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tangerineastronaut · 27 days ago

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Let's Put the End in Friends | Jackson Wang (Part 2)

Part 1

The one where your best friend/sort of boyfriend really wants to fuck you.

Pairing: Jackson Wang (GOT7) x Fem!Reader Genre: Fluff, SMUT, BestFriend!Reader, idiots to lovers Requested: Yes w.c. 7.8k Warnings: reader is bad at feelings, jackson is in love, two horny weirdos, "begging" for sex (but not in a bad/manipulative way there's a mutual understanding ok), oral - fem!receiving (the man eats it like cake even after he hits), unprotected sex (don't do it unless you're best friends with Jackson Wang and I'm guessing you aren't), discussion of contraceptives, breeding kink sorta kinda heh, brief talk of having kids in future, banter, teasing, name calling, dirty talk, I think that's all?? they're still really annoying except just horny now A/N: Ughhhh here's the part two that I desperately wanted to write and finally people requested it!! This chapter is like 15% feelings and 85% smut, but it's all kinda mixed in so I apologize in advance. Jfc I love these two so much. If this is bad I'm sorry! I love writing where it takes me and it all felt right. I love my readers so much. <3 Requests: Open (link below)

Requests | WIPs Masterlists: BTS | ATEEZ | GOT7 | Stray Kids

You hadn’t really known what to expect.

In dramas, after a confession, things were usually a little awkward, shy, sweet. But the day after Jackson confessed to you, he nearly bit your hand off when you tried to steal one of his dumplings. Granted, you bit him first, but it was his job to be chivalrous, not yours.

“Um, maybe eat your own before you try to steal mine?”

“I’m literally just a girl, Jackson.”

A few weeks after said confession, things were still mostly the same, as you were awoken by someone pinching your cheek. Bleary eyed, you squinted, looking up at a very hot, very annoyed face.

“Where the hell is my academy sweatshirt? I’m gonna be late for my shift,” he huffed, giving you another pinch. Jackson worked part time at an MMA academy, teaching a class of young children. Unfortunately, that meant three days out of the week, he had to wake up at 7 in the morning to be ready by 8. And if he was up, so were you.

“I dunno,” you whined groggily, rolling over. “I didn’t wear it. Promise.”

“Liar,” he accuses.

“Mmn. ‘m not lying, check my laundry.”

You hear shuffling, the sound of your hamper being opened (filled with clean clothes, because dirty clothes go on the bathroom floor of course), and quickly tug the blanket over your head as Jackson calls your bluff.

“At least it’s clean,” you attempt to plead your case, but the covers are yanked off. You yelp as Jackson flips you onto your back and begins to tickle you.

“Didn’t wear it, huh? Seriously, of all my clothes?” he snarls, fingers digging into your sides. You can’t speak; you instead make animalistic noises of possession as you attempt to free yourself. You wrap your legs around his waist and shove at his chest, shouting apologies in between fits of laughter.

At last, the tickling ends, and you all but collapse against the sheets, sprawled out like half a starfish.

“I’m going to start charging you for the things you steal,” Jackson says, breathless himself from the efforts of torture. Only then are you made aware that his hands are on your thighs. You don’t think he’s doing it on purpose, until you do, when he squeezes them beneath his palms and brushes his thumbs under your pajama shorts.

“Hey,” you warn, wriggling beneath him. He laughs and leans over you.

“What?”

“You know what. Get off of me.”

He sighs, letting his head drop down as though weary.

When he looks at you again, his eyes have gone all soft, and it makes you feel warm and tingly inside. You swallow and force yourself to look away. You weren’t completely immune to his charms and didn’t want to risk it, answering the question he hadn’t asked.

“Nope.”

That was the deal.

Kissing was alright—as long as it wasn’t too long or too deep. Touching was fine too, just avoid any erogenous zones. Truthfully, you weren’t sure why you’d placed such heavy restrictions on your…relationship? Whatever this was. Probably because at the end of the day, you were still terrified of losing him. Of crossing a bridge that crumbles behind you, never being able to return to where you were.

