#NO DOORS THERES NO WALLS EITHER

[amid-fandoms]

dan: i bought it from an adults only website 😬

phil: omg im excited 🥰

👁️👄👁️ can we pleajse calm. down for a Moment

[nerdie-faerie]

Every day, I reach new levels of absurd tasks to deal with being desperately bored

[whoa-where-did-the-pancakes-go]

Love hallways because theyre Creepy but also hate hallways because. theyre Creepy

[captain039]

Blood, Fur and Magic

Vampire Viktor x reader x Werewolf Jayce

Warnings: Vampire things, werewolf things, light swearing, possessiveness, smut, sexual, intimacy, poly relationship, angst, violence

I saw somewhere about Viktor being vampire coded and Jayce being werewolf coded and now I just wanna be that sandwich

I’m also sorry if it’s confusing xD

Theres a ringing in your ears, a pain in your leg and your whole body, the ground was closer than you remember. You cough your lungs engulfing dust and rubble. What happened? You remember clash shattering and an explosion, you had only just walked into the council room when it went off. There’s someone shaking your shoulder, someone yelling, you know that voice, Mel? You blink your eyes open seeing her knelt beside you shaking you. There’s relief in her face when you open your eyes and she sits you up as cough again and your hearing slowly returns. You focus on the ruin of the council room, everyone’s dead-

“Hey, can you hear me?” Mel cups your cheeks a moment gently tapping them before clicking her fingers by your ears.

“Yeah- I can” you move her hands and she sighs in relief.

“What happened?” You manage as she goes to help you up, you cry in pain though and look down to your leg, you almost pass out at the sight quickly covering your eyes and whimpering.

“Don’t look” Mel quickly covers it with your jacket and ties your leg off making you cry again.

“VIKTOR!” theres a yell in the council room, Mel quickly looks and you urge her to go. You see Jayce stand and leg it to a pile of rubble. You struggle to get up so you opt for dragging yourself on the floor. Thats when you see them both in view, Jayce over Viktor’s unconscious body, tearing off his shirt performing CPR. Your mind slows and reels at the scene, everything feels in slow motion Jayce’s body moving quickly trying to revive Viktor before he’s lifting him and running. Mel returns to your side quickly as guards begin to rush in.

“Mel-“ you feel tears down your face watching Jayce run with Viktor in his arms.

“They’ll be alright” she says but there’s no real truth in her words as you let out a broken cry. You weren’t ready to say goodbye, you weren’t ready to see his sweet face leave. You’re lifted to the medical wing your leg broken the bone sticking out. You pass out along the way world dimming in pain and darkness.

The next time you wake you focus on your surroundings, a hospital room, you feel the pain in your leg numbed and your mind comes back. Viktor, Jayce- you need to see them now. You curse the cast on your leg and stumble out of the hospital room. You lean against the wall and hobble painfully to the receptionist.

“Miss-!” She says shocked but you don’t care, your teeth are gritted and you lean heavily against the counter.

“Jayce Talis, Viktor where are they?” You say and she fumbles a bit.

“Now! Please!” You beg. Someone escorts you to a private room, you have crutches as support as you walk to Viktor’s room. You stand outside it a moment before knocking softly you hear shuffling movement before Jayce opens the door.

“Please I said-“ he stops as he sees you, eyes wide he says your name softly before he hugs you tightly. You feel tears roll down your face as you let the crutches go and hug him back.

“How’s the leg?” He asks pulling back keeping you steady.

“Doesn’t matter” you say seeing Viktor on the bed. There’s a bunch of tubes in him, he has a breathing machine attached to him the sight makes your stomach coil.

“Jayce” you whisper with tears in your eyes, he helps you inside and closes the door, you walk over to where Viktor lays, too still, too pale, it’s worse than the last time you saw him in here. You can’t control your emotions as tears roll down your face and you almost collapse. Jayce is quick to settle you on a chair nearby hushing you gently.

“I’m not ready” you sob and Jayce takes in a shaky breath his emotions clear too.

“I know, I know I’m not either” he says his tears falling as well.

There’s no improvement, Viktor lays in a state of a death like sleep. You nor Jayce leave his room often, you both not wanting to say goodbye. Many times you’ve both yelled at the doctors when they said it may be time to let him go. You were never one to show your emotions so easily but this? This turned a switch.

It’s around midnight you think, time doesn’t matter in this room anymore. You’re curled up on the bed Jayce had brought in your broken leg stretched out. It’s been two months now, with the severity of the break yourself still going to have this cast on for months. It doesn’t matter though, you’re alive and Viktor is lying on that bed in a shut down body. You don’t know who goes first, you or Jayce on a tandem of finding a cure, like anyone could possibly cure death. Viktor’s right limbs are changed by the Arcane, a strange purple, grey colour. After Jayce saw what it had done he destroyed it, that fracture in there friendship never healed properly, neither apologised fully and now Jayce didn’t have a chance too. You’ve got books, notes and crumble papers everywhere in the lab, you don’t remember when you started being this invested in fixing things. You lean against the table, head on your arms as you feel yourself drift off to sleep.

You dream of woods, ones you’ve never seen, you’re running your legs are burning, heart pounding but you need to get away. There’s something behind you chasing you, howling in the background. You slam into something though the air knocked out of you, you look up seeing a hooded figure. Images flash into your mind, fangs, blood, fur, canines, it’s too much flickering.

“Change is the only way” the voice is eerie, one you don’t know before the figure is gone, the howl closer than before and rustling in the underbrush before it launches

You scream awake shooting up, you pant and grasp the table in front of you. Your heart pounds and you’re covered in sweat. You jolt when the door opens almost jumping off the chair.

“Hey” Jayce mutters as he walks in the lab. You look at him frowning, his hairs a little longer his beard has grown slightly, he’s got bags under his eyes though, his face a little sunken in.

“What’s wrong?” He asks as images flick in your mind. Canines, brown fur, golden eyes. You wince and hold your head, Jayce comes closer his hand on your shoulder gently. You feel claws in your skin though and yell in pain stumbling away. It ends up with you on the floor and a worried Jayce in front of you with his hands up. You stare at his hands, they’re normal, no sharp claws. You look to your shoulder and nothing. You feel overwhelmed, tears in your eyes as you apologise. Jayce soothes you instantly coming down to kneel by you, holding you close. You don’t feel any claws this time, just his warmth.

“We both need rest” he says helping you off the floor careful of your casted leg. You sigh but nod and follow him out of the lab on your crutches. Your apartments been forgotten over the last two months, Jayce’s is closer to the hospital so you stay there instead in his spare room. You fall onto your bed, sort of, careful not to jolt your leg as you sigh and close your eyes again.

You dream of the woods again, but there’s another chasing you, they’re faster, quieter moving in the shadows. It’s dark, the full moon high above you, you run till you can’t, till you collapse on the floor with your lungs bursting for air. You feel it before you see it, the creep of coldness on your skin the prickle on fear on the back of your neck.

“You’ll taste so sweet” it whispers and you know that voice. There’s a figure over you pinning you to ground before two cold small shards pierce your neck. You faintly hear a low growl behind you and listen to the laugh the figure on top of you lets out.

“Jayce” he chuckles and you know who it is, Viktor, his hairs longer, his body fuller his eyes a swirl of colours. You follow his gaze and you see the beast, hunched over golden eyes staring at you and him both. A wolf like body, hunched over tail swishing behind.

“He’s possessive” Viktor leans down and whispers in your ear teasingly his tongue sliding across your neck.

“Why’re you surprised to see me?” He sits up again his body still straddling yours.

“You’re dead” you whisper.

“Dead? Hardly, my heart may not beat but I’ve not felt this alive in years” he grins and you see two pointed fangs. Another growl leaves the beast and Viktor laughs again.

“Come my love” he lifts a hand and reaches out for the beast. It walks over on all fours nuzzling its head into Viktor palm.

“You don’t recognise him?” Viktor asks looking to you. You frown at them both and listen to the low whine the wolf like beast lets out. You stare at its eyes, golden- Golden like Jayce’s.

“Jayce” you whisper in shock and Viktor chuckles softly a smile on his lips as he pets the wolf head.

“Wake now sweet thing” Viktor whispers before you jolt upward surrounded by the faint glow of the sun and Jayce’s spare room.

Next part ->

[777heavengirl]

Bless the Telephone ; ##02

James Potter x f!muggle!reader

word count: 1,511

warnings: i dont think theres any? lmk...

a/n: :) i hope yall like it, at the rate im pumping these out i might do two updates per week but we'll see how that goes..."

series masterlist

main masterlist

You sighed as you opened the door, the various bags of food, toiletries, clothes, and whatever else you had picked up during the day made your arms feel like they might fall off, cutting into your skin and your circulation. Your fingers had gone numb two stops away from your apartment, you could feel the relief as you dumped half the bags on the kitchen counter. 

You dumped the other half and the backpack that hung heavy across your back in your room. 

“Hey, darling-” your roommate popped her head up from where she lay on the couch, wild curls practically floating around her. “Yer phone’s been ringing nonstop for like an hour-”

You groaned, glancing at the clock briefly while putting your shopping in their rightful places. 

7:30 p.m.

“D’you know who it was?”

“Why would you ever think I’d get up to check?” She popped some chips into her mouth with a laugh

You turned, hands on your hips, a small smirk playing on your lips 

“You mean to tell me you’d rather put up with the ringing than get up?” 

“Yeah- why not? Turn up the telly and boom- can’t even hear a thing mate” She said, smiling from the couch. You couldn’t help but laugh along with her-

The phone rang, not as violent as that morning two days ago, sound muffled by the wall and your closed door. It was loud nonetheless.

Your roommate turned up the volume of the television.

“Talk of the devil!” she screamed through the roaring sound of whatever trashy game show she was watching.

You dragged yourself to your room, closing the door behind you. You could still hear the exaggerated volume of the telly. The phone kept on ringing, the red light angrily flashing at you to go pick it up already-

“Hello?” 

“Where’ve you been?” it was teasing, you wanted to say it was his voice. The mysterious voice on the phone, one Mr James Potter. You weren’t sure. You didn’t know how to feel about it either.

“Who is this?”

“Woah, one day and you’ve already forgotten me- you’re breaking my heart here sweetheart” the voice crackled through the static of the receiver. Oh it was definitely Mr James Potter calling again

“Potter?”

“James- But yes”

“Ah! That one- to what do I owe the pleasure?” You bit your lip slightly, excitement turning in your stomach. You grabbed the base of the phone, moving the machine as close to your bed as the cable would let you, the rest of the stretch between your bed and the telephone could be covered by the curled plastic cord. You sat on the mattress.

“Do you know any other Potters?”

“Just the one- but to be fair, I don't really know you either”

“Mhm… fair enough, I think I only know one other person with your name-”

“Really?” 

“Yeah, nasty woman really- called me daft two days ago,” he said, tone serious as if recounting a deeply wounding moment… you let out a laugh “You wouldn’t believe how rude she was to me”

“Oh was she really? That’s terrible news, maybe it was because you called her— a stranger by the way, at four in the bloody morning”

“You got me, wasn’t on purpose though— you still haven’t answered my question by the way” You could hear that little smirk on his lips again

“What would that be Potter?”

“James- but where were you?”

“What’s it to you? Trying to stalk me or something?” you could feel your heartbeat quicken, 

“I just tried calling earlier-”

“Yeah, my roommate said, the phone rang a ton— were those all you or should I check my messages?”

“I wasn’t sure I was hitting the right number okay? pissed off a few other people too”

“Oh so this is the norm for you-”

“Hey! It isn’t my fault, I just didn’t know how to do the little- you know…” had this guy ever used a phone before? “call the previous number thing- ugh I don’t know what it’s called but whatever I didn’t know how it worked” he huffed

“Potter, are you a ten-year-old boy? Scratch that, my cousin knows how to do that- maybe you are daft”

“If I say yes will you tell me what you were up to?” he said, you laughed again

“I was running some errands, nothing special… why’d you wanna know?” you raised an eyebrow, you curled the cable around your index finger, the rest of the cool plastic wrapping around your hand. 

“Was just wondering…”

A beat.

“I realize now that me calling you back might be strange-”

“You don’t say- only took you about ten minutes of conversation, you didn’t think about that before you called?”

“Not really- my mum says I lack impulse control,”

“I can tell you have zero of that-” 

“she blames Dad but we both know she’s the one I got it from” he chuckled, and you couldn’t help but mirror it. 

“You still haven’t answered my question, Potter-”

“You really not going to call me James?”

“No- I don’t know you-”

“I guess that's fair enough- what was your question?”

“Why’d you call?” he stayed quiet for a couple of seconds, almost as if thinking deeply about your question before his voice broke through the static again.

“Honestly?”

“Obviously-” you retorted, another chuckle left his lips.

“I don’t really know… I don’t really have a reason I just wanted to talk” you mouled over his answer, strange but not bad.

“You don‘t have friends for that already?”

“You’ve never made new friends with complete strangers?”

“Not like this-” you traced a pattern onto your sheets as you spoke, 

“Well, I can be the first! so how old are you?” he sounded giddy “If I say I’m sixty five will you leave me alone?”

“It would be worse- I love old ladies, but they love me immediately so I suspect you aren’t one”

“because I don’t immediately love you?”

“obviously” he mirrored you “I’m twenty-“

“What a coincidence, so am I” you whispered, he heard you nonetheless

You pursed your lips to suppress a smile as James asked questions and explained things about his life that you didn’t ask for. You felt quite silly- talking on the phone with a boy you’d never met, you didn’t know what he looked like, nor if he was really who he said he was.

His tone and his rambles seemed genuine enough, he was a very peculiar boy- talking about how he was mildly scared of the tube but my mate Sirius loved it. 

“Is this Sirius one of the voices I heard last time?”

“Yeah- he asked if you were pretty which looking back might’ve been a little rude”

“Eh- maybe, I’d feel terrible to disappoint him though”

“Why do you say that?”

“I don’t know if he’s expecting some striking supermodel to be answering the phone…” you trailed off slightly, James went quiet “I reckon I’m alright though”

“You’re probably selling yourself short doll,“

“Anyway- what do you do?”

