#Up Against the Wall Motherfuckers

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

"ALWAYS HAS BEEN."

PIC(S) INFO: Spotlight on American anarchist agitation collective and/or revolutionary protest group, BLACK MASK, marching on Wall Street in the winter of early 1967 to protest the fiscal terrorist institutions of the American status quo in NYC, New York, USA. 📸: Larry Fink.

“The next target is Wall Street,” an anarchist collective known as Black Mask wrote in its January newsletter, 1967. On February 10th, around twenty-five members of the group, wearing black balaclavas and carrying giant skulls, took to the streets of the financial district and handed out this statement:

"WALL STREET IS WAR STREET...

...The traders in stocks and bones shriek for New Frontiers—but the coffins return to the Bronx and Harlem. Bull markets of murder deal in a stock exchange of death. Profits rise to the ticker tape of your dead sons. Poison gas RAINS on Vietnam. You cannot plead “WE DID NOT KNOW.” Television brings the flaming villages into the safety of your home. You commit genocide in the name of freedom.

BUT YOU TOO ARE THE VICTIMS!""

-- THE NEW YORKER, "Occupying Wall Street in 1967," by Rollo Romig, published on October 5, 2011

Sources: www.agenteprovocador.es/publicaciones/los-primeros-encapuchados-de-nueva-york, X, the New Yorker, PM Press, various, etc...

[beebundt]

can i just say how important it is to keep messages & comments & gifted art to you that made you happy or were really meaningful. like not for a particularly egocentric reason but also yes at the same time, right. like i wish i had kept a lot from earlier in my time on here bc sometimes a certain person will come along and just drop the most sweet and personal compliment on a tuesday afternoon and it will completely dissolve you on the spot and leave you thinking about it several months or years to come. sometimes i will feel like the most shit of dogshit and then i remember and look at these old replies left on posts or fanart given to me. like these people aren't here anymore or maybe they are but they are to me yeah? theyve left a part of them and i carry it with me now and somewhere out there i hope they feel my appreciation for it however small. anyway my whole point is maybe we should all keep a little folder somewhere or a corkboard and just. put them in there! and let it inspire your future you. someone was happy you were here

[zigcarnivorous]

I am your valentine you fatted hogs

You are a cast off meal for Satan, not even to care or fart on, you go on the heap, you rot

[theinkeddragon]

I use my brain waves to blow up every edge camping blaster user ever

[silvermistyy]

are you fucking kidding me

I think I just saw god 🧎‍♀️

LORD HAVE MERCY ON A POOR SINNERS SOUL

he's so fine

[darkbluekies]

Stupid people

Yandere!mafia!oc x reader

Summary: a number sends Silas a picture of darling that sends him into rage

Warnings: murder, mentions of NSFW, Silas lashes out towards darling, guilt, slight indication of a character asking if it was consensual (it was — the deed, not the pictures), pictures taken without permission, punching and kicking between legs

Word count: 2.7k

A/N: to clarify, the photos are taken AFTER the deed, not during!

There's only two people Silas likes enough to let them be in his office for more than asking a question — you and SIC.

“Stupid people are my favorite kind of people”, SIC says from the couch, eyes glued onto his phone. “Some idiot here tried to jump from a roof.”

“If only our enemies did that so that i didn't have to go kill them”, Silas smirks.

“Since when were we that lucky?”

A notification on his own phone caught his attention. Silas picks it up and unlocks it, seeing that the notification is from an unsaved number. He clenches his jaw. Photos. It takes a second for him to realize what — who — is in these two photos. He can recognise that back among millions. He sees that back every night, always holding it close to his chest.

“Motherfucker!” he shouts and rises from his chair in a swift.

“What?” SIC asks quickly, looking up from his screen.

Silas slams his phone down on the floor. It shatters and explodes in every direction. SIC jumps up from the couch.

“Woah, what’s going on?” he asks quickly. 

Silas can't reply. His heart is hammering in his throat. If he tries to speak, it'll jump out. His entire body is shaking. He's been mad before, but nothing compares to what he feels when you are involved.

“Silas?” SIC asks. “Sit down.”

He presses Silas down in the chair again.

“What happened?” he asks. “Give me a real fucking answer this time.”

“Some disgusting little bitch sent me photos of Y/N”,  he spits out, growing angrier by every word. “Naked, in a bed. I think you can figure out the rest yourself.”

SIC blinks. “Shit. Who?”

Silas gestures manically towards the broken phone. “I didn't write the number down before I fucking smashed it!”

“Alright. I'll take out the sim card and put it in my phone. I can find out.”

“Don't look at the photos, got that? I'm not joking. I will beat you up if I find out that you've looked at the photos.”

“Don't worry, boss, I won't.”

Silas sighs in frustration. He storms out of his office, up the stairs and throws up the door to your shared bedroom. You're nowhere to be found.

“Y/N!” he shouts angrily.

You come out of the bathroom, looking bewildered. A fear grows on your face when you realize how mad he is.

“What's wrong?” you ask quickly.

“Who the fuck have taken pics of you while having sex?!” he shouts. “Who is the low creature that has pictures of you?!”

Your eyes widen.

“What?” you ask. “Silas-”

He moves closer and you can't describe his demeanor in any other way than threatening. You stumble backwards, finally reaching the wall. Even when he's mad, he'd never do things to make you scared of him, never show you the side he shows his men and enemies. But this time, he doesn't seem to care about holding back. You get to see what everyone else sees.

“Whoever the little fucker is, I will shove that camera of his so far up his ass it'll puncture a lung, do you understand that?” Silas spits, face mere centimeters from your face. 

“Silas, I-”, you stutter.

Silas grabs the perfume standing on the shelf beside you and sends it flying across The room, breaking against the wall. You watch on in complete horror. Not even in the basement is he this violent, not around you.

Behind him, you see SIC run into the room, stopping in the doorway. He watches on with wide eyes.

“Who is it?” he spits before raising his voice. “Give me the name of the worthless little creature! I'll kill him!”

“Silas, I don't know!” you shout loudly in order to be heard over his own shouting. Tears blurry your vision as silence fills the room. “I d-don't know, I swear! I have no knowledge of a-any pictures taken of me. Please don’t be mad at me, I don’t know anything, I s-swear …”

You have wrapped your arms around yourself. You look so incredibly small. And helpless. He feels as if someone has punched him right in the stomach. He can't bring himself to shout at you. The fire in his eyes seems to blow out, leaving his eyes as dark as they should. He breathes heavily, feeling empty and painfully aware of everything around him — every little sound, movement. He finally realizes what's going on.

“Fuck”, he breathes out in a whisper and pulls you into his arms, into a tight embrace. “I'm so sorry.”

You sob into his shoulder, voice getting muffled in his white shirt. Silas hugs you as if his life depends on it.

“Baby, I didn't mean to shout at you”, he whispers. “I'm not mad at you, I'm mad at that disgusting filth. Not you, do you understand?”

He pulls you back and covers your face in apologetic kisses, caressing your cheeks and wiping your tears.

“Are you okay?” he asks, grabbing your face and forcing you to look him in the eyes.

You nod slightly and sniffle. Still shaking, but not mortified. 

“What pictures?” you ask with an unsteady voice.

Silas looks at SIC.

“Did you get the number?” he asks.

“No, I didn't have time to move over the sim card before I heard the glass shattering.”

Silas clears his throat. His ears turn red.

“Go retrieve the number and then come back”, he says.

SIC nods and walks out. Silas turns to you. He cups your cheeks and kisses your lips carefully.

“Sorry”, he says again.

“It’s … okay”, you mumble.

It doesn't seem to register for him. He has a guilty look in his black eyes.

“Silas … what pictures?” you ask again, dreading the answer yet needing to know.

“There’s nothing to worry about, I shouldn’t have told you. I will take care of it, okay?”

“You got so upset about it … something must be wrong. Have someone taken pics of me while I’ve … had sex?”

Silas can’t tell you. He knows how distraught you’ll be. 

“No, not while you had … after you were done … I don’t know”, he says. “I could have misunderstood the pictures. I broke my phone right after seeing them.” He notices how you give him an unsure gaze as he mentions his phone. “I get worked up quickly.”

You sniffle. Silas wipes your tears again and hugs you even tighter, resting his cheek on the top of your head. He feels like a complete fool, how could he slip up like that? He would never shout at you, never make you feel threatened. For fuck sake, you’re supposed to seek shelter and comfort in him!

“Are you sure that you’re okay?” Silas asks. 

“Mhm”, you mumble. “Just shaking.”

“I can tell.” His embrace tightens. “Let’s sit down, alright?”

He moves you to the bed and sits down with you beside him. 

“What have you done today?” he asks and wraps his arm around your shoulders. 

“I’ve been watching some shows”, you reply. 

“Which one?”

“Some cartoon … I don’t remember the name.”

“Do you think I’d like it?”

You give him a small smile and shake your head. “No, it’s too cheesy for you.”

Silas smiles. “What type of fucking stereotype is that? Show me and I’ll decide for myself.”

You reach for the tablet and show him a few minutes of the cartoon. He leans onto you, wrapping himself around you like a boa constrictor. 

The door opens and SIC returns with his phone in his hand. 

“Got it”, he says and walks over to the bed. “Y/N, take a look and-”

Silas slaps his hand away. 

“Are you fucking out of your mind?” he scolds him. “You’re not showing them those!”

SIC holds his phone out of Silas’s reach. 

“I am”, SIC replies.

Silas stands up. The animalistic, lredatory light is back in his eyes. You don’t doubt that he would punch him. 

“I am going to show these pictures to Y/N to confirm that they remember the sex happening”, SIC explains sharply. “Because if they don’t, we might have a worse crime on our hands.”

Silas doesn’t reply. He seems to think, and seems to consider whether he should punch the man or not. He nods in defeat. SIC gives you the phone and you take a mortified look at the two pictures. 

“Do you recognise where you are in these two pictures?” SIC asks. “Do you know when this was? Do you have memories of it?”

You look at the pictures, fearing that you’re not going to recognise the location or remember what happened … or who you were with.

“I know when and where this is”, you say. “It was five years ago. I remember it.”

“You're sure you remember it?” SIC asks.

“Yes … but I didn't know that he took pics …” 

“Okay, the fucker is dead”, Silas decides.

“What was his name?” SIC asks.

“‘Eric’ something”, you say. “I met him at a party. He was nice, or so i thought, and-”

Silas runs a hand through his black hair and sighs.

“I guess that he wasn't that nice”, you mumble.

“Pricks like that are never nice. They're just polite enough to lure people to get what they want. Who knows how many innocent people's photos he has on his hard drive?”

“Silas, can you do me a favor?”

“What?”

“If you manage to find him-”

“Not if; when.”

“When you manage to find him, give him an extra punch from me, will you?”

Silas smiles. “I'll give him tenfolds.”

Finding him is easier than the poor fellow had anticipated. Silas pities him. He's either too stupid to know who he is or has a death wish. He can't decide which one is worse.

“God, you're even uglier than i imagined”, Silas scoffs as he sees the man for the first time.

He's held up by two of his men, body pounded with punches beyond recognizable, but they've left his face untouched. That's for Silas to ruin.

“You're even uglier than your mess of a body”, he says, grabbing the man's face, tuning it carelessly. “We haven't even touched this yet. What did you gain from this? Not a lot, I see. I mean, you're here, in my basement, about to be killed. Can't say that I understand your intentions.”

“Did you like the pictures?” Eric asks, voice drowning in painful moans.

“‘Did i like the pictures?’” Silas repeats, appalled by the man's lack of remorse. “I don't need your pitiful pictures. I get the full act from whatever angle I want.”

It shouldn't make him cocky, but bragging about it always fills him with pride.

“Give me his phone”, he orders.

One of his men digs up the phone from Eric's pocket. He forces him to unlock it.

“Do you take these types of pictures often?” Silas asks, eyes narrowing as he scrolls past hundreds of women sleeping in beds. “What even are these?”

“I take a picture of the woman after our session, after she's fallen asleep”, Eric replies, “as a trophy.”

“As a-”, he cuts himself off. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Silas hits him with all his might. Eric's head shoots backwards, his neck acting like a jojo to get it back. Blood runs down from his nose.

“Delete all the pictures”, he tells SIC and gives him the phone. “From the phone, any cloud, any other hard-drive. These pictures will never be seen by anyone ever again.”

“Yes, boss”, SIC replies and takes the phone.

He disappears up the stairs. Silas turns to Eric.