Right now, the two of you could still be around your friends, could still shamelessly flirt and insist it isn’t flirting. When you’d shown up to dinner with the guys, your hand clasped in Jackson’s to test the waters, no one said a word. Youngjae crinkled his nose and said it was cringe…and that’s it. That was the only reaction. The only people surprised about this development were the two of you, apparently, mostly you. And, you hadn’t realized how horny you were for one another.

When you’d stare at him after a shower, when he had the audacity to drink juice from the carton wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, you noticed that…you’ve always stared. That wasn’t new. It’s just that you were now aware of it, and also very aware of how it felt to see his throat working as he swallows, beads of water dripping down his chest and following the dip of his abs like a treasure map for your tongue—

But it went both ways, fortunately, as Jackson’s playful way of grabbing your waist when you were busily bent over no longer felt fun, but rather, made you want to push against him, feel his hands sliding elsewhere, because god had they always been so big? Had his fingers always been so long?

Presently, Jackson rolls his eyes and kisses your cheek. You refuse to look at him still, so he tilts down, where his lips brush your throat; when your head snaps up to scold him, he takes the opportunity to catch your lips with his, sighing as though relieved.

Kissing him feels so normal that it’s almost painful, like every second his lips are against yours, you ask yourself why you were so stupid, why you hadn’t noticed before, why you hadn’t understood that the feelings you’ve had for him were being confused for platonic when they were much, much closer to something akin to lo—

“Mmff…ou’re ‘unna ‘ee ate,” you mumble, though Jackson doesn’t stop kissing you. You giggle as your words are slurred by his mouth, which in turn makes him smile, which in turn makes you wrap your arms around his neck and consider begging him to let the kids down just this once.

You know he wouldn’t hesitate. So that’s why you groan and push him away. You squirm from beneath him before he can snatch you up, fixing your pajamas as though you were preparing to walk the red carpet. When you look up at Jackson, he’s on his knees on your bed, hands gripping the covers and head tilted to the side. Oh.

“Stop looking at me like that, puppy boy,” you mumble, rolling your eyes. You cross your arms, taking on the weight of the world’s strongest soldier as Jackson fucking Wang silently begs to bend you over the mattress

Jackson lets his legs slip over the side, feet planted on the floor as he tugs you toward him by the strings of your shorts. You whine in protest—losing a drawstring was so—

“I think you like it when I beg,” Jackson says, voice too low to be good for your health. You look at him in surprise, his expression hasn’t really changed, but why did he have to do this to you?

“I think you’re gonna be late,” you huff, feeling your cheeks redden.

“I think you’re cute when you blush.”

“I think—”

“I think we’re gonna be good for each other.”

“It was my turn,” you pout. “I think you need a cold shower.”

Jackson mumbles something you don’t catch as he nuzzles his face against your stomach. His arms hang loosely around your hips, and you’re once again left with emotional whiplash as the man somehow goes from fuck me~ to hold me in the span of a few seconds. You swallow and rake your fingers through his hair (which he pulls at less nowadays, thanks to your nagging).

“I want to,” you say quietly, nails scratching at his head. “But I’m scared. Like…we could probably bounce back from this, and from holding hands and even kissing. But I’m afraid that I’d never be able to, you know, not hurt around you the further we go if things turn out bad. We just don’t know what’ll happen if we commit. That’s scary.”

To your surprise, Jackson squeezes you tighter. He tilts his head back to look up at you, his chin resting just above your belly button.

“What is it gonna take, pie?” he asks softly. Your brows furrow, though he continues. “What’s it gonna take for you to realize I’ve been yours this entire time?”

Your breath catches in your throat; you know he can feel it from the way your stomach tightens. He noses at the material of your top, planting a kiss there. Then the bastard opens his mouth again. You can taste his words.

“You own me, baby.”

You wake up confused and sweaty, fumbling around for your phone. You grab the device and groan—it’s not even five in the morning, and it’s a saturday.

The dream woke you up. You and Jackson had an idea to conserve water, apparently, sharing a shower too small for one person let alone two. Your brain filled in the blanks for the missing information, unfortunately for you, though you had no doubt he was as beautiful in this reality, too.

