#gentry fic

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Killing Time: Prologue

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, includes violence, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: a job offer could be an escape from your old life, but the new one, may not hold freedom.

Characters: Kraven the Hunter, August Walker, Lloyd Hansen, James Conrad, God the Bounty Hunter, Court Gentry

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

“Yes, he’s here again,” your voice creaks as your hand shakes. “Please. I called yesterday…” And every other day for months. Almost a full year.

You peer out between the small space that divides curtain from window. The shadow looms, looking up at you. Your phone vibrates as the operator hems and haws on the other end.

“Are you sure it’s him?” She asks. They always doubt you. Report after report, phone call after phone call, and it’s always question, question, question. You sigh.

“Yes,” your voice peeks as you pull back and hide against the wall. “Yes, I know it’s him. He’s texting me.”

You don’t even need to check. It’s the same thing every time. Next, he’ll try to sneak in the front and be knocking at your apartment door.

“Well, ma’am, you say you’ve called before and we’ve sent a cruiser and we’ve filed reports. And this man keeps showing up, so what exactly do you want me to do now? I can’t issue you a safety order over the phone--”

“Excuse me?” You gasp. “Excuse me? Are you serious? I have an order already and much good it does me. I call you and I get accused of being dramatic and questioned. What I want is for someone to protect me.”

“Ma’am, don’t get abusive with me,” she warns. “Have you tried telling him to go away yourself?”

“Wow, wow,” you throw your hand out. “Really? Really? No, I never thought of it,” you say sarcastically, “is there someone else who can take me call? I really don’t feel safe.”

“If it makes you feel better, I can reroute an officer to you. Alright?” She speaks as if you’re a child. You’re too weak to argue anymore.

“Whatever,” you hang up.

You can’t do this anymore. You need to get out of here. Not that you didn’t think of it before but you can’t afford anything else. Your rent control is the only thing keeping you under a roof. You’ve already switched jobs, just to get away from him. There isn’t that much else up there.

You drag yourself through the shadows and sit on the bed. You exist in darkness. You don’t turn on the lights so he can’t see in. You keep the curtains shut. You only leave for work and always take a different exit, never the same route; not always the bus, not always the train.

And friends? What are those? Most of them took his side, said you were throwing around false accusations, and the others accused you of being obsessed. The single coworker you confided in told you to leave town. Wow, well, if you could afford that, you wouldn’t stay in this building with the grinding radiator and rattling fridge.

You look at your phone.

‘I see you.’ The message was sent while you were on the call with emergency services. Several more followed. ‘I just want to talk’; ‘you look so pretty’; ‘please, I love you’.

As you read each text, you can hear the last conversation you had with Jake. He’s a relic of your former friend group, the very reason for your dejection. It’s almost funny how the rest just cut ties but he won’t let go.

It all started with a kiss. A kiss and rejection. New Years Eve and the clock counted down. You didn’t expect him to turn and plant one on you and when you shoved him away, that dreamy look in his eyes turned to fury as you fled. New Year, New you, right?

The new you is scared and paranoid and tired. So, so tired.

You get up and move the chair in front of the door. Just in case. You retreat, keeping your phone close, and grab the extendable baton from the table. You sleep with both, if you can sleep. That night, you won’t.

You settle in on the couch. You don’t use the bedroom. You need an easy escape. You sit back against the cushions and scroll on your phone. It might be hopeless, but you trawl the job board and the apartment boards. You might find a nugget of gold in all the pebbles.

You sign into the job site and see the red dot in the corner. It’s always a marketing promo. ‘Recommending’ a job you don’t qualify for or an invitation for an MLM scheme. It’s a joke. You don’t understand how anyone ever gets a job but everyone seems to have a better one than you.

You tap the inbox to make the red dot go away. You hate it floating in the corner of your vision. Your thumb twitches and hovers over the screen as you read the subject line. Hm.

‘Caretaker Position: Relocation Required’.

Well, you don’t really have the experience for caretaking but the second part sounds intriguing. You hesitate. It’s too good to be true. You’re sure there will be a list of qualifications longer than your resume.

Tap.

You open up the message.

‘Hello,

We’ve reviewed your profile and determined you might be a match for this position.

New Applicants Welcome.

We are seeking an individual to undertake caretaking duties for a property. This role would include the following:

Lawn care

General cleaning and maintenance

Manual labour requiring lifting of up to 60lbs

24/7 tenancy within property (no rent for chosen candidate)

Subsidized relocation

Training on-site

If you are seeking a fresh start and to learn new skills which can take you into future roles in a custodial or caretaking capacity, this is the job for you. To apply, please submit brief profile and resume for consideration.

Applicants are subject to a background check.’

You bite down on the inside of your lip. It sounds interesting but you’re not sure you’re a good fit. It’s so general, too. Would you need to know how to deal with electrical issues? Your apartment sure has taught you a lot about dealing with broken utilities, but your formal training is lacking.

And it’s a big thing. You want to get out of here but it’s still daunting in comparison to your current predicament.

You tense as you hear footsteps in the hall. You brace yourself and lower the phone, staring at the door. The thumping on the other side makes you flinch. Your heart races.

“Baby, I know you’re awake. Please. I just wanna talk.” He keeps tapping. “If you just talked to me, we could figure this out.”

You shudder and look at your phone again. You stare at the big blue button; ‘Apply Now’.

“I forgive you. For lying about me. Everyone knows you were just upset. I’ll tell them all it was just a misunderstanding…” he begs as the door shakes in the frame, the chair knocking against the handle. All that stands between you and him are those hinges and that flimsy piece of furniture.

You press down on the button. It can’t get worse than this.

[wokeupinmars]

“I'll go wherever you go”

Pairing: Sierra Six / Court Gentry x Reader

Summary: Tender truths come to light when noisy neighbors cause Six and Claire to seek refuge at your place.

Warning: None. This part contains crumbs of Six and Reader's previous relationship and insight into the domestic life they're beginning to lead with Claire.

Word Count: 3K

Author’s Note: This is the second part of the Playing House series.

Part One: The Pretty Nurse Who Lives Down the Hall

Part Three: The End of Beginning

Please comment and/or reblog if you enjoyed this!!

RG Masterlist

Your body moved on autopilot, working four twelve-hour shifts this week had drained you completely. All you wanted was a nice hot shower, followed by eating whatever leftovers were in the fridge and then hitting the sack. 

The last thing you were expecting the night to bring was company but when you spot Six and Claire at your door, you knew a wrench would be thrown in your plans. You remove your headphones, “Everything alright?” you ask, once you get close enough to see the dark circles under both of their eyes.

“Oh thank god,” Claire breathes out, leaning into you immediately. You instinctively wrap your arm around her and look at Six, your eyes filled with concern, “What’s wrong?” 

Whatever it was you knew it couldn’t be good. A few months had passed since they had moved in and while the three of you had fallen into some sort of routine, you knew Six was still reluctant to lean on you. Weekly dinners, movie nights, running any and all errands together, as well as spending the majority of your free time with them did little to chip away at his self-reliant nature. It wasn’t something you held against him, you knew him well enough to know that it would take some time for him to adjust to having someone willing to help him carry the weight of the world.

So for him to show up at your door like this, it must have been serious. He lets out an exasperated sigh and nods his head towards the door, “Can we sleep here tonight?”

“Of course,” you reply, stepping away from Claire to fish through your bag for your key and open the door. Claire walks through the door first, b-lining for your couch, you stand aside and wait for Six to enter but he motions for you to go in first, “Can you please clue me in on what’s going on? You both look like you could collapse on the spot.”  

Six locks the door and glances back at you, “You know those two guys that live next door to us?” 

“The college students?” you ask.

He nods, “Well one of them went away for the weekend, and the other has had his girlfriend over the entire time. They’re either arguing or having loud makeup sex.” 

You grimace at that. “It’s so much worse than that,” Claire grumbles out, “The people that live above us decided that 2 a.m. is the ideal time to rearrange furniture.” You give them both a sympathetic look and gesture for Six to sit in the armchair. He leans his head back, allowing himself to sink into the chair. 

“You should’ve texted me. You guys could’ve crashed here since I’ve been working the night shift,” you tell him as you set your bag down.

He knew you had been working the night shift for the past four days, your work schedule was something you always kept him updated on. “I didn’t want to bother you,” he murmurs, “his roommate was supposed to come back, I thought it would be over…nothing could have prepared to hear a three-way.”  

Your eyes widen at that, “Good god.”

Claire begins to lull away, you crouch down to face level and rub her back gently, “Can you stand up for me, Sweetheart?” She nods her head and sits up, pausing for a moment, and then pushes herself up onto her feet. You guide her down the hall towards your room, letting her crash there. She looks up at you, her eyes barely open as you lay her down on your bed, “Thank you,” she whispers, as you unfold and drape one of your blankets over her. 

“You’re welcome, baby.” 

— 

“She okay?” his voice was gravelly as he spoke. 

“Out like a light,” you assure him. You set down extra pillows and blankets on the coffee table and start taking the cushions off the couch, “You okay with sharing the pull-out with me?” 

He helps you pull the metal handle and unfold the bed, which makes a creaking noise that pierces the room, “And you’ll behave?” 

“Haven’t I always been a good girl for you?” you tease, prompting Six to give you a look that you can only interpret as his sleepy attempt at a glare. 

You leave him in the living room, heading to the bathroom to take a much-needed shower. The hot water beats against your skin, the exhaustion you had been feeling for the past few days seeping into your bones. You try to let your muscles relax and relieve all the tension stored in your body but you’re still a bundle of nerves. 

Six was still awake when you got out of the shower, “Strawberries,” he murmurs.

“What?” you question, walking into the kitchen, opening the fridge, and scanning the shelves for something to eat. Six trails in behind you, “Strawberries,” he repeats, “You have strawberries on your shorts.”

Your lips form an ‘o’ as you put what remains of the pasta you made a few days ago to heat. The dish was steaming when you took it out of the microwave and set it on the table. You didn’t think Six would sit at the table with you but much to your surprise, he does. You press play on your answering machine and listen your voicemails instead of waiting idly, for the food to cool. Most of them were unknown numbers, your typical scam calls, the one that did catch your attention was from your former real estate agent. The message itself began playing halfway through, it was clear she hadn’t waited for the beep to start talking, “...I know you wanted to stop looking but the asking price for the house on 73rd you liked dropped by a lot…” her voice starts to break up and the voicemail stops. 

Six raises his eyebrows at you, “I didn’t know you were looking at houses.” The confusion of his voice made it seem like more of a question than a statement.

You shrug it off, “That was before.” You feel the side of the container with the back of your hand to determine if it has cooled down enough to finally eat and sink your fork into the pasta, “You know you can go to sleep right?” 

He nods, crossing his arms over his chest, “I know…why’d you stop looking at houses?”

You were blowing on the forkful of pasta before bringing it up to your mouth, you held up a finger, telling him to give you a second as you ate. “Why do you think?” you answer. 

A quiet hum leaves his lips, “Left the job after they hired you to take me out and now this…I’m starting to think you’ve got a soft spot for me.” You scoff at that and point your fork at him, “In your dreams.” 

“If only you knew.” 

You recognize quickly that he’s probably far too tired to realize the shift in his demeanor. This felt like old times, back when the two of you would shack up in between jobs, it was nice and you wanted to revel in it but just like then, you knew it was only temporary, that you would have to let go even if you didn’t want to.

It wasn't until he started speaking again that you realized you had gone quiet, “Are Claire and I actually the reason you stopped looking at houses?” 

“Yeah,” you don’t even bother denying it, “I kept telling myself it was just until you guys settled in. We’ve walked away from each other so many times before, I figured it would be no different this time around. I guess I didn’t think I would get attached…but now…I make sure I never have a night shift on Fridays so I don’t miss a game night, keep three different kinds of hot sauce in my pantry, and have essentially half of Claire’s things scattered around the apartment.” 

He goes quiet and you’re almost certain you had gotten a little too touchy-feely for his liking, but then he starts to talk, “No one else uses the mug you always use when you come over. It's just yours...and Claire doesn’t actually like tea, we only buy it ‘cause we know it’s your favorite.” 

You smile softly at that, your heart warms at the small gesture, “You do?” 

“We do,” he confirms.

—

You finished eating and opted to leave the dish to soak, telling yourself it was a problem to be dealt with in the morning. You head back into the bathroom to brush your teeth and complete your skincare routine. 

You watch in the mirror as he appears in the doorway a few minutes later, watching as you complete the steps of your skincare routine, “You know I’ve already got a shadow right?”

Six sighs heavily, stepping into the bathroom, and leans against the counter, just observing you, “What is that?” 

“Moisturizer,” you answer, working the product into your skin. “Want some?” 

He didn’t have a chance to reply when you pumped some of the cream onto your fingers and started applying it to his face, “Is it supposed to be cold?” his hand rested on your waist. You shush him and rub the moisturizer into his skin.

He lets out a quiet “Thank you” and waits for you to leave the bathroom before following suit. 

“You want me to build a pillow wall between us?” you tease as you lay down. You expect him to lay beside you but he just stands at the foot of the pull-out, you pat the spot beside you, “Why are you just standing there? Come to lay down.” 

“Move over,” he instructs.

You furrow your eyebrows at him, “Why? What’s wrong with that side?”

“Nothing,” he states. You’re about to press further to understand what the issue is but he answers your question before you even have the opportunity to ask it, “This side,” he motions to the side you were lying on, “Is closer to the door.” 

You huff out a sigh and reluctantly roll over onto the other side. He was right, the side you laid on was closest to the door. You didn’t think it was that big of a deal but you knew better than to try and fight him on this one. He flicks off the lights and waits a few seconds to let both of your eyes adjust to the darkness. The springs creak under both of you as he gets in. Silence fills the room as the two of you lay beside each other. You turn on your side to face him, only to find he’s already looking at you. “I missed you, you know? Don’t think I’ve said that yet,” you say quietly.