“How did you get my number?” he asks. “And, when you got it, didn't you check to see who it belonged to? You're pretty stupid.”

“I just know that the number belonged to Y/N’s new boyfriend”, Eric replies.

“Husband.”

It shouldn't fill him with such pride at a moment like this, yet it does. 

“You're going to die now anyway, so it doesn't matter if I tell you my name”, Silas says. 

One of his men gives him a knife with a long shiny blade.

“Boss”, SIC says from the top of the stairs. “Y/N’s here.”

Silas hurries to give the knife back and gestures for him to hide it. 

“I’ll come upstairs”, he says. 

Before he has time to move, you've bursted past SIC. He tries to grab at you, but you're already half down the stairs.

“You absolute worthless piece of shit”, you spit.

Silas raises his eyebrows. 

Oh?

You run right over to Eric and slap him. Silas stands stunned. It takes him a few moments to gather himself and stop looking like a fool. He turns to the stairs where SIC stands, holding his hand over his face, laughing silently. He folds and has to hold onto the wall.

“How could you take such pictures?” you ask him. “What gave you the right?”

Silas grabs your shoulder to pull you away from him, but you shake him off.

“It's not like I took pics while we had sex”, Eric says, voice sounding even more painful.

Silas smirks. He can already tell that'll happen by the way your eyes widen. And he won't stop it. Won't even try to. You hit the man again and kick him between the legs. He tries to curl up, but is being held up by Silas’s men. 

“Okay, okay”, Silas says and grabs your shoulders, pulling you backwards. “Enough of that. SIC, take Y/N to the bedroom and make sure they stay there.”

SIC grabs you out of his arms. Silas grabs the knife once more. 

“What should we start with?” he asks, spinning the knife. “Your hands? Arms? Legs? Decide, coward.”

SIC forces you upstairs before he has the time to cut off any body parts.

“Let me go!” you mutter. 

“Just stay quiet until we get up to the bedroom”, SIC says. “Nice shot you got, by the way. I know it caught Silas by surprise. That’s hard to do, you know.”

“He deserves more.”

“And Silas will give him that, don’t you worry. That is not your job. You got two punches and one kick in, that’s enough.”

WHen you try to run back downstairs, he picks you up over his shoulder and continues upstairs. 

“Don’t give me more trouble”, he sighs. 

SIC walks into the bedroom and places you down on the floor before barricading the door with his body to make sure you’re not making a run for it. 

“The pictures are gone”, SIC says. “All of them — of you and of other people.”

“How many were there?”

“Hundreds. All taken when they had fallen asleep afterwards. He kept them like trophies.”

The door opens before he’s done with his sentence. Silas walks in, finally looking pleased. 

“Dona already?” SIC asks. 

“I got impatient”, he mutters and closes the door. “Little thing, are you okay?”

You nod. Silas hugs you, kissing the top of your head. He still feels awful about shouting at you. He squeezes you even tighter. 

“Thank you”, you say quietly. “You helped not only me but also a lot of other people. That’s a good thing.”

His heart clenches. He has apologized a million times and you have forgiven him … but he can’t seem to forgive himself. It all happened so quickly, yet it lingers in him. 

“Of course”, he says. “Scumbags need to be taken care of the right way. I kind of pitied the man. He must have been extremely stupid to let me know about him. Good that he was stupid though.”

Thinking about him makes him furious once more, but he reminds himself that it’s over. He has gotten his punishment … and Silas has saved people. Innocent people should never be punished for crimes they didn’t commit.

No one will ever see any those pictures again. No one will have to deal with that man ever again. 

[milfsdoll]

Everybody knows that I’m a good girl, officer.

Officer!Agnes x reader

Summary: After almost burning your house down because of your boyfriend you end up at the police office, being interrogated by your ex girlfriend.

Warnings: +18, smut, dom/sub dynamics, dom!Agatha, bratty sub!reader, handcuffs, chocking, hair pulling, degrading kink, praise kink, strap on, slight spanking kink, daddy kink, fluff.

Word count: 4k

A/N: this is my first fic so I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing! Also english is not my first language <3

Masterlist

——— • ☾ • ————— • ☾ • ————— • ☾ • ———

You honestly didn’t know how it happened, one minute you were screaming at your cheater of a boyfriend and his fucking side chick and the next thing you remember was running out of the house, trying to get away from the flames.

You sighed in relief, finally at home after a long and stressful day at work, your boss was being a bitch again and making you do extra hours just because she feels like it. God how you hated her, you just wanted to go home, have a nice dinner and watch some bad movie with your boyfriend. 

As you reached your door, searching for your keys inside of your needlessly big purse you heard a sound coming from inside of the house, making you stop immediately, what was that? Again, another noise, was it… a moan? Pressing your ear to the door you heard it once again… and again… those were definitely moans “what the fuck?” Was he watching porn or something? I mean you couldn’t blame him if he did, you were barely home, but then you heard it, someone moaning his name. 

Your heart stopped for a moment, he could not… could he? 

With shaky hands and ringing ears you carefully opened the door, the sight of candles all around the hall and into the living room making you shake your head, no, no no no no no, three years, three years of relationship, this couldn’t be happening, right? He wouldn’t throw it all away, not like that, right? Your mind was playing with you, it had to be that.

Slowly, you made your way to said living room, the moans and grunts getting louder, and your heart pace getting quicker, and then you saw it, you were’t crazy, it was really happening “You motherfucker” your hoarse voice causing the room fall silent, your now, ex boyfriend, throwing the blonde girl off his lap, watching as she immediately put her clothes on and ran through the door, you didn’t care a bit about her.

You only focused how he made his way to you, the noises of him trying to talk to you into a pit of lies sounded blurry.

“Honey, it’s not what it looks like I swear” mhm… what a cliche lie,

“It’s her fault! She seduced me” great try, another one, 

“I’m so sorry, my love” huh, that was a good one… no,

“It’s not my fault you’re never home to get me off, I had to find someone else!” oh there was it, that son of a bitch.

Everything went red, you weren’t conscious of what you were doing, throwing everything your hands reached at him, screaming how much of a stupid fucker he was, not even trying to hide it, doing it in your own fucking home! And you didn’t realize one of the many things you threw at him was one of the big candles he set, hitting against the curtains.

It happened too fast, there was fire everywhere, and you stood there, frozen in the middle of the living room, staring at the burnt out wall, realizing what a stupid thing you did, I mean you didn’t even love him, you never did, but you trusted him, and you felt fucking betrayed. 

It wasn’t until a big flame got into your view you got out of your shock and ran out of the house, a police car already waiting for you.

And now here you were, sat in the interrogation room, leg shaking with anxiety and your heel kicking the floor repeatedly, staring at the door as if someone would appear faster. You’ve been waiting like 20 minutes already, and you knew there was only one person in the police office at this hour so you didn’t understand why she was making you suffer like this.

It’s something she have always loved to do.

As those thoughts ran through your head the door opened, revealing the brunette woman, she leaned against the door after closing it, studying you for a moment, she tried to grasp everything around her head, trying to understand the reason behind all of this “I’m very curious… what made you burn your house down and nearly killing you and your boyfriend?”

You scoffed and the last word “not my boyfriend, not after tonight” your words sounded furious and… painful, you squirmed in the chair, feeling quite uncomfortable “I didn’t mean to ok? You know I’m not that crazy” 

Agnes and you had a… situationship in the past, you both wanted more, wanted a serious relationship but her work and schedule were a problem, you barely saw her once a week or two causing you to argue a lot, so you both decided to part ways and stay friends, it was the best for both of you.

Or that’s what you wanted to believe anyway.

The older woman hummed, detaching herself from the door and sitting on the chair in front of you “I know” of course she knew, she knew you weren’t capable of hurting a flower “that’s why I’m asking you” 

You looked up at her from your fidgeting hands “I caught that fucker cheating, alright? I-I got furious and started throwing things at him and maybe… accidentally, I threw him a lit candle” replaying the scene in your head you let out a giggle, seeing his stupid face was worth it after all “but honestly Agnes? I don’t regret a thing”

Well… maybe you were a little crazy.

She fought back a smirk, she couldn’t blame you, he deserved it, she always knew that bastard wasn’t good for you, and if she had found out about it before she would have done the same thing, or worse, no one but she can mess with her girl “well, I’m sorry” she wasn’t, at all “but I’m afraid you have to spend the night in the tank”

What? No

No way you were gonna spend a second in that hell hole.

And just like that, an idea crossed your mind, it was risky but you knew very well it would work, for both of you.

“But… Aggie” you whined, looking at her with doe eyes, yes… you were playing that card “you know I’m a good girl” she flinched in surprise, feeling your foot caress her leg under the table. 

Those eyes, those fucking eyes.

You were playing a dangerous game, but oh… two can play this game and she hates to lose.

Without saying a word she got up, slowly making her way around the table, you watched her intently, like a prey watching her hunter’s next move, and then suddenly you let out a gasp, she threw your chair back with a kick, caging you between her arms, resting them on each side of the chair.

“Are you? Because I only remember you being a fucking brat” she was so close, so close you could smell her woody perfume, her breath against your face, fuck how you’ve missed her, every smell, every touch, every word of hers.

No one could ever compare to Agnes.

“And I remember you loving it… you loved to fuck the brattiness out of me, you loved to shut me up shoving your dick in my mouth” your hand carefully ran up her leg, watching her breath hitch you never took your eyes off hers, and just as you reached her crotch you felt something hard, making you bite you lip “you haven’t changed a bit Agnes, always packing around with that purple d-” 

She didn’t let you finish, grabbing you by the throat, shoving you up and against the wall, earning a huffed grunt from you and grabbing her wrist for support.

There she was, the rough Agnes you always loved, how she lost control of herself because of you, it made you weak on the knees, your mind already fogging into submission, but you had to fight it back, you wanted to test her limits, to totally break her, and let her break you from the inside in return.

On her end she knew she should tease you further, see how far you were capable of going but she was so weak for you, all this time apart from you, trying to find you in other girls but there wasn’t anyone like you, she only wanted you, she needed you, like she knew you needed her.

“You’re playing a dangerous game you know you’ll lose to here, pet”

God, you loved when she called you that, her pet, her plaything, her doll to play around anytime and anywhere she wanted. 

No.

Focus.

Break her.

“Is that the best you can do Aggie? Aww, maybe I was wrong, maybe you’ve lost your spark” 

Yes, yes, yes, that was the look you were searching for, that rough, primal look that sent you into a subspace without hesitation, you were ready to take whatever she wanted to give you.

Agnes pushed her leg between yours, pressing against your center, watching as your face squirmed in pleasure, she always found it fascinating how she could pull these kind of reactions out of you with such little actions “you really think you’re in control here, hm?”

You both knew the answer, you both knew there was no way you could take control.

“A-Agnes, is this really the place to do this?” Your voice came out hushed and shaky, your mind fighting to get a hold of itself.

The older woman chuckled darkly at your state “oh please, don’t tell me you’re chickening out now doll” and she knew you were right, the interrogation room was no place for this but she knew too neither of you were gonna be capable of waiting another second. 

She would deal with the consequences later.

Her hand on your throat loosened, letting you breathe for a bit, they travelled down your figure, stopping on your waist, her eyes burning into yours, you saw her expression change for a moment “you have no idea how much I missed you”

Shit, this wasn’t in your plan.

You gulped, trying to loose the nervous knot in your throat “I missed you too, every fucking day” your voice came out in a whisper, as if you were telling her your deepest secret, and maybe it was. 

Agnes pulled you close, her hands tightening around your waist as if you were going to disappear from her grasp, she had to make sure this was real and not just a dream.

Your lips ghosted against hers, your hands caressing her face, eyes still locked on each other, both of you trying to search for any sign of regret “are you sure you want this?” that made you nod eagerly “I need words baby”

“Yes, yes Aggie, I want you… I need you”

And then her lips were on yours, it was slow and sweet at first, both of you trying to savour the moment after all these years apart, but just as a moan escaped your lips Agnes lost it, her tongue asking for entrance licking your lip, you immediately let her, submitting to her, letting her take control of the kiss. 

You were always so good to her, always her good girl.

She walked backwards until her legs hit the table turning you both around “up” she simply said patting your hip softly, causing your puffy lips break into a smile, and of course you obeyed her, hopping on the table before grabbing her by the collar and smashing your lips against hers again.

Your impatient hands deciding to rip her flannel shirt after various failing attempts unbuttoning it, the action making the older woman to laugh against your lips “you’re buying me a new one” 

You huffed “you have plenty of those, officer” she smirked at the new title.