It was almost impossible for you to go back to sleep after waking up usually, so you throw the covers off with much more attitude than necessary before quietly stepping out of your room. The light beneath Jackson’s door is off, and you tiptoe down the hall, but when you round the corner to the kitchen you gasp in surprise.

Jackson raises a brow at you, taking a sip from the bottle of water in his hand. He’s wearing nothing but black boxers, showing off the lean muscles he works so hard on. So very hard.

“You’re up?” he asks, and by his raspy tone it’s clear he woke up not long before you. You nod and shrug for no reason at all other than to distract from the fact that your eyes are eating him alive. He has the sexiest bedhead, and the thin chain he wears glints as it drapes over his collar bones.

“Thirsty,” you lie. You move past him to reach the fridge, but an arm hooks around your waist. You inhale sharply as you’re tugged against his chest, the warmth of him shooting tingles down your back. You swallow, and he holds the bottle in front of you.

“Here,” he mumbles. He sounds so casual, like his actions hadn’t just made your soul briefly leave your physical form. You take the water from him and tilt your head back for a sip, not having realized how thirsty you were until you’ve finished half of it.

You turn around, though he doesn’t release you, so you remain pressed to his bare chest. You have no idea why, but you lean forward and kiss him just below his collar bone, realizing too late how cruel you were being. In an attempt to make it chaste, you kiss the other side, right above his heart, though Jackson’s hand flies to your hair. He cups the back of your head and refuses to let you move.

“Jackson,” you protest, but he whines.

He fucking. Whines.

“Please, pie. Just keep your lips on me. Please,” he breathes. You exhale a shaky breath and nod.

“Okay,” you say quietly, and you swear he sighs with relief. You watch his face, tilting in again and pressing another kiss to the same spot as before. Jackson nods, his tongue slipping out to wet his lips.

You kiss the center of his chest, lips dragging over his skin to his left pec. When you move a tad bit lower, this time where his heart beats, he hisses and tightens his grip in your hair. You gasp for all the right reasons, though he doesn’t know that.

“Fuck, sorry,” he whispers as though the two of you are sneaking around rather than doing…whatever this was in the middle of your shared kitchen. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you giggle softly. “I didn’t know you were so sensitive.”

Jackson looks down at you, his expression morphing completely into…calmness? But it still puts you on edge.

“What’d I say?” you ask with a frown.

“I haven’t had sex in almost a year,” he admits.

You blink.

“You…what?” you breathe, shaking your head. “But, you’ve had tinder…you’ve gone on dates.”

Jackson pulls you close again, silently asking for more kisses. You realize he might’ve been right…you like when he begs. You kiss him as he asks, this time close to his nipple, and he shudders.

“I’m not gonna fuck a girl who wants more than I can give her,” he says. You mouth over his skin, tongue reaching the edge of his areola. You like his answer.

“Why can’t you give her what she wants?” you ask, knowing what he’ll say but wanting to hear it all the same. Jackson knows this too, but he’s more than happy to give you what you want.

“Because she—fuck—”

Your tongue lathes over his nipple and he grips the counter tight.

“—’cause she’s not you,” he finishes. “None of them are. Can’t be anything for anyone except you. Wanna…wanna be everything to you.”

“You are…you are…” you mumble carelessly, barely kissing him, but rather rubbing your mouth on his chest. He seems more than okay with that, his head falling back, though he shakes it.

“I’m not, baby. I’ve got so much to give you, gonna show you what it’s like to be loved right, fucked right, needed right. I need you, y/n. I-I fucking need you so bad. Always have.”

You were supposed to be turning him on, not getting choked up, but you pulled back and covered your face. Jackson was still a little breathless and out of it, but he grabbed at your wrists.

“Sorry, fuck, was that…was that bad? I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” you mumble, wiping helplessly at tears that slide down your cheeks. Jackson pulls you forward, crushing you to his chest. He wraps both arms around you so tight you can barely breathe. You love it.

What else do you love?

You love that you can feel his cock pressing against the inside of your thigh, that you can feel how much he wants from you. You swallow your tears and reach between you, your palm finding the thick outline beneath his boxers and squeezing.

Jackson’s reaction is visceral and downright sinful. He jumps, then buries his face into your hair.