Six doesn’t say anything at first instead he stretches his hand out and rests it on your hip, giving it a gentle squeeze. You could tell he was testing the waters, you weren’t expecting any other kind of acknowledgment beyond that but you were pleasantly surprised when he snaked his arm under you and pulled you to his chest by your waist, “Miss you too,” his words coming out in a low rumble.

You lift your head, “Yeah?” you ask, unable to suppress your grin. 

His hand comes up and pushes your head back down to his chest, “Don’t let it get your head,” he mutters. You let out a breathy laugh and zeroed in on the loud thumps of his heartbeat under your ear. 

You soak in the moment, you know that it isn’t going to last forever, but you allow yourself to indulge in the comfort that being held by him brings anyway.

According to the glowing numbers of your cable box, only ten minutes had passed. The tranquil silence that washes over the two of you combined with the feeling of his hand rubbing up and down your back soothes you, “Court?” You whisper. 

He lets out a groan, letting you know he’s listening. You take a deep breath, “I know it's a bit outlandish but if I did move would you and Claire come with me?” 

Your words hang in the air for a second, ‘Would you want us to?” You could hear his heartbeat pick up ever so slightly as he spoke. 

“Yes,” you affirm, shifting and nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the faint scent of his body wash. 

“I'll go wherever you go,” his voice hushed,“We can talk about it more in the morning with Claire, she’ll be ecstatic.” A content hum escapes your lips, it was the answer you wanted to hear. You inhale deeply and let your body completely relax against him on the exhale. You stop trying to fight off your drowsiness and let your heavy eyes close. There’s a delicate pressure against your forehead before you finally doze off. A kiss.

— 

The repeated clicks of a camera are what woke you up. Your face was smushed against Six’s chest, and your eyes fluttered open and immediately squeezed shut when you were blinded by a flash. Claire’s giggle rings in your ears. You sit up and rub your eyes. You blink repeatedly before your vision becomes clear. Claire was standing on one of your dining chairs, her Polaroid camera in hand, “Good morning,” she chirped.

“Morning kiddo,” your voice was hoarse as you spoke. You stretch and let out a yawn. You turned to the side to look back at Six’s sleeping form and brushed a few strands of hair that fanned across his forehead.

“I’ve never seen him like this before…so at ease,” she whispers, stepping down from the chair. A soft smile appears on your face as you continue to look at him, “Probably been a while since he’s gotten the chance to sleep in,” you say, matching her volume.

Claire taps her chin with her pointer finger, “Sure…but don’t you think it might be for another reason?” You knew what she was getting at but you chose to dismiss it, “Nope, definitely the sleep.”

“And not who he’s sleeping with?” she questions, tilting her head. You avert your eyes away from Six and back to her, “How do you feel about pancakes for breakfast?” It was a terrible attempt at changing the topic but when her eyes lit up at the mention, you knew you were in the clear. “With chocolate chips?” You nod and instruct her to go brush her teeth, letting her know that there are extra toothbrushes in the cabinet under the sink.

You wait until you hear the door to the bathroom close before saying aloud, “I know you’re awake,” as you continue to play with his hair. He opened one eye, peeking up at you before rolling over onto his stomach, lazily draping his arm over your lap. If you had to guess it was likely that he’d been awake from the second Claire dragged the dining chair from the kitchen and into the living room. 

With a soft pat, you lift his arm just enough for you to throw your legs over the side of the pullout and stand. “You want chocolate chips in your pancakes too?” He makes a noise which you take as a yes. 

Claire was out of the bathroom and eager to help by the time you were adding the wet ingredients into the dry, she stood beside you as you focused on getting rid of any lumps, “Can I add the chocolate chips?” 

You point to the bag, silently indicating it’s time. She sprinkles the chips into the bowl of batter, watching from over your shoulder as you fold them into the mixture. “So you’re off for the rest of the—” she starts only to cut herself off when Six enters the kitchen, “Nice of you to join us in the land of the living.” 

“It’s too early to deal with you two,” he mumbles, clasping his fingers together and holding them over his head to stretch. His shirt rises and you’re able to catch a glimpse of his happy trail. He tries to reach his hand into the bag of chocolate chips Claire’s holding but she's quick to slap his hand away and hold them away from him and scolds him, “You haven’t even brushed your teeth!” 

—

Claire knew something was up just from the way the two of you sat across. “You guys look like you’re about to tell me you sent the family dog to live on a farm upstate and that he’s in a better place now,” she jokes, uncapping the bottle of syrup and dousing the stack in them. 

You and Six exchange glances before he clears his throat, “We do actually want to talk to you about something.” The firmness in his voice makes her wary, a worrisome expression spreads across her face, “Now I’m nervous.” 

“How do you feel about moving again?” The question makes her slump into her seat, “Why? We’ve been doing so good here, I like it here.” 

“You like her,” Six corrects. The corner of your mouth curves up when he says that, you knew Claire had grown attached to you but it felt good to hear. “And you don’t?” Claire counters, “I don’t understand, we both like it here…we have someone here, why would we leave?” 

You pinch the bridge of your nose, “We should have practiced this….I’m moving and—”

The frown on her face deepens as she interrupts you, “You’re moving?” 

“I am, but,” you emphasize the word, “Six and I talked about the possibility of you two moving with me. Same area, just out of these crummy apartments and into a house.” You watch as Claire perks up, “Move in with you? For real?” 

Six nudges you with his elbow, his nonverbal way of saying “I told you so.” He nods his head in confirmation. Claire is beaming. “So you’re okay with the three of us living together?” you ask her.

She shakes her head ‘yes’ profusely, “This is great, we get to live with you, I got pancakes, and Buster’s well.” Six’s eyebrows crease and confusingly repeats the name. “The family dog? God, Six, you gotta keep up,” she retorts, cutting into the pancakes, a grin graces her face when takes a deep breath and sighs.

—

Part Three: The End of Beginning

[hederasgarden]

Ryan Gosling Character Masterlist

The Grey Man

Oneshots

Safe With Me (Sierra Six x F!Reader | Mature | 2.7K)

Six is a hard man to read up until the moment he isn’t.

Daylight (Sierra Six x F!Reader | Explicit | 1K)

You spend an early morning in bed with Six after he returns from a mission.

Drabbles

The Signal (Sierra Six x F!Reader | Gen | 706) You take pity on Six after watching him suffer through a number of terrible dates.

Operation Elevator (Sierra Six x F!Reader | Gen | 780)

Claire plays matchmaker when she realizes Six need a little help wooing their new neighbor.

Tender Loving Care (Sierra Six x F!Reader | Explicit | 900)

You help Six relax after a hard mission.

Dom AU (Sierra Six x F!Reader | Mature | 500)

You reach out the famous Dom Sierra Six to explore your submissive side and work on your anxiety and confidence issues. 

Just Pretend (Sierra Six x F!Reader | Mature | 780)

For a moment, Six thinks about how his life could be different. 

Headcanons

Wall sex with the gloves HC 

Sierra Six + Kinks

Sierra Six + Kinks Part 2

Sierra Six Housewife Kink

Sierra Six with a breeding kink

What kind of job would Six get after he retires?

Overstimulation Kink

Eating you out and body worship with Six

Six taking care of a partner with depression/anxiety

Crazy Stupid Love

Top Shelf (Jacob Palmer x Plus Size!F!Reader | Gen | 1.3K)

When your tinder date turns out to be a dumpster fire of a person, your evening is rescued by a handsome stranger.

Drive

Need (Driver x F!Reader | Explicit | 600)

He’s quiet, even when he’s fucking you.

Blade Runner 2049

Interlinked (Officer K x F!Reader | Mature | 5.8 K)

Stepping in to help K is instinct, but what comes after is a choice, one that’s easy to make.

A soul in woe (Officer K x F!Reader | Mature | 571)

Prompt - Forced proximity, forbidden romance, and soulmates who can’t be together.

The Fall Guy

First Kiss (Colt Seavers x F!Reader | Mature | 400)

Your first kiss with Colt is different than you imagined.

Ocean Eyes (Colt Seavers x F!Reader | Mature | 536)

You and Colt share a moment on the beach. 

A picture is worth a thousand words (Colt Seavers x F!Reader | Gen | 367)

Prompt - Bodyguard AU + "YOU SENT ME PICTURES OF YOU NAKED WHILE I WAS IN A WORK MEETING!"

The Wedding (Colt Seavers x F!Reader | Gen | 367)

Prompt - Fake dating trope with an old childhood friend of his which turns into forced proximity of having to share a bed.

Headcanons

Colt Seavers tying you up

♡Main Masterlist♡

[anitalenia]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓰𝓻𝓪𝔂 𝓶𝓪𝓷 ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑦 𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑡𝑦𝑝𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑦'𝑑 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 . . . 𝙥𝙡𝙨 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙠𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 ₊˚⊹♡

— 𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐘𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐍 ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙ 𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒚𝒅 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒐𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒔, always feeling the need to show off and showcase his winnings and scores. He was egotistic and sadistic, finding pleasure in the gory details and intricate, bloody intertwining of a persons biological makeup. He was such the opposite of six in every way possible.

Loud, dramatic, unreasonable.

He didn’t care about anything… He didn’t care about anything except you, you and him and the twisted lovesick bubble you were entrapped in together. He was selfish and cruel, mean and downright psychopathic yet with you he was… mush. Just a lovey-dovey pile of hearts pooled around your feet that worshipped your every, perfect step.

You saw his more sweet, romantic side reserved quite literally just for you and it truly made you feel special. You knew he wasn't a good man yet he was the best man for you, and that's all that mattered. He was sweet to you, cherished you, protected you, worshipped you, doted on you and hung off every sweet wish that escaped your glossy lips.

This was a fact known amongst anyone who spoke his name, that yours was just a faint whisper behind it. You were his other half, the Queen of his hellish kingdom, the better part of him symbolized in the uncharacteristic love he had for you. You were off limits, untouchable, his and only his and... you loved it that way.

Lloyd, as so in touch with his bold personality, loved to shower you in rather extravagant bouquets and gifts more lavish than necessary. He was dramatic and exemplary in his own right yet there was one simplistic tradition he couldn’t stray from… roses.

Lloyd loved roses; pink roses, white roses, blue roses. But he especially loved the deep red ones, the rich color and smell of the most perfect flower that personified love and loyalty like no other and you deserved no less. Roses were classy, beautiful, timeless such as you.

He would buy you those teddy bear shaped roses wrapped in delicate red bows, the overly large bouquets wrapped in delicate pink paper and ribbon you needed two hands to carry. He would even leave that morning with a sweet kiss on your lips and an impish smile under his mustache, knowing he had left you 100 bouquets to wake up to just downstairs, each with a note saying one reason why he loved you.

There was absolutely nothing simple about this man. Spoiling you was a love language of his, a way he portrayed his undying love for you in the expensive roses and exotic flowers he gifted you with. He was extravagant and ensured his devotion to you was just as such to anybody who dare pry.

He wanted you to have the best of the best, spoiled you with the grandness of things in every aspect of your life so why should flowers and bouquets be any different? You only got the prettiest of flowers, the finest of tissue paper and ribbon, from the best flower shop he imported them from.

Really, you knew his showboating was just a sly scheme of his to show his goons that you belonged to him and that he was yours. You didn’t mind his possessiveness though, your shared mansion littered with the finest of glass and marble vases to hold all the roses he’d give you. Anyone could walk in and see that you were well taken care of.

Every room in every hall carried a pot of flowers, the prettiest of flowers, the prettiest of roses, and yet to him you were always the most beautiful thing amongst them all. You were delicate and gossamery, so fine and enchanting just like the roses he’d give you. And, just as with every rose comes its thorns, or in other words, Lloyd Hansen will always be right behind you in case anyone dare try and pluck your pretty petals.

He’d always be there to save you, protect you, keep you and your beauty safe from anything that try and take you from him. He gifted you with all the prettiest of roses but for him you were his rose, his pretty flower, his pretty girl.

Now, Lloyd Hansen wouldn’t be Lloyd Hansen if he didn’t gift you with a backyard full of your very own rose bushes now would he? So, that’s exactly what he did. A whole garden dedicated to you, pristine and pampered with the best gardeners so he could give you roses anytime he wanted. Not a moment went by when you weren’t being smothered with red red roses in the safety of his castle; the belle to his beast in all the best ways.

Yes, Lloyd Hansen was evil incarnate, ripping at the seams a hellish, bloodthirsty beast stuck in human flesh but with you… not with you. You were his humanity, his princess in the twisted fairy tale he orchestrated for you. You loved him and all his murderous tendencies, and he was completely, irrevocably, irreversibly in love with you.

As every hundredth rose could tell anyone who dare ask.

— 𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐀 𝐒𝐈𝐗 / 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓 ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒆𝒅, never one to spare a smile unless it was sarcastic and mean. But with you, his stony face and rigid exterior could never deter you. You had been with him for far too long now, too adept in his several complex mannerisms to be able to differentiate the good ones from the bad ones. You took him as he was, as he is, his blank faces and longly trauma and everything he came with.

Yes, he was usually so withdrawn and cold to anybody else, quick to leave and utter an irritated grievance but never with you. With you, he was warm and bright, soft smiles and loving eyes. With you, he was right where he was meant to be, by your side and protected by the impenetrable confines of your endless adoration.

Six gets you flowers randomly and sporadically, and it was such a sweet surprise to you each and every time he did. He rarely ever got you a bouquet unless it was something you explicitly wanted, something he’d really only purposely get on days that were really special — holidays or anniversaries.

He doesn’t do roses and old fashioned bouquets he felt every guy did for their lady, he figured you deserved more than tradition, something better. So, he likes to be unique and tries to make an effort in getting flowers specifically tailored to your tastes.

He was a gentleman even if he didn’t believe so, always overcompensating for something you weren’t sure what; maybe because he believed himself to be a difficult man to love, a difficult man to be with, something lesser than you so he’d try and make up for it.

He’s the type of man to bring you a flower he had seen one afternoon that he thought you might like, always taking note of the favorable flowers you’d mention days before and the excitement in your eyes as you talked about them. He remembered little things like that, things that you didn’t think he’d pay attention to.

He was a man to notice the small things as he’d walk into a front lawn or small garden, pluck the prettiest flower he could find and then tenderly place it in his pocket until he found his way back to you.