“Cute, but I like the old title better” her hands making their way into your pencil skirt, stroking your inner thighs, realizing how much she missed your soft and warm skin, how she missed having those thighs around her head, clenching and unclenching with every one of her touch.

“Okay… daddy” 

And just with that her whole mind went feral, grabbing the slit of your skirt she ripped it in two, making you gasp and looking at her in disbelief “well, now we’re even” before you could spit back at her she cupped your cunt, your head falling back with a moan “fuck, did I make you this wet, pet?” She bit her lip, rubbing the wet spot on your thong with her fingers. 

“You know you always do, even only the thought of you does” That stroked her ego, thinking how you got this messy only thinking of her, after all this time, it made her even more eager to ruin you.

You watched her as she got on her knees, your breath hitching as she travelled your thighs with kisses, pushing your legs apart so she could tease you further but never where you really wanted her. 

You knew what she wanted, teasing you like that, playing with the stripes of your thong with her fingers, but you just whined, grabbing her head attempting to push her to your center but she just sat back, looking at you with a raised eyebrow “come on… it’s not that hard to ask me nicely if you want it that bad, doll”

Groaning desperately, your mind trying to fight back the words you just stared at her with heavy breath, her eyes watching your every desperate move, knowing very well the fight that was going on in that pretty head of yours.

And she knew exactly how to get it out of you.

“Do it for me, pet, come on beg for daddy” she then continued with her kisses, now starting from your ankle, watching as you gripped the ends of the table tightly “be a good girl and beg for me to fuck you, sweet thing”

Your jaw hanged low, your eyebrows furrowing in total desperation.

Come on, you just have to say the word.

Be a good girl.

Her good girl.

“Please” 

It came out shaky, her kisses stopping to look at you “please, please fuck me Aggie”

Yes, much better. 

She had you just where she wanted you “there you are, my good girl”

Then you both rushed to discard your thong and the ripped skirt before she locked your legs around her shoulders, finally burring her head in your center, giving your clit a long lick that had both of you moaning, your hand flying to her hair, pushing her further into you, wanting to feel her even closer.

And she gladly did, wanting to get drunk of your taste, her skilled mouth nipping and sucking on your clit, loving every sound she pulled from you, holding your hips down as they desperately rolled towards her face. 

Your back arched into nothing as you felt her two fingers tease your entrance “fuck, daddy please” your submission making the older woman chuckle only of the vibrations to go right to your core, causing you to let out a strangled moan.

And deciding to put your suffering to an end Agnes slowly pushed her large digits inside you, feeling your legs tense around her head, her pace painfully slow, to focused on your face and reactions, your head almost snapping back as she curled her fingers inside of you, making you struggle to breathe at the amount of pleasure she was giving you.

She could never get enough of you, your intoxicating taste and addicting sounds, she could spend the rest of her life between your legs, driving you absolutely mad with just her mouth and fingers, feeling your warm hole, how you clenched and unclenched around her fingers trying to last a little more only to have her like this.

Quickening her pace, her got up, pulling you into a deep kiss as her thumb continued the abuse on your clit, swallowing your whines and moans and letting you taste yourself, her free hand making it’s way inside of your top, finding your nipple and pinching it between her finger, she always loved how you went braless everywhere, making it easier for her to access.

And when she felt your core clench harder, knowing you were already close to your orgasm, all her movements stopped “w-what are you doing?” you whined out, tears threatening to spill from your eyes from the overstimulation.

“Shh, it’s ok” she kissed your temple “open your mouth”

Without hesitating for a second you obeyed, her fingers slipping in, making you instantly close your mouth and suck, watching as her lips parted and pupils darkening in pleasure, your tongue playing with her fingers, cleaning them before she got them out, your mouth letting out a ‘pop’ sound. 

She then suddenly pushed you off the table and turned you around, pressing your front against the cold surface, manhandling you in the position she wanted “you better keep your hands there” she said locking your hands on your back.

“I will, daddy” you bit your lip from giggling shaking your ass against the hard bulge in her pants, knowing the effect that action had on the woman. 

There was silence for a moment, you could feel her eyes on you, and then- 

slap!

You gasped in surprise, your body jumping forward “keep that up and it won’t be the only one” you felt her deep voice right in your ear, her hand caressing you red and itchy bottom cheek.

You couldn’t deny and say you didn’t like it, on the contrary, it felt fucking good, but right now you just wanted her to fuck you raw, so just nodded keeping in mind to bring that side of her another time. 

The sound of a belt unbuckling reached your ears, your heartbeat fastening in excitement and your legs rubbing against each other for some friction yes please, please, please, your hands twitched, needing to grab onto something, or to feel her under your touch “keep. them. there.” 

It was easy, right?

Wrong.

You swallowed a whine in anticipation, feeling her hand running down your back, stopping on your waist, and just as you felt her rub against your entrance your hands flew to grab the table for support “oh… my poor pet…” she roughly grabbed your wrists, and after a second you felt something cold around them, and then a click “you asked for it” 

Did she just put her handcuffs on you? Fuck, you shouldn’t find it as hot as you found it.

She took advantage of that distraction to push herself inside of you, watching your whole body squirm in pain and pleasure while a loud moan escaped your lips, stilling for a moment, letting you adjust to her size, and it only took her seeing your hips start to push back into her to slide out almost entirely before roughly pushing into you again, the table cracking at the action “fuck!” 

She kept her rough but slow pace, the sounds of your moans and whines getting louder, oh how she missed having you like this, all fucked out because of her, your little brain only filled with her and the pleasure she was giving you. 

You felt her hand interlock into your hair, and in a sudden move your back was flushed against her front, both of you seeing your reflexion in the mirror on the wall “look at you… already so ruined and I just started fucking you” you clenched around the strap, wishing she could feel how your body reacted to her words, but she could see it, she saw how your breath stopped for a second, how your eyes closed with a cute little frown on your eyebrows.

Her free hand made it’s way around your throat, squeezing it just the right amount to make your mind fog, your moans fighting to get out as her pace quickened, but it wasn’t enough, you needed more “p-please” you managed to let out, looking at her through the reflexion.

Just like she could read your mind she removed her hand from your hair and painfully slow travelled down your body, rubbing and pinching your nipple, scratching your lower stomach, before finally making you roll your eyes back, pressing your clit between her fingers, while her dick hit that right spot it had you seeing stars. 

The obscene sounds of your skin against hers and your strangled breath turning the older woman on more than she would admit, her praises in your ear as she abused your clit faster “Good girl… you’re doing so good for daddy”

Your legs already shaking, the knot on your lower stomach getting harder to hold “d-daddy please, please let me cum” your almost pornographic moans getting more desperate by the second “fuck- please I’m so close!”

“Cum for me” it only took those words from her to reach your orgasm, your lips parting in an ‘o’ shape, summing all over her strap.

She slowed her pace, helping you through your orgasm, only stopping when your limb body fell on the cold table, making you shudder.

She let you catch your breath for a second, stroking your back up and down before she stood you up again, turning you around to see your fucked out face.

You opened your eyes to look at her smirking face, causing you to chuckle “hi” you whispered, closing the gap between your lips, both of you humming “are you gonna uncuff me now, officer?” 

“Not yet” she pecked your lips lovingly again before looking at you, with those demanding eyes “on your knees” 

You stared at her for a second, your breath hitching once again in anticipation, and slowly you got on your knees before her, watching her with doe eyes “you know what to do, clean your mess doll” and that you did, your tongue darting out to lick her shaft from the base, never taking your eyes off hers, slowly taking the large, purple dick into your mouth.

Her hand rested on your cheek, her thumb softly wiping away a tear that fell from your eye, her shaft hitting the back of your throat “breathe beautiful, through your nose” she hummed as she held your face down, enjoying having you like this again, your mouth full of her, struggling to breathe and those beautiful tears on your face. 

So fucking obedient for her.

When you started to cough around her she finally pulled out, helping you get up, and sitting you on the table while uncuffing you, her lips kissing all over your face as you recovered, your hands fisting on her navy blue tank top as soon as they were free “you did so good for me, sweetheart” she whispered against your lips, making you smile. 

“Thank you Aggie” 

You rested your forehead against hers, both of you savoring the sweet moment, her hands tightly around your waist in a possessive and protective way.

These were the moments you missed the most, her sweet self taking care of you, making sure you were ok like she didn’t just fuck your brains out a minute ago.

It was almost comical.

“So… officer, am I still spending the night in the tank?” She laughed at that, kissing your forehead softly, you were insufferable.

“Thinking about it… it will be the best if you spend the night at my place” you bit your lip suppressing a smile, you were too excited to wake up in the morning next to the older brunette woman “what do you think?”

“I’d love to” you whispered before pulling her into a loving kiss.

She helped dressing up again, giving you a pair of sweats she had in her office, and when you were gonna leave her office she grabbed you hand, pulling you flush against her.

She stared at you trying to get the words out, you could see the fight she was having in her mind projected in those blue eyes, so you planted a soft kiss on her nose, your hands caressing her cheeks trying to calm her thoughts, and then she said it.

“Be mine”

Your eyes locked, her eyebrows furrowing in worry as you took a second to reply, but when your lips broke into a smile she knew the answer.

“I have always been yours Agnes”

[clockwayswrites]

Oh Birb Part 11

Masterpost

Next Thursday. Alright, Danny could do next Thursday. He still didn’t know how he had gotten invited to Cassandra Wayne’s dance recital, but sure enough there was a link to a ticket and the event information in his email the next morning.

He was just checking in on work real quickly before he left for the Far Frozen. Or maybe he was putting off the trip for as long as he could. Danny knew that he had to go see Frostbite, but he was afraid of what answers the yeti might have. Or, worse, the answers that Frostbite didn’t have.

Danny didn’t know what would really be worse.

‘You are on vacation, Mr. Fenton.’ Popped up in Danny’s Slack and he rolled his eyes. Of course Lucius was keeping an eye on him.

‘Just checking on things before I leave.’ Danny replied. ‘I’ll be off for the next five days, promise.’

‘That better be true.’

He would have much choice, his current phone wouldn’t work in the zone.

Danny refreshed his inbox one last time before he turned his tablet off and tucked away in the basket next to the couch. Fridge emptied of anything that would spoil, trash taken out, far too many plants watered… Danny was out of excuses.

“Going ghost,” he grumbled with a sigh. He didn’t really need to say that part out loud anymore, not after all these years, but sometimes it just made it easier. A sense of bitter, binding cold washed over him. It was like breathing ice. The shards stabbed at his lungs, choked his air, killed him— and then it was gone. It was all gone. His breath, his heart beat, the pull of gravity, the ache in his bones… his life.

Danny breathed out a breath he didn’t have and let himself drift up a few inches into the air. At least he didn’t hurt. For now. Returning to his body after this trip was going to be miserable. That was a later him problem, right then Danny just enjoyed being weightless. He breathed in and out, letting his body relax from the top of his head to his toes and all the way out to the tips of his wings.

Wait. His what now?

Danny’s fit hit the ground hard. He scrambled his way over to the long mirror titled against the wall by the door. And froze.

Wings.

Those were… those were wings.

Massive black wings with spots of white on the outside and more white on the inside. There was a slightly iridescent sheen to them as he twisted and turned to try and get a look at them.

They were. He had… okay. He had wings as Phantom now. Wings that were definitely like he had seen in the videos when he was that bird thing. Danny ran his fingers over his face, wincing as his finger tips caught a little. His taloned fingertips. That’s great he was turning into a bird.

Cheep cheep, motherfucker, Danny thought hysterically.

He had been expecting a midlife crisis as he approached forty, but turning into a bird wasn’t how he thought it would go!

He needed to get to the Far Frozen. He needed answers. He needed Frostbite to have answers. Focusing on the concept of the Far Frozen, Danny dragged a clawed finger through the air, tearing a hole in reality.

The portal glowed a noxious green.

Danny took a breath and flew through it.

---

AN: I polled the HH discord if Phantom should have wings or not and it was unanimously 'yes' so! Poor Danny, having such a panic!

Can you believe we're up to 4 chapters now for this silliness?

Stay delightful, darlings.

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

THIS LITTLE PIGGY BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF SOME HIPPIES IN THE SUPER-SEVENTIES.

PIC INFO: Spotlight on a 23 x 35" vintage Porky Pig/anti-law.enforcement-themed blacklight poster design, c. 1972, published by Canterbury Posters.

Source: www.thesedaysla.com/products/porky-the-pig-blacklight-poster.