“Again, p-please,” he mumbles. You do it again. There’s a weird mix between sadness and horniness between you, but you keep going, sliding your hand up and down his clothed length. He’s definitely thick and a little longer than average, but not frighteningly so.

Thick enough to make you choke, but not enough to bruise your cervix. Perfect. Somehow, you think you know exactly what it feels like to be fucked by him.

“Jesus fuck—I don’t care if I get to fuck you, just please…let me taste you, baby,” Jackson grunts, hips lazily bucking against you.

That…sounds alright with you. You take your hand off his cock and grab his wrist to pull him to his room, but he twists you around so that your back is to the counter. You open your mouth to ask what he’s doing, but the words die on your tongue when he drops to his knees.

“J-Jackson, you don’t have t-to…”

“Shh, baby,” he mumbles, cupping the backs of your thighs. You feel dumb, forgetting how to speak. “Let me make you feel good. Wanna hear those pretty sounds you make when you play with yourself.”

Your cheeks flush pink, Jackson’s words hardly registering in your brain. He hooks his fingers into the elastic of your pajama shorts, leaning forward to kiss the front of your thigh before he begins tugging them down.

“W-What do you mean when I pla—oh…”

Jackson doesn’t hesitate, going face first between your legs and groaning. The vibrations ring through your inner thighs and go straight to your clit, nearly sending you down. He hadn’t even touched you properly yet.

“If you tell me you didn’t want me to hear you fucking yourself, I’m gonna call you a liar,” he whispers. His lips graze over the hair you keep trimmed—you could be a little self conscious about that at times, a couple past partners even commenting on it, but Jackson is worshipping your pussy without words and you’ve never felt so perfectly adequate.

You think over what he said once you regain a little bit of consciousness. And fuck.

You were tired of this sort of hindsight ability you had now, the way you felt when you thought back to the times you were so obviously head over heels in love with him and had convinced yourself you were friends.

Like fucking yourself with your favorite toy, back to the wall splitting your rooms. Moaning loud even though you didn’t do that when he wasn’t home.

“S-Sorry,” you whimper, because what the fuck else are you supposed to say? You feel warmth as Jackson breathes a laugh against your thighs, teeth grazing the sensitive skin near your labia.

“It’s okay, baby. Just do it again for me, hm? While I’m in the same room at least?”

Did he have to be such a fucking brat? You thought “pie” and his attitude would disappear after all of this, but you were sorely mistaken. You opened your mouth to complain.

Jackson pushed your thighs open wider, settling between them and looking up at you from his knees. You squeaked, and the last thing you saw before his face disappeared was that smug grin underneath his pretty brown eyes.

You learned two lessons very quickly. One:

Jackson Wang ate pussy like his life depended on it.

And two, you were immediately jealous of any woman who’d ever had him like this, on his knees between their legs. This should be illegal.

His tongue slid between your tender pussy lips, expertly finding your clit and daring to flick at it beneath the hood. Your knees did buckle, but he hugged your thighs and kept you upright, taking the opportunity to squeeze and knead at your ass. You reached down and gripped his hair for purchase, tugging, eliciting a groan from him that felt better than any dick you’d ever had. You did it again, and this time he practically sang praises into you—he was literally fucking you with his moans.

“Jesus fuck, Jackson?” you ask, unable to do much else other than feel and squeak out your needs. His fingers dug into the plushness of your thighs, though one hand slipped beneath your shirt. His thumb grazed over your nipple before gently pinching it, and you were ready to die.

When he sucked the tender flesh of your clit into his mouth, you stumbled forward, nearly sending him back until he caught you by the waist. You whimper and tug at him to let you go until finally, he pulls away from your cunt, looking far too pleased with shiny lips. He licks them and you fall into his lap, shuddering as you cling to him.

“That bad, huh? Should I keep my day job?” He teases you gently, one hand cupping the back of your head while the other hugs you tighter. You can still feel his cock straining against his boxers, nearly perfectly aligned as it presses against your ass.

“S-Shut up, a-asshole,” you stammer out, gripping his shoulders tightly for comfort—or maybe dear life. Jackson chuckles in a way that makes you feel safe and annoyed—because how can he send you to fucking space and then try to convince you it’s all good and dandy with the same mouth?