“What do you mean love?”

“Like are you in Uni? or something else?”

“Oh! umm- something else for sure”

“What?”

“What?”

“Potter- like what do you do? you know… with your life”

“I just live? I don’t know- d’you mean like occupationally?”

“Yes occupationally idiot-“

“Okay okay don’t yell at me— you’ll break my little heart babe come on-“ he cleared his throat a couple of times  “I kind of work for my father I guess? What do you do?”

“I go to Uni- I also work at a little coffee shop on weekends… what does your father do?”

“he makes hair potions-“ he said, almost choking on his words. you raised an eyebrow 

“like hair gel and shit?”

“y-yeah that’s what I meant like… conditioners and s-styling… gels… and shit” you laughed out loud, not being able to conceal it this time. a short series of giggles that delighted James ever so slightly. You could hear him get quiet briefly, almost as if he was running out of words “What do you do in this Uni of yours?”

“Administration… not the most thrilling field I fear”

“I’m assuming you’re not the fondest of it then”

“not particularly, but it’ll do… do you like working for your dad?”

“he’s made a ton of money with his products- I’m very proud of him for it… to be honest probably not what I wanted to do with my life but it’s not… difficult, so I can focus on other things, more exciting things so I really can’t complain…” he was about to continue, rambling about the silver linings of it.

you interrupted “What did you want to do?” 

“Pardon?” he asked, 

“With your life James- what did you want to do with your life?” 

You thought he had stayed quiet, maybe thinking, searching for the words until the dial tone rang in your ear— he had hung up. You stared at the phone as you put it back on the base.

Peculiar boy wasn’t he?

tags ; @ilovejamespottersomuch @ravisinghs-wife @hidontmindtheintrovert @stella-thestars @caspiankingofnarnia @lovelyteenagebeard @starkluvrr @hisparentsgallerryy @leilani13gc

permanent tag ; @laufeysvalentine

pls send me an ask if you wanna be added!

[shmalk]

141 is filled with alphas, not a single omega in sight. there are a few betas, but they're either low-ranking or transfers that were never going to last.

like you! (beta!reader) who works at reception and takes calls, scans badges and is the first point of contact for the task force.

none of them know your name, none of them even speak to you - maybe price, when you transfer a call to him, he'll mumble a thank you. or even laswell, when you bring her a coffee.

it's nothing, really, you don't mind.

only, one day, a totally normal friday, you've done the exact same style in your hair you always have, and you're wearing more clothes than you were yesterday.

price wants a coffee, sure- you make it, just the way he likes, and head towards his office. you knock, and wait a few seconds until you hear 'come in.'

the office is silent, it usually is - but this time there's more than just price inside.

they're finishing up just as you enter, soap and gaz sitting in front of the desk whilst ghost leant against the back wall.

"my apologies, captain." your voice isn't exactly quiet - why should it be, you've done nothing wrong, but its still respectful. price just nods as you place the cup down on his desk.

"thanks, that's all." he dismisses everyone in the room, and you wait for the boys to file out before you do, soap and gaz both giving you a cheeky smile.

ghost is the one to hold open the door, standing just adjacent to the doorway with his arm sprawled against it. its a heavy door, and you swallow as you pass him.

"thank you," you all but mumble out as you rush past him - straight into the break room.

you can't help but rant about the situation to your roommate whilst you're packing up your things, your phone tucked between your jaw and shoulder.

"i mean- he held the door open for me and i couldn't even look him in the eye to say thank you!" you stress, throwing your bag into your passenger seat before leaning back against your car. "god, all i wan't right now is a plate of sushi and some boba."

"too bad its pizza night, dweeb."

"thats not fair! i could loose my job, i should be allowed to eat my comfort food when im stressed out."

you stress about it over the whole weekend, and when you return back to work on monday you try to act as casual as possible. of course, you don't see ghost - price doesn't order a coffee, and youre break time comes around quicker than you expected.

you had brought- oh, theres- your favourite sushi, and a boba drink sitting where your food was supposed to be. in somewhat messy hand writing, on a small piece of paper, theres your name.

signed ' s. riley. '

i am a sucker for sweet lil moments like this !!

in my head i think that simon would like a beta, or an alpha, but in this lil snippet (which is CERTAINLY getting turned into a fic) he's big and broad and gets worried when he's with alphas because they can't think straight, he tells them what to do and he does it.

but you? you dont react to his scent or chase him down to get him to court you - so, of fource, he courts you. <3

[carbonfiction]

Soundless somethings

When logan comes home one day to absolute silence throughout your home, he knows something isnt right. He further cements that when he finds you tucked up in bed, struggling with a migraine attack.

This is something a little different for me; fluff not always being my strongest suit. But as a livelong chronic migraine suffering girlie, im always searching for comfort. This was completely self indulgent and i threw it at the wall (notes app) in the midst of getting over this very scenario. i figured I'd share in case theres anyone out there that needs some comfort the way i did when this came to be. <33

Warnings?: mention of migraine attacks, mentions of taking pills/medication, mentions of nausea (but no vomit), Logan being a sweet sweet man, Overall just fluff!

Pictured with origins!Logan in mind but feel free to imagine any version!

Masterlist Words: little over 1.3k

Logan could tell something was off the moment he stepped through the door. the lights are off, all the curtains drawn, enveloping the house in pitch darkness despite the earlier hour.

the sound of the tv doesn't play out, nor the usual music that would softly serenade throughout the house. Instead a deafening silence replaces it all.

His steps are quiet despite his weight; rushed yet carefull- calculated- as he treads to find you. He knows your home, the steady beat of your heart hushed in his ears as he strains to listen. He checks the kitchen and then the bathroom but he doesnt find you in either.

Instead, he finds you bundled up in your shared bed, blanket pulled up to your chin, a bag lined trashcan resting on the floor besides your bedside table.

There's a gentle sigh of relief; that your home and safe, as he pads over. A crease wedging its way between his brows as he Looks your bundled frame over. Your expression- that he can see anyway- is pained as he kneels carefully besides the bed. Slow and gentle to not jostle your body as his hands stabilize themselves on the plush mattress. Logan opens his mouth, question poised on his tongue, but you beat him to it.

"Logan?" you croak quietly, eyes squinted open, like the words hurt you to verbalize. In a way, they do.

"Yea baby s' just me." Logan keeps his voice low as he reassures you. His hand gently coming up and over your covered body to rest atop of your forehead and he smiles softly as you try to snuggle into it without much movement; his palm feeling cool and reliving from his time outside against your skin . "What's goin on hm? M' girl not feeling good?"

"Mhm" you hum back, eyelids falling shut again to block out the dimmed light. "'nother migraine attack".

Ah.. So that explains the quiet darkness filling, what is usually, your bustling home.

"Have you taken your pills baby?" Logan enquires with a sigh, voice low and careful to not hurt your head further as he stands as quiet as he can- save for the clicking of his knees that you'd usually tease him about- instead he finds himself apologizing.

Logan knows how bad these attacks can get, how they can range from a dull ache behind your eyes to a debilitating thump that pains every movement. That the trashcan besides your side of the bed often has a second purpose; for the days when you physically cannot move for the pain and nausea.

He knows how, when these attacks happen, even the quietest noise can make you unconsciously flinch in pain. That sometimes even the sound of your own heartbeat worsens the matching throb in your head. It breaks part of his heart every time, seeing you struggling so hard in your own body, but he'll do anything, often wordlessly to ensure you get through each attack supported with anything you need.

"Took em' earlier.. Didn't help much" you mumble, hushed and so sadly it makes logans heart clench in his broad chest. You hear logans steps retreat from the room, and you shift fractionally in bed. The movement deliberately slow as to not highten the nausea that floats over you in waves.

Tugging the cool side of one of logans pillows atop of your forehead, Its just enough to cover your eyes; to stop any extra brightness breaching your eyelids. The scent of him embedded in the fabric is comforting; but you find yourself thankful for the way it slightly muffles sound too as you listen to logan rooting around in the kitchen.

You know he's trying his best- he always does- his large heavy hands delicately struggling to maneuver around items much smaller. You just barley catch the muttered way he swears to himself as he grabs a glass out, accidentally clinking it next to another other, to fill with cold water.

When logan comes back he does so with his arms full. in one a condensation covered glass filled with water, crisp and cool from the fridge. The other is pressed to his chest and holds a box of crackers- simple and plain- and a packaged strip of ginger cookies to settle your stomach; your medicine carton then sitting atop of both.

You crack an eye at the sound of the packets as he places them down on the bed; apologizing for the rustling as you whimper. The idea of food not being over appetizing in your current state.

logan hides a smile, knowing and apologetic, seeing the grimace that rests on your lips.. "I know baby, i know.." he hushes gently, as he carefully sits himself beside you, dipping the bed as it groans. "but we gotta get something in your stomach before your next meds, y'know that."

You whimper again, pained and utterly miserable because you know hes right. You do need to eat before your next dose; otherwise you know it'll make the nausea worse. He sighs softly again as you whine, helping you rest up against the headboard.

The throb in your skull is louder as you sit straight, your eyes fully open now. the room is dimmed but light still filters golden through the fabric of the curtains. You make a mental note to purchase some blackouts when you feel more yourself.

Theres silence then, as logan watches your every move, occasionally handing you another cracker or cookie depending on what you mumble for. By the third cracker and second cookie a small protesting sound passes your lips, nausea flooding your bloodstream mid bite. Logan's hand finds your back, rubbing up and down softly hushing you through the wave, also ready to grab the trashcan if you need it.

"Just a couple more bites baby, you can do it.." he pushes quietly after a while of helping you steady your breath; urging you to just finish the last half of the ginger cookie sat in your hand. He grins slightly when you continue, bites small and almost sheepish as he places a kiss on your head before muttering into your hair "yea there you go. Good girl, proud of you baby."

For a while then, theres no movement; you sitting against the headboard and him resting besides you. His hand rubbing soothing shapes on your back.

Theres a panicked noise when he shifts, your fingers grasping at his shirt, but like always, Logans quick to reassure you. "Shh s' okay, just grabbing your pills, m' not goin anywhere, Promise"

You hum gingerly in understanding as his free arm reaches to the table, pulling your medicine packet into his lap before stretching again for the water.

You grimace, fingers wrapping around the glass as you bring it up to your forehead, resting it against your warm skin. Its cool and damp against you, making a sound of delight slip from your throat. Logan smiles at it, un-popping the little pills and handing you the correct dose.

He helps tip your head back, his hand resting over yours on the glass, guiding and gentle. Once swallowed he praises you again; lips pressing feather light kisses against your temple when you shift closer to his body.

"Love you lo" he just manages to hear you mumble into his neck. Your tone is still slightly sad; no doubt filled with fatigue as he helps you rest comfortable atop of him, head resting in the crook of his neck.

Usually you'd giggle at the tickle of his facial hair against your skin but for now you settle for an amused huff; too pained for laughter as you nuzzle closer to his scent with your fingers still tangled in the fabric of his shirt. akin to how a child clutches a stuffed toy.

"Love you too baby.." he replies softly, palm coming to rest under your- his- shirt. He smiles, heart stuttering in his chest at the feeling of your lashes fluttering shut. His cool hand soothing up and down your spine until he feels your breathing slow. Soft snores falling from your lips as his motions never cease. "Now, get that pretty little head to snoozin' hm?"

lemme know whatcha think? is fluff something you'd like to see more of?? bc i actually really enjoyed creating this <333

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

Great Balls Of Fire

Bradley Bradshaw x fem!reader 9k words (ik. i did it again. im sorry)

summary: It’s been four months since you last saw Bradley Bradshaw. Today's the day he finally comes back from his mission and you have more than one ace up your sleeve to surprise him with.

a/n: smut ahead. 18+ im serious theres smut theres a lot of smut. okay. as usual i will now list everything you may have to look out for

fancy ass lingerie, oral sex fem!receiving, unprotected sex (dont be like them, just know theyre in a committed relationship theyve had the talk and all), a lot of begging, hair pulling, good girl's because yes, in general again bradley is a talker, otherwise that's it

top gun masterlist

It had been so long. It had been too long.

With the sun beating down hard on the pavement of the parking lot, the sunglasses on your nose doing their hardest to protect your eyes from the worst of the light, the sound of your heels clicking against solid ground as you took a few steps into the shade of the tree next to Bradley's Bronco. You had been waiting for ten minutes now, checking your phone what seemed like every five seconds, too nervous to actually pay attention to it but too nervous to keep calm either.

You had been so scared you would crash into a grandma on the way over here that you had honestly considered taking your own car instead of the Bronco - but Bradley had trusted you with it, had trusted you to keep his lady running, you, even though he never let anyone else as much as touch the steering wheel, and you would be damned if you didn't pick him up in it.

You hadn't seen him in four months. Four months.

You had been by yourself, had been on your own, had been lonely for four fucking months.

But today was the day you would see him again. Today was the day his oh-so-secret mission would finally, truly come to an end, the day that you would finally, truly see him again. Not over some low-quality video call in the middle of the night, with only your kitchen lights on in the background and your mind hazy and tired because he was nine hours ahead of you and seemed to be at the other end of the world - no, today you would finally, finally, finally see him in the flesh.

You'd been anticipating this moment for the past four months.

So this had to be perfect.

This would be perfect.

You had done everything possible to make this the most perfect day of his goddamn life. You had spent the last four months moving things from the old apartment to the new house - those things that you and him hadn't already moved anyway - and the past week, you'd been cleaning, decorating, anticipating.

He had told you so often how much he missed you. How much he wished he had been there for you, to help you pack the things, to help you take them apart and put them back together, to do more than just the paperwork and set up the bed and the couch.

But he couldn't. And now you were bubbling with nervous excitement, with the joy of sharing all of it with him, to show him the desk you'd put up in the bedroom, the pillows you'd bought for the couch, the paintings you'd hung up on the walls, the kitchen table you'd replaced, the kitchen tiles you'd painted. To show him how much better this new home was than the old apartment had been (even though you'd been very happy there for the past four years as well).

And Bradley would love it. You were sure of that.