[lokisgoodgirl]

Liberties [Loki x Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: After ruining the biggest night of your career, Loki ruins you, too. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Dickish Avenger!Loki. Language. Workplace romance. Rough(ish) smut. (w/c 3.1k)

Folds of your expensive black dress swished as you stormed down the corridor of the forty-sixth floor. Everyone was still at the event. Or, The Shitstorm as it would now be known. Shame. Shouting at someone would really help right now.

You tore out the earpiece and slammed it on the nearest desk, shoving a pile of papers off the side for good measure. Laufeyson.

You’d spent months concocting the perfect debut for that greasy-haired, peacocking, gangly-limbed motherfucker. Did he say ‘thank you’? Did he smile and mind his P’s and Q’s and pose with the New York glitterati like he was supposed to for one night?

Nails sank into the soft flesh of your palm. Course he fucking didn’t.

After he’d gone off script during his speech, stating he could fix the woeful state of Earth’s political spectrum in thirty-seven minutes, it had all gone downhill. Insulting politicians, flirting egregiously with their wives…with their husbands.

The cool glass met your forehead as your rested against the door with your name on it. Director, it said. It didn’t feel like it. Fucking Laufeyson. He was unmanageable—just like his hair. He didn’t even comb it—bastard. You’d specifically requested it.

There was a bottle of whisky hidden in the bookcase behind a doorstop project management manual. You glanced down the empty corridor a final time and slipped inside the dark office, making straight for the bookcase. Pulling out the book concealing your beautiful, impending numbness, you frowned. The bottle was—

"I’m afraid I took the liberty," someone said.

You screamed, lobbing the book in the direction of the voice. It hit the flat, black back of your office chair with a pathetic thump.

The chair swivelled: glacial, infuriating. But you already knew. It was that voice; the one that made it impossible not to imagine him making snide remarks while he fucked you from behind with a fist knotted at your scalp. And besides, you could see the wavy, rumpled crown of his greasy fucking hair over the rim of the chair.

"How did you…What the hell are you doing in here? This is restricted—"

"Restricted?" Laufeyson barked out a weak laugh of reprimand. "Please."

He raised a hand, gaze fixed on the ornate glass of amber liquid cupped in his palm. It had been a present from Stark for your promotion, and the sting of your nails on your palm burned new. "This is really rather good, considering."

"Considering what?" "That it was produced on this planet." His eyes slid to yours, upper lip twitching as he said, "Another thing to add to its sparse list of accomplishments."

You pulled another book from the shelf and threw it at his face. It missed.

Loki didn’t flinch. He just sat there wearing his favourite smirk; one foot resting on his knee and his shadowed eyes glinting with curious observation. He’d removed the suit jacket—the one specifically tailored for this event—in his requested colour, a lush emerald green with gold trim.

Dickhead. You’d run yourself ragged for his petty demands. And then he’d fucked it all up anyway.

Realising your eyes were lingering on the suspenders stretched against the wall chest muscle, you tore them up to his face and forced coldness into your voice. "I literally left the event to get away from you, before I punched you in the face; you realise that?"

"I do."

You threw up your hands and turned towards the window, arms folded; watching the flash of traffic on the street below like luminous ants. Spotlights flashed across the night sky, crossing and weaving against each other in celebration of the biggest night of the year. "Stark will fire me for what you did."

Loki’s laugh was accompanied by a splutter of liquid. You shot a glare over your shoulder, catching him press the back of a hand against his mouth and shaking with mirth.

"I think not. Stark cares only for publicity—and…" He extended a hand with a self-congratulatory flourish before resting an elbow on the armrest, brushing a finger to his lips. "He knows what I’m like," he added with a coy brush of a smile.

Heat exploded beneath your skin.

Before you could think it through you were towering over Loki, a hand spread against his sternum. You pushed against muscle, letting the chair tilt ominously backwards. Loki’s eyes widened fractionally, dark eyebrows peaking in genuine surprise. "If you've ruined my career I will hunt you down and I will—"

"Hunt me down?" Loki purred. His eyes dropped to your hand pressed to his chest and rose slowly to your face. "I’m right here, as you can plainly see. No hunting necessary." His rumble caught on the T. "Being accosted, no less."

You released him with a grunt.

"Couldn’t you just behave? This was your big night…your official launch in the team, your new start. Why couldn’t you just be good for once?"

"Good?" Loki’s voice hardened. A green, glowing rectangle unfurled in the empty air beside his shoulder, and a shot from the ad campaign you’d organised several weeks ago filled the space.

Emblazoned in Stark Industries font across the image of Loki looking like a sexual apocalypse in a skin tight leather combat suit were the flickering words, ‘God of Mischief.’ And then, Loki said, "It’s in the name, darling. The one you selected—a new start was never part of the agreement, nor was it suggested. I believe the phrase was, ‘refreshed branding'…Was it not?"

He shifted, and somehow the muscles in his legs were outlined in the soft glow of a thousand skyscraper windows. "Same package, different wrapping, as it were."

Your brows rose, trying to keep the brittle defeat from your eyes. "Your behaviour tonight was unacceptable. You can’t go around comparing global foreign policy to Thanos’s bowel movements."

Loki waved a hand, sliding the glass over the desk with a scoff.

"My behaviour is always unacceptable; it’s part of the allure. The populous long for something raw, something unexpected. Something unmarred by inane pleasantries and fakery." His eyes slid upwards, nailing you like gas lamps in darkness. "Take you, for instance."

It was your turn to scoff. "I don’t see what I have to do with this."

Loki leant back in the chair, eyelids drooping. His tongue nipped over his lips in a flash of pink. "You very much want to have me; I can see it. I can smell it."

Your jaw loosened, mortification prickling over your skin as he added, "Carnally," as if it required explanation.

"You’re out of your fucking mind. I can’t stand you."

Loki’s lips curled, and you hated how much you wanted to suck the smirk off his goddam mouth. "Correct on both counts, I’m sure. It doesn’t change the inescapable reality that you want to know what I taste like."

Your tongue shaped words, and then you choked on them as Loki unfurled from the chair: all long limbs, slutty curls and slimfit tailoring. Oh Christ.

Your bare shoulder-blades met the window as he meandered across the floor without a care in the world; bladed cheekbones casting shadows across his skin; assassins emerging from the dark.

"You want to know what I fuck like," he said, words stirring like treacle. "Whether I’m generous, whether I’m as good as they say, whether I’m as brutish and punishing as part of you hopes I would be."

He stood in front of you, hands clasped behind his back, and leant forwards until his breath was hot on your forehead and the expensive cologne wafting from the open buttons of his shirt drifted up your nostrils. A short puff of mirth exhaled against your skin before he added, piercing, "But most of all, you want to know what I sound like when I cum."

He was awful: conceited, rude, imperious. But, fuck, he was right.

Your sweaty palms slid against the glass as he straightened and waited for a response. He sighed, and you found yourself staring at the strain of the buttons down the front of his shirt as he did.

"As I thought," said Loki, bored. "Paralysed by your desires—wasting away in a pit of indecision and regret as so many of your ilk." He shrugged, arms wide. "So be it."

Your hand shot out, yanking the nearest suspender and pulling his mouth to yours. Loki’s hand flew to the surface behind your head, and the wall of glass trembled.

His warrior body pressed firm against your chest, crushing you in the scent of desire and the primal heat radiating from his skin while your hands fisted in his hair and the god groaned into your throat.

He pulled back, frowning as your hand grasped at the erection pressing against his trousers. "Let me be clear," he growled. ‘I am no one’s pet. I will not be tamed. Is that understood?"

"Oh, will you shut up?" You tore at the buttons of his shirt, regretting the lack of nuance, before adding, "but, like, keep talking though."

Loki’s chuckle vibrated against your palms as the shirt slid over the curve of his biceps and then you were raking at his perfect skin, pulling his mouth to yours in a hateful mess of tongues and need and fire that ripped through your body.

Nimble fingers made quick work of his buckle, and Loki’s hands ran up the curve of your thighs, pushing the folds of your dress around your hips. "I've been longing to break you in..." he muttered, eyes shining in the light from New York’s glittering skyline.

You yanked his hair, and Loki hissed with pleasure. "I’m not a virgin; weirdo," you gasped, grasping his thick, perfect cock in a punishing fist.

His lips spread with a wolfish grin. "Ah, but you’ve never been fucked by me."

One of his hands slipped between your legs and trailed through the wetness it found. He moaned softly, massaging your clit like oil. Your head fell against the window as he slipped a long, elegant finger inside you. It was disgusting how much you wanted him, and you’d let yourself feel every, traitorous moment.

His digits curled, stoking the same, exquisite spot again, and again— "such a pretty, warm cunt," he whispered, filthy—as whines slid from your lips. "And to think, you’ve been denying yourself."

Loki tsk’d, his free hand playing at your exposed neck. He sucked a bruising kiss into your throat as hot cum welled around his fingers, holding you upright, balanced against the thigh shoved between your legs.

"Fuck me," you gasped, grappling at his shoulders. He said nothing. You met his eyes; slivers of blue visible on the rim of wide, black pools. "Like…fuck me, fuck me."

"I knew you’d want me rough," he said quietly, drawing his knuckles down your cheek. The hand fell to the neckline of your dress and before you could even inhale, a mighty rip sent your dress scattering across the floor.

Loki’s covetous eyes roamed your chest, your body; his chin dipped, his eyes glazed with lust. "Over there." He motioned with his head.

You followed the order and gripped the back of one of the two chairs positioned by the window. Leather slid under the sheen clinging to your palms. Loki’s touch cupped your hips, his hands grazing appreciatively over bare skin.

"I knew it would be tonight," he murmured, pressing his cock into the base of your spine. His breath was hot on your throat. "As soon as I saw the utter loathing in your eyes; I knew it would be the one."

He twisted your hair back, biting the curve of your shoulder with unbearable erotic restraint. You pressed your ass into his crotch, moaning his name under your breath as he traced a finger down your spine until he reached the cock leaking precum over your skin.

Positioning between your legs, he rubbed the column twice through your slick lips before sheathing himself on the third.

The two of you gasped in unison; the guttural growl of Loki’s voice making your knees tremble before he delivered the first, devastating thrust. The force of it sent the chair screeching over the floor.

"G-gods…you’re tight," he choked, withdrawing and circling the crown at the tip of your channel. "I knew you would be perfect…but…but…"

Another thrust and the chair hit the window, but you didn’t care. Loki filled every part of you; you’d never felt so exposed, so free, with every fluid buck of his hips which made stars burst behind your eyelids. He bottomed out with a grunt of your name, balls slapping against your clit, one hand flying to the glass above your head and making a messy streak as it fell.

"Not enough," he said, breathless. The god pulled you upright and kissed you with the force of a storm, gathering you in his arms. The next thing you felt was the cool desk on your ass, Loki spreading your thighs and the utter joy of him breaching the empty space inside you he’d ruined for all other men.

One hand roughly palmed at your breasts, the other cradling your skull as every trinket you’d every owned rattled on the desk. Somewhere, something cracked. He went harder, pounding deeper with each snap of his hips that slapped against your skin.

There was a clink, a melodic roll, and then a smash. The sharp scent of whisky filled the air. You began to look but Loki pulled your chin to face him.

"On me," he ordered, eyes narrowed. There was a faint flush in his cheeks. "On me. Always."

Your legs wound around Loki’s hips. One kiss slid into another, his bucks becoming frantic as climax burst inside you with a rattle of his name. He lowered you to the desk, sliding his glistening cock from your cunt and kissing down your abdomen.

As you craned up, slack-jawed, the god delivered a single, earth-trembling lick up the centre of your pussy; gathering himself on his tongue. He swallowed, pacing behind you and seating himself on your chair.

You sat up, observing him over your shoulder. His shirt was completely unbuttoned, thanks to you, pale skin shimmering pearl in the honeyed gloom. He looked up beneath his lashes—smouldering—slender fingers wrapped around the cock protruding from splayed fabric; pumping in fluid strokes.

He cocked an eyebrow, and it was as good as a beckon from one of those slender fingers.

Shifting from the desk, you sank to your knees, and Loki’s legs widened. The fabric of his trousers creased maddeningly over the meat of his thighs.

"Tell me you haven’t thought about this," he said, baiting. He could smell lies as keenly as sulphur. "That you haven’t wanted to choke on my cock."

It wasn’t a question.

You fixed your eyes on his as you settled a hand around the root and swallowed the tip.

