempt at butch logan

#im not into women i feel like im unqualified for this tbh #my art #art #fanart #doodle #x-men #wolverine #logan howlett #still had to make her at least a bit hairy ofc a wolverine without lots of hair is like an angel without wings

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falling-endlessly · 1 year ago

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Boomerang

Vox x Female!Ex!Overlord!Reader

Summary: When Vox proves incapable of cutting Valentino out of his sex life despite his many reassurances, you decide to break it off with him and leave for good. He doesn't take it so well.

Chapter Index:

O N E

T W O

T H R E E

F O U R

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ellethespaceunicorn · 9 months ago

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An Angel Without Wings

Title: An Angel Without Wings

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Frank Castle x Unnamed!Black!OFC

Fandom: The Punisher

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: When she needs him to take control, he’s there for her.

Warnings: pet name (Angel), Sir kink, male!Dom/fem!Sub, slight hair pulling, spanking, vaginal fingering, unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, mention of bodily fluids, aftercare

A/N: I’ve never written for Frank Castle. But I had a dream about him out of nowhere. And now you get fic loosely based on that dream. So, yeah. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

The jingle of keys in the front door alerts her to his arrival. Her knees ache from where she kneels on the hardwood flooring. Gooseflesh appears everywhere her leather and mesh lingerie set doesn’t cover. In her outstretched hands is her collar, a thin piece of black leather with a dangling tag that reads Angel. She keeps her eyes downcast until she has permission to look upon him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices her in the dimly lit apartment. He doesn’t acknowledge her at first. He sets his keys down on the table by the door, toes off his boots, and hangs his jacket on the coat rack. Turning around slowly, he pushes up the sleeves of his henley and walks towards her.

Studying her face, he can tell she longs for this. She wants to relinquish control, but more importantly, she needs him to take it from her.

Coming to a standstill in front of her, he looks over her body as her eyes stay on the space between them. He picks up the collar and bends forward to secure it around her neck before walking around and placing his hands on her shoulders. Her smooth brown skin under his calloused tan hands is a stark contrast.

“Who are you?” His gruff voice fills the empty room.

“Angel,” she says, placing the backs of her hands on her thighs. She stares at her palms.

“That’s right. Who am I?” He asks, hooking a finger under one bra strap and sliding it across her skin.

“Sir,” she replies.

“Good girl. Now, do you remember our system?” He challenges, the pad of one thumb pressing into the side of her neck as his fingers move to wrap around.

“Green for go. Yellow for slow down. Red for stop, Sir,” she breathes, lifting her chin slightly as his hand closes around her throat.

Leaning forward, he whispers in her ear, “That’s my sweet Angel. I wanna see this pretty little thing you’re wearing for me. Stand up.”

“Yes, Sir,” she answers, raising her body to her full height while Frank mirrors her movement. She stands in front of him, close enough to feel his body heat on her back. Close enough that his breath on her neck makes her shiver.

With his left hand still around her throat, his right hand is left to explore her body. He can feel her pulse quickening under his thumb, relishing his effect on her.

He closes the small gap between them and toys with the waistband of her thong. His fingers follow from her thong to the garter belt she is wearing, the thick mesh straps connecting to a strip of leather sitting perfectly around her curvy thighs. He switches directions, his hand ghosting over her fabric-covered mound on its way past her tummy to her pendulous breasts that are accentuated by the mesh bra with cutouts. Groping each breast, he gives them both ample attention. Sliding his thumb back and forth against the nipples, he grows harder at the sound of her whimpers.

Loosening his grip on her throat even further, he nudges her shoulder to turn around. Once turned, he tangles a hand in her curls. Tightening his hand, he forces her to finally look at him by tilting her head. Her big brown eyes display her vulnerability, her desire, and her willingness to submit to him.

He runs the back of his knuckles softly against her face from cheek to jawline, grabbing her chin with his thumb and forefinger. Lowering his head a centimeter, he brushes his lips against hers before taking the lead in a heart-stopping kiss. He licks inside her mouth and massages her tongue with his. Feeling her knees start to buckle, he slows the kiss and steps away from her.

She follows his movement as he steps up to the couch and sits dead center. He pats his thighs, and she knows to assume “the position”. Climbing on top of him, she lays across his lap with her ass up in the air.

Running a hand over her exposed globes, he speaks lowly to her. “My sweet Angel has the smoothest skin. And the sound it makes when I-,” He raises his hand, and it lands with a SMACK, “-hit it just right? Perfection.”

“Thank you, Sir,” she breathes, panting just slightly.

Frank adjusts himself so that she feels his growing length against her abdomen. When he feels her pushing her ass into his hand again, he lands a healthy SMACK on both cheeks. With both hands, he parts her ass and runs a thumb over the dampening gusset of her thong.

“Mmmm, gettin’ wet already for me, huh? Let’s see what happens when I lay down a few more spanks then,” he hums, putting one hand on her back while the other begins a rhythm of SMACK after SMACK after SMACK. From one cheek to the other, he delivers blow after blow until she pipes up.