“You okay baby?�� he asks softly. When you nod, he pulls back enough to kiss your temple, though keeps his lips there. You swallow, having a feeling that he wasn’t done with you. Not even close.

“Was it good?” he asks.

“Very c-classy,” you manage to huff, but Jackson only laughs.

“Mmm. Knew you’d taste good. Knew you’d love me on my knees,” he hums. You shiver, and he moves to your ear, nipping at your lobe. “Knew you’d look so pretty while I eat it.”

You let out a soft whine, your hips rolling into his. You’re spreading your sticky juices along his clothed cock, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he grabs your waist and bites his lower lip.

“Are you done? Hm? Or can I take you to my room and finish you off?” Jackson asks, tilting his head to kiss below your ear. “Lay you down and hold you open until that pretty clit is nice and swollen…”

“F-Fuck,” you whine, digging your nails into his shoulders. “N-No.”

“M’kay, need me to run you a bath then? I bought some new bath bombs—”

“No I meant…” you breathe, letting your head drop to his shoulder. You were dizzy, but your thoughts had never been more clear. Not necessarily a decision out of desperation, just…it needed to happen. You needed it.

“I-I don’t want you to eat me out, Jackson,” you say as you swallow.

You lift your head, relieved to see there’s no frustration in his gaze, no disappointment. God, he’s really just here to make sure you’re happy, safe, comfortable.

“I want…I want you to fuck me.”

“Why are we in your room?”

“My bed is bigger.”

“When’s the last time you washed your sheets?”

“I don’t know, pie. When’s the last time you washed my sheets?”

You crinkle your nose, but Jackson just rolls his eyes. He drags you onto the bed with him, grabbing a pillow and stuffing it in your face. You sniff, your eyes immediately narrowing.

“Have you seriously been washing your bedding regularly now under the implication that we’d fuck soon?” you hiss, sitting up to glare at him. He was sprawled out, looking much too happy for your liking.

“Yes,” he says gleefully. You grab the pillow and make an attempt to suffocate him, but he doesn’t fight back, and that’s not very fun.

Oh yeah! You’re also only wearing his a t-shirt, and he’s only wearing boxers, and his cock is very hard and you’d very much like to put it in your mouth now that you’ve recovered somewhat from his tongue.

“You’re such a boy,” you groan, throwing the pillow back to the headboard. Jackson nods, tugging at the hem of your shirt.

“Yeah. Take this off and sit on my face please,” he hums, lying back as though preparing to be sacrificed to the thigh smothering gods.

“How romantic,” you scoff.

“Come sit on my face so I can make you cry the only way a man should make a woman cry, please~”

“Better.”

With the back and forth out of the way, you can’t bring yourself to smile, pulling your knees to your chest. Jackson sits up, reaching out to take one of your hands in his large one.

“Hey, no expectations, remember? You wanna stop right now, we’ll stop and never do anything like this again. You want me to finish you off, that’s fine too,” he says, thumb brushing the back of your knuckles. You shake your head.

“No. I think…I think we should. We need to, I mean, otherwise we’re gonna be in limbo forever. But…” you pause, feeling your eyes burn a little damn it. When you look up at him, his boyish charm is gone, replaced completely by a concerned man who almost looks in love with you.

“Hm? What is it, pie?” he asks, coaxing you gently. Ugh—why did sex have to be so god damn complicated?

“Promise me,” you say, biting your lower lip as you gather your words. “Promise me if we hate it, if it’s bad, just…stay with me? Like, forever? Please don’t move out? I mean if you have to get married just try to find someone who’s nice enough to let me stay? I’ll do the laundry. We can be like a throuple except you both just have to feed me and nothing else.”

“I love you, y/n.”

“Nevermind, let’s just do it.”

Jackson laughed as you flopped onto your back, though he leaned over you and caught your chin in his hand. You avoided looking at him, but he tilted your head down and pressed his forehead to yours to prevent you from escaping his eyes.