Loki’s eyes rolled back, head falling to the back of the chair. Black waves dripped down his shoulders like spilled ink, every thrust of his hips into your mouth making new combinations of filthy curses rattle from his chest.

A hand settled on your head, following the motion as your mouth worked back and forth along the length of him: sucking, licking, grazing the sensitive tip with your teeth. Loki hissed, fingers tightening in your hair.

"Fucking Norns, you are a slut," he muttered appreciatively.

You doubled down, and soon Loki’s balls tightened. Something shifted as he stiffened, the hand in your hair flying to the armrest. His breaths were short, moans brief and ragged as he fought himself. "Finish me," he growled, tapered to a whine. One, calculated suck was all it took. Loki’s climax trembled down his body, spurting into your mouth like a tide of warm, smooth butter. Your tongue circled the tip, massaging him through the throes as his body shuddered a final time and a staggered sigh rocked the air.

A finger slipped beneath your chin, tilting up to meet his expectant smirk. "Well?" Loki asked, eyes glinting. "Was I everything you dreamt of?"

The lazy smile on your face evaporated. You brushed the hand aside, covering your breasts. Loki frowned.

"There’s no need for that, believe me." He guided your hands into his and pulled you to his lap. "Do you recall when I mentioned this realm’s sparse list of accomplishments?" You grunted reluctant confirmation. Loki sucked your earlobe between his teeth, releasing a contented sigh. "Your body is most definitely on that list." He paused, breath catching. "All of you, truth be told," he added quietly.

Before you had time to process what he'd said, you were standing.

Loki’s fingers fastened the buttons of his shirt with unnatural speed as you stared forlornly at the ripped dress on the floor. Fuck. There was a sweatsuit hanging in the small wardrobe stashed in the corner. That would have to do—you could slip out the side entrance, no need to…

"I’ll see you downstairs?" Loki asked, all business. He looked at you expectantly as the bespoke forest green suit jacket melted over his torso like paint. You’d forgotten how good he looked in it and resolved never to forget it ever again.

The god carded a hand through his hair, letting in fall in wild waves. The outline of his erection was still visible through the tight trousers. Did I really just fuck…Loki Laufeyson? A sick pride sprouted in your belly.

You crouched and picked up the tattered, black fabric. "I don’t think so, I mean—" Loki’s kiss cut you off. He sucked your bottom lip between his teeth as he pulled away.

"I’ll see you downstairs," he repeated softly. "Someone has to make sure I’m behaving myself, after all."

You rolled your eyes, trying not to stare as he swaggered to the door and shot a grin through the glass panels as he passed.

He has a point, though. You couldn’t let him go unattended. What if he gets one of the senators’ wives alone? What if he sexes them up...like me?

The thought, however ridiculous it would have been an hour ago, was like a knife between your ribs.

You scurried to the wardrobe concealed in the corner and opened it, cursing the fact you didn’t keep a spare office dress like the slinky bitches on TV.

You stared, blinking several times.

Hanging in the wardrobe was an identical dress to the one lying shredded on the floor. Almost identical. You pulled it out, holding the hanger up. In the glow of the midnight skyline, green jewels glittered around the neckline, woven in intricate patterns that melted into the folds of skirt. A note was pinned to the bodice. I can be good, it said. Our secret.

Tags in comments 💖🥰 Come say hi!

[dyingswanpavlova]

"Your girl" - Part 1 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: After getting attacked at the train station, you get rescued by a mysterious stranger. But is that really better?

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, attempted rape, violence, murder, hints of blood and gore, trauma talk

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

He was a twisted motherfucker. And you knew it was your own fault you ended up in his claws. But how could you have possibly known? After all, at first he seemed like the good guy.

Looking back, it was entirely lost on you, how he managed to pull that off.

You remembered vividly how it felt when you sat on the cold bench in the waiting area of the underground train station, just like you did every evening of your life. Except for Sundays. Sundays were reserved for books and tv shows, to numb out your mind. Sundays were for you.

Your thoughts had been occupied with work and the feeling of your lower body slowly freezing off.

UTI, honey. You'll get UTI, if you sit on cold surfaces for too long. Your mothers voice took up a lot of space in your head, despite the fact that the last time you saw her was years ago. It still made you feel uneasy, but there was not much you could do. She was your mother, your inner voice, your compass. The part of your mind that still relied on her advice didn't know that she was long gone from your life and for a reason.

The first thing you noticed was a pair of cold hands reaching for you. Everything seemed to be cold that day. And God, you hated the cold.

His cold hands reached for you and before you even realized it, he had you pinned against the bench, trapped in-between him and the cold surface. You didn't have time to react at all. His one cold hand went up to cover your mouth, while his other cold hand cupped your breast through the fabric of your clothes.

Of course you struggled. It was a reflex. You tried to fight him off as soon as you realized what was going on. You struggled and squirmed, at some point you even tried to knee him in the crotch. But he straddled your waist, keeping you down with his weight and you knew where this was leading.

You hadn't even seen his face. His ugly ass blue hat with the dove on top was pulled down deep in his face and you couldn't make out his eyes. Not that it would have changed anything, but it made everything even worse for you.

But what was by far the worst thing, wasn't the cold. It wasn't even the fact that the station was empty except for the two of you. The worst thing was that no sound came out when you opened your mouth to scream. No sound at all.

Oh, how you had feared that. The dream came often, frequently even and it was a shitty feeling every time, wanting to scream but no sound came out. Your throat was tight, your tongue useless, your lips parted in a silent plea.

No.

This was the end, you were sure.

He'd violate you and if you were lucky, he'd leave you like that, on the cold bench, to fend for yourself. But that wasn't your biggest fear. Your biggest fear was what would happen if he didn't decide to leave you like that.

Maybe it'd be quick. A blade to your throat and within a few minutes everything would finally be over.

But what if not?

A knot built in your stomach as you saw your future right infront of you. Sold off to some twisted people, spending the rest of your life as a tool for someone else's pleasure, someones amusement, someones-

No, being violated wasn't your worst fear.

Being sold off was.

At some point people would believe you were dead and then they'd stop searching.

Tears streamed down your face and your body shook with suppressed sobs as he ripped at your shirt impatiently. Your lips parted in another desperate plea, but still, no sound.

You were done for. This was your end. You couldn't breathe.

Until, suddenly, you could again.

You let out a shuddery gasp when you felt his weight lift off of you. You were frozen solid after you backed away against the wall.

The man appeared out of nowhere, looking like someone from a novel or a movie.

His hair, which looked like it was normally slicked back neatly, hung into his face as he dragged the man off you, his expression twisted into something you couldn't read.

You took a deep breath. In. And out. In. And out.

You were safe. The police would come, the man would get arrested and he wouldn't ever touch you again. You would finally see his eyes and-

Oh God.

You winced outwardly when you heard the cracking sound and the man with the blue hat went limp in his arms. His unreadable expression turned into something resembling smugness.

You watched in horror as he tossed the lifeless body onto the train line. The train came on time. Of course it did. Punctuality was a good deed, especially here in South Korea.

What you witnessed then was probably the most gruesome scene of your life and you immediately knew you would never get that picture out of your head.

The sound of a gunshot forced you back to reality and you winced painfully. When you looked up, you saw him still pointing his gun at the security camera in the left corner of the area. On his face a subtle smile. The twisted smile of an avenging angel...or an obvious demon.

He pushed the gun back beneath his waistline and held out his hand to you.

The man who had almost destroyed your life was dead, scattered across the train station in blood and gore and the man who would undoubtedly destroy your life held out his hand to you.

You heard your mothers voice again, small and subtle.

Don't take his hand, honey. Something's most definitely wrong with him. I bet he's dangerous.

That was what made you take his hand in the end. However bad he was, he couldn't possibly be worse than her, could he?

A few minutes later, he made a point of passing about every car on the highway.

"Where do you live?" His voice was like silk. It was terrifying.

After what had happened, you felt like you had stopped breathing for a while and just now were you slowly getting back to it again.

No ins and outs. Straight up hyperventilating.

"I- I don't know." You gasped out truthfully.

He cocked a brow and briefly glanced at you from the drivers seat.

"You don't know?"

You frantically shook your head.

"I always take the same path. From the train station, take a turn left and- and-"

"Where are you from, sweet girl?" His voice sounded so calm, as sweet as honey. It was almost offensive, it was infuriating.

"Yorkshire." You whispered without missing a beat.

He hummed softly and briefly eyed you up and down. "England, hm? I should have recognized from your grace and beauty."

Was he fucking flirting with you? After he just...just murdered someone?

"What takes you to South Korea then? School? Uni?"

"Work." You murmured, not even recognizing your own voice. But at least by now it was back. Fucking betrayed by your own body, wonderful.

He raised his brows as he passed another car in a nerve-wrecking speed.

"Work? You look a little young to be that far from home, working here. Do you even speak the language?"

You subtly shook your head and he nodded.

"I work with...with computers." You mumbled absentmindedly. In your head, the scene from earlier kept repeating like a broken record. All that blood...

He hummed again. An odd sound. He radiated such a calm energy, it was truly confusing.

"You were awfully quiet earlier." He remarked.

You swallowed back the lump in your throat and looked out of the window.

"Ah. Sore spot. I get it."

At first you had thought he might be taking you to the police station. But then you realized; after he just butchered someone down without flinching? Probably not.

Still, you had hope. That was until you saw the city sign disappear in the rear view mirror. This wasn't good. Maybe for once you should have listened to your mothers voice.

"Where are you taking me?" You asked quietly.

He didn't respond, just kept his gaze firmly on the highway before you. You kept glancing at him for a while, before eventually you looked down at your hands. You hadn't even realized how much they were shaking. You wanted to ask many, many questions.

Who the hell are you?

Where are we going?

Why did you kill that man?

...Am I next?

But all you managed was a quiet, desperate exhale.

"Are you hungry?" He asked matter-of-factly.

You thought back to the massacre and immediately felt nauseous again, so you shook your head.

"Yes, you are. You need to keep your strength. Don't worry, sweet girl. We'll be home soon. I'll take good care of you."

The cold sweat that broke out on your body was nearly painful. You knew he wasn't normal, but you couldn't yet tell to which extent he was crazy.

Was he just a little twisted?

He was a killer after all. And now you were with him. In his car. Maybe, just maybe you could...

You glanced down at the doorhandle, when his calm voice made you jump.

"Don't even think about it, sweet girl. That won't work. I'm driving so fast, the second your body hits the pavement, your head will explode like a balloon."

The was that tightness in your throat again. But this time something was different. He had his hands on the steering wheel, not on you. You could still breathe.

Suddenly you saw yourself again, sold off. And damn it, suddenly exploding didn't sound so bad anymore.

You furiously tugged on the door handle, but it didn't work. It was locked. You kept trying it desperately, a soft passing your lips. After a few moments you realized it was pointless.

Slowly you tilted your face back towards him, only to realize he was already watching you. He was still smiling that subtle, not at all genuine, smile, but this time something was different. It was like a cold fury had taken possession of his eyes.

Maybe he wasn't a demon. Maybe he was the devil.

"That one was free. Because we don't know each other all too well yet." He said slowly. "But next time, I won't be so forgiving."

You looked back at the street ahead of you. And suddenly you realized something. Maybe he was worse than your mother.

God, what a terrifying thought.

About half an hour later, there you were. Home.

A great apartment complex, somewhere God knows where.

Suddenly it hit you. He hadn't covered your eyes. Not in the car, not infront of the house, not in the elevator.

You weren't leaving this place, at least not alive.

He led you inside one of the apartments. To your surprise, everything looked pretty normal, except for the part that it looked fairly expensive.

The walls were painted in a warm apricot color and the floor was made of dark wood.

He led you deeper inside and you realized, it was indeed a normal flat. The couch was made of black leather and there was a giant bookshelf, next to a big tv. For some reason the sight of the bookshelf brought you an odd sense of comfort.

How bad could a person be, if he was well-read?

Your mind soon wandered off to Hannibal Lecter and you dismissed the thought.

"Sit."

You sat down on the couch as instructed. All the while you were careful to keep your shoes off the cream colored carpet so you wouldn't get it dirty. It was odd how your mind worked.

He followed your gaze, his expression unreadable again.

Then he crouched down before you, so you were eye level with him. His eyes were of a pretty brown and soulless to the core. You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. He sized you up for a while, until eventually he sighed. An exaggerated, mocking sound.

"How do you like it here?"

Your insides twisted.

"It's pretty." You said in a choked whisper.

He laughed, a hearty, yet sarcastic sound.