Most times it was just a simple daisy, a simple petunia, a simple stem, a simple little flower he had thought you would like. But for you it wasn’t about the lavish bouquets and dramatic proclamations of love anyway, it never was. Each simple flower was anything but simple to you, each one’s significance went beyond its pretty appearance and found in the gesture of what that flower represented.

Six’s love was subtle but fierce, strong and all encompassing. With each flower he gifted you it was just another sweet, meaningful anecdote in your budding love story. He’d leave it on the countertop before a mission, your bedside table, his pillow on the days he’d have to disappear for weeks on end. You were thankful for them, his subtle strokes of devotion bundled into a simple, little flower that meant the world to you. It was never about the money to you, and it was only ever the thought that mattered with Six.

You always loved his flowers, the small ones and the simple ones and the pretty ones. Whenever he would leave you on those stupid missions of his, the only thing you’d be left with is his sweet smell imbedded into the sheets and the flowers tucked under your bed in that precious pink shoebox. They’d be the only things left to remember him by until he came back, and in certain ways a guarantee that he will be.

Six will be gone when he thinks of you, missing you desperately, wishing to be back with you again. But even in the midst of gunfire and smoke he’ll still find your pretty flower sticking out of the cracked, bloodstained concrete and delicately put it somewhere safe, somewhere it can wait until it finds its way to you. It was his own way of ensuring himself that he will find his way back to you, back into the warmth, back where he was meant to be.

Each flower was a token of his love to you, each stem a stronger bond, each petal an unspoken promise. Whenever he was gone too long and you were left alone and sulking you would open up that shoebox of withered and fresh flowers. Whenever Six was sitting on an alley wall tending to his own bloody wounds halfway across the country he’d take that flower out of his pocket and twirl it in between his dirty fingertips.

No matter how far apart you two were the flowers were always there, stagnant and reassuring, as you both would look at that flower and find comfort in the words it symbolized.

He will always come back to you.

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙TAGGING , @ghostslillady hope you enjoy bestie, it’s just a small thing 💕💕 & @little-miss-chaoss

[ken-dom]

Christmas Kisses

↳ with Lars, Driver or Six x gn!reader

⋆⁺₊❅ Total 2k words. Lars 880 words, Driver 670 words, Six 500 words.

⋆⁺₊❅ I’ve been wanting to write some kisses and thought, what better time is there than the holidays? So here’s a collection of festive smooches. Six was written as a little surprise for my beloved @heresthestorymorningglory – merry Sixmas, darling!

⋆⁺₊❅ Relevant content warnings listed under the header of each one shot, but generally these are NSFW.

⋆⁺₊❅. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ⋆⁺₊❅. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

⋆⁺₊❅. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ⋆⁺₊❅. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

⋆⁺₊❅ LARS LINDSTROM — First Kiss

⋆⁺₊❅ Contents: interrupted make out, mention of the uncomfortable side of the history of mistletoe traditions

☾ * ˛ ㅤ ˖ ⭑ ㅤ.ㅤ ❆ㅤㅤ *ㅤㅤ ˖ ㅤ❆ㅤ . ㅤ * _Π______ ˛ * ˖ ࣪ ⭑ * ˖ ࣪ . ❆ /______/~＼ ࣪ ☃︎ 𖢔 ❄︎ ˛╬╬╬╬╬˛ ° . ｜田田 ｜門｜ ╬╬╬╬╬

‘Look, Lars, Mistletoe!’ you beamed, stepping through Gus and Karin’s front door before him.

Lars’s heart always skipped at the way his name slipped from your tongue so easily, but this time his blood ran hot and cold at once, too. He had been hoping beyond hope for the right time to initiate a kiss. He couldn’t do that here, though, could he?

He wanted to. So much that his tongue licked along his bottom lip without him really meaning it to. His breath quickened, he could feel his pulse beginning to race-

No, not in Gus and Karin’s hallway. Not your first kiss together, right here on the threshold of his family home on the spur of the moment. He’d dreamed of your first kiss coming naturally one romantic night, after dinner and dancing at home, or under the fairytale moonlight at the lake, or even in his car after you’d been out somewhere together and had a good time.

Mistletoe was festive at least… this could be kind of romantic given the snow and the season, but all the scenarios he’d daydreamed about shared a common factor: you were in private when you kissed.

Lars offered a tightlipped smile and zero eye contact when you turned to see why he was still frozen to the spot on the porch.

‘Lars?’ you said quietly, coaxing him back to you, watching his eyes squeeze shut and his fists clench tight.

Before he could think up an excuse that summed up his inner turmoil and still let you know he wanted you more than anything right now, Karin unwittingly saved the day.

‘Lars, honey, is that you?’ she called down the stairs, ‘We’ll be down in just a minute, come on in!’

The only thing standing in his way now was the small complication that Lars wasn’t sure how long he could sustain a kiss without pain, but for you he would at least test it, and a whole minute seemed like a good start. A minute was plenty.

His hands unclenched, his eyes locked on yours, and he marched forward until he was an inch from you, where his gaze and his voice dropped.

‘You know what they used to say about standing under mistletoe?’ he said, so huskily you unconsciously squeezed your thighs together at the sound. ‘They used to say it’s bad luck to refuse a kiss. But I don’t believe that, not one bit. If you don’t want to kiss me, it’s okay. Nothing bad will happen.’

‘I’ve never wanted to kiss you more than I do right this very second,’ you breathed, so quickly the words almost slurred together.

Lars closed the gap, knowing any pain he felt from his skin against yours wouldn’t really harm him, that he could do this just the way he’d wanted to for so long. But there was no pain, only your lips soft and enticing against his, the trace of your scent filling every breath he took, the subtle heat building between you both warming his cheeks.

He felt you pull the hat from his head, your fingers threading into his messy hair, and as if that didn’t drive him wild enough, the way your body pressed closer, begging for more ignited something inside, like a fire in his belly.

While the kiss didn’t speed up, it certainly heated up; tenderness laced with desperation. Your tongue slipped along his bottom lip, and you guessed he must have liked it because the hands ghosting carefully at your shoulders dropped and gripped your waist hard instead.

He hadn’t meant to, and he was mortified at the volume, but it felt so good when your tongues met – you felt so good, he couldn’t stop a moan making its way into your mouth, either.

You hummed back and it reassured him enough that he confidently pressed a thigh between your legs. The kiss broke for barely a second, during which you both panted and puffed and sought out the other lips again-

Until everything came to a halt at the sound of a creak, a gasp and a scuffle. 

Startled, Lars abruptly pulled himself completely away to see a flustered Karin and wide-eyed Gus paralyzed on the stairs.

You held your breath and bit your lips together, not sure whether to laugh this off or apologise profusely. Lars opted for the latter immediately, so you settled on hoping the ground would open up and swallow you whole instead.

‘No, no. We should be sorry,’ Karin gushed, while silent Gus’s brow raised. ‘We’ll just let you two finish up- I mean- well, we need to uh- we’ll be back in a moment.’

Karin ushered a reluctant Gus back upstairs, and Lars, beet red, huffed out an awkward laugh.

Letting out a breath of relief yourself, you bent to pick up Lars’s hat and stepped toward him with a smile, thumb delicately brushing over his burning cheek.

‘How about we hang some mistletoe at your place?’ you soothed as you smoothed his hair back into place and slipped the hat back into place on his head.

All the breath left Lars’s body, and he nodded, hurried and eager.

You leaned up to leave a soft peck on his cheek as you reached up and pulled a little off the sprig hanging above you. You knew Karin would only encourage it anyway.

⋆⁺₊❅. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ⋆⁺₊❅. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

⋆⁺₊❅ DRIVER — Gift for The Holidays

⋆⁺₊❅ Contents: kissing, blood (from an unknown source), if you’ve read my Driver before you’ll know he has a kissing kink so a big dose of that because frankly I can’t resist and I will write it again, hand job (over clothes)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

‘What are you doing up so late on Christmas Eve?’

Driver never startled, certainly not easily anyway, so he only raised an eyebrow and smiled as he stepped out of the elevator.

‘I could ask you the same,’ he said, coolly sliding the key into his apartment door while he considered you. You captivated him endlessly, but something was different tonight. ‘Waiting for me?’

‘You caught me!’ you grinned, ‘I actually have something for you… a gift, y’know, for the holidays.’

‘I don’t celebrate,’ he said, not intending it to come off as blunt as it might have to someone who didn’t know him. The glittering of fascination in his eyes told you otherwise, though.

‘It’s something you can do anytime of year,’ you teased.

Driver, interest piqued doubly, nodded his head to the side in a signal to follow him inside as he opened the door.

His apartment was bathed in complete darkness except the lights from the street vaguely glowing in through the window. He stood in front of it to face you, and it was then that you saw the splatter of blood, dark against the white of his jacket, and a pleasantly chilling shiver ran through your body as his shadow cast over you.

He tilted his head — You have something for me? — and you realised you’d almost bitten clean through your lip just watching him.

‘It’s not something I can give you, not really. It’s something I’d like to share with you.’

Driver stared at you, willing you to go on.

‘I don’t want to spoil it but I also need to know you want it first.’

His eyes widened, waiting patiently.

‘It’s… a kiss.’

God. You knew him. He swept forward, crushing his lips to yours with bruising precision that turned you dizzy, opening your mouth with his and pressing his tongue to yours.

Your head spun. This was an art form, elegant and needy in equal measure. Driver knew how to kiss, and he knew how he wanted to do it.

He snaked his arms around your middle and pulled you flush to him, somehow deepening the kiss and feeling you shudder against him.

You managed to prize your mouth off his long enough to take a much needed breath, and in the brief moment his lips weren’t sealed to yours, a almost inaudible whimper filled the inch between you.

With an influx of oxygen came enough clarity to realise you could feel his arousal pressed against your hip. You slid a hand down between your bodies and his breath caught in his throat. He nodded when your hand paused at the waistband of his blood soaked jeans, head dropping as he tried to hold back.

When you pushed your hand lower, you could feel that the fabric was wet, but it wasn’t blood you were touching. This was warm and sticky in a different way.

Your fingertip tracing the outline of his length drew another delicious whimper from between his kiss-swollen lips, which he bit closed when you palmed his twitching length over the denim. You rubbed slow and steady; gathering by the way his fingertips were digging into your waist he wouldn’t last much longer and you didn’t want to rush him to it.

You pushed him to the bed in the corner, resuming the kiss — and the touching — the moment you were on top of him.

He writhed in heated silence beneath you until the inside of his jeans was coated in his release, hot and thick and thrillingly uncomfortable against his skin, and he couldn’t even bear to kiss anymore until he’d caught his breath.

When his heart had slowed and his breathing evened, he slipped away to clean himself up, at least you presumed, but not without telling you, ‘Stay there. It’s my turn to give you a gift.’

⋆⁺₊❅. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ⋆⁺₊❅. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

⋆⁺₊❅ SIERRA SIX — A New Tradition

⋆⁺₊❅ Contents: making out, dry humping

☃︎☃︎☃︎☃︎☃︎☃︎☃︎☃︎☃︎☃︎☃︎☃︎☃︎☃︎☃︎

‘You know I’m okay with doing nothing and eating Skittles in front of the TV, right?’ Six called through while you unloaded your bags and bags of festive items.

‘Yep, and we’re doing that, but I want to start some traditions with you, too.’

Six wandered into the kitchen where you’d already unpacked a gingerbread house kit, various types of cheese, and cookie cutters in the shapes of trees and stars and holly leaves.

‘Gonna pull a snowman out of there next?’

You ignored him, mid-search for the most important item of all.

‘I’m not really one for baking…’ Six grumbled, inspecting the cutters as you dug around in another bag.

‘Aha! Close your eyes.’

Six did as you asked, although not without a little sigh of protest. A moment later he could feel you standing closer, your warm breath on his cheek as you whispered, ‘Open them.’

You could see him thinking, What? when his eyes locked back onto you, until he followed your gaze up, to where you were holding a little sprig of leaves dotted with pearly white berries and tied up with a pretty red ribbon, and his eyebrows raised.

‘Oh…’ he breathed, and then he was straight back to you, his lips brushing yours.

It was almost chaste. Almost. His kiss was so soft and lingering, so gentle, you dropped the mistletoe as you melted against him instead. 

Six shifted forward, slipping an arm around your waist and pulling you to him in one swift motion. Easy, like he’d done the action a million times before, and who knows, perhaps he had by now.

He could feel your heart racing, your chest heaving for breath, and he chuckled against your mouth. All he’d ever needed to do was take it slow to have you turn to putty in his hands? Noted. 

Also noted was the way it was working for him, too, heat pooling low in his gut as your lips parted.

You sighed when his tongue smoothed against yours, so delicately that your fingers clutched at his shirt tight enough you could have ripped it, and Six moaned. Actually moaned. 

As swiftly as he’d pulled you to him, his hands found their way to the back of your thighs and he lifted you seamlessly onto the counter, sliding between your legs as you wrapped them around him and the cookie cutters clattered to the floor.

The kiss hadn’t broken all but for a brief moment, when you laughed together before his hips rolled into yours and your fingers might have actually torn the fabric of his shirt this time. The gasp you let out at the shudder it sent through you was cut short, his lips seeking yours again like a man possessed.

Six pulled away deliberately this time, resting his forehead on yours when he realised how dizzy all this had made him, but not ever ceasing the slow rocking of his hips.

Managing to retain just a hint of sarcasm betrayed by his own arousal, he cooed, ‘So, how’s this for a tradition?’

[boss-the-goofball]

It would make more sense if the Plot dragged Cloud in as a means of luring Sephiroth in

The plot would somehow summon Sephiroth into RAADSC. But before Sephy could do anything and consequently perish under Izuku's hand, a blond missile would appear and Cloud's feet would impact Sephiroth's back at approximately Fuck You X100 kilotons of short person rage. Cloud would then collect Sephiroth, flip off the plot, bow to Izuku in apology and disappear.

I cannot validate this headcanon as Sephiroth is the one breaking into universes to chase after Cloud, not the other way around.