You just wanted him to see it so desperately.

You looked up as another car approached - it wasn't Bradley, you knew that, Bradley would come out of that door opposite you, not out of a car, but... There was still some tiny little sliver of hope, the same way there had been every single goddamn time someone had rung your doorbell. It had only ever been the postman or your food.

The car stopped next to you. You watched the engine being turned off and the driver get out because, well, what else was there to do except nervously shift your weight from one leg onto the other and go insane?

So you watched the stranger hop out of their car, nodded politely at them and then refocused your attention on the tips of your sandals. At least you weren't the only one waiting here anymore.

You got out your phone again, checked the time (it'd been a minute and a half since you'd last looked at it) and let out a sigh.

It wasn't that Bradley was late. There wasn't really a "late" anyway, he'd only been able to give you a vague time he'd arrive on, but still. You'd been buzzing with nervous energy for over a week.

You took a deep breath to steady yourself, wiped your sweaty palms off on the sundress you'd put on - the tiny yellow sundress that Bradley had picked out for you on your birthday last year. The tiny yellow sundress that hid the sinful white lingerie under it just perfectly. The sinful white lingerie that you had bought for this very moment.

Bradley would go feral for it, you knew that. He loved white. You thought it was because it looked innocent, chaste. Like something untainted, something waiting to be ruined. Not that you minded. One day, he had promised himself, he would admit to you that it was because it looked like something you would wear on your wedding night.

But either way, you had gone shopping for the perfect set of lingerie and you were more than happy with your final choice.

Bradley could unwrap you like a present. You were desperately hoping he would unwrap you like a present.

You had spent the last four months not doing anything other than hoping. Imagining. Remembering.

So you weren't surprised that you felt like you'd soaked through those pretty (and expensive) panties already.

Your breath hitched. You shifted your weight again.

Bradley would carry you in his big, strong arms over the doorstep, would push you against the wall, would take everything he wanted from you and give everything you needed - he'd pull your dress right off and, at the sight of your lingerie, would fuck you raw.

You had to bite down on your lip to keep you grounded. Four months away had been a long, long time. Four months in which you'd only had yourself, your fingers, your vibrator to keep you company - four months in which you'd only heard Bradley's moans spill over the phone, had only heard him call you honey and good girl through a low-quality mic, had only seen him on pictures he'd left you, on a tiny screen at best.

You were depraved. And pretty sure you'd fall apart at the first touch.

You were so immersed in your thoughts, in that lovely imagery you had created in your head, that you almost missed the door opening. Finally. Finally. You straightened up at once.

It wasn't Bradley who stepped out first - it was one of his colleagues, you guessed, with blonde hair and much shorter - but it was Bradley who stepped out second. You'd know him from miles away.

He strode out of the door and into the sunlight, all familiar brown curls and broad shoulders and Ray-Bans on his nose and an Hawaiian shirt on and his bag lazily slung over his shoulder and that moustache - by god you'd have killed him if he'd shaved that off!

He turned his head and looked at you and a grin broke out on your lips, so wide, so incredibly wide that it felt like it'd split your face in half and before you could think, before you could form any coherent thought you were already moving, your legs with a mind of their own. You were sprinting towards him. Sprinting all through the parking lot, your heels click-clicking on the pavement, and Bradley grinned, grinned and let his bag fall to the ground carelessly, opened his arms instead. Wide, so wide. He was so tall. So broad. So inviting as you ran at him, as you jumped at him, as you wrapped your arms and your legs around him at the same time, as he caught you effortlessly, as your lips landed on his.

As you crashed into him, completely, and he didn't even stagger an inch back.

You had missed four months of this.

And now his lips were on yours. Your legs around his waist. Your arms crossed behind his neck. His breath against your mouth. His lips parted. His tongue against yours.

You were desperate. And you could feel just how desperate he was, too.

You could feel all the passion, all the fiery, red passion, all the force and firmness put into this kiss as his tongue ran along yours, as your breaths met and mingled, as his hands dug into your thighs to keep you upright, to keep you snug to him.

You pulled back incredibly reluctantly. You didn't want to let go of him. You never wanted to let go of him ever again. You wanted to have him, all of him, right here, right now, and then for eternity. But you couldn't, you couldn't because this was the middle of the parking lot, and also because you at least wanted to say hello first.

So you blinked open your eyes and took him in and allowed yourself to grin as broad and as wide as you needed to right now.

"You're back", you whispered, just because that realisation still had to sink in. "You're really back."

Bradley nuzzled your nose with his and let out a hum - god, how you'd missed him. The feel of him, the sound of him.

"Yeah, I'm here, honey", he muttered, that smile of his dripping down onto his voice. "I'm here and I won't leave any time soon."

You couldn't help but lean in again, couldn't help but capture his lips again because how else, how on earth would you let him feel all the joy you were experiencing right now? You didn't even know if you could actually feel all of it. You definitely wouldn't be able to put it into words. So you dug your teeth into his bottom lip and sighed into him and pulled him closer, closer and closer, even further into you.

"I missed you", you breathed against his mouth. "I love you and I missed you, Bradley."

He chuckled, kissed you again, drew back just enough to still touch you somehow, to still have his lips on your skin somehow and be able to talk at the same time.

"I love you so much, honey", he muttered. "And I missed you so much."

And then his lips were on yours again, his fingers digging even harder into your thighs, his breath and his tongue and his moustache scratching against your skin and you moaned, because there was no more anything you could possibly have done, because you couldn't help yourself, because you couldn't stop yourself, because you didn't want to either. You wanted to let him know just how goddamn fucking much you'd missed him.

Bradley had to bite back a laugh, pulled back and looked at you through his sunglasses.

"Sounds like we should get home, honey", he said, his eyebrows raised and his smile deepening with every word. "Been waiting for that for four months."

You let out another soft moan, pushed yourself even closer to him, dug one hand into the back of his hair and scratched the other down his shoulders, down his shirt. You wanted to feel him. All of him. God, the ride home would take ten minutes. Ten minutes. How were you supposed to survive that?

"Please", you whispered onto his lips, and you didn't think you had ever meant it as much as you did now.

Bradley groaned and kissed you again, quickly, heatedly, his tongue running along your bottom lip and then pulling back again. This wasn't enough. This wasn't enough.

He set you down on the pavement again softly, your legs a bit wobbly, unsteady, and trailed one hand from your thigh to your back - anything to keep touching you as he bent down to pick up his bag again. You smiled up at him, smoothed down the front of your dress and beamed as his eyes traveled down your body.

When they snapped back up to catch your gaze, the grin on his face had turned into a much more intense expression.

"You look gorgeous, honey", he muttered, tugging you further into his side, letting his eyes drop down to your chest again. You had to bite down on your lip to keep from jumping at him right this second. He should not have been allowed to just look at you if you couldn't have him touch you too. "Did you pick out new nail polish just for this dress?"

Your grin broadened. Of course he'd notice. Bradley Bradshaw was the only man in the whole universe who would notice. And he was yours.

"Yes, I did", you smiled, looking up at him as he walked with you back to the car. He hummed softly.

"It works great together", he said. Your breath hitched. He was gorgeous and he was here and he had noticed your nail polish. He was perfect. And you wanted him to fuck your brains out. "Reminds me of your burgundy silk dress."

You had to bite down on your lip again - god, you hadn't done that nearly as often when he'd been away! - to keep yourself grounded and to keep your grin in check before it could truly split your face in half.

Your burgundy silk dress was the one you'd worn to Penny and Mav's wedding two years ago that you had spent three weeks hunting down matching lipstick and matching nail polish for. Bradley had worn that lipstick on the base of his cock for most of the night.

"You're incredible, do you know that?", you asked, your voice a bit breathy. Bradley stopped in front of the Bronco, turned to you and pulled you close again. You brought your hands up to his chest.

"I've been told", he muttered, tilted his head down to look at you and then leaned down even further to brush a kiss to your nose. "Open up the Bronco so I can put my bag in the trunk?"

You let your eyes flutter close for just a tiny little moment (he was close, so close and you would literally die if he didn't start touching you any time soon) and breathed in as Bradley chuckled. You'd put the key in your pocket and were scrambling to get it out now, taking one, two seconds too long before you heard the familiar click of the car unlocking.

"Thanks, pretty girl", Bradley mumbled, letting go of you to pull open the trunk and you had to push down a sigh of disappointment, even as anticipation rose up in your stomach. You hadn't heard him call you pretty girl in months.

When he turned back around to you, you were still frozen in spot, still smiling dumbly at him, still waiting for him to touch you, to kiss you, to fuck you. He smiled back and you knew that he knew just what you were thinking. But you couldn't even begin to care. You wanted to get him home as quickly as possible.

"You need to stop looking at me like that, honey", he said, his voice an octave deeper and you just so managed not to let another dumb, pathetic moan slip. He closed the trunk and took a step back to you. "You know I can't help myself when you look at me like that."

At that, you did let the moan tumble from your lips after all.

He'd been away for four months. And he was looking at you with his eyes all dark and his jaw clenched and his chest rising and falling heavily. How on earth were you supposed to be normal about this? You were falling apart already and he hadn't even got you home. Four months had been a long, long time.

His hands were on your waist then, forcing you against the side of the bronco, the door handle digging into your back, the metal warmed up by the sun and your arms crossing behind his neck as his body crowded yours, one leg between yours and no more space to touch, to feel, to see anything that wasn't him - he turned his head to check if the other car had driven away and then his lips were on yours, his knee pressing against your centre.

"Bradley", you moaned into his mouth, before his tongue brushed yours and rendered you speechless. You rocked against his knee, bare skin against your thighs and you wanted to sob, you really actually wanted to sob, because this was the most contact you'd gotten in four fucking months.

Bradley pulled back an inch.

"You're soaked", he groaned against your lips, his breath on your skin, his hands on your waist and you thrust your head back against the car, against the window, squeezed your eyes shut, kept on rocking against his knee.

"I know", you whined. "Been soaked for months."

Bradley let out another groan and pulled back, pulled away from you and you whimpered, blinking your eyes open again because you'd been so close to finally getting what you wanted and now he was taking that right away from you again. You looked up at him and the only reason you didn't straight up voice your disappointment was that he looked just as debauched as you felt - running his hands through his hair, running them over his face, his curls all messed up and a considerable bulge already visible in his jeans.

"Get in the car", he rasped, taking another step back from you as though he had to physically put distance between the two of you so he wouldn't give in and take you right in this parking lot. Not that you would've minded. That other car was long gone. But that he had to restrain himself so much, that he looked so positively exhausted, that his voice was so hard and so rough and so raw, that he had already, so easily begun giving you orders drove you crazy. Orders that you knew you had to follow because this was him, this was Bradley, and if he wanted something from you.... he'd get it. You'd give it to him no matter what. You'd give him everything.

So you pushed yourself off the car with a hard breath and trailed around to the passenger side, keeping your eyes on the ground even as you heard Bradley shuffle and open the driver's door because you knew that if you looked at him, no matter how much you wanted to follow his commands, there was a high chance you wouldn't be able to help yourself.

It wouldn't be the first time.

The seat felt hot and your skin sticked to it immediately and you would have cared in any other situation, but not in this one. Not when Bradley put his hand to your thigh, to your bare skin, to just below the hem of your dress. You could have cried.

He was here, finally, and he was touching you, finally, but he wasn't touching you enough, not nearly enough. This would be a long ten minutes. You pushed your sunglasses up into your hair, turned your head and rested it against the head rest, smiling at the image before you - Bradley in the driver's seat of his Bronco, the steering wheel in one hand, the sun on his face, his curls longer than when you'd last seen them. Had he got more tan? Was that possible?

God, how you'd missed this man.

And he was here now, here, next to you, with one hand on your thigh and a grin playing on his lips and you couldn't help but smile. Big and broad and all-consuming because he was here again, this man that you called yours, he was right here next to you after four months. You loved him. You'd missed him so incredibly much.

His hand moved a little higher up on your thigh, his thumbs brushing, stroking over exposed skin, raising up your dress the slightest bit. Your breath hitched.

"Bradley-", you sighed, jaw clenching as you melted, melted at every little touch because you didn't have to only remember it anymore. You could just push up into him, watch him, breathe in his familiar scent, run your fingers along his arm. This was no more imagining, no more picturing, this was real, this was happening.

"God, I missed you saying my name like that", he groaned, tightening his grip on your thigh and you bit down on your lip, wrapped your fingers around his biceps, his wrist, forced yourself to keep your eyes open so you could keep watching him. You wouldn't miss out on a single second of watching him.

"Bradley", you repeated softly. "I'll say your name as often as you want me to."

His fingers dug even harder into your thigh as he let out some strangled sounding moan.

"You're gonna be the death of me", he muttered - how often you'd thought the same about him! "I'm lucky if I can hold out these ten minutes."

You watched him quietly for a second. You could sense the heat radiating off of him, could see his clenched jaw, could feel his deathgrip on your thigh, could hardly ignore the blazing arousal in your own veins. But if he'd wanted to fuck you in the back of his Bronco, he would've. (As picky as he was about who drove his car, he'd never had a single problem railing you into oblivion in the backseat.) There was a reason he was holding out. You could only guess that he wanted to do this properly - with time and room and no risk of getting caught by the authorities. Should you have minded? Should you have begged him to take you as quickly as possible? You were sure he would have, if you'd pleaded prettily enough. But you were quite alright with time and room and no risk of getting caught. At least for right now. The both of you would manage a ten minute ride, right? You had managed four months. Ten minutes were nothing in comparison.

"Okay", you said, trailed your fingers down to his and intertwined your hands. "I'll help. I'll tell you something. Distract you."

"You can try, honey", he chuckled, sneaked a quick sideways glance at you. "Tell me about the house."

You lit up at that. You had been dying to tell him about the house. So you pushed your arousal deep, deep down (which was easier said than done) and smiled up at him.

"I don't even know where to start", you said honestly, giving yourself a second to think about it. You had ten minutes, after all. And you had to fill them all if you wanted both of you to survive this drive.

So you told him about everything.

The short version, of course.