"Look at you. Just look at you. Being my good girl already." He said slowly.

He leaned in so close that his breath tickled your ear. You forced yourself to stay still.

"The door can be opened only by me. The same goes for all windows. All the walls are soundproof. There's no way you can get out, until I want you to. Do you understand?" For the first time, his voice was low and you could grasp the subtle threat. He didn't pretend to be cheerful for once.

Or was it truly pretense?

You forced yourself to nod.

And just like that, his twisted smirk was back.

"Very well." He swiftly stood up. "What would you like for dinner?"

You slowly tilted up your head to read his expression. Read his intention. Read his character or the lack of it. But there was nothing. Nothing for you understandable, nothing that made any kind of sense.

"I'm not hungry." You whispered.

He pretended to pout, but eventually held out his hand to you again. A bittersweet deja-vu. As much as you wanted to refrain from taking it this time, you were far more afraid of what would happen if you refused him.

You hesitantly took his hand and he pulled you up to your feet.

"Maybe a nice, hot shower then?" He purred.

Of course. This time, it wouldn't be a faceless man with a blue hat to violate you, it would be him. The devil himself. You could already feel it, smell it and taste it. In the shower, on the bed, the kitchen counter, the floor and against the wall, until he grew tired of you.

That was why you were there. That had to be.

Before you could react, he had led you back to a spacious bathroom. Everything looked ridiculously clean and expensive. The freestanding tub was sparkling and the fluffy towels begging to dry you off.

He'd bend you over the tub. Maybe push your head under water. You knew he would. Just a minute more.

Instead, he gently ushered you inside.

"I'll get you something clean to sleep in." He said matter-of-factly. "I'll leave it infront of the door. Take as much time as you need."

With that, he disappeared and closed the door behind him. Your eyes widened almost comically. You then rushed forward to lock the door, which worked with ease. Next, the window. You tugged on the handle, desperate to open it. Not that it would have made any sense, you were too high above the street. But the thought of opening the window still filled you with hope. Like maybe, at least there would be one way out.

When nothing worked, you tried to break the glass. But you quickly noticed it was no normal glass. He hadn't lied. The windows provided no way out.

You slumped down below the sink and cried for a while. To no great surprise of yours, your tears ran dry quickly and you just sat in silence for a while.

You were trapped.

And you had no idea what you were here for.

After what felt like half an hour, you got up with shaky legs and decided to check if the door was truly locked. It was. You unlocked it and perked your head out, only to realize he had left you a bathrobe outside, as well as slippers and a nightdress. It was pretty basic, made of cotton. But it wasn't revealing or anything. The thought was oddly comforting. You picked up the clothes and disappeared back into the room, where you locked the door and sighed.

Your eyes settled on the tub and you thought, why the hell not?

You made quick process of it. You got rid of your sweat-soaked clothes and stepped into the tub. The water filled up the tub rather quickly. At least the warmth of it provided some kind of comfort. You poured some scented lavender oil in and sunk deeper down.

You didn't dare close your eyes though. You were still sure he would come and take what he wanted. Mayhe he just wanted you to be clean first? He would come. He surely would.

But he didn't. Minutes passed, another half an hour. And he didn't come. You rinsed off and stepped out of the tub. The giant, fluffy towels felt heavenly against your skin. It was almost like you were in a hotel. Except for the murder and abduction part.

You slipped into the nightdress and the slippers and towel dried your long hair. Then you folded the towel neatly and placed it on the radiator. After a few long, deep breaths you carefully stepped outside. The cold air brought you back to reality as you followed back the same path he had led you earlier. You were surprised to find the living room empty, but you heard rustling sounds from the kitchen.

And then your gaze settled on the door.

It were less than five steps. You could make it. You could. If you were quick and took off the slippers, you could stealthily...

"Sweet girl?" That fake sweetness again, with the hint of underlying warning to it. You swallowed thickly and looked up. He stood in the doorway and looked at you with something resembling a warm smile.

"How was your bath?"

You stood frozen. Five small steps. If you thudded against the door loud enough, maybe someone might hear. Alert the police. Rescue-

"I asked you a question."

"Good." You whispered. And involuntarily added: "Thank you."

Good girl, purred your mothers voice.

But all he did was smile.

"Come, I made dinner. Just a few bites."

Your mind drifted back to Hannibal Lecter and you nearly spat. A careful glance into the kitchen and...

Pancakes. You gasped in relief.

He tilted his head to the side, smiling softly.

"You don't like pancakes?"

"I do." You whispered involuntarily.

They might be poisoned, but the fact that you hadn't eaten anything since lunch at work got the better of you. He slowly guided you into the kitchen and sat you down on one of the chairs, before he sat down opposite you.

He caught you staring down at the food suspiciously, which made him chuckle.

"They're not poisoned."

When you still didn't move, he rolled his eyes and took a bite off your fork. He chewed and swallowed with a smug expression.

"See?"

You reluctantly moved. They weren't bad. Pretty good even. You chewed carefully and never took your eyes off him. He did the same. And he still looked so unbelievably calm.

After you finished eating and downed a glass of water, you stared at him...expectantly.

His smirk widened.

"A curious little bird, aren't you?"

He narrowed his eyes somewhat and reached out to touch your cheek. "You cried."

To your surprise, when you flinched, he pulled his hand back and hummed softly.

"No need to cry, sweet girl. I'll take care of you. All you have to do is agree."

You already regretted asking. "Agree to what?"

He leaned back and bared his teeth in a predatory smile.

"Being mine."

Your brows furrowed in confusion and straight up stress. The calming effects of the bath were slowly fading away.

"What?"

"Mine, sweet girl. My girl."

"Your girl?" You asked somewhat incredulously, which was something he didn't seem to appreciate.

He reached out and cupped your face in his hand, his grip firm, but not painful. Yet. Your heart immediately skipped several beats.

"Oh, you will agree, sweet girl. The question is, will you agree willingly? Or do I have to make you?" He narrowed his eyes even further.

"Who are you, sweet girl?"

You stared up at him with wide, fearful eyes. Something told you that there was no right answer to that question.

And then, in a rare fit of courage, you said your name.

He took a long, deep breath and slowly dropped his hand from your chin.

"That's very tragic, sweet girl."

With a disapproving tsk he shook his head.

"Unfortunately, that was the wrong answer."

[vapekingg]

“You know I like my girls a little bit older.” — Your Love by The Outfield

February 14th, 1986

Eddie knows exactly how you want to spend your first Valentine’s Day together — in the back of his van with the windows steamed up.

A takeout pizza sits half-eaten and torn apart in the box near a makeshift pallet that you’ve gotten somewhat used to over the past few months. A single floodlight that shines into the front windshield is the only light, and it’s just enough. Just enough to cast Eddie in this dim orange-gold glow that shimmers off of the sweat dripping down his stomach.

He always gets worked over pretty quickly when you’re on top, and tonight you needed it. That control, that stress relief.

You’d told your boss at the record shop that Valentine’s Day would be a banger. It has been since you’d started there at sixteen. But what would you know? He’d scheduled you open to close, all by yourself, no question as to whether or not you might want to spend today with your boyfriend.

“Motherfucker,” Eddie’s moan wavers as his head lulls back against the inner wall of his van.

He’s all soft when it’s like this. All praise and devotion. Eddie’s palms swirl around the globes of your ass gently as you lift your hips up and down. He’s holding you close, your beasts against the warmth of his chest, your clit grinding against the coarse hair beneath his waist, his little grunts and cries and whimpers dying along the column of your throat. They inch up your neck and tickle your ear, urging you to keep going despite the burn in your thighs.

“It’s okay, baby. Just take what you need,” Eddie says between labored breaths when he notices the tremble in your hips.

But what you need is him deeper.

You adjust yourself above him, leaning back on your palms so that he slips further inside of you, the base of his cock widening to stretch you open.

There it is.

“Fuck!” You rasp, your hips jerking forward from sudden sensitivity.

Every rut drives you closer to the edge. Every stroke drags the veins of his thick cock against the walls of your dripping cunt. Sweat slicked palms trace up the curve of your thighs to keep you balanced while you ride, and each inch of your skin grazed is ignited like wildfire.

“That’s it, angel. Look at you,” he grits between clenched teeth. “Thought about this all fucking day…”

It must be killing him, holding back like this.

If it were up to him — and it usually is — you would be bent over the front seat right now. You wouldn’t know your own goddamn name, let alone care.

But you like how he looks when he lets you take control. His eyes half lidded and mouth slightly parted, sweat clinging to the hair framing his pretty face. It made the trembling thighs worth it.

“Did you?” You ask him, not caring so much if he responds but knowing that Eddie just likes to hear you when he’s like this.

“Ffffuck, yeah I did…” he moans, his grip tightening on your hips.

Another rut of your hips and his upward thrust meets yours.

"Eddie—" You cry out.

But he doesn't stop. With every stroke of your waist against his, Eddie is there to meet your ministrations. He's watching you. You can feel his eyes tracing over your flesh even with yours closed. The bounce of your breasts, the ripple of your pillowy stomach, Eddie takes in it all.

"That's right. Say my name, baby." The pink of his tongue lashes out to dart over his thumb before he drags the digit down your center.

The second he starts — the quick, gentle motion of his thumb soon growing frantic — it's the beginning of the end.

The swollen tip of his cock nudges its way to that spot deep inside of you that shuts your brain right off. Only he knows how to find it, and he's so fucking good at finding it. Once there, a salacious grin spreads across Eddie's face.

"Right fucking there, baby." He praises you, hands heavy on your hips, weighing you down so you can't move.

You're stuffed full of him, spread open around his thick length and dripping down the base. The receptors in your brain are firing at all cylinders and you've never felt this fucking euphoric before.

Until he grinds up into you.

Your orgasm hits you all at once, without warning. It washes over your entirety and has you begging him for both more and less simultaneously. And Eddie has never been one to give you less.

He feeds you his cock, thrusting up into your sopping cunt now, the van around you shaking in time with your depravity. It's all happening in passing, at the very back of your mind. All you can focus on is the constellations exploding in your vision as Eddie's pathetic little grunts morph into wanton moans of satisfaction.

A few spent moments later, you can feel your joint release leaking out of you. Eddie lays back on the floor of his van with his hands above his head, skin shimmering with the reflection of drying sweat off of yellow floodlights.

It truly is the perfect Valentine's Day. Now that you can think clearly, maybe your shift wasn't all that bad.

With his eyes still closed, Eddie reaches for the joint he'd left in his pants pocket for safekeeping. He lights it while on his back and takes two deep hits before passing it to you. The radio near the back door plays quietly in the background. You don't know what song is on. Boss had you playing Hounds of Love by Kate Bush all day on repeat.

But Eddie seems to know the tune.

He jerks up in his seat, hand wrapping quickly behind your back so that you aren't knocked off of him.

"Hey!" You shout, trying to keep the ruby red tip of the joint away from his beautiful hair.

"Shush," he slaps the volume dial on the radio, knocking it up more than enough notches. "This song is about us!"

Josie's on a vacation far away, come around and talk it over. So many things that I wanna say.

Eddie strums an air guitar behind your back and his eyes pop open wide as he sing-screams the next lyrics.

"YOU KNOW I LIKE MY GIRLS A LITTLE BIT OLDER!"

Your eyes roll back as you exhale the smoke from your lungs.

He'll never let those six months you were alive before him go.

[pinkslipxox]

Back to Sleep

Summary: Billie helps you out in the middle of the night 🤭

Warnings: smut

——————————————————————————

You couldn’t help yourself.

The ache between your legs didn’t help at while as you try to get your head out of the gutter. You know you should be asleep just like your wife is who lays besides you, her breathing soft and steady, lips parting ever so slightly at each breath she took, her arm lightly wrapped around your waist. As much as you know that she’d be more than happy to help you out, the thought of waking her up makes your heart ache. She’s just returned home from tour, and you know that all she wants to do now is rest.

You decide to take matter into your own hands.

Literally.

A soft sigh of relief escapes your lips as you rub your pulsating clit, your other hand slowly massaging the soft flesh of your breast, sending a warmth throughout your body. Your eyes flutter close as you slide a finger inside you, then two, getting lost in the feeling of them stroking your walls. Your other hand returns down to your core, once again giving your clit the attention it deserves, as your continue to pump your fingers in and out of your pussy. You bite your lip in order to not make a sound and risk waking Billie up. For a moment you’ve forgotten that she was sleeping besides you, since you usually do this when she’s away on tour. Who could blame you when you’re married to the Billie motherfucking Eilish?