“I know you’re allergic to that word—”

“I am not—”

“But I love you. I love y/n and I love pie and I love the girl who thinks ‘coinkydink’ is an appropriate alternative for ‘coincidence’—”

“It is but okay—”

Jackson rolls his eyes, cupping your cheek under the romantic guise of making you shut up by pressing his thumb to your lips.

“Do you know why I want to fuck you?” he asks, his voice oddly gentle for such an erotic question. You blink, he lifts his thumb.

“Um, ‘cause I’m hot?” you offer with a shrug. His thumb goes back to your lips.

“Yes, but the truth? I want to make love to you but I assumed your reaction to that phrasing would be…”

Jackson lifts his thumb.

“Cringe?”

“Correct,” he smiles. “I’m gonna do what I can so the next man you meet has to climb to fucking heaven to reach the lowest bar for you. I’m nowhere near perfect, but I’ll be damned if you leave my bed able to call your best friend and complain that your inner thigh got more action than you did.”

You pout and push his hand away.

“That was one time,” you mumble. “If sex with you sucks, who am I gonna call? Yugyeom?”

“I dare you to fucking try,” Jackson says, narrowing his eyes. You beam, attempting to boop his nose, but he leans forward and kisses you instead. “If you leave this bed and hate me after, I’ll move out before sunset. And if you want me to l-o-v-e you for the rest of your life, I’ll do that too. I told you, pie. I’m yours.”

You kiss him this time, turning into him and cupping his jaw. Why couldn’t he see that the more of this he showed you, the less you wanted to risk it all disappearing?

You tilt your head to the side, nuzzling your face against his throat to plant kisses there. He inhales, leg sliding between yours as a hand strokes your hair.

“Mm…what do you want, y/n?” he asks, groaning when you suck beneath his jaw.

“Wanna suck you off,” you mumble against his skin, relishing in the heavy groan you feel from him. “Then I want you to fuck me.”

“I can do that,” Jackson nods, licking his lips. You release him and sit up, looking over his stretched out form. He was so fucking gorgeous, and you were in his bed.

You place a hand in the center of his chest, and Jackson sits up on his elbows, his thighs parting eagerly. You giggle, gently kneeing his side.

“Patience,” you hum, dragging your hand down to his abs, letting your fingertips dip between the muscles. You remembered all those times you fantasized about drawing your tongue against them—realizing you can. So you throw a leg over his, sliding down until you’re hovering over his thighs, face level with his hips.

One hand rests on the elastic of his boxers while the other palms his abs. You look up at him as you drag your finger through the lines, following the shape of his muscles. He’s tense, but still coherent, so your other hand slides down to palm him again.

Jackson curses under his breath, eyes never leaving yours. So you lean down and flatten your tongue below his navel. He gasps as you lick down the thin trail of hair that disappears beneath his boxers, kissing the sensitive skin there before moving up again. Jackson whines, and you lift a brow.

“You’re not being very patient,” you say, kissing his stomach before licking up to his chest. Jackson’s head falls back, one hand moving to your hair.

“It’s been almost a year, pie,” he groans. “Want this…want you…”

You giggle softly. When you palm him again, curling your fingers around his constricted length, Jackson practically flies off the bed, grabbing your wrist.

“Baby, I will let you suck my cock until the sun explodes, just…please not now, I’m so fucking close, wanna be inside you…” he breathes. You’re surprised to see his chest flushed and heaving, not having realized how worked up he was over just a few light touches. You swallow and nod.

He smiles in relief, pulling you in for a kiss before sitting up on his knees, gently guiding you back. It’s a little jarring, suddenly being underneath your best friend, but Jackson immediately gives you gentle kisses, whispering your name and promises to make you feel good. You believe him.

You lie there awkwardly as he reaches over you to the bedside table, removing a foil packet. You feel your cheeks redden, which makes him chuckle, and you mumble a quiet shut up. When he holds the condom packet between his teeth and thumbs the waist of his boxers, you realize that you should probably be naked, too. So you cross your arms over the hem of the t-shirt, tugging it over your head and tossing it to the side.

The condom drops and bounces off your thigh as Jackson’s lips part in shock.

“What?” you mumble shyly, bringing your arms to your chest. He clears his throat and fumbles for the condom, shaking his head.