He'd heard some of it over the phone already, but he hadn't been able to call often and you'd spent most of your time crying and telling him how much you loved and missed him when he had answered, so...

The ten minutes went by more easily this way. You went on and on and on and on about the house, his fingers between yours, your eyes locked on his, with the occasional comment about how sorry he was that he hadn't been there to help. It had been unfortunate, of course, but at the same time it had given you something to put all your time and effort into, which had greatly helped you through his deployment. Plus, there had always been help when you had needed it - Penny and Amelia and Mav, Phoenix and Bob and Jake. The rest of the squad had been scattered, called off to their own missions, but those six you had been able to count on whenever.

Bradley's hand on your thigh was still highly distracting. He moved it up and down a few times, and each time your breath hitched, each time you stumbled over your own words, each time he grinned again.

At one point, his fingertips brushed so close to your underwear that you pushed his hand forcefully back down to your knee. He had been the one so worried he wouldn't manage a ten minute ride and now he was the one teasing you.

Not that you really minded.

But you truly felt like going insane.

Then, finally! you caught sight of your driveway. Bradley was out of the car the second he'd parked it, pulling his hand from your thigh and the key out of the ignition and you had barely unbuckled yourself when he was already opening your door, taking your hand and tugging you out, sending you stumbling into him, into his arms.

He pressed his lips to yours as he pushed the door close, pushed you up against it again, pushed the hem of your dress up to grasp at your bare thigh. You wrapped your arms around his neck, forced him even closer.

"Bradley", you gasped softly. You hadn't moaned his name like that in four months, you'd do it so often today he would get tired of it. Even though you knew that he wouldn't, of course - he would never get tired of you whispering his name into his mouth, into the nothingness of an empty room, into his ear, into the pillows.

He didn't pull back from you, even as he took a slow, careful step away - making sure you'd catch on, making sure you'd follow, making sure to keep you safely, steadily against him. Not that you'd have done anything else. You trusted him with your life, you would trust him to keep you upright. So you did just what he wanted, followed, stumbled with him, eyes closed, lips on his, fingers brushing along his shoulders.

He did pull back then - just an inch or two, to turn you around, to look over your shoulder once, to tear his hand from your thigh and wrap his arms around you instead. And then his lips were back on yours again and his tongue running along yours. He pushed and you followed his wordless command, your legs working quicker than your mind, stumbling, tripping backwards, backwards, backwards and you barely cared, barely even acknowledged the ground beneath your feet because you were wrapped up in his arms, because you were tugging at his curls, because he was here, kissing you, finally.

You weren't needy.

You were desperate. You were depraved, frantic, starved. He was the air you needed to breathe and you hadn't taken a single breath in the past four months.

So you weren't pretending in the way you pulled him close, closer, closer, or in the frenzied way you kissed him, or in the desperate way you sighed, groaned, moaned against him, into him. You needed him. You needed more of him. All of him. You needed to get inside so you could have him.

You bumped into the door then, just short of digging the doorknob into your spine - Bradley pushed you right up against it and you gasped into his mouth, into the kiss. He crowded you against the door much like he'd crowded you against the Bronco, pulling his arms from around you to grasp your waist instead, to press your hips up to the door as well, and used one hand to fumble for the keyhole. He did so blindly, with his eyes still closed, his lips still on yours, with one of your legs coming up to wrap around his hips, your heels digging into his shorts.

Needless to say, he needed quite some time to turn the key.

You didn't mind. Not in the slightest.

You were making out with Bradley Bradshaw right on the doorstep of the house you shared with him, in the bright afternoon sunlight and truly, you couldn't have minded less. You didn't give two fucks about any of your neighbours or any passerbys spotting you - should they, by god! Bradley had come home from deployment after four months, you would make out with him on your doorstep for as long as you wanted to. You wouldn't ever stop making out with him ever again.

Not when he was here again, in your arms, with your fingers tugging at his hair, brushing along his neck, stroking along the collar of his shirt, sweeping along his shoulders. Not with your leg around his hips. Not with your lips on his. Not with anticipation, with arousal in every fibre of your body, of your soul. You were going mad with it. You were getting drunk on it.

You were euphoric when Bradley finally opened the gods damned front door.

He kept you safe and steady even as the support at your back broke away, as you almost crashed onto the floor of your own hallway. He walked you back into the pleasant cold and for once, for the first and probably the only time, you were the one to break away. You gave yourself a second to catch your breath. Then you pushed off of him completely. You took a step away, pulled the key from the door, pushed it close and when you turned back around, Bradley had set his sunglasses down on the little table you had put next to the coat rack a few weeks ago.

And you looked him in the eyes for the first time in four months.

He motioned at the table.

"Looks great, honey", he said, his voice a little too rough to sound quite normal. "Nice touch."

You shook your head softly.

"I couldn't care less about the table right now", you muttered, and with that, you were on him again. Actually, truly, fully on him again. You pushed yourself right up onto him, into him, pried his shirt off his shoulders, off his arms, let it drop down to the ground and then reached for his jaw to drag him further down, to deepen the kiss even if you knew that was impossible. So you bit down on his lip and allowed him to finally push your dress up over your hips, over your chest, over your head - you had to let go of him for a moment then, had to pull away from him so he could drop your dress on the floor and before you could even come close to reaching out for him again, he was taking a step back.

You could feel his eyes raking down your body. You could feel him taking in the white lingerie on your skin - the strings of the thong high up on your hips, intricate lace around your waist, the small bow right in the centre of it, the bra cups almost transparent, the floral white pattern covering up your nipples, the other few, small bows sown onto the straps.

You sucked in a breath at the look on his face. You hadn't seen that look in far too long.

"God, honey", Bradley groaned, reached for your waist, brushed his thumbs along the lace, ran his fingertips along the lingerie. You bit down on your lip as he pulled you, slowly, carefully, into him - gave you enough time to rest your hands on his chest, your palms against his tank top. "You look sinful. Did you buy that just for me?"

You nodded, swallowed.

"Just for you", you admitted. "Wanted to surprise you."

Bradley tugged you another inch closer, so close that your chest bumped into his, your breasts pressing against him. He let out a hum, his eyes dropping down to your cleavage.

"You did that, pretty girl", he muttered, his fingers digging into your sides. "You're incredible."

Then his lips were on yours again and you were melting, becoming putty in his hands, turning to goo in his arms. Your breaths met, lips parted. You couldn't quite believe you were finally touching him again.

He walked you back to the bedroom, narrowly avoiding the doorway, his hands on your hips, his fingers digging into your bum. You reached for the hem of his shirt, forced him to stop right on the threshold so you could get rid of it - get rid of that one layer of fabric still in the way. You drew back for a second to pull it over his head, to drop it to the floor, to let your eyes travel all over his bare torso.

God, how you'd missed this man and his broad shoulders and his washboard abs. How you'd missed his touch and the sound of his voice.

"Bradley", you gasped softly, your fingertips trailing over his naked skin, down to his shorts. "I need you."

He let out a groan.

"I've waited four months for you to say that again", he muttered. You could hardly take another breath before he was on you again - lips on yours and hands on your hips and your back hit the bed a moment later, the cushy mattress, the fluffy pillows softening your fall.

You raised yourself up onto your elbows so you could watch him as he stood in front of your bed, the sunlight dripping down him like drops of water hitting the floorboards, his torso bare, his curls messed up, looking down at you with a heaving chest, his fingers on his belt, unhooking it, opening the button on his jeans, pulling down his zipper - you swallowed hard as you watched him drop his shorts on the floor, step out of his shoes.

A whine rolled off your tongue.

"Bradley, hurry up", you whimpered, your fingers cramping in the sheets, your legs pressing together all of their own accord, trying to get some kind of friction as he undressed himself in slow motion while you just lay there, your panties long soaked through and your fingers itching to trail down your own body.

Bradley chuckled.

"Don't worry, honey", he muttered, kneeling down on the ground to drop kisses to your calves before pulling off your sandals. "I'll make sure you forget about the past four months, alright?"

Your breath hitched as your heels hit the ground.

"Please", you begged softly. "I've missed you so much."

He wrapped his hands around your hips, pulled you to the edge of the bed - his breath ghosting over your underwear, over that tiny white piece of lingerie you had bought for him, for him to take you apart in. His fingers dug into your skin, spread out wide, to touch as much of you as he possibly could. He pressed a kiss right to that wet spot on your thong.

You let out a moan. God, how had you survived four months without him? You were barely surviving fifteen minutes of not having him fuck you.

Bradley grinned, raised his head to meet your eyes and seriously, you were close. Too close. He hadn't touched you yet, not really. You'd die today, you were sure, die and go to heaven.

"You look almost too good to undress, honey", he muttered, brushing his thumbs below that lace around your waist, not making a move to pull it down your legs.

"Bradley, please", you whined, your hands brushing over your own chest, running over your bra cups, tracing the flowers, desperately holding back from just ripping everything off yourself, pushing him onto his knees and riding him into oblivion. "Don't tease. I need you."

He groaned into the skin of your thigh.

"Anything you want, honey", he muttered - and then your thong was gone and he was burying his tongue inside you, dipping, tracing, licking, circling your clit, breathing you in, devouring you. Taking and giving everything. It had been four months since he'd had you like this and he wanted everything, every inch of you he could get. He wanted to taste you, every last drop of you, wanted to eat you out until you couldn't think anymore, until you had truly, fully forgotten all the time he had been away, all the time you had been forced to be on your own, alone.

You thrashed, moaned above him - your fingers clenching around your bra, brushing over your nipples. You were close. Close after the entirety of three seconds, close to tears, close to coming.

"Bradley", you choked out, tearing your hands off yourself, burying them in his hair instead - tugging him off, tugging him away from you. You took a deep breath as he let go of you, as he loosened his grip on you, looked up at you with desperation in his eyes.

"I need you to fuck me", you whimpered, already too sensitive, too tense. "I need you inside me."

You hadn't had him in four months.

Four months had been enough goddamn foreplay. As much as you loved when he ate you out, you needed him, you needed his cock, you needed to feel him inside you, you needed him to take you apart and make up for all the time lost.

Bradley nodded, nodded because he knew, he understood - he saw the frantic look in your eyes, had felt the desperate drag of your hands at his clothes, his arms, his shoulders, his hair. He'd give anything to you. Everything. He would do whatever you wanted of him.

Maybe in another situation he'd have made you beg more, would have teased you more, would have edged you a few times. Maybe in another situation. But not in this one. Not after four months of being away from you, not when you were so beautifully, so desperately spread out beneath him, looking up at him with wide eyes and rosy cheeks, your lip pulled between your teeth, your gorgeous white lingerie still concealing too much of your skin.

As he'd said, you were almost too gorgeous to undress. But just almost.

So he rose up from the ground, pulled you up with him, pulled you in, his fingers brushing along your sides, your spine, your bra clasp. He let it fall open. You worked fast, worked your bra down your arms and off your hands and drew back from him to fling it against the wall and lay down on the bed, lay down all pretty and waiting.

You needed him to fuck you. Now.

He let out a groan, closed his eyes. The look on his face had you pressing your legs together again. Wetness was coating the inside of your thighs now. It glistened on his moustache. And you were sure you could have tasted it on his tongue too.

He was making you go insane.

"How do you want me, pretty girl?", he asked, pressing his knees into the side of the mattress. "Tell me how and I'll do whatever you want."

Your breath hitched in your throat. Your nerves were bubbling up. Four months. You'd waited four months for this one question.

"Behind", you whined. "Need you from behind."

Bradley had known, of course, because that was what you always said when he stood at the front of your bed and asked you this question. His hands were on your waist, grasping, grabbing, turning you over before you had fully finished speaking, your cheek pressed against the pillows, your breath coming short and shorter, adrenaline pumping through every single one of your veins. You felt hot and sticky and needy and nervous.

Nervous because Bradley stilled.

Nervous because he sucked in a sharp breath.

Nervous, even though you had been here a million times before, in his bed and in yours, bent over desks and bars and couches, with the heat of him behind you, arousal flowing through your body like oxygen, anticipation clouding your mind.

"Shit, honey", Bradley breathed.

You closed your eyes and clenched your jaw.

How you'd have loved to see his expression. But you had known you wouldn't. You had prepared yourself to be satisfied with the sound of his voice, with the feel of him so close to you.

"Shit", Bradley repeated. He took another deep breath in. "You got a tattoo?"

A tattoo.

Your tattoo.

You nodded into the pillow, scraped your cheek against the fabric, so eager, so quick to agree. Four months you had waited for this. Four months since you had begun planning this - the very day after he'd left, in a conversation with none other than Phoenix. Four long, lonely months.

Bradley ran his thumb along the soft expanse of your skin. Along that strip of skin right above your hips, just where they met your back - right above your ass, right where he could see so very perfectly.

He was gentle. Almost not touching you at all. As though he was afraid he could somehow, even after all this time, hurt you, as though he was afraid he could wipe it away.

"It's healed", you whined, breathlessly, trying your hardest not to squirm, not to push back further into him even though you felt like you were going insane. You'd known he'd take his sweet time staring at that inked expanse of skin. But you hadn't known you would be so goddamn desperate for him to fuck you into delirium while he did so. "It's fully healed."

Bradley was quiet, silent behind you. His thumb stilled, stayed still. You sunk your teeth into your lip.

You would truly go mad here. For more than one reason now.

Bradley was always loud. Always moving, always doing something. He was forward and honest and loud and it was a miracle, really, when he wasn't. When he was calm and quiet and still. It didn't always mean something good.

It surely didn't always mean something bad, either.

But it didn't always mean something good.

And you hadn't been nervous. You hadn't been nervous about showing him, because you knew he loved you and he'd love this - this show of him, this show for him. Just for him. But you had still been fidgety. You had still been excited, flustered.... nervous, after all. In a good way. Now, good was turning to less good because he was quiet, for once, quiet and you didn't know what to do, what to say. You had expected him to go feral, had expected him to fuck you raw, to go absolutely ballistic. You had imagined, pictured, visualised it, four months long. Every night that you hadn't been remembering him, you had been imagining this - this moment right here, where he read the words inked forever into your skin, and every time, again and again, your fingers hadn't been enough, your vibrator hadn't been enough, nothing had been enough. Not in comparison to him, to his fingers and his tongue and his cock.