“Y/N?” Billie’s soft voice makes you stop dead in your tracks.

You pretend that you are asleep but, of course, Billie knows damn well that you’re wide awake.

“Y/N Y/M/N O’Connell, what are you doing?” Her tone is stern yet you can hear a hint of amusement in it. In the soft glow of the moonlight, you can see her beautiful features and the way her piercing blue eyes are looking at you.

You stammer, “Y-you we’re asleep… I-I didn’t want to wake you, I—“

Billie cuts you off with a kiss, her tongue pushing through your mouth as she swallows your moans, igniting the fire once again. You slide your hand back to your core, and just as you’re about to touch yourself again, Billie forces your hand away and quickly replaces it with her own. She’s rubbing your clit in heavenly circular motions, just the way you like it, and you feel her smirk against your mouth.

“You can always wake me, baby. Especially when you’re fucking horny,” Billie murmurs huskily as she kisses your exposed skin that peaks from your black satin nightgown, and your head spins at her words.

Her fingers hook your panties, and in one swift motion, they are off. Billie’s lips find yours again and you bring yourself to straddle her. You whimper as you can’t help but grind over the clothed strap, your clit brushing over the material of your wife’s boxers, but Billie locks you in place.

“My poor, sweet wife,” Billie teases as she slips the night gown off you and tosses it. Her fingers find their way your hardened nipples and she begins to play with them, making you toss your head back in pleasure. “So worked up, desperate for me to fuck you. What happened to the little angel I married, Mrs. O’Connell?”

“Billie, please…” you whine, squirming in her grasp, your pussy throbbing with need.

“Oh, Mrs. O’Connell…” Billie tisks, her voice smooth and sultry. “Only ‘cause you asked so nicely.”

With your help, she takes the strap out, and you practically drool at the sight of it. Billie holds your hips as you lower yourself on top of it, a heady moan escaping your lips as it stretches you, overwhelming you with pleasure. You feel so full, so complete, so whole. Instinctively you begin to move your hips, slowly, savoring every moment, until Billie bucks her hips up, making you yelp as the strap hits that spot.

“Come on, mama, get yourself there,” Billie encourages, her grip on your hips tightening as she thrusts upwards, her cock hitting your g-spot with every stroke.

Your moans and gasps echo throughout the room, your eyes closed, your fingers digging into your wife’s milky skin. Billie rubbing your clit and sucking on your breast only adds on to your pleasure, making you see stars. The pressure in your tummy intensifies but it is lovely. God, did you luck out with Billie.

“F-fuck! Billie! I-I’m gonna—“

“Cum,” Billie growls as she squeezes your ass and you do. The orgasm leaves you shaking like a leaf but you’ve never felt so satisfied. All thanks to Billie.

“Stay inside me,” you whimper as Billie pulls the duvet over you, and she chuckles as she kisses your forehead.

“Sweet dreams, baby girl,” Billie murmurs softly as sleep begins to take over you, her cock buried inside you.

Let’s just say you slept like a baby the rest of the night.

[sanguineterrain]

restroom attendant | jason todd

Summary: Tonight is the worst night ever--you just got dumped on your birthday, and all you want to do is cry in the restaurant bathroom in peace. That is, until, the Red Hood bursts in. This city just won't cut you a break.

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!reader 

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings/tags: humor, mild angst, reader's ex-bf cheats and dumps her, jason is such a silly goose, flirting, meet ugly, canon-typical violence, awkward jason, comic relief dick grayson.

A/N: this is probably the silliest fic i've ever written LOL! i hope you guys enjoy it. please support your local jason todd enthusiast and reblog :)

the divider

Tonight sucks. 

With a shaky hand, you attempt to soothe your swollen eyes. You’ve probably been in here for about twenty minutes. Your Uber has definitely left, as has your now ex-boyfriend of three years. 

Yoga instructor. It’s always the yoga instructor. They’re always fucking the yoga instructor.

You swallow a mouthful of tears and phlegm and try not to let the wet sink touch your dress. All you’d wanted was a little class on your birthday, maybe have some wine and play footsie under the table with your boyfriend. But no. That would’ve been too easy for you. 

You’re starting to think this city is cursed.

The door slams open. The force of it shakes the bathroom, rattles the mirrors. You spin around.

A man slides across the floor and smacks his head on the opposite wall. Red Hood appears in the doorway, the eyes of his helmet glowing eerily. 

Yep. Definitely cursed.

"Let's try this again," Hood says pleasantly, reloading his gun with a fresh magazine. "And in the interest of making myself transparent: when I ask you a question, Jerry, I expect a truthful answer."

He stalks over to Jerry and heaves him up by the lapels of his suit jacket. Hood's biceps bulge as he holds Jerry against the wall. You squish yourself against the sink. Water soaks the back of your dress. 

"You're crazy, I didn't do anything!" Jerry shouts, feet barely scraping the floor. 

"Volume, Jerry. People are trying to enjoy their meals.”

“Let go of me, Hood! I wasn’t anywhere near the Iceberg Lounge!”

“Yeah, see, words are coming outta your mouth, but they don't match the fact that I have three people who put you at the scene. How can we remedy this inconsistency? Any ideas?"

Jerry squirms, but he's no match for Hood's strength. Your heart pounds in your chest.

"Don't give me to the cops!" Jerry begs. 

"Cops are the least of your worries right now," Hood snarls. "You're damn lucky Nightwing wants to talk to you, Jerry, or your head would hurt a lot more."

Slowly, you reach for your purse, trying to pull out your phone. Instead, you knock it to the floor. Tears gather in your eyes because this night just can’t cut you a break.

“Motherfucker,” you whisper. 

Hood turns, those frightening white eyes now on you. Jerry also looks at you, legs still dangling.

“Hey,” Hood says without a sign of struggle. “Shit. Y'alright? Did I swipe ya?”

“No,” you say, voice shaky.

His posture softens. “Okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. Don’t be afraid.”

“I believe you. But, um… you're in the women's bathroom.”

Red Hood gives the room a onceover. 

“Huh. So we are. Dunno how that happened.” He shakes Jerry by the collar. “Why’d you run into the women’s bathroom, asshole?”

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Don't kill me!” Jerry wails. 

“Shut it, Jesus. I'm not gonna kill you. Not yet, anyway.” 

“It's fine, I was just leaving,” you say, bending down to get your purse. 

“Hey, no, don't let me push you out,” Hood says. “Sorry. I'll be gone in a couple minutes.”

Hood adjusts his grip so Jerry's face is against the wall, arms and legs restrained. Then he zipties Jerry and sits him down hard on the floor. Hood presses a button on his helmet. 

“Yo, N, I'm at Prescott's. Yeah, with Jerry. No, I didn't tell him to run in here, he did that all on his own! Well, I chased him for ten blocks, so I’d prefer if you’d keep your bitching to yourself. Thank you… Okay, we're in the women's bathroom, so—well, I didn't do it on purpose! No, I’m—will you just come here? There’s a side window.” Hood presses the button again with a grunt. “Dickhead.”

“Are you gonna erase my memory?” you ask. 

Hood jerks, turning back to you.

“What? Hell no, I'm not gonna erase your memory. I don't do that shit, I promise.”

You slump against the sink. “That's too bad. I would prefer it.”

He looks up from Jerry’s last ziptie and pulls it extra tight. Jerry whimpers. 

“How come?” Hood asks.

You shake your head. “It's nothing.”

“Hm. Doesn't look like nothing. If you're in danger—”

“I'm not in danger. I…”

You glance at Hood. You can't see his face, but his body language seems genuine. From what you've heard, Hood isn't known for mincing words or doing things he doesn't want to. And he’s good to Gothamites. Well, the law-abiding ones, anyway. He’s even been endorsed by Batman.

What's the harm in telling him about your disastrous night? Not like you'll see him again. Or Jerry. 

“I got dumped,” you say. 

“Ah.” Hood nods. “Been there.”

Somehow, the idea of Red Hood getting dumped is weirder than him beating up a guy in the women’s bathroom of Prescott’s.

You sniffle, and wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. 

“Yeah, um. It was our three year anniversary today. He took me here, told me he was in love with his yoga instructor, and then left.”

You tear up thinking about it. Hood makes a quiet noise.

“Shit. Well, I haven't been there,” he says. “But I know infidelity. I'm sorry. Dudes are trash.”

“And it's my birthday today,” you blurt, sniffling. 

“Happy birthday,” Jerry says, clutching his stomach. 

“What a fucking asshole!” Hood snarls, and lets go of Jerry, who crumples like a sack of potatoes. He’s out cold in a second, frozen on the floor.

Your brows rise. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. It’s his first time in Gotham.” Hood shrugs. “Anyway, where was I? Right, your asshole ex. Like it's not enough to publicly dump you, and then he goes and does it on your birthday? Who is this guy? I'll go talk to him right now.”

You laugh a loud, snorting laugh. It bounces off the tiles. 

Hood tilts his head. “What’d I say?”

You catch your breath and wave your hand. 

“No, nothing, I’m sorry. I’ve just had a crappy night and that’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever offered to me.”

“I mean it,” Hood says. “I’ll scare him if you want.”

“As tempting as that is, I don’t want to be an accessory to a crime.”

You also don’t want to put your ex in the ICU, no matter how much he might deserve it. Best to let the universe do its thing.

“You’d be acquitted, don’t worry.” Hood leans against the stall. “I’d never letcha go to jail.”

You smile, your ears growing warm. “You don’t even know me. What if I deserve it?”

“Nah. I got a good sense about people. I can tell you’re sweet. Probably don’t even run through red lights.”

“I try not to,” you say, heat spreading to your face. 

“Yeah, a good girl. I figured as much.”

Your eyes widen. Hood coughs and rubs his neck. Even his coughs sound intimidating through the helmet, but that’s negated by his scrunched-up posture.

“Fuck. Sorry. That wasn’t a come-on,” he says. “I mean, it sounded like one, but I’m realizing what a creep I am, flirting with you in a bathroom with a zip-tied criminal. Sorry.” He shakes his head. “I hate myself.”

You grin. “It’s okay. You made my night better, actually. Thanks.”

“That’s a testament to how terrible your night’s been if I made it better.”

You shrug. “Could always be worse. I bet Jerry had an even shittier night than me.”

“You’d win that bet. But I—”

The window swings open with a clunk. Nightwing pops his head in. He looks at Hood, then you. 

“Uh,” he says. “Evening. What’s going on?”

“What’s going on is it took you almost ten minutes to get here,” Hood says, back in Vigilante Mode. “Did you get lost?”

Nightwing smiles with all his teeth. “I was actually cleaning up your mess at the Bowery, Hood. You’re welcome.” 

He looks at you. “Hi. Sorry about this. I hope we didn’t ruin your night. If there’s anything we can reimburse you for…”

You shake your head. “It’s okay. My night was already sunk. Don’t worry about it. Thanks for keeping Gotham safe.”

Nightwing laughs. “The pleasure is ours.”

“Alright, enough chattering, Dickwing,” Hood says. “Take him.”

He lifts the unconscious Jerry, pushing him up to the window. He does so effortlessly, his jacket riding up to reveal his skin-tight jumpsuit. 

You look away before he catches you staring. There’s definitely something wrong with you. 

Nightwing takes Jerry and waves at you. Then he disappears.

“So, uh,” Hood says. “I gotta go.”

“Oh! Right, of course. Sorry to keep you.”

“Now what’re you apologizing for?” he asks, and it almost sounds like a tease. You wonder what his smile looks like. What color his eyes are.

“Well, I really didn’t mean to keep you…”

“You didn’t keep me,” Hood says, and you can hear the warmth even through his decoder. “This is probably the best arrest I’ve ever made.”

He starts to climb through the window, then stops. He digs into one of the pockets of his belt and pulls out a scrap of paper. 

“This is my number,” he says. “Well, it’s kind of the vigilante hotline. But you can reach me here, in case you ever need help.”

Hood walks over to give it to you. He smells like gunpowder and oranges. He’s even larger this close, the width of his shoulders dwarfing you. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly. 

He nods and backs up, clapping his hands.

“Right. So I’ll go… Bye.”

Hood looks at you for a moment more. Then he hops up onto the window sill and slides out, somehow graceful despite his bulk. The window closes. 

Your dress has dried, which is nice. You walk out of the bathroom. It’s a miracle no one else has come in. 

You get your coat and this time, when you see the empty seat across from yours, you don’t burst into tears, which is progress. You call another Uber and go to wait for it at the front. The hostess approaches you.