[elusivewildflower]

i would love to hear your domestic six thoughts (if you have any)

Oooo, yes I do have some domestic Six thoughts! Domestic Six and letting him be all soft is probably one of my favorite things to think about, and some of these will tie in heavily with The Other Fitzroy series. Shout out to @lloydsbitch for brainstorming with me for some non-smutty ideas 🤣

I think that after Six gets away from the CIA that he will teach himself how to become a handyman. He's not used to having so much free time, so he needs something that will keep his mind and body active. I feel his father probably taught him some things, since he was so determined to make his sons "macho," and that he's learned things as needed throughout his life -- but I'm talking about learning how to remodel a whole house just for you. You want to turn that spare room with a lovely view into a library? He'll build bookcases and a window seat by hand to transform it into the space you've dreamed of.

Whenever he's not busy keeping active, he's more than happy to sit on the couch and binge watch your favorite shows and movies. Six hasn't exactly had the time or internet access to watch everything that's came out in the last 20 years, so he has a lot to catch up on. Expect to spend several nights a week and potentially all weekend cuddled up on the couch, his arm wrapped around your waist and your head on his chest. But if you're watching an action movie, he won't be able to stop himself from calling out everything that's unrealistic.

Six clearly likes to be self-reliant after retiring, so he also has a garden in the backyard that he tends to on a daily basis. You certainly enjoy watching him tend to the crops from the covered porch. He's shirtless, dripping with sweat and covered in dirt by the time he comes up to you for a refreshing glass of lemonade. It's also fun to watch him chop firewood in the fall with a steaming cup of hot cocoa. He might be wearing more layers in the cold air, but the sound of his grunts carry across the yard and straight to your.....*ahem*

There was never much time for date nights while on the run, so Six makes quality time one of his big priorities after you've settled down. It still can be difficult to achieve with a child to take care of, but at least Claire is old enough to babysit for a few hours. Something easy that the two of you enjoy is taking a drive out to get ice cream (and maybe some fries to dip in it? I love salty & sweet, sue me.) and sitting together in the car. You'll find someplace to park and eat your dessert, happily chatting or snuggling up to each other. And if you can't manage to get away from the house, then Six will go out and get the treats for you after the kids are asleep. You'll cuddle up on the couch, or on the loveseat on the porch during the summer, and fall deeper in love with the sweet man by your side.

smutty thoughts are under the cut.......

For starters, I want to give credit to @hederasgarden for this because she's the one who said Six has a housewife kink and I fully agree with it. By no means is he a lazy partner, but he does love to watch you cook in the kitchen and clean around the house. Both of those things make him look at you with hearts in his eyes and a growing erection in his pants. Especially if you happen to be wearing a pretty sundress. If the two of you are home alone when he gets riled up, he'll take you anywhere. He'll fuck you on the countertop, bend you over the side of the couch, or even halfway up the stairs on the way to the bedroom.

I also believe that Six has a major breeding kink. It might take him a year or two of being safe & settled to fully give himself into the kink, but once he does, he wants to pump you full of his seed every night. Six wants to see you barefoot and pregnant, and better yet — in a pretty sundress — and he won't rest until he gets it. If you thought him being riled up with his housewife kink was bad, just wait until he has to have you morning, noon, and night while you're ovulating. 🫣

After having kids, it's a lot harder to get that alone time together, but Six will happily sneak you away for a quickie. He knows your body so well that he can get both of you off in under ten minutes. Laundry needs switched over? He'll follow you in to "help." As soon as the dryer is on, he's got you bent over it — the sound of clothes tumbling around helps cover the noise of him pounding into you. Your baby just went down for a nap? Six will take you into your shared bedroom for a quickie, giving you an orgasm that puts you right to sleep. After all, you should be sleeping when the baby is, right? You need your rest, and while two of the most important people in his life are napping, he'll go downstairs to clean up the house or prep for dinner.

[bellrose]

Pretty Phone in Pink

This little piece was born from @elusivewildflower "What if you had that Barbie phone as a burner phone", and my silly edition of "What if Court gave you a burner phone but it is a Barbie phone." The phone in question. This turned out more feels-y than silly, but oh well.

Summary: It's customary for Court to dissapear for weeks on end, only to re-appear the least you expect it. Sometimes you wished he would be more transparent on his wereabouts, if not to cease your worrying but to hear his voice when you miss him most. This time Court comes home with a solution to that.

Court Gentry x gender neutral reader

Warnings: implied injured!Court

Word count: 626

Court looked a bit sheepish when he handed you the box. As if he regretted not bundling it in some obnoxious wrapping paper, glitter and a bow on top. An image of a battered Court Gentry folding the creases of some papery design around the gift while laying low in some shithole or another made you stifle a chuckle. And a little tickle in your stomach.

The box was carton, no labels, very much very nondescript. Like a giddy child on Christmas morning you tore the tape off. Another box inside, gleaming plastic. A pink box.

“What-” you started, then paused. It was a phone. A pink phone. A Barbie phone. “You got me a phone.”

“Yes,” Court answered, pushing himself off the kitchen counter. Every movement a bit halted, as if every shift of his muscles was carefully considered, which they probably were.

Court was a master in pretending and you had no idea what kind of injury he was hiding underneath that hoodie. You asked, of course, when he dragged himself into your apartment through the fire escape looking every bit like a wet cat who got the cream upon your reaction to his sudden appearance.

You knew where he had been, or well, not exactly where but you knew he had been gone for the past week doing whatever Court did when he disappeared in a puff of smoke and the dregs of burnt coffee in your favourite mug. A Barbie mug with a chip in the ear and the print of Skipper faded from the many journeys through the dishwasher.

His mug now, but that was one of the things that had been left unspoken.

As much as Court kept his activities guarded from your scrutiny - though he would atone for those sins later when you dragged him into the bathroom to examine, as there was more to WikiHow than ‘how to be a mermaid’ - now his face was like an open book.

Court could speak so much without uttering one word. Sometimes you wanted to punch him for it. His honest affection and the maelstrom of feelings that lit a blush on your cheeks. The implication of the gift was clear.

“I thought you said,” you paused, cleared your throat. Too loud in the kitchen. “That it would be safer for me not to contact you when you…” Are busy trying not to get shot at.

Court winced.

“You can use it as a burner phone,” he said, holding your gaze. “I know the last few months have been hard on you. On us. And- I didn’t want you to be in danger, not anymore.”

From the front pouch of his hoodie, he pulled out a sturdy flip phone. Unlike the screaming pink, it was a slate grey. It reminded you of the Nokia’s of your youth. Inconspicuous and seemingly indestructible. Like him.

“Next time I’m gone,” he held up the phone, “You can call me, and I’ll try to answer.” Then he smirked. “Unless you aren’t interested in a bed time story.”

You rolled your eyes. “If it involves another rant on pickles, please do spare me.” “Hm, what’s wrong with counting pickles instead of sheep?”

You set the box down on the dinner table and took a step forward, crowding his space. “Thank you. I know this must be difficult for you.”

“I imagine not as difficult as having to worry if I’d ever come back to you at all,” he said, voice low in a whisper.

“But you’re here now.”

“Yes.”

You carded your fingers through his fringe, still wet from the rain outside. Tracing your thumb down his temple, over his cheek, resting just underneath his lower lip. The stubble scratching your skin.

“Tell me another story.”

Is the Barbie movie canon in The Gray Man movie-verse? Perhaps.

Thank you for reading

[heresthestorymorningglory]

Unfinished Business

Summary: Our boy has some unfinished business

A/N: Listen y'all this NSFW 18+ should be par for the course at this point. So like….just don’t okay?

As always, the inspo is thanks to the Goosecord and my beautiful partner in crime @ken-dom who constantly receives messages from me in the dead of night needing reassurance or "Hey what about if THIS happened?!"

Bless you my new found chosen sister for putting up with my antics!

This is a continuation of the first part Hello Nurse which you guys absolutely raved over and I am SO flattered (no really some of your messages really had me tearing up)

Like I said last time, this won't be the last you see of SIx

Enjoy my loves! <3

You let out a heavy sigh massaging your temples as you sat at the nurse’s station; the fluorescents were giving you a migraine and the phone had been ringing off the hook all night long. It rang again for the four hundredth time and you picked up the receiver 

“Fifth floor nurse’s station” 

“Hey, you” 

Your face broke out into a grin and you sat back in your chair twirling the phone cord around your finger recognizing his voice immediately. “Hi” 

“You on a secure line?” 

You scoffed with a small laugh “You know I’m not” you went through this every time he happened to call, and yet, he always asked. “Where are you?” 

“Somewhere cold” he always kept his answers vague. 

“Being safe?” you asked, reaching over the desk to take a clipboard from a coworker 

“Course” 

“Are you lying to me?” You asked, with a smirk cradling the receiver on your shoulder as you typed the information on the clipboard into the system. 

“Never” 

You stopped typing paying more attention to your call “You better come back to me” you said with an air of seriousness to your tone. “In one piece” 

He laughed softly on the other end 

“I’m not kidding, all your fingers, toes and…appendages” 

This caught the attention of your coworker who tilted her head curiously with a raised eyebrow; you just shook your head, hoping she’d get pulled away before you’d have to answer questions. 

“Hmm, well I’ve got some bad news sweetheart…” 

“You better be joking” you dropped your voice to a whisper 

“Would you love me any less if I weren’t?” 

You huffed with annoyance rolling your eyes “No, you idiot; now come home…I miss you” 

A page overhead for you caught your attention and you sighed “I gotta go, be careful, please” You knew better than to hope for that, he was never careful, everyone else came first. “I love you” 

“Me too, sweetheart” 

You hesitated holding up a finger to a coworker motioning overhead “Court”

He sighed and you could practically see the look on his face

“I’ve got all day” 

“No you don’t” 

“Then I guess you’d better hurry up” 

“I love you too” 

“I’ll see you soon?” you asked, knowing he wouldn’t give you a concrete answer 

“Soon” he confirmed before the line disconnected. 

You swallowed hard, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding as you pushed up from your chair. You had signed up for this, you knew that, but the knot in your stomach never untwisted itself completely until he was standing in front of you; admittedly usually covered in blood and bruises, but here and alive. 

***

It had been six months since that fateful night on the staircase; and Six had been gone for three of them. Thankfully you had managed to keep yourself busy with work, keeping your mind off of it, most of the time. 

Then you crawled into bed, alone, or he called to check in and that knot in your stomach just tightened. 

You did have to admit that when he was just a fleeting stranger who had saved your life once, and occasionally darkened your doorstep it had been a lot easier and you worried significantly less, but you wouldn’t trade that man for anything. 

You had to keep it relatively secret; it was safer that way Six had said, you were in less danger. You disagreed but he would rarely listen to reason on the topic; or he had fallen asleep before you had gotten the chance to broach it again. 

You laid in bed that night after work, wondering for the first time in a long time about Six’s past. Even though you had convinced him you didn’t need a 24/7 bodyguard and could in fact take care of yourself on occasion, and you had been….”together” for the last six months; the personal details you knew about the man were very few. 

You knew that was by design, but the thought of your parents immediate disapproval made you giggle to yourself; would be just like you ending up with the ex-convict who would end up on the wrong end of a gun one day because he showed up on your doorstep one night looking like wounded puppy.

Not that Six would even entertain the notion of ever meeting your parents so it didn’t really matter. 

***

He unlocked the door before putting the key back and quietly slipping inside before locking it behind him. 

He stumbled up the front steps, weak with exhaustion; the house was dark, but your car was in the driveway. Checking his watch, it was creeping into the one o’clock hour.

He shook the spare key out of the bottom of the ceramic goose you kept on the front porch; he had told you at least a hundred times that was an awful idea and you had reasoned if someone was going to break into the house, they weren’t going to use a key to do it. 

He slid his boots off, shedding his t-shirt as he climbed the stairs. You were curled up in bed sleeping peacefully, on his side. 

He smiled to himself, stripping off the rest of his clothes before gently shifting you to your side, you hadn’t even stirred until he climbed in behind you; arms wrapping tightly around you as he kissed your shoulder. 

“Hey,” you turned over, voice thick with sleep as you wrapped your arms around his neck “You’re home” 

He kissed you properly before you nestled against his chest “I missed you” 

He kissed the top of your head, pulling you against him as you drifted back off almost immediately and he followed suit. 

The next morning he stirred awake, the sensation of your lips across his bare chest  and up the side of his neck to his face and finally landing on his lips; your weight heavy on his midsection. 

"Good Morning," you smiled kissing him again 

He smiled, reaching to tuck a chunk of loose hair behind your ear, his large hand cupping your cheek. 

"All in one piece" you smiled, your cheeks had started to hurt from doing it for so long. 

"Satisfied?" 

"Not for months" your lips moved against his as you deepened your kiss. 

With minimal effort he flipped you on your back, pinning you to the mattress underneath; wrists on either side of your head. 

“Let's fix that then” 

Before you had a chance to respond, his lips were pressed firmly against yours, strong hands gripping your wrists as his hips made languid movements, his hard cock pressing against the inside of your thigh, your legs dropping open with ease. 

You hummed into your kiss as his tongue tangled with yours before kissing down your neck and chest. 

A small gasp escaped as his warm wet mouth enveloped your nipple. Your back arching off the bed, needing more, wanting more. 

He sucked gently, tongue grazing over the hard bud, making you shiver before trading sides and administering the same treatment to the other side. 

His hands slid from your wrists, over your sides and came to rest on your hips momentarily as he dipped lower, settling between your thighs. Your fingers pushed through his thick blond hair as he kissed the inside of your thighs. His breath hot against your core made you moan, leaning back into the pillow. 

“Court…please “ you breathed. 

Like an answered prayer, he licked a hot stripe up your centre, making you cry out, pulling hard on the hair trapped between your fingers, making him grunt against your clit before sucking you into his mouth.  

You writhed in the sheets, heels digging into the mattress. 

His hand sliding from your hip, two thick fingers pushing inside you with ease, pumping slowly as his tongue teased your clit. 