And every time, again and again, when nothing had been enough to replace him, you thought to yourself just how right it had been to have lain on that leather table bed in that tattoo parlour four months ago. Just how right it was to have him marked on your skin like that. Forever.

Great Balls Of Fire.

"Bradley, please", you whimpered, your fingers closing around whatever piece of fabric you could manage to grab at - the covers, the sheets, the pillows. "Say something. Please"

Bradley let out a long breath.

"Great Balls Of Fire?", he asked quietly, his fingers brushing over your skin again. Some kind of reassurance, at least.

"Thought you'd like it", you mumbled into the pillow, stumbling, tripping over your words a bit, still breathless around the edges. You couldn't be expected to talk now. Not when he was so close to giving you what you needed.

"Like it?" His hands wrapped around your waist, his left thumb still stroking over those unfamiliar familiar letters on your skin - Great Balls Of Fire, in his handwriting, taken from one of his sheets of music, from his piano. His song. His father's song.

Your song.

Your song.

Your song.

"Honey", Bradley rasped, pulling you an inch back to him and you let a whine fall from your lips. You were soaked, you were dripping, you were desperate and still so very unsatisfied. "Do I like it? I love it. I love you. God, you got a tattoo. You're incredible. You're-"

He stumbled over his own words, trailed off, left his sentence hanging unfinished in mid air. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a kiss right on top of your tattoo. Right on top of those letters, on top of that song, on top of your song. On top of the very reason you had met, six years ago in a stuffed navy bar.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me", he muttered, dropping another kiss onto your skin.

You whimpered again.

"You've been so good to me, honey, haven't you?", he went on, as though he wasn't hearing those little whines, those little moans rolling off your tongue. He was. You knew that. "You waited so prettily for me to come back, didn't you? You were so eager for me to be home again, so eager for me to be with you again that you even got a tattoo?"

You nodded along, nodded and nodded and kept on nodding because yes, yes and yes - yes to everything, yes to him.

"You got a tattoo just for me, honey. You can't even see it. Probably had to twist and turn in the mirror every day to take care of it, didn't you? And all just for me."

You nodded again - never really stopped nodding, not with his fingers brushing along your back, over your skin, with his voice so deep and rough and real.

"Just for you", you whined.

Bradley chuckled.

"Just for me", he repeated, his voice deeper than before - if that was even possible - his fingers stroking along your sides, roaming over your back, your spine. "Such a good girl."

A shiver went through your entire body at that - through your legs, your arms, your shoulders, through every single one of your fingers and toes. He knew just what he did to you when he said that.

He knew.

"Bradley", you moaned, unashamed now, the nerves in your veins long subsided, replaced once more by that all-consuming heat that you could never get enough of.

"Yeah, honey?", he asked. You could hear the grin on his lips. "What do you want?"

You let out a sort of sob that sounded pathetic even to your own ears. It wasn't that you minded begging. Because you didn't. You really didn't. But you had already done so, had already begged him miserably, had told him so prettily how you wanted him to fuck you. And he was starting all over again.

"Just once more, honey", Bradley whispered, dropping kisses to your spine, climbing higher and higher. "Tell me once more and you'll get whatever you want."

"Fuck me", you cried out, burying your face in the pillow, not letting even half a second pass by. Bradley always made good on his promises. And you needed him more than anything right now. "Please fuck me."

He was on you within a heartbeat.

One hand around your waist, pulling you into him, as the other one guided himself into you. He pushed into you in one smooth movement, pushed his hips right to yours, stretched you out like he hadn't in four goddamn months.

You were clenching around him, moaning his name, tears brimming in your eyes at the feeling of him again, finally. He was grunting, groaning behind you, his hands clasping around your waist as he settled deep inside you and let out a breath.

You hadn't felt so stretched out in so long. You hadn't felt him in so long. You needed more. You needed to feel more of him.

"Bradley", you whimpered. "Move."

His fingers dug even firmer into your sides. You bit down on your lip. He felt so good, so heavenly with his hands on your skin and his cock deep inside you, but you needed him to move, you needed him to move now, you needed him to fuck you and make you fall apart for him.

"Need a second, honey", he grunted, running his thumbs along your skin - along your new tattoo, just for this, just for him. "God, pretty girl, you're so tight. Missed you so much."

You whimpered underneath him, whimpered as you forced yourself to keep still for him, even as your thighs burned with the need to move, the need for more, the need to finally come undone around him. You knew you were close already. You could feel it, had been feeling it, dancing around the edges of your perception, melting in your blood, scorching in your stomach.

"Missed you too, Bradley", you moaned into the pillow, breathless and desperate for him. "Want to be good for you. So good."

"God, honey, you are", he groaned. "So good. Perfect."

And then he was moving, finally, and you let out a sobbed kind of prayer, your eyes falling shut, your fingers digging into the sheets as he thrust in and out of you in a slow, steady rhythm - enjoying the feeling of you around him, letting you enjoy the feeling of him inside you.

Just that you couldn't enjoy this.

You couldn't enjoy this because you were wound so tightly, wound so goddamn tightly that tears were pricking in your eyes, threatening to run down your cheeks and drop onto the covers. You needed him to make you fall apart, to make you come, you needed more. Just a little more.

You were teetering on the edge and he had you spiralling with how slowly he was fucking you. You needed him to send you over that edge, not build it higher and higher and higher up.

"Bradley", you whined, stumbling clumsily over his name as he ran a hand up your back. "More."

"Dunno if I can-" He broke off, his breath hitching, his fingers resting on your neck, brushing through your hair. "Fuck, honey, dunno if I can do more without coming."

You bit down on your lip at that, let out a moan so absolutely filthy that you were sure you would have been embarrassed of it if you'd had any more capacity to think - to think of anything other than him, anything other than how this god, who could fuck you for hours on end without tiring once, with so much stamina he could have you sobbing, coming for him four, five times on his cock alone, how this god was so desperate for you after four months that he was worried he'd come if he went any faster.

You were almost pushed over the edge just by that alone.

"I don't care", you cried, because you really didn't. "I don't need long, I need you. I'm so close."

Bradley grunted, his fingers brushing even higher up on your scalp.

"You're gonna be the death of me, honey", he muttered, just before he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you up onto your knees - into him, into his arms, your back flush to his chest. You dropped your head against his shoulder with a moan, let your eyes fall shut again.

He thrust up into you with vigor then, with more urgency, with less fear of coming undone, less fear of cutting this short. His hands smoothed over your sides, over your chest, holding you up against him, brushing along your breasts, along your stomach.

And all you could think was yes, this, this was it. This was what you had been imagining, what you had been picturing in a cold, lonesome bed every night, what you had been so desperate for.

His fingers trailed down your thigh, trailed up again, caught on your clit, drew a circle against that little bundle of nerves and you fell forward, doubled over, only held up by him, by his arms around you as you came undone, as you clenched around him.

Four months.

Four months and a tattoo.

And he hadn't even had you there for two minutes, had barely touched you, and now you were falling apart for him, lips parted, eyes squeezed shut, legs burning, fingers cramping. You'd waited four months for this.

You could feel him spilling inside you, noticed it somewhere dancing around the edges of your perception as you gasped for breath, tears stinging your cheeks and your nails digging into your own thighs.

This.

Him.

Bradley's finger had stilled on your clit. You blinked your eyes open, refocused on your green wallpaper, on the pictures, the old vintage polaroids of you and him right above the bed until you could see them all clearly again, until you could see them and realise what they were, until you could manage to tilt your head back and rest it, once more, against Bradley's shoulder. Until you had come back to reality again.

"I missed you so much, honey", he muttered into your ear, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss onto your exposed neck. "Missed this so much."

"Missed you so much too", you mumbled, reached for his hands. He pulled his finger from your clit, let you intertwine your hands with his, rested them carefully on your stomach. "Love you, Bradley."

He pressed another kiss to your neck, his lips warm, oh so warm on your skin, soft and warm and you needed him to kiss you now, to press his lips to yours.

"I love you too, honey", he whispered, halfway to brushing another kiss onto your skin when you turned your head, met his lips with your own, cut him off by surprise.

This was a weird angle, you had to strain your neck to even slot your lips together somewhat well and you were sloppy with it, too, your chest still heaving and your mind returning to clarity just now, but you didn't care, couldn't care, not when he'd just made you come, when he was holding you in his arms, when he was finally here, right behind you again, as though the last four months hadn't happened at all.

When you pulled back, you were feeling more normal again - as normal as you possibly could feel, with him behind you, with him inside you still.

"You got a tattoo", Bradley breathed, a grin dancing around the corners of his lips. You chuckled.

"Just for you", you nodded, brushing your fingertips up his arms, up to his elbows.

Bradley kissed you again, all parted lips and breathing into each other. You felt almost melancholic when he drew back. But he was smiling - and when he smiled, you had to smile too.

"I'm never letting you go again", he said, loosened his grip on you to trail his hands slowly, softly down your body, giving you enough time to steady yourself without him holding you up anymore. "And I'm not letting you leave this bed until the sun comes up, alright, pretty girl?"

You had to bite down on your lip to keep from grinning, anticipation already bubbling in your veins again. You knew he could make good on that promise. And that he probably would.

"Yes, please, Bradley", you muttered, already bending down again, splaying out your hands to catch yourself on the mattress as you showed him your tattoo again, just for him to see, just for him to touch. Just for him. "Whatever you want. As long as you want. I love you."

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA For taking down my cousin's pride flag?

So my cousin is the most no-nonsense person Ive ever met. He (M28) is very serious, and takes everything really really seriously, but he's still a joy to be around. He's super smart, and the whole family adores him, he's kind of the golden child in our family, though theres zero resentment from the rest of us.

My whole life, he's been this pillar of the "perfect kid" and although he's nice, since he's moved away, no one has been to his apartment or really seen him outside of family celebrations, dinners, weddings, etc.

Last week, he was in a car accident. (another car T boned him) and he was put in an induced coma in the hospital. He's coming out of it now, expected to make a full recovery, but is still expected to stay at the hospital for a while. My aunt, his mother (F72) asked me and other cousins to go over to his house and collect items he might need. Clothes, books, etc. She took the keys out of his clothes and have them to us, all while my cousin was still out of it.

When we got there, I opened the door to a MASSIVE Gay leather pride flag.

First thing on the wall. When we went into the apartment there was BDSM equipment, gay pride decorations everywhere, and other graphic things that made it clear my cousin is, A, gay, and B, firmly in the kink community. I don't want to get too much into it, but there were certain Polaroid pictures stapled to the bathroom wall that left little doubt.

All of us were needless to say, a little horrified.

To be clear, I am queer, and a MAJORITY of our cousins are as well. None of us had any inclination he is gay, and its clear no one else in the family knows. This was the first time anyone had been in his apartment.

We took a vote, and as the oldest one there I made the decision to hide everything. I took the flag down, I (carefully) put as much of the items that were an indication away in a box and hid them. It was a pretty extensive clean out, but I moved books and other things around on the walls to make it look a little less bare. An hour after that more family showed up at the apartment to help, people like our grandmother, more aunts and uncles and my parents, all of them cleaning or doing dishes or putting food in the fridge to help my cousin's recovery.

A few of the cousins that were there when we first found the stuff have said that I shouldnt have messed with any of it, that the pride flag was on the wall BECAUSE my cousin was happy about his identity. I argued that my cousin hadn't told any of us, isn't out to the family as far as Im aware, and I wanted to protect him in case he wasn't ready.

Further clarification, no one in the family is OUTWARDLY homophobic, but I'm still not out to a majority of my family either, and if i was in my cousin's place, Id want someone to hide my stuff for me.

My cousin still hasn't been released from the hospital, and I haven't found time alone with him to tell him that I moved some stuff in his apartment. When I handed back his keys he looked a little panicked, and I tried to look reassuring.

Im having second thoughts about whether what I did was good, or if I'm projecting my own fear about coming out to family on him. Am I the asshole?

[mamayan]

oof your writing is so good 🙈 if your requests are open, would you be willing to write smth for dabi with a nervous virgin reader? Maybe some fingering and petting, lots of praise and encouragement if you're okay with that!! I also wouldn't mind if theres a little dubcon scattered in there for flavour😳 Thank you!🙏

Fuck it’s his favorite— absolutely I will Nonnie♥️ Dabi is nothing if not the perfect gentlemen… sorta. Am I gonna get sued for changing his words in this manga panel? I got carried away with this lol

Yandere Dabi x Virgin! Darling

tw: NSFW • Fem! Darling • Obsessive/Possessive Themes • Implied Mental/Emotional/Physical Abuse • Dubcon • Praise • Virgin! Darling • BDSM • Fingering • Oral • Sex (M)(F) • Denial/Edging • Overstimulation • Dacryphilia • Unprotected Sex • Creampie

The front door slammed loud enough to reverberate around the apartment.

You sat facing the small tv, the screen playing some sort of cartoon with the volume on low, unmoving even as the thuds of his boots against vinyl faux wood flooring became louder. You were curled around your legs, pulled to your chest as your bare feet seemed to absorb the cold around you, icy skin keeping you grounded. Only a thin ratty oversized t-shirt and tiny shorts covering your body, despite the broken thermostat keeping the apartment at almost freezing temperatures.

Dark combat boots entered your field of vision, you numbly let your eyes flick up to take him in. He smelled like cigarette smoke and whiskey, the burning scent making acid bubble up in your stomach to your throat, but you meekly swallowed it down and gave a wobbly smile. “W-welcome home…” it was said with all the enthusiasm of a man walking towards his execution.

He crouches down to face you better, forearms resting on his knees as he levels you with a… soft look.

It has chills shooting down your spine, your stomach rolling and clenching while your chest heaves with anxiety. He’s not a soft man. He’s never been soft, not really, only in strange sporadic moments does he gently do anything to you, but it’s always followed by something sinister. Always.