“Ma’am?” she says, and holds out a small, plastic container. In it is a slice of tiramisu. 

“I didn’t order this,” you say.

“It was called in and paid for by a Mr. R.H. He wishes you a happy birthday.” 

“Oh. Thank you.”

You’re definitely leaving a five-star review on Yelp.

[acapelladitty]

I need Cooper Howard leaving bruises and marks on a partner for reasons. Marking up his girl all pretty like~

Mornings Echo

Pairing: Cooper Howard/F!Reader

(tw for: rough handling, grinding, biting, threats of violence, skin marking, groping, filthy talk, mild nipple play, jealousy, possessive behaviour) [1.6k words]

Fic Masterlist

Link to AO3

Crashing through the thin wooden door of the shed, a splintering noise squealed free of the old planks as Cooper kicked them shut with an aggressiveness that made your heart flutter. Random tools lined the wall opposite you, the wall to your back completely clear of debris, and a cheeky comment about his actions died in your throat as you quickly found yourself slammed against that same wall with a single fluid shove.

Stars dancing before your eyes as a surprised gasp fills the small area, your body remains stunned for a moment as Cooper stands before you, his hand still pressing harshly into your shoulder as he stares down at you with most of his features hidden by the shadows of his hat. You wrap a hand around his wrist, fingers clawing into the leather coat as you grip at him with equal aggression.

"Fucking ouch." You hiss, attempting to stamp at his foot with the ball of your own as petty revenge guides your movements. "The hell was that for?"

"Ain't sensible to tease a man like that." His eyes ablaze, the anger in Cooper's features is different to his usual rage as something much more muted yet complicated touches at the way his eyes narrow and his face tilts. "It'll get you into the kinda trouble I don't think you're ready to handle."

Tease?

A confused look furrows your brow.

Fresh off an exchange of caps for meds, you hadn't actively payed him enough attention during the transaction to tease him. All you had done was-

Oh.

Ah.

The trader, a lecherous old fuck with jerky fingers and a face that vaguely resembled rotten jelly, had shown an obvious interest in you that hadn't went unnoticed by yourself or, apparently, Cooper.

Never one to pass up the chance for a better deal, your rejections of his advances had been much less violent than you would have liked; but the resulting tolerance of the lingering touches he delivered with his disgusting hands has ensured an extra few capsules tossed in to the exchange.

So no, this wasn't anger that was pinning you to the wall.

This was jealousy.

"You're jealous." You accuse, never one to back down from the truth as his mouth visibly tightens in irritation at the words. "You didn't like me letting that filthy motherfucker think he had a chance! Damn, Cooper, didn't think it was that serious."

"You're free to do what you like and I don't pay your intentions no never mind. But what I can't abide is folks touching things that ain't theirs."

"I ain't anyone's." You reply, matching his tone and accented words with a mocking quality as your free hand shifts up to poke rudely at his chest. "So you can shove that possessive shit right up your ass until it comes pouring out of your jealous mouth."

He's on you in a flash, his quick movements catching you unaware as you squeak out your surprise once more. His mouth is hot against your own, forcing your lips open to claim his prize and steal a filthy kiss which he didn't deserve. A fact you make him more than aware of as you bite down on his lower lip with enough pressure to make him pull away, hissing violently and cursing you out as he does.

"You sure you ain't feral, darling? Biting like a rabid bitch? Better check to make sure."

His gloved hand forces itself within your shirt, accidentally ripping the top button free as it bounces along the floor to disappear under some dusty shelves. It does nothing to deter him though as his fingers drop enough to grope roughly at your left tit, pulling it free of your shirt as your feeble protests die in your throat - heated arousal making any denials difficult.

Fuck- you loved him like this. All business and action, decisive and determined. It was an attitude that had left you screaming louder than the wild dogs which roamed the abandoned wastelands.

Cowboy hat still lovingly perched atop his head, his face dips to your chest to replace his hand and blunted teeth roll across your nipple, the nub quickly peaking due to the cruel attention. His other hand still on your shoulder, both of your hands wrap around the back of his neck to pull him closer as he steals the breath from your throat.

Wordlessly panting, a low grunt escapes you as his teeth sink in to the flesh just to the side of your nipple - the skin there feeling sensitive and raw as he sucks it into his mouth, his intent to leave a livid mark in its wake clear. It's an uncomfortable sensation but hot as hell as you rub your thighs together, feeling the growing moisture there with a lightheaded frenzy making your thoughts fuzzy.

"Fuck, Cooper. You're gonna tear a chunk from me."

"A mighty fine idea. Maybe I will." He mutters into your breast before righting himself, looming to his full height once more. "I bet you'd taste just fine, all raw and bloody. Wouldn't even need to season you like all the others."

Grimacing at his cannibalistic tendencies, a facet of his personality that you didn't indulge in with quite as much enthusiasm, you glance down at the red mark on your chest - the imprint of his teeth visibly denting into the abused skin as Cooper continued.

"I'm sure I also saw that chunky son of a bitch eyeing up your neck so let's see if I can leave an impression there too."

Again moving too quickly for you to protest, Cooper presses his body into your own in such a way that you are utterly unable to move; trapped beneath his heated frame and the definite scent of leather and coppery blood which never seemed to leave him. He wasn't a jealous man typically but you were eager and more than interested in seeing how far this little game would go.

His roughened tongue licks across your pulse point, tasting the accrued sweat and grime which coats your skin and the wet sensation forces a shudder to run down your spine. He could say what he liked, but when it came to being a tease, he would always be the offending party. He seemed to delight in pushing your buttons with casual, lewd comments and finding particular ways of brushing his body against your own - regardless of who was around to witness it.

Tilting your neck to allow him easier access, he accepts the small boon with enthusiasm as his teeth join his tongue in marking up your skin. Soft kisses are interspersed with savage, quick snaps of his teeth and the dual sensations of pain and pleasure are almost enough to drive you insane as you writhe against him. Taking the hint, he pushes his knee between your legs and you instantly start to grind against his thigh - the stimulation enough to allow you to endure the rough treatment of your neck.

Your hand drops to his groin, cupping his hardened length through his trousers as he growls his appreciation into your skin.

"I think I like you when you're jealous." You taunt. "Maybe I should- fuck, Coop!" You cut off as he bites you once more, this time over the sensitive juncture where your neck meets the shoulder. "Maybe I should make you jealous more often."

"Dangerous game, sweetie." He rumbles in response, running his teeth along your earlobe. "I'm being Mr. Nice at the moment and marking up my property just a little bit, but there's always other ways to get the same results."

"Mmm, and what are you going to do, cowboy? Pulling at his head until he was facing you once more, the jealousy in his eyes is replaced by a burning arousal which you knew meant you were in for a solid ride. "Gonna rustle me up in that lasso of yours? Ride off with me in tow."

"Lasso's too nice for one as fiesty and spirited as you. Won't do shit. Any good rancher knows that a quick brand," his hand drops to your chest once more as his fingers poke at the sensitive mark he had suckled into the skin earlier, "would be best at reminding you who you belong to."

Already littered with scars and markings which showcased your journey through the wastelands better than any story could, the thought of a brand wasn't as off-putting as you might have thought and you rub as his cock with renewed vigour through his trousers as you give a contemplative hum.

"Sounds hot. Maybe if you're good and fuck me til I forgive that little shove into the wall," you lean into him and run your own teeth against his ear, "I'll even think about it, handsome."

[help-itrappedmyself]

Dead on Main AU 2

Masterpost

Jason blinks and he is not where he used to be. He can already tell he’s shorter and skinnier, and he’s staring at physics homework so he’s probably younger too. It takes him a moment to run all the scenarios. He knows what is most likely, he knows that soulmates body swap at sixteen and... Well, he’s not sure if he was dead or not for his sixteenth birthday, but he had been living on the assumption that he had missed it, whenever it was. 

Now he thinks that he’s the older one in this relationship. If his soulmate just turned sixteen, he’s still a minor. Society gets a little more lax about these things when it comes to actual soulmate relationships, but Jason- despite the age difference only being around two years- is not lax about it at all. So if this is what he thinks it is, he is going to have to have a talk with his soulmate about being just friends for a while. 

Which should be fine, it’s not like they know each other at all yet. Getting to know each other should take a while anyways. Though, he could start that now.

He looked to the right and saw the door to the bedroom on the same wall as the desk he was sitting at, and the door to the closet on the next wall. The bed is against the wall behind the desk, sitting in between two windows. There’s a nightstand with a lamp on it next to the bed and a chest of drawers against the wall to his left that has a mirror hanging over it. There are space posters on the walls all around the room.

Jason gets up and walks over to the mirror. The boy in the mirror is short and skinny, just like he thought. He has blue eyes and black hair that flops over his face. Jason takes a second to wonder if the kid had plans for his birthday, realizing probably not. It’s tradition nowadays to spend your sixteenth birthday with just your family in case the switch is made. 

So, Jason's soulmate is what appears to be a normal, messy teenager. Posters, clothes on the floor, homework to do. Jason goes over to double check the homework, to see if he can find any that’s finished. There, his math assignment is already done, and it seems his soulmate’s name is Danny Fenton. He takes a closer look at all the school supplies and in his backpack and doesn’t find anything with the school name on it. 

Taking another look around the room, Jason doesn’t see a phone, and it wasn’t in the backpack. Jason tries not to feel weird as he pats around his soulmate’s pockets. He finds a phone, thinks for a second, then types in his own number and calls.

It rings for a second. Someone picks up, but all Jason can hear is shouting until he hears his own voice.

“Um, hello, Jason?”

“Yeah, this is Jason. You with my family?” 

“If the people that were in the room with you before are your family. I really only have confirmation that one of them is your dad.”

“Have those motherfuckers not even introduced themselves?” 

“Sort of. Eventually.” Jason heaves a long sigh. Danny chuckles.

“Right, well your name is Danny right?”

“Yeah! Have you talked to my family yet?”

“No, haven’t left your room. Your name was on your homework though.”

“Oh, please do not judge the homework.” Jason laughs, he does not know how Danny made his voice sound like that, breathy and higher than his voice has been in years.

“Didn’t even look at that part. So, I’m assuming that you guys are coming to me?”

“I think so?” There’s a bit of a commotion. “Stop it, buzz off!”Is said away from the phone. “They said yes.”

“Please tell me they’re not all planning on coming.”

Danny makes an I don’t know sort of hum. “Look, I do need to warn you… about a few things actually. Jazz, my sister, her room is across the hall and she’ll be able to help you if you. I sort of have… like a medical condition. I would rather explain that to you in person, but she’ll watch out for you if you go meet her.”

“I can do that. Anything I should look out for?”

“My parents leave all kinds of weapons around the house, and sometimes they’ll target me-you- at random, so try not to touch anything, and either stay upstairs or have my sister take you somewhere in town. Whatever you do, don’t go in the basement, the lab is down there.”

“Kid, what?” Jason rubs his hand down his face.

“This is really an in-person talk.”

Jason feels like he can relate. There are a lot of things a soulmate should know that Jason doesn’t know if he’s ever going to tell Danny but if he did he would want it to be in-person. “Sure, okay. Find Jazz, preferably leave the house.”

“Yep!” Again, Jason does not understand how Danny makes his voice sound so peppy. “Is there anything I should know?”

“Shit, if I had time I would give you a warning about everyone in my family individually, but for now… I don’t know if this will translate over…” It will, but there’s really no way to explain that. “I have… I guess it’s sort of a health condition as well. My family knows what triggers it, and they should be on their best behavior right now anyways, but if you wouldn’t mind putting someone on the phone I can threaten them properly.”

Danny laughs and Jason hears a beep, before “You’re on speaker!” is called out.

“I swear to god if any of you scare him, hurt him, or anything I’m going to kill you. I know everything you love and if you don’t act normal, just know, it will be destroyed.”

“Yeah, yeah. Jay, this is your soulmate!” Dick sounds way too excited.

“Also, most of us love you so that threat doesn’t work as well as you think it does.” Steph yells.

“Bitch, I died once, I’ll do it again. Don’t test me on this right now.”

The room through the phone quiets down quickly except for Danny’s laughter.

“Oh, wow, same.”

“Danny! You know how we feel about the death jokes.” Jason hears as the door behind him opens. Talking starts up on the other end of the line, but he ignores it for the moment as a tall redhead walks in the room. She stops in front of him and raises her eyebrow.

“You must be Jazz.” Jason says. This gets a hush on the other end of the line. “I’m Jason.”