“Nothing. You’re gorgeous. Knew you were, just..." he sucks in air through his teeth.

You blush harder, resisting the urge to tell him to hurry.

Jackson manages to slide his boxers down to his thighs. His cock, once freed, smacks his toned stomach and you grip the covers at your sides as you watch an enticing bead of precum slide down the shaft. It’s exactly as you’d imagined; a little bigger than average, thick, and so beautifully veiny. God it’d feel so good on your tongue, but later. The idea that, hopefully in the future you could suck his beautiful cock whenever you wanted to, made you happier than you’d ever admit to anyone.

You watch as he rolls the condom down his length, swallowing down your doubts as he drops to his forearms on either side of you.

“You okay?” he asks, no humor, no teasing, just genuine concern. You nod and lick your lips.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” you say with a shaky breath. Jackson smiles, leaning forward until your noses bump. The action makes you giggle until you realize he’s fitting your mouths together, and suddenly he’s kissing you.

It’s gentle and soft, his lips sucking at your lower one but moving no further than that. Your arms move to loosely hang around his shoulders, where both of his slip beneath you. You feel the head of his cock brush over your clit and jump. Jackson chuckles. It happens again, but this time, the swollen head catches against the opening between your folds, and you can already feel the stretch, wriggling your hips as if to wedge him in.

Jackson begins to push.

The stretch is slow, heavy, delicious, both of you releasing sounds of relief with eyes rolling back into your skulls as though you’ve both spent four years pretending you don’t want this. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, he squeezes you tight beneath him as he sinks deeper and deeper. At last, his hips meet yours, and Jackson Wang, your best friend, is balls deep inside of you. You squeeze your eyes closed, overwhelmed by the sudden and intense sensations and emotions.

“Are you okay? Feels okay, baby?” he asks softly, clearly restraining himself. You nod, licking your lips.

“Mhm. It’s good. So good,” you babble. Jackson chuckles, nodding as he kisses you again. It’s sweeter this time, moreso as he begins to slide out. The drag of his cock makes you shudder, and you clamp your thighs tight around his waist.

“That’s it,” he hums, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “Lock me up inside you, baby. So fucking pretty.”

You purr in response, arching your back. Jackson takes this as a go ahead, pushing himself up to his palms as he begins to fuck you properly.

You feel your mouth open in shock as he thrusts rhythmically, the switch between emptiness and fullness making your head spin. Every time his hips smack the backs of your thighs, another grunt escapes his mouth, and fuck if you couldn’t listen to that sound for the rest of your life.

Jackson leans down and kisses you. This time, you make sure it’s not as sweet, sucking his tongue and letting him lick yours. You taste his groan as he bucks heavily, pausing to collect himself. Your legs hook around his waist, heel digging into his lower spine, making him moan.

“F-Fuck baby, gonna make me come already,” he breathes, letting his head hang down. You smile, cupping his face and pulling him into you.

“So sensitive,” you purr. Jackson huffs.

“Maybe I shouldn’t,” he hums, wincing at his own sharp thrust. “Maybe I should pull out and leave that gorgeous head to wonder what it’d be like.”

“You won’t,” you reply, calling his bluff. “If I begged you, I bet you’d go raw.”

Jackson surges forward, hands moving behind your knees as he folds you nearly in half. You choke on air and look up at him, wondering why the fuck you've forced yourself to wait for this.

“You don’t have to beg for shit. Don’t fucking tempt me, y/n.”

Your mouth opens at his tone, but he begins to fuck you harder, gripping your form against him as he gives you everything he has. Your whines turn into muffled cries as he tucks your face into his shoulder.

“Shh…let’s not let the neighbors know I’m finally inside you baby…that’s it, quietly…take it for me, yeah?” he hums, and you whimper, digging your nails into his skin. Your legs bounce uselessly where he holds them in place, giving him room to be flush against your ass each time he bottoms out.

“Can’t wait for you to let me lick this sweet little cunt until you cry,” he murmurs, leaning back to slip a hand between you. You jump when he immediately finds your clit, index and middle finger repeatedly alternating pressure. He’s a god damned expert, and you feel yourself clenching tight around the obstruction of his cock.