“Hey pet, you cold?” He’s sadistic and cruel even on a good day. His words immediately making your eyes burn as you try to stop the impending tears. You’re always cold, left freezing locked up until his return, your only source of comfort and warmth him. It was a nasty play, logically you knew it, but logic was what got you hurt so you nodded despite the itch in your heart begging you to hold out a little longer. “M’cold…” you assent, unable to see the defeated dull look in your own eyes, but he could.

“C’mere then,” his smile is so sweet, his staples hardly pulling and his usually vibrant eyes more subdued and gentle. You wanted him to stop whatever game he’s playing now. Whatever sick trick he’s got hidden to make your walls crumble around you. His arms spread open, his knees hitting the floor so he could straighten his spine, and his embrace looking so warm.

Like selling your soul to the devil, you caved. Pathetically nearly falling as you all but threw yourself into him.

The fire wielding psychopath was a lot of things, and sadly running warmer than a normal person was one of them. Just being close to him was like sitting near a furnace, heat radiating off him in waves it seemed. You had all the time in the world to hate yourself when he inevitably left you again to nearly freeze, for now you focused on getting feeling back into your limbs as you pressed yourself as close as possible.

His chuckle is breathy as he wraps you up easily, pulling you into his lap as he sits back on his ass now, your thighs on either side of his to let you be as physically close as possible. Well, almost as physically close as possible, because when you were so desperate for his touch like this, it’s hard not to think about you begging for him to really warm you up.

“Better?” He doesn’t really need to ask, not when you’re fighting to keep your hands from digging under his shirt and getting more body heat from him. Your little sigh of contentment adorable, and while his day was mundane, he did get to release most of his pent up frustration on some lowlife pieces of shit. He was in a good mood, but he’d be in a better one soon.

“Hn” your little affirmation quiet as you rested your cheek against the exposed skin of his collarbone, breathing him in and relaxing as your stiff muscles and joints soaked his warmth up greedily. You didn’t even fight when his hands began to smooth over your skin, up your calves and thighs to your ass where he gave a little squeeze. You put up no resistance, no screaming or fighting tonight it seemed. “You still cold?” His lips are right are by your ear, warm breath blowing over it and sending a shiver of something… different down to your stomach. The stale cigarette scent wasn’t as bothersome to you when he wasn’t being mean it seemed.

You let him pet and stroke your skin, warming you up gradually and shifting you both around until your core was against his stomach and he was flat on his back. He even lifted up his shirt and your own a bit to give more contact, the staples across his chest smoother than you’d initially thought.

This was all wrong and you were without a doubt being soothed into… something. Peace? A sense of safety? Whatever it was, you mentally kept yourself prepared. Even if his touch was soft and careful, you knew what lurked behind those pretty eyes.

“You stopped shakin’…” his observation was more of a statement, but indeed you had warmed up enough not to shiver anymore. He wasn’t usually so nice as to help warm you up like this, usually making you drop to your knees and cling to him while he heckled your behavior.

Your world flipped too quickly to react. Your back now on the cool floor with his body looming over you.

“You’re still cold though, aren’t you pet?” His smile isn’t nice anymore.

“D-Dabi please…”

“What’s wrong, you don’t want me to warm you up anymore?” It was a thinly veiled threat that had you nearly delirious with panic in seconds.

“N-no I do! I do, please don’t stop!” Your pretty eyes filling with tears made him bite down hard on his tongue, tasting blood as he struggles to keep himself calm. It’s you after all. You weren’t some cheap whore he screwed for a quick release. You were his.

That meant something. Whether it was good or bad was debatable and complicated.

“Then let me warm you up, it’ll be faster like this,” he’s not lying. Even as he laughs at the confusion and waring emotions on your face, he really isn’t lying to you this time.

His lips aren’t soft. The kiss nothing like the ones you’d sneakily shared with a crush under the school bleachers, that kiss was a bit too wet and slimy. This one was commanding. His tongue easily slipping into your mouth in your shock, happy to invade and taste you, to share the overwhelming taste of tobacco. Your hands are tangled in his coat, tugging lightly on the fabric as he devours your mouth. He pulls back when you start to struggle, and the sight of your swollen parted lips has his pants uncomfortably tight. His zipper digging into his cock now.

“Dabi—,” your voice is barely even a whisper, almost inaudible but he catches it and pauses as he looks down at you carefully.

The fact that he’s even being careful should be considered as a mercy.

“Please be gentle…” your lips twist into a grimace, the lame line the only thing your muddled mind can conjure. His snort of amusement not helping your wounded pride, but as he shrugs his coat off and looks down at you, his words give you pause.

“I’m going to make you forget everything bad tonight pet.”

He doesn’t elaborate. You don’t need him to. You don’t want this. It doesn’t matter though, because you never wanted any of this. His sanity not even in question, because he’s clearly out of his damn mind and has been for quite a while.

His shirt is next, revealing his chest in the dim light of the tv still playing quietly, the words not even registering as a language you understood. The damaged flesh leathery and colored a dark purple in contrast to his healthy skin. You lay limp and almost defeated beneath him, watch as his hands deftly remove your own shirt, and while it’s not the first time he’s seen you naked… this would be the first he’s touched you so intimately. Your breasts exposed to the cool air harden quickly, his smile predatory as he leans over your chest to flick one with his tongue.

The sensation shoots straight to your pussy.

“Pretty little pet, are you scared?” His question is rhetorical, but you hate how he just seems to know your thoughts and feelings. So much so you wanted to ask if he hide a second quirk. In a last act of defiance, you shake your head. You are scared, terrified of what else there even is to lose because this evil man seems determined to take and have all of you. He’s insatiable for whatever you have, like a vampire taking the life right out of you. Except he won’t kill you, even if sometimes you wished he would. To end this game.

“Pfft, you look so serious,” his face is filled with only hunger and amusement, as he lets his rough palms rest over your breasts, squeezing lightly as he lets himself just take you in. His hands drag over your much softer skin, looking at the odd scar here and there left by his flames during the early days of your readjustment period. He lets one hand rest just over the mound of your pussy, still covered by the thin shorts that hardly covered anything. He’s quiet, and so are you, as you breathe and struggle to stay still for whatever this was. You imagined it to be more violent, less pathetic on your end, as if you’d given up without a fight.

Your tears of frustration finally broke and trailed down your cheeks, your brows furrowed and cheeks puffed as you try to stay silent and uphold whatever amount of dignity you had left. You wouldn’t beg him to stop, it only spurred him on. When his eyes looked back up, the image of you nearly drove him feral as he grinned, giddy with excitement in lieu of you crying. His snicker of approval only making you flinch back as his fingers hook inside the waist band of the shorts and your underwear.

“Keep crying pet. Maybe a hero will come to save you?” His words drip sarcasm as he now roughly yanks your bottoms down and off your body in one swift motion. You’re left completely nude and shivering as the cold seeps back into your body as you lay on the floor. “I don’t think any heroes even patrol this side of town anymore. Too dirty and messy, they can’t be bothered to save people here. So I guess that leaves just you n’me.” He’s not looking at your face, though he’d be elated to see the look of crushed hope painting your features, instead his eyes were trained on your tightly shut thighs. The soft skin a bit distorted from how hard you squeezed them closed. His dark hair falling a bit into his gaze as he easily digs his fingers roughly into your flesh to pry them open.

“Hii!” You cry of pain and shock adorable to his eyes as he gets an eye full in the dim light of your wet pussy.

“Better keep these spread pet, if I gotta open them again for you, I’ll give you a real reason to cry.” His eyes are fierce and foreboding as they meet your gaze, and fear keeps you compliant as you obey and keep your legs open where he left them. He smiles in approval, humming to himself as he begins to undo his belt and open up his pants.

He shifts to one handedly yanking his pants down to free his aching cock, his free hand moving to his open mouth to layer on his own saliva to his fingers. The wet digits brought to your pussy as you whimper, gently spreading your folds and admiring it as he grips his hard cock in his hand. You make the mistake of looking at it.

He’s covered in piercings. His cock long and thick, more so in the middle, with a slight upward curve… but there’s two distinct barbs through his dick on both sides, with the tip sporting one prominent one that had you wanting to disobey and close your legs anyway. It looked frightful and painful if anything else, and you briefly wondered if he did this to ensure his victims were thoroughly tormented at every step.

“Fuck look at you baby, so pretty like this aren’t you?” He’s gently poking and circling your clit, loving each little scared gasp and unsure look you shoot his way. He can tell it feels good for you, but with the uncertainty and fear factor of his looks and his cock, you’re wound tight in apprehension. He thinks it’s a beautiful sight on you. Your little sniffles and pouty lips captivate him into leaning over you again, licking your lips until you open and let him kiss you again. It’s languid and lazy like him, proving how good his mood currently is by how he’s taking his time with you. Your hands stay by your side, gripped tight into fists as you feel a finger begin to push inside of you.

He breaks the kiss the time, looking down to see you take his finger.

“Not so bad is it pet?” He wiggled and pushes it as deep as he can go, loving how your back aches and chest juts out in his face for easy access. He’s nice as he works you open with one finger, lavishing your sore nipples with licks and bites. You keep the moans soft and low, struggling to hate this like you thought you would.

It didn’t hurt at all. It felt good. That was the problem. Dabi never makes you feel good, he torments you like a cat with a mouse. That’s why he calls you pet.

So when he squeezes in a second finger and you moan louder? You nearly knock a tooth out slapping a hand over your lips in embarrassment.

“No you don’t,” his fingers rip free from your tight cunt, both hands gripping your wrists and pinning them with one hand above your head. He grabs his jacket, using the arms to make a makeshift cuff to lock your hands together. “Keep’’em right there,” he orders, and by his stern features you know he means it.

Tired of just testing the waters, Dabi crawls down your body in favor of bringing his face directly before your pussy. “Dabi?” Your head lifted to try and see him as he wraps his arms under your hips to hoist you up higher towards his awaiting mouth. “Been thinkin’ of how this pussy tastes for months,” he grins, letting his pierced tongue run from your dripping hole to your clit, sending sparks of pleasure through your body as your legs jolt and snap around his head.

You realize quickly and apologize, opening them to avoid any punishment.

“Good girl~” you don’t like how his praise warms you up further, your shaking now less from cold or fear and more from arousal.

He repeats his first few licks, before beginning to truly lavish your pretty cunt with his tongue and skills. Dabi isn’t actually an experienced man, most women fearful or disgusted by him for obvious reasons, but it wasn’t hard for him to figure out your reactions and follow the flow of your pleasure. The way you twitched and moaned, struggled to keep your hands in the spot he ordered you to, to keep your legs spread, he loved all of it. When your moans became high pitched whimpers and whines, and your muscles spasmed, he knew you were close.

“D-Dabi I think I—,” you were so close, core wound so tight you could snap at any second, and for the first time you liked what he was doing to you.

Until he stopped.

“No—!” Your cry was embarrassing, as you shook beneath him in horror of your own reaction. Panting and trying to catch your breath as your pleasure faded by the second, his Cheshire grin soaking up your disappointment eagerly. Of course he would, you felt bitter, even as he returned to licking and sucking your clit. Only when the build up returned did you relax again, moving your hips up a little as you neared the crest once more…

He stopped again.

“Dabi—!” Your indignant tone telling as you huffed, sweat beginning to dot your skin despite the cool temperatures, Dabi’s warmth even removed like this helping.

Your stomach ached with the urge to cum. “Something wrong pet?” His face said he knew what was wrong, but it seemed he wanted you to say it. Instead you stubbornly pressed your lips together, his shrug of nonchalance following as he returned to kissing and sucking, slower and more gradually building you up again.

Even if you mentally prepared for it, he let you get much closer to coming than the previous times, so when he pulled away, your legs clamped tight around his head to stop him. “Fuck, please Dabi,” you hated yourself. Hated how he held so much power over you.

If you didn’t look so cute, he’d probably punish you too for not listening.

“Please what?” You watch as he lets a drop of his salvia drip into your pussy, your trembling legs pushed open again by his hands as he stares up at you.

“P-please…” you didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to give him anymore of yourself but… “—please make me cum.”

He looks like that cat which got the milk. His satisfaction palpable as he laughs. “Well why didn’t you just say so? Since you said please.” His teasing tone muffled again soon by your wet pussy, his aggressive approach now much more intense as he eats you out with the purpose of making you cream his face now.

It doesn’t take long before the string violently snaps inside you, your orgasm intense and nearly painful as you come apart.

“Ah, yes, oh—,” you try to shift away, his tongue still laving your clit as he looks up at you, narrow gaze teasing and telling as you whine. “D-Dabi I-I already—ah please!” You almost bite your tongue when he sucks hard on your clit, your panic building with another orgasm. You moan, your head thrown back as your fingers grip and tug on the binding of his coat, hips shaking as you come again.

His lower face is soaked, but he can’t find it in himself to stop as he licks up all your release and noses your clit. Switching his assault to inside of your quivering hole, letting his wet hot tongue slither in, licking and poking your walls. He moans with you now, relaxing as he lets himself get comfortable, leaning against your thigh he has propped up now with his arm keeping you locked in position. He’s lazily feasting as you come again, this time breaking his rule and trying to push his face away with your hands still bound.

He doesn’t even stop then, just uses his free hand to grip the fabric and anchor your hands to your stomach as he continues to work you into another frenzy.

“S’too much! Stop! Stop Dabi! Please fuck, I can’t, ugh, no more—,” your pleas are ignored as he laughs, eyes crinkling as he watches you twitch and jolt with even the tiniest amount of pressure to your clit now.

“I thought you wanted to cum? Change your mind already?” You can hardly manage a full sentence, gasping for air like he’s choked you or something. He relents though, only because his cock is close to shooting his load even though he hadn’t touched himself while playing with you. Using his coat, he lifts your hands back above your head and scoots forward to let his heated cock slap against your wet folds. His hips automatically jerking a few times as his dick feels the soft wet heat your cunt is soaked in.

“You want my cock pet?” You look delirious and exhausted, sweat making your hair cling to your face as you briefly almost admit to being too warm now. Your both chilled and overheated as your sweat dries. Your blurry vision glances down to his throbbing length peaking at you from below, the heavy rod sliding back and forth through your slick and causing your pussy to twitch as he nudges your clit with it.