Your sighs and moans were like music to his ears. A glance up from between your thighs, your eyes were closed, face contorted in sheer pleasure, mouth open as you whined to the ceiling. 

Your entire form shuddered under the hand holding your hips steady. 

Your breathing came more laboured and shallow as he watched the flush creep over your naked body, his tongue flicking a little harder, fingers pumping a little faster, hand pressing firmer on your hip, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he kept you from twisting out of his grip. 

Your muscles clenching around his calloused fingers coated in your arousal as your orgasm tore through your body; pulling his fingers from inside you, tongue lapping up everything you had to give. Shudders wracking your entire form, your clit sensitive and overstimulated. 

You collapsed, completely spent as Six crawled back over top of you, kissing you deeply as you panted against his mouth. 

“My turn” you smiled breathlessly as you shifted, Six propping himself against the headboard as you put yourself between his knees. 

Without hesitation, you swallowed down his length, slick with precum. A loud groan of approval over your head as you bobbed slowly, sucking gently as you felt his hands find their way into your hair. 

A loud thud, what you were certain was his head making contact with the headboard. 

His hips bucking up, forcing him further down your throat. 

The soft “Fuck” assuring you, you were doing something right. 

You moaned around his shaft, relaxing your throat to take as much down as you could manage. You let him take control as much as his position would allow letting him fuck your mouth hard and fast. 

Grunts a mixture of effort and pleasure as he slid with ease between your lips. 

His massive form twitched and he stopped abruptly, the hot, thick rope hitting the back of your throat, swallowing what you could before it became too much to handle, the excess spurting from the throbbing tip as you released him to take a breath.

You moved to wipe your mouth on the back of your hand and Six’s hand snapped out, closing around your wrist. 

You looked up and he was shaking his head. “Don't”

You tipped your head curiously with a smirk as he pulled you closer, you climbed in his lap, arms draped over his neck as he kissed you harshly, tasting his release on your tongue as he was sure you could taste yours on his. 

He scooted back down, lying you on his chest as you sighed with a satisfied hum. “God I missed you”

He chuckled softly, taking a deep breath, breathing you in, your scent invading his senses, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I missed you too sweetheart” 

He sighed, your eyes saying the things your voice wasn’t. 

Six’s time at home had been fleeting this time around; he had been here and gone again within a day and a half.

A quick kiss and he tried to fly down the stairs, unsuccessfully because of the hold you’d had on his wrist. He stopped turning to look at you. 

He pulled you against him, burying his nose in your hair as he kissed the top of your head; your arms wrapped tightly around his back as you fought to keep your composure. 

“Two weeks, tops” he whispered into your hair; you only hugged him tighter, knowing he couldn’t possibly know that for sure. 

“Make someone else go” You muttered against his chest “You just got back” 

He laughed softly, big hands rubbing up and down your arms. “I can’t…”  he pushed you back gently so he could look into your eyes “This one is personal” 

Your brow creased as your frowned “What do you mean personal?” 

His shoulders dropped as he let out a heavy sigh and it clicked “Lloyd…” you sighed

He nodded “He won’t stay in one place very long”

A strong finger under your chin lifted your head and you sighed looking up at him, the worry clear as day on your face. 

You let out a slow breath swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat; eyes  dropping to look at your shoes.

You had never met this man, but the stories were enough to never want to and even those weren’t many. He had injured someone in Six’s care, and was the reason the only person Six had even remotely considered family had died. He was a monster. 

“Please be careful” you whispered softly 

He nodded dropping his hand “Always” 

You scoffed “Not always” You reached up to cup his cheek “You better come back to me” 

He didn’t answer, just leaned forward, claiming your lips in a gentle kiss as the tears you had been fighting to hold back slid silently down your cheeks. 

He pulled back and you sighed with a sniff, wiping the tears from your face. “Promise me” 

When he didn’t say anything you closed your eyes taking a breath “Just this once, promise me, if it goes sideways, you will get out…please” 

You stood eyes locked with his, seeing that emotionless mask crack for the briefest moment before he nodded. “I promise, just another Thursday.” 

You huffed pulling yourself against him, burying your face in his chest. “No it isn’t, and you know it” 

He pulled away then and you let him go; you knew if he was going to catch this bastard he had to leave and he had to leave now. 

“Here,” he undid the watch around his wrist, holding it out to you 

You shook your head “I can’t take that; it’s too important to you” 

“Then keep it safe for me” he wrapped it around your wrist, having to do it up on the last available hole in the band so it would fit around your wrist. 

He took your face in both hands, giving you one final bruising kiss; whispering a barely heard ‘I love you’ against your lips before he was down the stairs and gone. 

You turned, going back inside, the door closing heavily behind you as you locked and leaned against it. A flurry of emotions bursting through the dam in your chest as you finally let yourself cry. You slid down the door, settling on the floor with a hard thump covering your mouth with your hand as the tears streamed freely down your cheeks. The fear, the sadness, the sliver of hope that he hadn’t just walked down those stairs to wherever, and you’d never see him again. 

You cried so hard you nearly made yourself sick before you got yourself under control and pulled yourself to your feet. 

You took a deep breath, wiping the tears out of your eyes and off your face as you made your way to the kitchen. 

You stopped halfway through the threshold, breath catching in your throat seeing the man you didn’t recognize sitting on top of your counter with his arms folded and ankles crossed in front of him. 

“Hiya Sunshine,” he smiled in a way that made your skin crawl as he hopped off the counter and your heart slammed in your chest.  

“Can I help you?” You fought to keep your voice even as a thousand thoughts raced through your mind one after the other; trying to place this man. 

“You really are easy on the eyes, aren’t you?” he asked, ignoring your question, advancing forward and you instinctively took a step back, 

“Do I know you?” you asked, mentally cursing yourself for never counting how many steps were between your kitchen and front door, but not daring to turn your back and bolt. 

“Your boy certainly does” 

Lloyd.

Your blood froze, you were sure all the colour had drained from your face then. 

“Based on the doe eyed bambi look on your face, I’m gonna take a shot in the dark and say you’ve heard of me” 

“I don’t know-”

“Oh please,” he rolled his eyes with a dismissive wave of his hand “Don’t pull the ‘I don’t know who you’re talking about’ card, it’s just disrespectful”

You didn’t answer, just kept moving slowly backward into the living room as he moved closer across the kitchen. 

Your eyes scanning his form, not seeing any blatantly obvious weapon easily within reach. 

You took your opportunity and turned swiftly on your heel and raced for the door. 

In a flash your hand gripped the doorknob and had it been unlocked you would have been free. Instead, Lloyd shoved you against the door, his body pinning you to the unforgiving surface as he laughed maniacally next to your ear; a fistful of your hair in your hand as he pulled your head back hard, making you grit your teeth and squeeze your eyes shut briefly 

“Oh no, no, no, no, no” he shook his head “We’re gonna get more acquainted; see if I can figure out what it is about our boy that you like so much” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” you asked, voice strained as you turned your head as much as his grip in your hair would allow; he was watching you with a raised eyebrow waiting for you to finish. “He’s got a massive-”  Before you could finish, your head banged hard against the wooden door and Lloyd scoffed with disgust. 

“Don’t be gross, it’s unladylike” 

You scoffed with a laugh trying hard to ignore the instant throbbing headache “That’s your mistake for thinking I’m a lady Lloyd” 

Your composure was quickly slipping away as you were running out of ideas for an escape. 

“And the lady has me at a disadvantage,” Lloyd spoke slowly, his breath hot against your ear making you cringe. “I don’t really need to know your name anyway, doesn’t matter much, you’ll scream all the same” 

You scoffed “He’s gonna kill you”

“Oh sweetheart, not if I kill you first”

That was the last thing you heard before it all went dark.

[greenandsorrow]

Enter the Gosling universe...

Ken

Oneshots

Ken x salon!Barbie/ sfw (🦋)

Multi chap

"Boytoy" - Ken x fem!human!reader/ smut

Officer K

Oneshots

Dreaming of neon snow. - K x Joi/ nsfw (@/goosemas)

Multi chap

After Dark - K x fem!reader/ nsfw, smutty

Others

Oneshots

"You should learn to knock first..." - Colt Seavers x curvy!fem!reader/ smut

The thunderstorm. - Sierra Six x implied!fem!reader/ fluff, comfort SOON

general masterlist

how to support me: click here

[glitterpeachtree]

I love The Notebook so much but it makes me depressed because I feel like I'm never going to meet a man like Noah ever in my life. I can't even find a man who will build me a sandwich, let alone a house.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Killing Time 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, includes violence, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: a job offer could be an escape from your old life, but the new one, may not hold freedom.

Characters: Kraven the Hunter, August Walker, Lloyd Hansen, James Conrad, God the Bounty Hunter, Court Gentry

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

Your frustration mounts as you click the permissions again to allow the camera and microphone access. It’s so annoying! It just keeps running you in circles. Great. This is off to a good start. Late for the interview. That’s always the best first impression. 

When at last your firewall stops blocking the call, you flinch at the sight of yourself in the corner. You’re further jarred by the man staring back at you. Your mouth opens and for a moment, you’re frozen. You were so focused on troubleshooting, you forgot about what was waiting on the other end. 

“Oh, hi,” you squeak. “Sorry, I--” you look around, glancing through the clear walls of the library study room. It’s the first time you’ve been to this branch but you didn’t think the clutter of your apartment would make a good backdrop. “I was having issues with my camera.” 

“Quite alright,” he responds with a grin and a lilted accent. He sounds as professional as he looks. 

He wears a grey jacket over a muted teal shirt that lights up his eyes, even over the screen. His short hair is combed back neatly and there’s not a speck of stubble on his jaw. Under the structure of his attire you can tell he’s well-built. 

You resist the urge to look down at yourself. A white blouse. Boring but professional. It gets the job done. Hopefully. 

You force a smile. 

“Thank you for meeting with me,” he begins through your nervous silence. “I do appreciate your time and I would hate to waste it. So, we can hop right in.” He looks unflinchingly into the camera, “oh, let us not go so far past courtesy. I am James, we’ve been corresponding, yes?” 

“Uh, yeah, I remember. James.” You gulp. 

He says your name with a keen inclination. “This is rather not the position which requires those cliche questions so I won’t trouble you with asking what animal best reflects your personality.” 

You cough out a humouring chuckle and fold your hands on the desk. 

“Forgive if I should seem to the point. You see, it’s a very practical position. I think it’s best we go over what is expected before we go into the finer details; expenses, relocation, dates--” 

“Mm,” you squeak and put a finger up, “s-sorry, um, I thought we were interviewing but it sound like you’ve made a decision?” 

“Well, yes, I’ve reviewed your CV and your submitted profile and your answers to the questionnaire were acceptable. I didn’t think there was much else to consider,” he intones. You shift and try to hide your surprise. 

“No, of course, that makes sense,” you say. “Thanks, I guess I was confused.” 

“Not to worry. I find that written communication can often lack clarity so I thought it best we have a face-to-face in this circumstance,” he looks down as if he has a book or paper before him. “So, did you have any questions before I proceed?” 

“No, no, really, I'm sure you’ll answer them all.” Your cheeks bloom in a half-smile. You were so nervous about getting the job but you’ve already got it. 

“Right then,” he sits back and once more stares down the camera. “It is a very old property but the upkeep has been consistent. There should not be any glaring necessities for maintenance, this more of a custodial position. So, you would be the one to keep the place clean, make sure it is aired out, tend to the lawns but we do employ a grounds keeping service that comes fortnightly to trim.” 

You nod. It’s intriguing. You were sent photos of the property but you’re not quite sure of its purpose. Judging by the clustered pines in the background, you would guess it’s remote. A getaway that could be a goldmine for those wanting a vacation from the urban jungle. 

“You would have a roster, you see, of those you could contact for service so you will not require any specialisations. You are the day-to-day and would be expected to bring in the appropriate support for higher-touch difficulties.” 

“Right,” you try not to show your anxiety. 

“Albeit I should warn you that the reception in that location is not the greatest so if you cannot call out, you would need to keep trying. It will eventually catch but uh, not to mind, as long it is attended is what matters, not when,” he says.  

“Mhm, that makes sense. Um, can I ask what the property is? Is it like a summer home or...” 

“Ah, family inheritance,” he answers primly. “I’ve not much use for it past the sentimental value and I thought of leasing it for traveling parties but I’ve heard horror stories. Right now, I’m merely sitting on it until I figure out exactly what to do with it.” 

“Oh, right. Wow. Quite the inheritance.” 

“Hm, yes, my uncle did rather adore me. I was the only one named in his will but he was a bit of a curmudgeon.” He laughs. “Now, I must ask the most important question--” 

Before he can, the door swings open and you jump in your seat. Your heart sinks. You signed the room out for ninety minutes. You thought it would be more than enough. Surely it hasn’t been that long. 

Shoot. It’s him. How did he find you? You deliberately went out of your way so that he couldn’t. 

“Jake,” you stand and turn to him, trying to block the computer. “What are you doing?” 

“There you are,” he touches his chest as if he should be the one so afraid. “You didn’t come home--” 

You growl and cross your arms. 

“Jake, go away,” you grit out. “Not right now. Please.” 

“I had to make sure you’re okay,” he steps into the room and you push yourself back against the table. “Who else is going to look after you?” 

“I will scream, alright,” you warn. “Now leave me alone. I’m tired of telling you.” 

He sighs and his jaw squares. “I don’t get you. You act like I’m such a bad guy and I haven’t done anything to you. I never hurt you but you hurt me. You just spit in my face--” 

“Pardon,” the voice rises from the speaker at your back. “If I may, she is occupied and you are interrupting. I have a mind to contact emergency service should you persist.” Your mouth falls open and you turn to look at your laptop. James leans forward to glare at the lens, “Not sure who you are, fellow, but the lady has been clear.” 

“Who-- who is he?” Jake sputters. 

“Please, just go,” you plead. “Or I will call the police.” 

Little good they will do, you think, but that doesn’t need to be said aloud. 

He frowns and his eyes glint dangerously. You stare back at him, tense, fingers curling and uncurling nervously. That man on the screen won’t stop him and you don’t know if anyone would hear you from the desk. 