“Yellow, Sir!” She sniffles, her hands grabbing onto the couch cushion.

“Good girl, Angel,” Frank says, lightly soothing her ass with slow strokes of his hand. He runs his fingers over the now-soaked center of her mesh panties. Frank groans and moves her underwear to the side, so he has access to her wet little pussy.

With two fingers, he slides into her core, stretching her out. She moans and grinds her hips, he scissors her open. Wet, squelching noises fill the room as he adds another finger, massaging her swollen clit with his thumb. He picks up speed as her walls start to twitch around his digits.

“That’s it, Angel. Cum for me, baby,” he urges, his gravelly voice rumbling through his chest. “You can do it, Angel. Soak my fingers, girl.”

Within seconds, her heat clamps down on his fingers as she reaches her peak. Shuddering as she cums, she whimpers as he works her through her orgasm. Mumbled nonsense spills from her mouth as she tries her hardest to thank Frank for the earth-shattering climax.

Once she is calmed down from her intense high, Frank picks her up as he stands and walks to their bedroom. Laying her down softly, he steps back and unzips his pants, and pulls out his cock and balls. His uncut hard-on stands proudly as his heavy sac hangs under it.

She licks her lips and moves to the edge of the bed on her hands and knees. Before she can reach out a hand to his dick, he shakes his head and chuckles.

“Nah. Not tonight, baby. I’m already close to blowin’. If you get that perfect little mouth on me, it’s over. Now, turn around and get that ass over here,” he directs, watching as a sly smile appears on her face.

As soon as she is turned around, Frank grabs her hips and pulls her to him. Using one hand to press her face-down into the mattress, he uses the other to line himself up to her slick center. He slides into her warmth and lets out a grunt as he settles inside her.

Retracting his hips slowly, he leaves just the tip in for a second until he slams back in. Thrusting once, twice, three times; he sets an unremitting pace. Her moans are music to his ears as he plunges over and over into her tight slit.

Her womanhood drools over his shaft as he reaches a hand down to play with her puffy pearl. Overcome with her impending fall over the edge, she tightens her fists into the bedsheets and lets out a wail as her depths flutter around his thick girth.

“Ohhhh fuuuuuuck, Angel. That’s it! Just like that, gimme that good shit, baby,” he rambles on, chasing his release as he fucks her through hers. “Argh, fuck! I’m gonna fill you up, Angel. Beg me for it.”

“Please, Sir! Please fill me up! I need you; I need you so bad,” she gushes, so blissfully fucked out that she would do anything for Frank at this moment.

“That’s my Angel. Ugh fuck!” Frank fucks into her one last time, his cockhead poking at her sensitive cervix. As he spills inside her, he huffs every time his dick spasms.

She sighs as her body accepts his load, a hazy smile on her face.

Frank pulls out, watching as his jizz tries to escape. He uses a finger to catch his spend and push it back inside her. Tucking himself away, he helps her lay down with her head against the pillows before lying next to her. He wraps an arm around her shoulders, and she cuddles into his side. Kissing the top of her head, he also gives her a quick squeeze.

They are quiet for a moment until she speaks, “Thank you, Frankie. Fuck, I needed that.”

“Anytime, baby. You know I’m here for you. Anything you need. All you gotta do is ask, and I’ll come running,” he confesses, smiling down at her when she looks up at him. “Now, don’t get too comfy. We’re gonna take a bath together so I can soothe those sore muscles.”

“Frankie, how did I get so lucky to have a man like you?” Her big brown eyes focus on him while her hand cradles his face.

He chuckles before replying, “Nah, I’m the lucky one. You love me with your whole heart, you lift me on my hardest days, and the way you look at me like I hung the damn moon? You’re a saint, my Angel.”

She leans up on one elbow, looking at Frank with unshed tears. “You think you don’t do the same? Please, baby. You are my heart, my love, my everything. You came home from what I assume was most likely a hard day, and you dropped everything to give me what I needed. You, Frank Castle, are the real angel here. One of those cool, brooding angels without wings.”

“An angel without wings, huh? Sounds kinda badass, honestly,” he jokes, leaning up to place a chaste kiss on her lips before getting out of bed. He walks around to where she sits on the edge with her legs dangling. She smiles at him and swats his hands away when he tries to pick her up again.

He raises his hands in defeat and follows her as she walks into the bathroom. They get undressed as the clawfoot tub fills with warm water and lavender-scented bubbles. Frank helps her step in and then slides in behind her.

Washing her body, he massages her favorite body wash into her flesh. She returns the favor, and they exit the tub. Frank wraps a towel around his hips and uses another to pat her skin lightly from head to toe.

Once they are in pajamas and back in bed, he pulls her back into his arms. Ghosting a hand up and down her arm until her breathing settles and soft snores escape her, he can finally rest now that she is safe and sound.

A/N: Ok, this was loosely based on a dream I had about Frank Castle. It was a little bit more *insert whip sound here* in my dream, but maybe I will include that in another tale someday.

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