“S’not gonna fit…” his lip nearly splits on his smile, the cute admission only making him wanna shove it in you more to prove it will fit.

“You don’t think so?” His eyes look inhumanly blue from the cast of whatever show played on the tv now. One hand stays to keep your own pinned, while the other travels down your soft body to grip his cock and line himself up. “‘Cuz I think it will,” then he’s pushing in. His tip goes in easier as it gets crushed by your tight convulsing cunt, the rest engorged by blood feels painful as you cry, Dabi moaning as your gooey walls try to force him out. “I think,” one sharp thrust sinks a whole inch in, your eyes opening wide as tears spill freely, “I’ll get my entire cock in,” he pulls out only a little before shoving in a little more again. “And you know what else I think?” He’s leering down at you, manic grin frightening with the added shadows cast. You can feel his piercings, tugging and forcing themselves inside as he shifts and pushes, nearly stealing your ability to breathe.

“I think you’re gonna like it.” You can’t talk and he knows it, as his tip kisses your cervix, and then it’s bruising it as he shoves himself to entire way in, gasping in pleasure he sees himself fully sheathed inside you. His groin flush with your ass. Your walls so tight it feels impossible to pull out now. It doesn’t matter to Dabi though, as he grits his teeth and rocks forward and back, creating delicious friction on his cock. You’re left to sniffle and cry, pussy stretched painfully wide and aching deep inside from how his rough entrance.

“Poor little crybaby,” he chuckles, leaning closer to lick the tears off your cheeks as he finally gets himself wet enough to begin a slow pace inside you. “You’re so fuckin’ tight,” he growls, burying his face in your neck for a moment while he ruts into you, quick short thrusts working him close to his orgasm. His hand works between you, thumbing your clit as you cry and writhe beneath him, pussy clenching and relaxing as you’re forced to cum with something thick, hot, and painfully heavy inside your cunt.

“Shitttt,” his teeth sink into your neck, grunting as his balls draw tight and he pumps his boiling load deep into your womb, pushing even deeper as it twitched and spurts. Your legs locking and trembling as you see stars.

He stills for a moment, catching his breath quickly as he lifts up to look at your ruined appearance. Your face covered in tears as you pant, eyes nearly closed as struggle to stay awake. Your pussy even messier, slick and cum coating you both and the floor, a tiny bit of pink mixed too.

The thought that it was him who ruined your innocence, taken your first and last, has him hardening again inside you.

You can only whine, silently pleading for a break, but his answering smile is familiar and devious.

“C’mon pet, we’re just getting started tonight.” He chuckles, pulling his hips back before roughly slamming into you now. The shock woke you up fully, pussy protesting the rough treatment he sets as the room fills with salacious noises, your pussy squelching with each slap of his balls. The piercing on his tip hitting a new angle as he leans back and jerks your hips up off the floor.

“Oh!” Your vision goes black as you cum, and Dabi only laughs and fucks you harder as you pass out, loving the stupid expression on your fucked out face.

“That’s it pet, said I was gonna make you forget!” He’s emptying another load inside you not longer after, his own dick becoming a bit overstimulated but too engrossed fucking you to stop yet. With you half conscious, it’s easy to slip out and flip you to your stomach before sliding back in smoothly. “Fuck, you feel so good baby, taking my cock like you were made for it,” his words are slurred in his pleasure, his hips working against your ass as he drags his slick cock out of your pussy before working it back in. He’s even deeper like this, your belly and hips flat on the floor as he fucks you.

You can’t even remember why you didn’t want this anymore. The pleasure and warmth overwhelming and so perfect.

At least as he fills your pussy again, you don’t feel cold.

[marksmelodies]

how nct dream would react during arguments

warnings: jenos part mentions sex

mark

i feel like mark is the type to need space during a heated argument, he needs to think about what to say before he says it, he needs to calm himself down before the starts saying things that he doesn’t mean, it would take a lot to get mark REALLY angry, he seems like a pretty easy going boyfriend, he doesn’t get angry easily he’s very patient, so fights are not very common between the two of you, when the tension dies down and you’ve both had time to reflect he would approach you in a calm manner apologizing for his actions, mark would come up with ways to avoid arguing like this again in the future

renjun

i feel like renjun is petty, all maturity goes out the window when you two fight, lots of cussing and slamming doors, saying “ i hate yous” even though you both never actually mean it. i feel like he could also be the type to give you the silent treatment, even when you are done being angry and ready to make up, renjun on the other hand is not, i feel like he could hold a grudge, but eventually he would come around and realize that he messed up, renjun doesn’t have a problem with apologizing first, it may take him longer than you to realize that he’s in the wrong but when he does he makes sure to give you a proper apology

jeno

it goes one of two ways. either he gets MAD or he sulks, there’s no in between, it depends on the topic of argument really, jeno can be jealous and possessive so when it comes to those tendencies or something else along those lines he gets really angry, he raises his voice and but never gets physically angry, if the argument is less serious he’ll get all sulky and frown at you, unlike renjun arguments with him are very short lasting, he’s very quick to realize when he’s in the wrong and instantly apologizes, his apologies usually end with you two having sex

haechan

he gets more annoyed than mad, there’s not a ton of times he gets angry with you, usually he’ll sulk or complain but he doesn’t get visibly angry, the few times he did he absolutely hated it, he hates the look on your face when he gets angry at you, he hates raising his voice at you, he hates seeing you cry, if theres a issue haechan uses communication instead of getting quick to anger he’ll sit down and talk to you about it, although he is the funny goofy member, haechan seems extremely mature when it comes to emotions and is able to handle altercations in a calm manner, he will apologize as he cuddles you and plays with your hair

jaemin

jaemin is a very understanding boyfriend, hes gentle and sweet, but there are times that jaemin gets angry just like everyone else. arguments aren’t a usual occurrence in your relationship but that doesn’t mean they don’t happen, jaemin will distance himself when he’s angry, he has trouble opening up about it his feelings, he bottles up them up and eventually breaks, he doesn’t yell often usually he keeps a more quiet and stern tone while he’s angry, maybe some tears are shed due to frustration, but at the end of it, it always ends in a big hug and apologizing to eachother with endless “ i love yous”

chenle

like renjun i feel like chenle is petty, chenle is stubborn so talking to him when he’s mad is like talking to a wall. he has a short fuse, it doesn’t take a lot to make him angry, i feel like he would give the silent treatment until you bother him enough that he snaps. chenle is infamous for scoffing during your arguments, chenle is loud so naturally he raises his voice, he would get frustrated easily, chenle is the type to follow you as you try to distance yourself from the conversation

“where are you going huh? we’re not done here”

chenle has a hard time apologizing first, eventually he’ll push his stubbornness aside and apologize, sometimes it’s a half ass apology that leads to another fight but chenle will try his hardest to make it up to you

jisung

jisung completely shuts down during arguments, he stops talking, he just stares off into the distance as your voice echoes through the room,

“ i know im an awful boyfriend, im the worst, you deserve someone better than me”

jisung doesn’t try to fight back or share his side, he just lets it happen which makes the situation worse, it feels as if he doesn’t care enough to put any effort into solving problems within your relationship, he snaps out of it when he hears your sniffles along with the tears streaming down your face, he walks over to you and embraces you into a hug, he apologizes quickly sometimes he’ll apologize for things that aren’t his fault and that’s something he needs to work on, when you calm down jisung will eventually talk it out with you instead of shutting everything down, your arguments always end with his head on your chest as you rub his back forgetting about what the argument was even about

[ashyslashyy]

drew my headcanons for ford during the whole "bill absolutely torturing him" arc. some of this is taken from journal 3, some is headcanon, and a good chunk of it is from the book of bill :D

⬆️closeups bc i like the art & its a little easier to read. im gonna elaborate on some of this stuff under the cut

on the page where ford says bill had been trying to get in the lab he said he was trying ALL NIGHT. so he must have been punching, scratching, prying, kicking, and throwing his whole body against that door in an attempt to get it open. because of this i added bruises on fords arm/shoulder as well as his legs. i also added a couple small scabs on his mouth because i imagine bill was gritting his teeth a lot trying to get that door open and he was probably biting down on his lip either intentionally or unintentionally. the bandage on his forehead is from bill hitting his head against the wall as said in the sticky notes. the bandages on his left hand are for when bill hammered a nail into his hand. eye bleeding is from j3. i added a bit of a nosebleed partially from the hitting his head but also that just seems like something that would happen at some point. i added bloodstains to various places because i think he would use his shirt collar or his tie to wipe the blood from his face but also there are a lot of places where his injuries were bloody scrapes instead of just bruises (also the bruises are basically everywhere. we know how bill is and theres a bit in j3 where he says "THANKS FOR LETTING ME BORROW YOUR BODY, SIXER! ENJOY THE MYSTERY BRUISES!"). ford probably doesnt wash his clothes or shower at this point (hes got other priorities) so everything just kinda gets grosser as things go on. also its not pictured but just know that the tramp stamp is included

[pardonmymannerssir]

(This wouldn’t leave me alone until I wrote it.)

Rook enters the dinning room -or what he likes to consider the mess hall- and recognizes all the faces present but one.

Strife steps forward immediately and the stranger follows. He’s tall, a few inches taller than Rook, and has short, curling blonde hair that’s graying at the temples. Theres a scar on his lip that somehow makes him look dashing instead of grizzly, and he’s wearing a breast plate emblazoned with a familiar symbol.

“Rook,” Strife says, “meet Commander Cullen Rutherford, of the Inquisition.”

The Commander extends his hand as if he’s not a legend made suddenly flesh. Rook has read stories about this man. Some of them rather salacious. His smile is crooked. “Just Cullen, please. Since the Inquisition disbanded the only thing I’ve been in command of is a few litters of Mabari puppies from time to time.”

Rook takes his hand firmly, because he’s a professional, damnit. “Right. Cullen. Pleasure to meet you, I assume you’re here to help?”

“Eve- the Inquisitor sent me ahead, I’ve a dozen men with me, the remnants of the Inquisition that we could spare from the South. It’s not much but they are some of our best.”

Rook nods sharply, catching Neve’s eye from across the room and trying to ignore the way his heart skips. The memories from the night before try very hard to distract him. All warm brown skin and breathy sighs. Her expression is unreadable but her eyes glitter.

They just need to get through this alive, he tells himself. Just this last bit. All they have to do is kill two gods. Easy.

“Every little bit helps,” he says finally, though an army would have been nice. “We’re grateful to have you. Now, let’s figure out how we’re going to get to Ghilan'nain.”

—-

Rook, for one, is deeply pleased to see the Inquisitor and Morrigan burst through the door. Especially considering the alternative had previously been either Venatori or Darkspawn.

Commander Cullen is… less so. The large man barrels forward with a grim fury in his eyes as Rook sags with relief against the nearest wall. The Commander has a small cut on his brow that has bled down the side of his face and he is splattered in blight, blood and general grime like the rest of them. The man is certainly formidable with sword and shield, and he may not have brought an army but he’d probably saved Rook’s life a dozen times on their way through the barrier.

The Inquisitor looks pristine in contrast, her nondescript robes are spotless and her coppery hair is carefully braided away from her face. She’s pretty and stately as always, but pale and sharp like a small dagger. She looks to her Commander with steely resolve and the air of a woman who’s been here before.

“I thought we agreed you would remain behind,” Cullen bites out.

Magister Dorian slips past them with an affectionate roll of his eyes for Rook’s benefit. Clearly this is a display he’s seen before.

The Inquisitor smirks but the steel in her eyes remains. “What, and let you have all the fun.”

“Evelyn-“

“Not Inquisitor?”

“You shouldn’t be here. We agreed.”

She sighs, shoulders sagging a little. “Cullen… I have to try.”

“You have tried,” Cullen insists. “For Makers sake, Inquisitor he cut your hand off and left you unconscious and alone.”

Huh. Rook adds dismemberment to his long list of reasons why Solas is an ass.

“Well yes, but he did it to save my life.”

Cullen shakes his head. “So he claimed but in case it’s escaped your notice he’s rather known for lying.”

“It is pretty hard to deny that the Mark had been killing me, love.” She looks at him and there’s a pleading in her eyes. “This time it’s different, we’ve got Mythal and-“

Cullen reaches out and takes her arm and the moment becomes instantly more intimate and Rook can read the anguish in the other man’s face. He should look away but finds he can’t. Transfixed by the devotion nakedly on display.

“Evelyn, please, it’s too dangerous. We aren’t as young as we once were and I can’t bear the thought of you endangering yourself again. Not after what he did to Varric.”

The mention of Varric burns, a fresh and gapping wound.

The Inquisitor reaches up to cup the Commander’s cheek and she mutters a spell softly under her breath, healing his wound. She pulls a handkerchief from her robes and mops gently at the blood left behind. The sharpness in her dulls and her fingers linger at his jaw. “Typical of you to berate me for risking my life while you’re covered in blood. Besides, you’re the old one. I’m a full six years younger than you and in the prime of my life.”

Cullen grabs her hand and traps it against his face. He closes his eyes for a moment with the air of a man praying for patience. “Ten years hasn’t made you take matters more seriously,” he says dryly.

The Inquisitor chuckles. “And here I thought you fell in love with me for my fantastic sense of humor and great a-“

Cullen shuts her up with a kiss. Firm. Desperate. Lingering. Rook finally manages to look away to find Neve watching him. This time her expression is very easy to read. He peels himself away from the wall and sheathes his sword. A kiss sounds rather nice, he decides.

—-

Solas disappears and the veil snaps closed with a sound like a clap of thunder. Silence descends as the enormity of what just happened hovers just beyond Rook’s comprehension.

It’s over. It’s really over.

Next to him, the Inquisitor sinks to her knees, fingers pressed to her lips. There are tears in her eyes. Rook follows suit, though his own decent is much less.. graceful. Neve helps him down and he uses his sword for a bit of support as the aftershocks of adrenaline and pure relief course through him. His entire body beneath his armor feels like one giant bruise, but he throws an arm around Neve’s shoulders and plants a sound kiss to her temple that makes her blush before she sinks into him. It strikes him that he has time. So much time now. To touch, to kiss, to talk. To laugh.