“Fine, guess I’ll see ya around,” he relents and backs out. 

You don’t move until he snaps the door shut. You hurry over and twist the lock on the inside. You don’t know why you didn’t do that before. 

“Are you alright?” James asks, drawing you back to the desk. 

You sit and look at the keyboard, “I’m very sorry. I...” 

“He doesn’t sound like a friend,” James says. You shake your head. “Well, then, it does sound like you’re in need of a fresh start. I do hope this can be that for you.” 

You look up and bat away the glimmer on the brims of your eyes. You’re not just afraid, you’re embarrassed. His kindness is as comforting as it is unexpected. 

“Thanks, um, anyway...” you exhale, “you were going to ask something.” 

“Yes, uh, yes, I was,” he reconfigures and puts another smile on. “When can you depart? I would of course arrange travel to be sure you get here safe and sound.” 

“Oh, when... whenever is best. Not to be too desperate but as soon as possible,” you say. 

“Wonderful,” he praises, “absolutely wonderful. Is tomorrow too soon? Pardon my own desperation.” 

“Tomorrow?” You utter and shake your head. “Tomorrow. Yeah, tomorrow.”  

It's sudden and scary but it’s good. The sooner you go, the less time Jake has to figure out what you’re doing. The less chance he can follow. It’s an escape. Not a perfect one but it’s all you have. 

🩸

You spend all night packing. You parse down what you have to the essentials and put the rest in bags. You don’t care about the furniture. You say as much in your email to your landlord, telling him to use your deposit for the disposal. 

You whittle your life down to three bags. A large suit case, a knapsack, and a single purse. You have it ready to go by the door. 

You feel uneasy about it. You stare at your luggage, the lights off, windows closed. Your phone buzzes and you put it to silent, ignoring the messages from your personal pest. You’ll be done with him too. You wonder if you should just toss your cell. 

You don’t sleep. You can’t. You still can’t believe you’re getting out. You hope you haven’t given the game away. 

There’s a tap on the window. You nearly roll onto the floor. You look over and hear it again, a harder impact. Are you serious? He’s throwing stones. He could break the damn glass. 

You shake your head. You won’t fall for it. Not again. You remember when he came to your door and cried until you opened up. He even smeared ketchup on his face to make you think he was hurt. It’s hard to tell the difference through a peephole. 

Almost there. Almost out. You just need to make it a few more hours. 

As you ignore the incessant tapping and the light of your phone glowing ever few minutes, your thoughts turn bitter. You should message everyone who turned their back on you and tell them exactly what they’ve put you through. Somehow, you think they’d care as much as they did before. 

Sleep eludes you but a foggy daze comes over you as the windows soften with the early morning. There’s no more pebbles bouncing off the pane. Just you and the buzz of the sleeping city. 

Your alarm chimes and you get up as your head pulses. You’re used to the constant fatigue. It will ease up and you’ll just feel a bit heavy. When it’s normal, you don’t notice as much. 

You get ready and have an instant coffee by the door. James messages just before nine. Your car will be there in ten. Oh, early. You don’t mind about that. 

You won’t go out and wait. You’ll stay here, where it’s safe. 

When your phone goes off again, you expect it to be Jake. It’s James. Whew. You’re so close, you can’t believe it. 

You grab your knapsack and purse, and drag your suitcase out behind you. You lock the door and throw the key through the mail slot. You hurry down the hall and take the stairs over the elevator.  

You don’t look back or anyway but forward. You look at your cell. 'Black Jaguar’ followed by a plate number. Jaguar? Holy moly. 

The tinted window rolls down and reveals the same face from the Zoom call. You didn’t know he was coming himself. You assumed he was sending a cab or something. You slow as you come out the door. He smiles and pops open the door. 

Before you can come forward, another figure appears, blocking your way. 

“Hey, I've been calling all night,” Jake says. You stop short and nearly yelp. Of course! 

“Jake, move.” 

“Where are you going?” He looks at your bags desperately. “Wait, you can’t--” 

“Pardon me, sir, is there some issue?” James strides up behind him. 

Jake turns to face him and stiffens, “and who are you—wait, you’re that guy from the computer.” 

“I’m none of your business, as is her life,” James insists. “Now, seems you’re used to picking on those smaller than you but let’s see how you do against me?” 

James steps closer. He’s a few inches taller than Jake. You can’t move as they stare each other down. You wait, expecting chaos. 

“I was only talking,” Jake shows his palms and shrugs. “It’s whatever. She’s a bitch anyways.” 

He turns and snarls over his shoulder at you. You back up. As Jake turns, he’s knocked off kilter as James hurls his fist into his jaw. The shorter man staggers and falls to one knee, catching himself in the grass. 

“Well, that was a lovely chat,” James smirks and beckons to you, “shall we?” 

[wokeupinmars]

The Pretty Nurse Who Lives Down the Hall

Pairing: Sierra Six / Court Gentry x Reader

Summary: Six spots a familiar face while he and Claire move into their latest apartment.

Warnings: Implications of past sexual relationship?

Word Count: 1.6K

Author’s Note: This is the first part of the Playing House series.

Part Two: “I’ll go wherever you go”

Part Three: The End of Beginning

Please comment and/or reblog if you enjoyed this!!

RG Masterlist

The sound of your laugh traveled down the hall and stopped him in his tracks. 

Six’s eyes darted in the direction. He could make out the back of your head as you waited for the elevator. Was that really you?

It might have been over two years since he had last seen or spoken to you but there was no doubt in his mind that it was you. He could recognize your laugh anywhere. 

He watched from afar as you got onto the elevator. You turned and before the doors closed, he could have sworn you made eye contact. 

Claire’s voice pulled his attention from the closed steel doors, “Why are you just standing there?”

Six’s attention turns back to the young girl in the empty apartment, struggling to push the raggedy old couch from the center of the room to the wall. “Claire please don’t touch that,” he tells her, walking inside and shutting the door. 

“Are we just supposed to leave it in the middle of the apartment?” She asks, putting her hands on her hips. 

“No, but it’s dirty and heavy.” 

“What were you looking at?” She questions. 

“Nothing,” he responds, going through flyers of local restaurants the previous tenant had left behind. 

Claire crosses her arms, “So you weren’t staring at the pretty nurse who lives down the hall?” 

“I haven’t had the chance to do deep dives on our neighbors, if there’s a nurse that lives on this floor then I’m sure I’ll know within the next day or two.” Six didn’t let it show but the possibility of you living down the hall had him on edge. 

You were a highly skilled assassin and took jobs as offered. You didn’t work for anyone, you worked for you. If the price was right and the target wasn’t a child you’d take the money and execute the job at hand. 

Were you here for him? 

You wouldn’t hurt Claire, he was almost certain about that. 

His mind reeled thinking of the possible reasons why you were here. What if you were hired by the CIA to track him down take him out and bring Claire back to them? 

He was quick to rule that idea out, as far as he knew you had never done a job for them before. But that didn’t mean you weren’t working for someone else, a lot of people wanted the gray man dead. And who better to do the job than you?

—

It was late when you got home. Your apartment was pitch black but you could still sense his presence. 

And then you felt it, the muzzle of his gun digging into the small of your back. “You know, most people have the decency to knock."

“What are you doing here?” His voice was gruff. 

“I live here, what are you doing here?” 

He presses the piece deeper into your back, “Not good enough. What are you doing here?” 

“I’m a nurse now. I live here and work in the emergency room at Mercy Hospital,” you answer, “Can I sit down? I’ve been on my feet all day.” 

He pushed you towards your armchair. 

You take a seat and he sits on the coffee table in front of you, his pistol still pointed at you. You slip your shoes off and rub your feet, “Can you put the gun away? We’re all friends here.”

“We’re not friends.”

You sit up straight and cross your legs, “You’re right. We’re not, we crossed that line a long time ago…I think about our weekend in Paris often.” 

The memories of that weekend floods his mind. A majority of that weekend was spent with the two of you holed up in a hotel room with a balcony view of the Eiffel Tower, not that either of you spent any time soaking up the sight. 

He clears his throat, “That was then, this is now.” Despite this rough tone, he does set the gun down. 

“Who’s the girl?” You couldn’t hold your tongue, you wanted to know why he was here just as much as he wanted to know about you. 

Six scoffs, “Like you don’t already know.” 

“I wouldn’t have asked if I did.” It was true, you took pride in being three steps ahead. “Are you here on a job or something? Posing as a single father?”

He leans forward, “It’s a long story.” 

You mimic his movements, “I have time.” 

A moment of silence passes before he moves in a little closer, “My place.” 

You raise your eyebrows, “Wasting no time, huh? I guess some things really do never change,” you knew going to his apartment was about control for him but that didn’t stop you from teasing him.

He glares at you and you grin, “Lighten up Court.”

—

You knew they had just arrived but it became even clearer as you stepped into the apartment and saw the lack of furniture. 

The two of you sat at the kitchen table. He explained the events that transpired over the course of the past few months. 

“That poor kid,” you say with a frown, “How’s she holding up?” 

Six lets out a sigh, “She’s a tough kid, I’m still worried but I think she’s handling it better than most people.” 

You nod, “Strong girl.…and you?” 

He drums his fingers on the table, “I haven’t really thought about my feelings. I’ve just been focused on making sure Claire’s okay and that we’re safe.” 

“And do you feel safe here?” 

He stares at you, his eyes softening when they meet yours, “I think so.”

His words hang in the air before he speaks up again, “So you’re a nurse now?” His eyes scan over your scrubs, “Quite the professional 180, don’t you think?” 

You hum in agreement, “From taking lives to saving them…who would have guessed?” 

The corner of his mouth twitches up into a slight smile, “Why the switch?” 

There’s a brief hesitation before you answer, “Two years ago I turned down a hit…made an enemy out of the guy that tried to hire me and things got ugly for him and his goons when they tried to come after me.”

“Was it another kid?”

You shook your head, “No…he…” you were trying to find the right words, “He made things personal,” you spoke firmly and looked directly at him. 

He knew what you were saying or rather what you weren’t saying. 

He opens his mouth to say something but then he hears the creak of a door followed by the sound of footsteps approaching the kitchen, “Six—oh hi,” she greets once she sees he’s not alone. 

She stands right beside him, it's obvious from her body language that she's wary of your presence. “Why are you bothering our neighbors?” She scolds him before turning to you with an apologetic look on her face, “I’m sorry about him.”

You watch in amusement at the scene unfolding in front of you before taking the opportunity to introduce yourself to her. 

“She’s my friend.” It sounds more like a question than a statement but you nod in agreement. 

“You?” Claire points at him, “You made a friend?” 

“Old friends, actually,” you correct. 

She looks to Six for confirmation, only shifting her gaze back to you after he nods. “How’d you guys meet?” 

“Work,” you both answer. 

“So you also worked for the CIA?” She asks, taking a seat at the table. 

“No.” You were trying to keep your answers as vague as possible. 

“So then you guys met on a mission?” Neither of you had the chance to respond as she continued with her questioning, this one starting with a gasp, “Were you his target?” 

“No,” you both say.

You glance at him before answering, “We did meet on a mission, we had the same target.”

She lets out an “oh” and leans back. 

“We teamed up to take him out,” Six tells her. 

Claire tilts her head in confusion, “I thought you worked alone?” 

“Not always. I’ve been partnered with people, but those were always planned.” 

Her eyes bore into you, “So you were the exception?”

“I guess so,” you tell her.

She looks back at Six, a sly smile on her face,  “Huh, I wonder why?” 

“I wonder,” he mumbles, rolling his eyes at her implications, “You know it’s pretty late, you should be in bed.” 

“It’s only 11:30.” 

“Exactly,” he states, “Go to bed.” 

“Fine,” Claire huffs out and pushes the chair back, the screeching of its legs scraping against the floor pierces the room, “But you could’ve just said you wanted to be alone with your lady friend.” 

You stifle a laugh at her teasing. 

“Don’t encourage her!” He sounded so stern but you can see the hint of a smile on his lips. 

“Goodnight, Sweetheart,” you tell her as she walks out of the kitchen. She calls back a simple “Night.”

—

You and Six sat in silence. 

“It is getting pretty late…I should get going,” you say getting up.

“You know…” he starts, standing up too, “Claire has a heart condition…maybe…maybe you can come around to make sure everything’s okay with her pacemaker.”

It’s a half-truth but you don’t call him on it, “I can do that.” 

His hand rests on the small of your back as he walks you to the door. “It was nice seeing you again,” you tell him. 

“It was,” he affirms.

“Goodnight Court,” you say softly, before turning and walking down the hall. 

You glance back at him once you make it to your door. He was still standing there, only retreating back into his apartment once you unlocked the door to yours.

—

Part Two: “I’ll go wherever you go”

Part Three: The End of Beginning

[hederasgarden]

Just Pretend

Summary: For a moment, Six thinks about how his life could be different.  Paring: Sierra Six (Court Gentry) x F!Reader Word Count: 700 Rating: 18+ only. Mild violence. Six does watch the reader without her knowledge but it's all above board. A/N: This is based on my thoughts about how Sierra Six would 100% have a housewife kink. Thank you to @a-reader-and-a-writer for looking over this story. 

Masterlist ♡ The Grey Man Masterlist

Six doesn’t mean to watch you. 

He knows it’s wrong, a violation of privacy, but after all the awful things he’s done, it seems small by comparison. Each time he finds his eyes drawn to you he promises himself it’s the last. It’s a lie of course because being stuck in a safe house for weeks on end, there isn’t much else to do. You live in the apartment next to the mark he’s collecting intel on. The blinds to your living room and bedroom are always drawn but he can see clearly into your kitchen where you spend most of your time.

It’s oddly relaxing to see you do mundane things like cooking dinner or baking cookies. You spend your mornings before work reading from your tablet and drinking tea at the little table you’ve wedged under the large window. Sometimes you’ll do the crossword there on Sundays, nose scrunched up as you solve the riddles and pencil in your answer. There’s a row of potted plants on the shelf that you take meticulous care of, watering them and cleaning the dust off their leaves with a damp cloth weekly. 