“It’s over,” the Inquisitor whispers. “He’s gone.”

Commander Cullen is rushing across the terrace, worry etched on his face. The rest of Rook’s team is fast on his heels. The Inquisitor must recognize the clattering sound of Cullen’s approach because she forces herself unsteadily to her feet. She turns just in time for her Commander to gather her into his arms.

“Thank the Maker,” he says with the reverence of a true believer and he takes the Inquisitor’s face in his hands, looking her over for injury.

The Inquisitor laughs. It’s a bright sound, like the chiming of a bell, and shoves his hands away to throw her arms around his neck.

Cullen stumbles back a step and then swings her around once, twice, his smile blinding. They kiss, tenderly. When the Inquisitor pulls away, however, she looks toward the space where Solas had once stood and there is sadness and regret in her eyes.

“He went willingly… alone… possibly forever.”

Cullen’s mouth forms a hard line. “He has much to atone for.”

“Yes… I know. I only wish-I don’t know, that we’d had more time to talk. He was my friend once…”

Cullen only squeezes her gently before setting her on her feet. The Inquisitor turns to Rook, an air of formality settling about her like a cloak. It makes him sit a bit straighter. In her simple robes with wisps of hair fluttering in the breeze, she manages to look regal.

“Thank you, Rook, for helping me finish this.”

He manages a nod, not at all sure how to react. “Hard to imagine where we go from here,” he says, then looks at Neve whose heart is shinning in her eyes. “Well, I suppose you two have given me a few ideas.”

[comet-forgot-you]

handprints

river x fem!reader

summary: you cant let river walk home in the rain :/

warnings: 18+ pls. smut lol. car sex, strap-on use (river receiving), river gets called mamas, bottom!river, smoking, idk if theres more.

a/n: sorry for not posting in forever, i forgot who i was. all souls came out and i cant find any river fics so here i am. once again written in an hour, sorry. do not repost for any reason.

you stood in an empty alleyway, back pressed against a cold brick wall as you stared at the door you had gotten used to watching river come out of. you dig around in your pocket, searching for the pack of cigarettes you had just bought, before pulling them out. you open the case, picking one out and stuffing the box back in your pocket and lighting it.

as you take your first inhale, a metal door slams open. you turn your attention to the girl you had been waiting for, her focus solely on the stack of cash she had just received. you take the cigarette from your lips and exhale.

“river,” you call out. she turns her attention to you, fighting a smile. she stuffs the money into her pocket and walks over to you.

“y/n,” she mumbles, taking the cigarette from your fingers. she places it between her lips. “what are your doing here?”

you smile, looking away from her for a split second before returning your gaze to her. “had to make sure a pretty girl i know didnt walk home in the rain,” you tease. she rolls her eyes, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

“ahh, my knight in shining armor,” she pokes back. you let out a laugh.

“right this way, princess,” you fake a curtsey before offering your hand for her to take. she smiles, slapping your hand away.

“you’re so stupid,” she says. she drops the cigarette to the ground, stomping it out before following you to your car.

-

“fuck,” she moans out, head falling back in pleasure. she presses her hand against your backseat window for some sort of stability as you fuck up into her.

you and river both knew this was going to happen. it was never just taking her home for either of you. not when you couldnt keep your thoughts from drifting to her, especially while you were on duty, and definitely not when you became the second person she looked forward to seeing after every shift.

you sneak your hand up her sweater, palming a tit over her shirt. river lets out a shaky breath, holding onto the headrest like her life depended on it.

your free hand moves from her thigh to thumb at her clit and river cant help the moan that escapes her lips. you roll her clothes nipple between your fingers, thrusting up into her like her high was the only thing that mattered to you. in this moment, it felt like it was.

“taking my strap so well, mamas. you gonna cum all over it? hmm?” you mumble out, rubbing her clit in tight circles.

“fuck, yes. yes i-“ a moan cuts her sentence short as your strap hits a spot inside of her that makes her see stars. “oh fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck,” she mutters it out like a prayer. “m’ gonna cum, y/n. okay? gonna cum on..” a whine leaves her throat as your cold fingers make their way under her shirt to pinch at her nipples. “your strap,” she mumbles.

you smile at her broken sentences. “go on, then.” you pull her hips down, the entire length of the strap nestled in her cunt, your fingers working wonders on her nipples and clit, she couldnt stop the orgasm that washes over her even if she tried go. she grinds against the strap, doing her best to ride out her high.

she mumbles incoherent words, her hand falling from your fogged up window to hold herself up by your shoulder.

“did so good, mamas. one more?”

a/n: the way i view/perceive characters comes from the way other ppl see them, so if yall dont think this is what she seems like, im sorry 💀💀

[bunnyscryptarchived]

how rafe and his weird girl met

☠︎︎༒︎✞︎🕸𖤐

"when are they going to tear that house down already?" rose grumbled, face full of disgust

"someone bought it." rafes head snaps up the second those words leave his father’s mouth.

the house on the end of figure eight. littered with cobwebs, cracked windows and deteriorating walls. shingles torn apart from previous storms. it was desolate. eerie. depressing. ugly.

who the hell would want to buy it?

rafe was hanging with topper and kelce. topper yapping on about god knows what. rafe wasn’t paying him any attention, just typing away on his phone.

“looks like halloween came early this year” topper nudges rafe with his elbow, nodding his head fir rafe to look ahead when he turns to him with a scowl.

rafe did a double take when he saw you. you certainly did not fit in here with your sharp claw nails painted red, black corset on top of a short black lace dress with gloves to match. he felt two things looking at you —curiosity and anger cause why the hell are you dressed like that.. all that black? in this heat?? he felt hot and overstimulated just looking at you. he's never seen anyone dress the way you do and you were definitely going to be the talk of the town. hell— you already are.

"i hear shes the one living in that decrepit old house" kelce speaks up.

"the one on the end of figure 8? that shit gives me the creeps" toppers face cringes at the thought of it. "yep. her and her family just moved in. they're weird man"

rafe stayed tight lipped and hummed. not taking his eyes off you for a second. you meet his gaze thru red sunglasses, giving him a once over before walking away, practically gliding. there was something strange about you. something….off. but you carried yourself with such confidence and it peeked his interest. he just had to get to know you.

he did it from a distance at first. asking around about you. only to get the same annoying answers. she's weird. she doesn't talk. her family is a bunch of freaks. they're creepy . he was getting no where so he decided to take a trip to your place, not that he really wanted to, you just rarely left the house so where the hell else is supposed to see you.

knocking on your front door. he's stunned when an older woman opens the door— like you dressed in all black, a gown that covers her feet. “hello. may i help you?” her voice is smooth. airy. he asks for you, honest in his intentions. always the smooth talker when he wants to be. she eyes him before telling him your name and points to the back.

that’s where he finds you. in the backyard cemetery— reading under a tree. “hi there.” you peek up at the sound of his voice, squinting. “whatcha reading about?”

“amputation” your voice is small but silvery. he likes it. despite the weirdness that just came out of your mouth. he wasn’t expecting that.

“wha-“ he sniffs. “is.. is that like for school or something?”

“no. just for fun.” theres a tiny smirk on your face. one would almost miss it if his eyes weren’t solely focused on you.

oh he’s hooked.

from then on he hasn’t left you alone, it’s almost borderline stalkerish. when you two start dating, it’s intense. you’re intense and he doesn’t know how to handle you at all. you match his energy which pisses him off but he’s obsessed with you and word spread fast. as if you weren’t already talk of the town, its dialed up by 11 now. the kook prince and the town freak. everybody talked. most things negative— not in earshot of you or rafe tho. no one wants to deal with rafes wrath if he heard them talking smack about you. you were untouchable. not that you needed rafes status to protect you. you had a bite of your own and weren’t afraid to fight back either.

you’re just as insane as he is. if not more.

 ☆*:.｡.o🕸o.｡.:* ☆

[darlingsfandom]

“ In the City of Wonder..”

kinktober day seven.

pairing: Johnathan Crane x Fem Reader.

tw: kidnapping, pet play, fingering, edging and swearing .

Tears ran down your cheeks as you stood on the sidewalk looking around for someone, anyone! No one was around it was as if the city had gone to sleep. Theres no lights on in any building, no sounds other than the sounds of nature and a train far off in the distance.

How? Why? This was supposed to be a nice little break that you had need, a quiet vacation away from every day life and now you’re stuck in a city you don’t know , with no one around besides the Jack ass who had just robbed you at gun point and ran off. You should have just stayed at home.

“Are you alright?” His voice made you jump.

“Jesus Christ !” You grabbed your chest in a panic.

“Well no, he’s dead and I’m here.” The man pushed up his glasses with his finger as he stepped closer to you. “Looks like you’re having a hard time.” You swallowed the lump in your throat. Every signal in your body was telling you to run but fear had made you tense up and freeze. He looked polite enough but even poisonous fruit looks tempting.

“I uh.. no.. I was held at gun point and the loser took my purse!” You spoke softly but he heard you.

“Well could you describe him?”

“What are you ? The police?” You felt the anger of the situation rise in you as the man with the glasses tilted his head. You rolled your eyes before letting out a sigh. “I’m not trying to be a bitch , there’s just a lot of emotions!”

The man put his finger on your lips which made your eyebrows furrow. He moved to close the gap between your bodies. Your eyes looked into his before you felt his hand wrap around your throat tightly. “If you’re smart, you’ll get your purse back! If you’re dumb… I’m sure you can figure out what will happen.” His breath was hot on your face as you grabbed onto his arm to try to pull it off. “Don’t fight me little girl.” That made you stop fighting!

His lips formed a devilish smile as he pulled you down the street and into an abandoned looking building. With a quick shove he had you on the floor that was cold against your skin.

“Please don’t kill me!” The tears started up again. He watched you cry and it turned him on.

“Now why on earth would I kill such a pretty thing like you? No that wouldn’t be right.” He got down on his knees next to you and grabbed your face forcing you to look at him. He was a good looking man, that you couldn’t deny. His hands squeezed your cheeks together making you whine to which he made a fake pout with his lips. “Oh look at you, so sad and pathetic baby. You know I’ve been watching you this whole time, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this hmm? No one in their right mind comes here for fun …” he took his hand off your face and ran it through your hair.

“How could you be watching me? I just got here a few days ago!” You yelped when you felt him pull your hair.

“I have my ways. I will say you did seem a bit boring at first. Your coffee order was that of everyone else, but then I realized you’re here alone. No ring on your finger either, truly alone. No one would care if you didn’t come back. That’s why you’re going to be my new little pet.”

You sat there looking at him with a pout of your face. He ran his hand over your cheek before he stood up and walked away. You chose not to fight because now was your chance. The door clicked shut and you scrambled to your feet before running for the door but as soon as you opened the door you screamed because he was standing there with his hands behind his back.

“What a stupid idea.” He spat at you before stepping forward until your back hit the wall. “You really thought I’d let you leave so easily? No no, that’s not how this works.” He waved his finger in your face before you felt him put something around your neck. When you looked down it was simple black collar with a chain leash attached. “Pretty little pet.” He patted your head gently before yanking the chain hard enough to choke you. “Get on your knees.” He snapped making you quickly follow orders.

The coolness of the floor provided you some relief from how hot your skin felt. Your hands rested on your lap while you hung your head low because the realization of what he said was hitting you. How could this man know so much in such little time? Your train of thought was pulled off the tracks when the sudden yank of the chain made you gasp and lean forward. His hand tightened around the chain as he pulled you forward. “Good little pet.” He walked with you out of the room and down a hallway but he had you walking on all fours.

“There’s no need to worry anymore.” He unlocked a door and to your surprise it was actually a very nice apartment. “Be a good little pet and sit.” You did as he said before he walked away and came back with something in his hand. He put the cat ears on your head and it made you confused.

“What is your name ?” You spoke softly making him smile. A sweet voice for a sweet girl.

“Crane. That’s all you need to know.” He grabbed your leash and took you to the bedroom. He pulled you up onto your feet and within a second your back was hitting the bed making you whine. Crane stood over you dragging his hand over your body before he unzipped your pants, pulled them down and raise his eyebrow.

“For such a scared little pet when I met, you sure do have a big wet spot. Your little cunt needs to be breed doesn’t it ?” His fingers ran over your cunt making you shiver.

“Please!” You let out a moan as he watched you. You looked so cute , barely being touched and begging for more.

“Please what ?”

“Please breed me master !” Did you really just say that ? What was happening to you ? How could one man know all about your kinks ? To be fair he did say he had been watching you but that’s beside the point. His fingers slipped inside of you making you grip the bed. His fingers were long and a little thick. The sound of your wetness filled the room as Crane sat on the bed next to you fingering your pussy. He took his time going nice and deep wanting to make sure you felt pleasure because soon he’d be using you for his own.

Crane used his free hand to pull up your shirt to which you sat up to help him take it off. The power he had over you made him drunk with the taste. It was pure ecstasy to him how easy in the end you gave up everything to be his little pet. You sat exposed with hardened nipples , rosy cheeks and something like a smile as he admired your exposed body.

“In the end, you will do as I say and I’ll make you very happy but I dare you to cross me sweetheart… see what happens.” His words made you clench around his fingers that had picked up the pace as he spoke to you in a harsh tone.

Your pulse was racing, eyes rolling back and to your own surprise you felt your tongue slip out of your mouth and hang as he made you squirm against the medical table. You looked like a dumb bitch in heat which is what he wanted!

“Please please please !! Please!” You whimpered as you thrusted your hips upwards to get more friction. The rough palm of his hand rubbed against your clit while his fingers twisted in and out of your wet cunt.

“You think you deserve to cum hmm?” His tone was cocky and thick.

“Oh fuck! Yes please sir!” Tears dripped from the corner of your eye making his cock twitch.

“Cute, but after how rude you were before you can suffer.” Johnathan pulled out his fingers without a warning, licked his fingers and smirked as you left you laying on the table fully on edge. If this was torture then bring it on because this was the most you’ve ever felt wanted.