He loves the cooler days the best when you’ll throw open the window and he can hear the soft music you play and catch the smell of whatever you’re cooking. You’ve been baking more recently, experimenting with decorating cupcakes and cookies. Six admires the concentration it takes to sit, bent over a table to painstakingly create intricate designs for long stretches of time. He imagines you giving treats to your coworkers and friends. He knows they'd taste good, infused with the love and dedication you pour into them.

As far he can tell you don’t have anyone important in your life, at least that lives close by. You’re home every day by 5:30 pm on the dot and on the weekends you only seem to leave for groceries, although he’s seen two different men walk you back to your apartment in the evening. You never kiss or invite them up but you wear pretty sundresses that cling to all the right places on your body. Six is quick to push away that kind of thought. That’s dangerous territory. It’s bad enough he’s spying on you without your knowledge. 

This afternoon it looks like you’re making pasta and homemade bread. His stomach growls at the thought of warm, buttery bread. For a moment he lets himself fantasize what it would be like if he could share a meal with you, to be the person you spent hours cooking for. He likes to think you’d be the type to watch him take the first bite, anxious to see if he liked the new recipe. You’d probably smile and shyly look away when he complimented you, secretly pleased. 

Six thinks about cleaning up after dinner with you, the quiet, comfortable way the two of you would move around the small kitchen together. He'd wash and dry the dishes while you put away the leftovers. Afterward, the two of you would curl up on the couch and watch a movie. Six is willing to bet money you have a collection of soft blankets to burrow under. You'd probably fall asleep before the movie ends, head pillowed against his shoulder, and sleepily protest when he says you should go to bed. 

Before his thought can go further, a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye has him swinging the scope sharply to the right. It's the target, emerging from his apartment for the first time in weeks. The older man yawns and stretches, unaware he's being watched.

Six sighs, and flips open the shitty old Nokia phone he was given for the mission. 

"Target confirmed."

"10-4. Execute. Exfil will be waiting in the south alley," the faceless voice on the other end of the line commands. 

"Understood," Six replies, dropping the phone and grinding it under the heel of his boot. 

Before he can help himself, he looks back at your open kitchen window. You take a sip of wine and bite into a piece of bread, eyes closing with a smile as you savor the taste. His gaze lingers, longer than it should before he forces himself back to the task at hand. 

He takes slow, even breaths and leans his shoulder into the butt of the rifle, squeezing the trigger. The man topples back into the apartment. Below, the street traffic continues, unaware of what just occurred. The urge to look back at you is strong but Six buries it and disassembles his weapon. 

That isn't his life.

 This is and there's no amount of pretending that will change that.

♡

I no longer have a tag list, please follow @hg-library and turn on notifications.

[anitalenia]

━━━ 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒍 ₓ˚. ୭

⋆˙⟡♡ 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒚 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒔 / 𝒎𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔. just thinking about what it would be like if the gray boys wanted you to have their kids. ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

pairing: Courtland Gentry, Lloyd Hansen x fem!reader

content includes: darkish content in Lloyd’s part, unprotected sex, p in v penetration, overstimulation, breeding kink, pet names such as baby, pretty girl, good girl, sweetheart, choking but the sexy way, dirty dirty talk, fucked dumb!reader, cervix fucking, squirting, back scratching, reader calling Lloyd daddy, slight dumbification, clit rubbing, soft sex, stomach bulge

warnings: sexual content 18+, cussing + nasty words, darkish content in Lloyd’s section

authors note: I been thinking about this for a few days now… and I don’t even want kids 😜🫰🏻✨

LINKS ੈ♡˳·˖✶ 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 | 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒔

✧ ˚ LLOYD HANSEN　· 　 .

⋆˙⟡♡ Lloyd could only grin at you, amused with the way you could barely form a sentence, amused at the way you held onto his shoulders like that could really stop him. Your nails dug into his skin and drool pooled down your cheek; Lloyd could only groan hotly at the pleasurable sting of his skin breaking under your fingertips.

His cock, thick and hard, still after cumming twice in you already, was sliding in and out of your throbbing pussy with ease; you were still so wet even after the several orgasms Lloyd had effortlessly forced out of your limp body. You were almost cross-eyed it hurt so damn good.

Lloyd had you shoved into the mattress, sheets ripped off the corners and blanket discarded on the floor. He was panting above you, your legs wrapped loosely around his waist, your hair clinging to the sweat on your forehead as you let him take you however he wanted. You were too weak to fight, too fucked out to argue that your back was sore and your pussy ached.

You moaned at another hard thrust into your wet hole, his balls smacking into your ass as he laughed into your ear, hot and breathy and arrogant. The headboard banged into the cracking wall of his bedroom, worn down from the many sleepless nights and afternoons and mornings Lloyd couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

“Fuck, Lloyd!” You gasped out as he pulled out and then slammed back into your sopping cunt, eager for his dick and the feel of it stretching her out and bruising her in. Another pulse of painful pleasure rang through you, had you arching your back and thighs tightening around him.

“Aww, was that too hard, baby? My mistake, daddy’s so sorry… but he has to make sure all his cum gets into that little tummy of yours if you want his kids, doesn’t he?” He cooed in your ear sarcastically, his mustache scratching against your cheek as you rested your forehead against his muscle next to your head. You whined at that, eyes closed tightly as you gasped against his skin. He was so big, so much thicker than any cock you’ve ever had.

You could admit he was right, you wanted so badly to have his shithead kids because you were that deluded by his charm. He had fooled you, molded you into the perfect wife who sucked his cock any time he asked and gave him her sweet pussy anytime he wanted. He wasn’t going to ever let you go, he was going to ensure your devotion to him with the one thing that would keep you tied to him forever.

You were tired of it, mouth dry from moaning so much but pussy hungry for more and more and more. You were just his little cumslut, his doll bred to be his perfect girl that would happily take whatever he gave you. And he wanted to give you his cum, all of it, see your belly round with his children and your tits full and flush of milk and fat.

Your pussy squelched and leaked around his cock, his head in your neck as he took a hand off the headboard and traced it down your cheek, your neck, your collarbone, until he was rubbing your soft tit under his hand like a bowl of jelly.

You let out a heavy sigh at the feeling of it, your skin hot and tingly and stuck under him. Then he slid his hand back up, palm grazing your sensitive nipple and sending a jolt down your tummy.

He snickered, cocky and self-assured, as he wrapped his hand around your jaw and twisted your face to look at his, fingers digging into your hot cheeks. You whined weakly at the force of it, his cock slowing down inside of you like he was focusing on the feel of your wetness wrapped around him, like he needed you to focus on his words instead of the feeling of him fucking into you.

“Mmm, my pretty baby. This pussy is just begging to be filled with my cum, isn’t it? She wants me to give her all the cum she can take, isn’t that right, sweetheart?” Lloyd smiled deceivingly sweet at you, looking into your eyes with sweat gathered on his hairline.

You nodded blindly at that, hips bucking up into him for more, to bury himself deep inside your pussy until you didn’t know where you began and the base of his cock started. Your toes tightened and thighs tingled as he gave you what you wanted, not because he was satisfied with your response but because he loved that look on your face when he’d thrust into you, your furrowed brows and wet parted lips as a soft moan would sound from your breathless lungs.

“Can you imagine our kids, pretty girl? Hmm? One with your pretty little eyes and one with mine. Two little brats running around calling you mommy… god, I can just imagine how big those pretty tits would get. Tell your daddy, is that what you want baby, huh? You gotta tell me…” He grinned into your ear, gripping your jaw to keep your head straight as he picked up his pace, the tip of him slamming into your cervix and sending painful throbs down your thighs that had your hips bucking away from him. Your cries were cracked and uneven from the force of his thrusts, his thighs smacking into you and his grunts and chuckles breathing across the skin on your cheek.

You babbled agreement like a dumb slut, not really listening to a word besides the sound of his balls slapping into you, a fresh batch of wetness gushing out onto the sheets and soaking your thighs with your own juices.

“Yes, yes, please, please, daddy. Please cum inside me, please please please…” You begged as your stomach tightened like someone pulling a rope around a tree, your nails drawing blood from his back that dribbled down his shoulders. Your pussy clenched around him so tight he grind his teeth trying to push back in, feeling his balls tightening at your compliance.

He mouthed at your neck, tasting the salt, being uncharacteristically sweet as his hips stuttered from the pleasure ringing through his dick and thighs.

“Fuck… yes, baby, I’m gonna cum inside that pretty pussy… daddy knows how bad you want it… come on, pretty… that’s it, that’s daddy’s girl…” He coaxed in your ear as you let out a wail and squirted around him, your cum going on the sheets and his thighs as he talked you through it.

He followed soon after, your pussy squeezing around him so tight he could barely push in. He managed, balls deep as he let out a grunt, dropping his head in your neck as he came inside you.

You felt his cum shoot inside you and it had your tired body tensing from the sensation. You breathed heavily as he collapsed on top of you, his hands coming down and gripping your waist to center himself.

He kissed your cheek, mustache tickling your skin as you leaned into him.

“I think…I think it worked…” You murmured breathlessly into the air, eyes closed as you caressed the skin of his back.

He chuckled, just as tired as you, his limp dick still inside of your wet hole as neither one of you wanted him to pull out just yet. You enjoyed feeling full of him, your warmth pulsing around him as your thighs trembled every so often.

“You’re gonna make daddy happy, aren’t you, baby?” He murmured sweetly, a satisfied smile on his face as he felt you nod against him.

He took his hand and rubbed your belly, knowing that you would indeed.

✧ ˚ SIERRA SIX　· 　 .

⋆˙⟡♡ It was a rainy night, thunder and lightning flashing in the dark sky and rain pattering on the windows when Six had mumbled it into your neck, sleepy and groggy like he was just speaking from his mind and not from fact.

“Have my kids…” His voice was so soft, overpowered by the storm, that you weren’t sure you had heard him correctly. So you asked him what he said, eyebrows furrowed and phone thrown to the side as something else had caught your attention.

“I want you to have my kids…” He said it again against your skin, his eyes closed and his arm around your waist like he’d been sleep talking. You knew him though, knew that when spontaneity hit he would use it, but not unless he didn’t meant it. He was genuine and serious, thumb rubbing your stomach like he was already imagining it swelled up. You felt your tummy tighten at the thought, wetness plaguing your lower lips as you imagined what that would be like.

That’s how you ended up here, laying on your stomach with Six’s broad body on top of your back, a hand intertwined with yours as you grasped the dark gray sheets above your head, his other hand digging into the sheet next to you to balance himself.

His cock was big and long, thrusting into you slow and surely, pushing his cum into you and making sure you felt every single inch of him within you. He breathed against your neck, heavy and hot, as you gasped into the sheets, hips perked up so he could fuck into you easier.

“Does that feel good, baby? Me deep inside you like this?” He muttered into your ear, pushing into your wet hole with a soft squelch until his balls were hanging by your clit. You felt so full, so good, a pleasurable pulse ringing through your legs that had you whining into the dark, a flash of lightening illuminating the room.

His hand tightened around yours as you clenched around him, letting out a high pitched uh-huh in agreement.

You felt the ends of his blonde hair tickle your shoulder as he thrusted into you a little quicker, but just as sensual. He was always the type to make sure you got off before him, ensured that you cum before he even thought about his own release.

He took his hand that was wrapped around yours and glided it down your arm, sending tingles down your heated skin and a fluttering in your stomach. He brought it down to your tummy as he thrusted back into your tight pussy, gritting his teeth at the warmth squeezing around his cock.

He pressed down on the space just above your pelvis, feeling the tip of his cock bulging in your tummy where he was gonna cum. You keened at the pressure of him pushing down on your stomach, your juices flooding out of you in an unexpected jolt of pleasure and marking the sheets with a dark patch.

“I’m gonna cum right here, make sure you’re full of my cum so you can have my kids. You want to make me a daddy? You wanna be a mommy, hmm?” He hummed into your ear as he pressed down harder on that spot that had your toes curling and pussy tightening. He loved the idea of you pregnant with his children, your skin glowing and your stomach full. He could picture it in his mind, could only imagine how much beautifuler you’d look pregnant, and it made his balls tighten and dick stick up straight.

He pushed into your sopping cunt, pulsing around him as you sobbed into the sheets, tears welling in your eyes at the indescribable pleasure coursing through you from the feel of him. You felt him, all of him; felt every vein and every ridge, felt his tip rubbing up against you and bumping into your cervix. He didn’t stop there, forced himself inside and went even further.

“Oh my god…” You cried as he slid his hand down with a grunt, pushing into you as his hand quickly found your sensitive clit. He took his middle finger and slowly pushed down on it, his finger soaked with your juices as he rubbed it like it was a precious diamond he was trying not to ruin.

“I’m gonna take care of you, baby. I’m not gonna let you leave this fucking house after I fill this tummy. You’re not gonna lift a finger… I’ll do everything for you, baby. I’ll do anything…” He moaned, voice raspy and thick with arousal, always so sweet and generous to you. He was only pulling out halfway before thrusting back in so he could stay inside of you, his muscles flexing with every thrust into your tight pussy like he was forcing his way in.

You felt your thighs shaking from the way he was rubbing your clit, skilled fingers rubbing the wetness in your slit and making you moan louder than the rain that pounded on the windows. You wanted him to give you his kids so bad, wanted him to come inside of you even worse. You felt hot and surrounded, but comforted by his larger body on top of yours, always shrouded over you like the protector he was.

He groaned into your skin, resting his sweaty forehead on your shoulder as he felt his need to cum tighten the coil in his stomach.

You couldn’t stop it, too blinded by the pleasure to notice the liquid that squirted over his thighs and creamed around his cock, your thighs almost numb as your knees shook and your hips fell into the bed like your muscles gave up.

“Ohh, baby…” You whimpered helplessly as you gushed around him, his fingers slowly rubbing your clit as you finally came around him. He furrowed his brows in concentration, his hand leaving your pained clit and giving you some relief as he thrusted into you faster, rhythm faltering as he pictured how big your tits would get during your pregnancy, how he could stuff his face between them and leave purple marks on them.

“Mm, I’m gonna cum… you gonna take it for me like a good girl?” He mumbled into your ear with gritted teeth, ignoring the way your sensitive pussy squeezed around his dick almost painfully, throbbing and sore from his dick repeatedly pounding into it without stopping.

You hummed an mmhmm, sounding needy and weak, completely overstimulated as he kept fucking into you, close to his release the more he heard your sweet whimpers.

“That’s my girl…” He grunted, pushing into you one last time before he burrowed himself deep inside of you, biting your shoulder as he came inside the deepest parts of your pussy with thick ropes of white cum that shot out of his pink tip.

You moaned weakly at the feeling, lips chapped and head ringing as Six waited a beat before pulling out of you with a soft grunt, his limp dick falling out of you easily. You couldn’t move, feeling empty and cold as he picked himself up from you, looking at your gaping hole with cum drizzling out like sweet icing.

He breathed heavily as he laid back down next to you on his back, then reached over for you so you could lay into him. His arm slithered around your waist, eyes running over your glistening skin.

“come’ere.” He uttered with a scratchy voice, helping you turn around as you flipped onto your side, cuddling into his hot skin with a sigh.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, catching your breaths as Six held you into him, staring at the ceiling with a content face, his mind filled with the image of your kids running around, your pregnant belly and your twinkling eyes, your radiant skin and your beautiful smile. He’d knew you’d make the best mother and he couldn’t wait to experience it.

You were thinking of the same as your fingers softly tapped against the hardness of his chest, staring at a scar there with your head rested in his neck.

“You really mean it, Court? You really want kids?” You whispered almost bashfully, not wanting to have all this hope fluttering in your chest just for him to crush them under his trained fists.

Six cracked a small smile, “I think I made that pretty obvious, don’t you?”

You felt the wetness between your thighs as a sticky reminder, a small chuckle leaving your lips as you cuddled closer into him.

“Yeah, that’s true, too.”

[ken-dom]

Alone Together

Sierra Six x gn!reader

2.4k words

∘₊✧ Summary: you take Six to the carnival for your first date, hoping he’ll relax a little

∘₊✧ Author’s notes: this was written for @heresthestorymorningglory’s birthday! Thanks for being my best goose, I hope you have an excellent day when it eventually rolls around 💖 (we were too excited to wait to post our birthday fics). It was SO hard writing Six without sending it to her to check it was Sixy enough!! If you haven’t read her Six, thoroughly recommend.

∘₊✧ Warnings/content: fluff, first date, kissing, mild peril?!, mention of clowns

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

Six’s arm is secure around your shoulders, almost swallowing you up in his embrace as he keeps you close.

And keeps you safe, of course. Even during his rare downtime, Six was on high alert. You’d never seen someone play a ring toss challenge with such laser focussed eyes and tensed shoulders before, but he got every single one, winning you a red love heart shaped balloon that bobbed along above you as you strolled through the fairground.

It was cute of him to choose the balloon over an annoyingly large stuffed toy, but you know it was partly (mostly) so that if he lost sight of you, you’d be easier to locate in the crowd should anything go wrong. But, really, what did it matter? You’d never felt safer than when you were with him, and your first date is shaping up to be just about perfect; except that you haven’t stopped to eat yet.

The aromas of deep fried doughnuts and roasting onions make your mouth water as you move through the fair, and you fully intend to drag him off for a hot dog or fries when you see a ring the bell game and stop in your tracks, considering it.

Six looks down, seeing your eyes light up, and smiles. But he feels you sigh as you glance at the arm around your shoulders and look back in the direction of the food stalls, forgetting it.

‘Hey, let’s have a go?’ he encourages, lightly squeezing his arm around you.

You huff, amused. ‘Are you kidding?’

‘No.’

‘Nah, it’s huge. And you’re huge!’ You squeeze his bicep. ‘Far too easy, and where’s the fun in that for either of us?’

Six takes a deep, even breath, slowly sliding his arm from around your shoulders as he thinks on it. ‘How about we make it interesting?’

You raise an eyebrow in his direction and he remains apparently unfazed, with both his hands free he pops a Skittle or two into his mouth, chewing leisurely. There’s no urgency in him at all and you realise he’s started to relax. Just a little.

‘If you ring the bell before I do, you choose what we do for the rest of the night.’

‘I fully planned to do that anyway,’ you smirk playfully.

‘Even the haunted house,’ he offers with a tilt of his head, as though it’s a very attractive deal.

‘Oh? Scared?’ 

‘Terrified,’ he quips, tossing another Skittle onto his tongue and sucking for a second before giving in and crunching the sugary shell.

‘Whatever, you just want to show off,’ you wink.

Six grunts, shoving the candy bag back into his pocket, and confidently strides over to swap a five dollar bill for the mallet, assuming the position.

He swings the mallet down to the base with such force that you’re sure will send the little red puck right up to the top of the ten foot pole and send a triumphant ring through the fairground.

But, somehow, he misses. Spectacularly. 

The second time, the mallet conveniently – and comically – slips out of his hand before he swings it, and falls to the ground behind him.

He tilts his head in defeat, a wry smile pulling at his lips.

You glare back, annoyed that he’s doing this to let you win. There’s no way Six, with all his precision and skill can’t manage to wield a simple carnival mallet.

The third time he brings the mallet down, the puck shoots up to just an inch below the bell and drops back to the bottom again without a win. There’s that precision.

With sparkling eyes, he catches your gaze and mutters, ‘Too distracted, I guess. Your turn.’

You narrowed your eyes at him as he leant against the side of the nearest trailer, folding his arms over his chest and trying to appear casual.

You grip the mallet, squeezing your fingers around the handle to brace yourself, and bring it down hard. The little puck shoots up, and you don’t reach the bell, but you’re so close you could kick yourself.

With much less effort this time, you do it, and the bell rings loud and proud through the chatter and music, and you were offered a range of ridiculously large stuffed animals to choose from and take away with you.

Six stayed propped against the trailer, smirking again but blatantly this time, as you picked out a huge panther plushie.

‘That one. Reminds me of him,’ you smile, throwing it immediately over to Six. 

He catches it easily. It looks so much smaller in his hands and you laugh at the frown he reveals as he lowers it.

‘That thing’s yours now. You’ll need to name him.’

‘No thank you,’ Six retorted, holding it back out toward you.

‘I rang the bell, I make the decisions, remember?’

Six’s jaw clenched as he stared at you.

‘Fine. Bruce,’ he eventually grunts, reluctantly sliding the thing under one arm as you slide your arm into the other.

‘You let me win, Six. You’re not getting away with it that easy.’

‘You didn’t want to win?’ he smarms.

‘Of course I did. I just didn’t want you to pretend to lose for my benefit.’

Six sighs resignedly. ‘Hungry?’ he suggests, hoping you can forget about the stupid ring the bell game over a bag of sugary doughnuts together, but an idea lights up in your eyes and you drag him away in the opposite direction.

You pass the stunt cage and watch a peroxide blonde mount a motorcycle, making a mental note to return to here later and catch the next show. But for now, you had other ideas.

‘You mentioned the haunted house?’

Six’s brow furrows again.

‘Oh, impatient are we? I apparently had to win a biassed game to get what I wanted, so I’ll take it at my leisure, thank you.’

Six rolls his eyes and drops back in defeat, leaving you free to stop off at the sweet stall for a big cloud of blue cotton candy on the way.

He watches you as you excitedly point to what you want, still clutching your balloon as he clutches Bruce. He’s in awe at the way you move, the way you laugh with the vendor as though you’ve known her your entire life, the glee on your face as you return to him with the ball of pure sugar.

You reach up to pop a handful into his mouth, fingertips brushing briefly against his bottom lip. He almost lets out a hum at how your gentle touch tingled, but manages to stop it before it erupts.

‘How’s it taste?’ you ask innocently, tearing off a chunk of blue for yourself.

Six blinks away, inclined to answer with something like Not as good as I bet you do, but worried it would be too much. So he stayed silent as you shared the rest of the floss with him.

‘Will that keep you going?’ you ask teasingly, not waiting for an answer. ‘Haunted house next!’

You grab his hand to pull him toward the attraction, your knees weakening slightly as you feel how big it is against yours. You’ve noticed the size of his hands before; big, warm looking palms and long, surprisingly elegant fingers.

‘I’ve never actually been in one,’ you admit excitedly as you stop by the little ticket office to admire it in all its stereotypical horror film beauty. ‘But I’ve always wanted to. I love a bit of a spook!’

Six takes care of the tickets and follows your lead. You step inside and drop his hand as you venture first. A skeleton pops out to wave and you laugh, but then there's a second, unexpected skeleton, and you jump, grabbing his hand again.

Six’s cheeks turn hot at how you find safety in him, but you can’t see the blush colouring his cheeks in the gloom of the spooky corridors. He’s thankful for that.

You move closer when the winding path through the house grows darker, sickly smelling smoke making it hard to see very far ahead of you, and eventually you’re so close to Six that his breathing catches in his throat.

The haunted house doesn’t phase him one bit; he predicts almost every movement before it occurs and has absolutely no fear of the dead and creepy; it’s an occupational hazard that he’s much more concerned with the living and creepy. But having you cling to his arm feels nice somehow. It makes him feel safe and wanted, which is new, and surprisingly pleasant. He doesn’t want you to let go and hopes there's a while before this comes to an end.

A group of ghosts sweeps past and you giggle, but the bizarre gust of wind that accompanies them chills you to the bone. Before you can quite recover, a clown appears right in your path, and you jump enough for Six to automatically pull you closer. Feeling you tremble with the after effects of your surprise, he quickly seeks out a particularly dark, undisturbed corner and tugs you toward it, setting you in front of him so you’re facing away from whatever else is going on in the haunted house for a moment.

‘Hey, you doing ok?’ He sounds lighthearted, but you can tell he’s forcing it, concern lacing his tone.

‘Yeah! Yeah, it’s fun, it’s just…’ you trail off.

‘A little jumpy,’ he nods, as though he agrees, but you know he isn’t phased.

As your eyes adjust in the darkness, they find his piercing blue gaze intense on yours and your heart races a little faster.

‘Need a break?’ he whispers huskily..

You can only nod. The thrill of being scared out of your wits is all part of the fun for you, but being so close to Six after the adrenaline rush, alone together in the dark, renders you speechless. You’ve been drawing closer by the second and now you’re mere inches from his face, can feel his warm breath on your cheek, smell his peppery cologne. Bruce nudges you in the chest and six drops him.

You can’t recall how it started, you just know that your lips were trembling one moment, and pressed to Six’s the next. His muscular arms snake around your waist as his strong hands glide up your back, pulling you flush to his chest and finally letting out that hum he tried to suppress when your finger grazed his bottom lip earlier. It vibrates against you and you think this might be as close to reckless abandon as Six might get and smile against his mouth.

You feel his tongue, hot and wet, trace the join of your lips and you instantly part them, eagerly inviting his tongue to slide against yours. It’s languid and needy, and the taste of the cotton candy you’d shared hits you first. It tastes different on his tongue than yours — more blue somehow — and then the artificial sugary fruit of the Skittles he’d been periodically chewing on all night follows. It’s sickly sweet, but so him you can’t help but find it delicious.

The groans and cackles and clanks of the haunted house fade into nothingness behind you, and it’s just him. Just Six, and you, hidden away. Secure and yet adventurous, safe and exciting. Your grip on the balloon he’d won you loosens and it floats up to the ceiling, somewhere in the dark, ready to be discovered when the carnival moves on.

He shifts a little, suddenly impatient, and deepens the kiss with a quiet moan that sends butterflies soaring in your stomach, and when the fingers tenderly rubbing at the nape of your neck slide up into your hair and scrape against your scalp you all but swoon, thankful he has you pinned against his chiselled frame within those thick arms to keep you upright.

The kiss slows to a stop, and Six pulls back for breath, sighing almost dreamily. He’s smiling at you, but it’s not playful or jokey this time. It’s warm and soft, and unlike any expression you’ve seen on his features before.

‘Better?’ he breathes, already fumbling in his pocket to retrieve yet another Skittle and drop it into his mouth.

‘Much,’ you smile back.

He drops his gaze, coy, and nods. ‘I’m excellent at distraction techniques.’ And with that, his mischievous sparkle is back. ‘Now can we please get some food? Skittles will only sustain me for a few days.’

You roll your eyes spiritedly, and one corner of his mouth twitches, pleased he’s calmed you enough to be mock-exasperated with him.

Six holds an elbow up as an offer for you to tuck yourself under his arm again, and you accept, pulling his forearm up gently to cover your eyes. As cute as the ghosts and skeletons had been, that final clown jump scare just about finished you off.

After collecting discarded Bruce, he carefully guides you back out into the bustle and bright lights of the fair, the familiar melodies of carnival music and the sizzle of the nearby hot dog stall flooding your senses again, and you pull his arm away from your eyes.

‘Thank you,’ you mouth, reaching up to stroke his cheek with a tender caress.

His eyes slide shut and he leans into your touch for just a moment, but he’s quick to snap his gaze back to his surroundings again. Force of habit, you supposed.

You drop your hand and look around too, getting your bearings. ‘So what can I get you? My treat.’ 

His gaze is already trained on the doughnut stand before you finish the sentence. Laughing, you nod and head over without waiting for his confirmation, bringing him back a bag of four deliciously golden doughnuts dusted in thick sugar.

Six eyes you suspiciously as you hand over the little paper bag. ‘I didn’t give you my order.’

‘Didn’t need to; I saw you eyeing them. To be honest, even if I didn’t, I could’ve guessed.’

Six, paused with a doughnut half way to his mouth, raises a questioning eyebrow at you. 

‘Six. Come on. You taste like sugar.’

Six blushes deeply. He’d never considered how he might taste. He felt exposed, but in a good way? He wasn’t sure how to explain it. You see it this time, and smile inwardly.

‘What, you want my fries instead?’

‘No, no, I’m good,’ he protests, taking a bite big enough to tear the first doughnut clean in half and mumbling through a full, sugary mouth, ‘thank you.’