“Fuck…is that all it takes? You’re squeezing me like a fucking vice, y/n," Jackson groans. “More, baby. That’s it…fuck. So fucking good.”

“J-Jackson,” you huff, squirming beneath the pressure of his weight. “Nng…f-feels so good…”

“Yeah, princess? Just like you've dreamed about?"

Fuck. He always knew, knew you too well, were you made of glass?

"Y-yeah," you whimper, choosing not to lie. "B-Better."

Jackson kisses you again, his hand slowing its movements to match his hips.

“Show me,” he says roughly, obviously close himself. “I wanna feel you cum, baby. Want my cock shiny and sticky like my tongue was.”

“Mm..don’t stop, ‘m close,” you breathe. You tuck your hands into his hair, tugging at the strands, knowing what kind of response you’d experience. He groans, as expected, though pulls back and pushes your thighs apart.

He looks down at your cunt swallowing his cock whole as he rubs at your hooded clit, cursing and biting his lip. Your cheeks flush despite everything, and when his eyes flicker to your face—you’re not sure what to call that expression if not love.

You want him to cum first. You bring his hand away from your clit and up to your lips, kissing the wet pads of his fingers before slipping them into your mouth. Jackson lets out a high pitched noise that you can’t wait to tease him over later as he watches you suck them.

He swallows and leans forwards, pulling your fingers away from your mouth to kiss you. You think it’s an accident, the intimacy, but the kiss is soft, so soft that he stops thrusting and you stop trying to make him cum, so soft that you’re suddenly crying and hugging him and apologizing for being a fucking idiot.

“Hey, ‘s okay baby, I’m here,” he whispers, his own eyes wet. “Stop crying, y/n. I’m right here. I’m yours. I’ll still be yours tomorrow. Shh...”

“I’m so fucking sorry,” you breathe, burying your head against his throat despite the fact that his cock is kissing the opening of your cervix currently. “I was scared, Jackson, so fucking scared, I-I think I loved you so much that I scared myself into thinking I couldn’t.”

“Huh?” he asks, knowing damn well what you said according to the stupid grin on his face. You roll your eyes, using the back of your hand to wipe at your tears.

“I said I love you, asshole,” you whisper, sniffling. “And ‘m not gonna say it again.”

“Okay,” he chuckles, pulling your hands down to wipe your tears himself. “Fine. I’ll just memorize the way you sound when you say it and play it over and over until we live in a nursing home together."

"You roll your eyes, smiling through the teariness. Only you would cry in the middle of sex, but Jackson seemed to love this, taking it as your not-so-silent confession.

He eventually shifts again, making you shudder despite the fact that he was only getting comfortable. He prepares to ask—you already know—want me to stop? So you shake your head before he gets the words out.

“I want it, you know, without,” you say instead, shyly looking up at him from your elbows. Jackson looks a little confused, and you sigh, gesturing around as if that’s helpful at all. “You know. Without.”

“I have no idea what you’re saying, pie—”

“I’m saying I want you to fuck me, and then I want you to tell me you love me so I can say it back without dying, and then I want to go to the pharmacy with you and get plan b even though I’m on birth control because we’d make cute babies but I wanna wait like 10 years probably. So, like, without? If you want?”

You finish your monologue, your cheeks burning hot. You flop to your back and cover your face, once again forgetting about the cock buried inside of you. Jackson doesn’t, of course.

“Are you asking me to hit it raw—”

“Must you be so unromantic—”

“Shut up and c’mere,” he mumbles. He leans down, pulling you up enough to kiss you. You feel him shuffling between you, embarrassed by the gasp that slips out when he pulls back. Jackson smirks. There’s a snap of rubber and he winces as he removes the condom, tossing it into his desk trash can.

“Easy, baby. He’ll be back,” he chuckles.

“I’m actually going to kill you,” you groan. But then he’s pushing into you again, and fuck if the look on his face doesn’t make you want to buy a first class ticket to hell.

“Fucking…jesus…baby…” he gasps. You giggle, though he just pushes you back to hide the apparent blush on his cheeks.

“That bad huh?” you mock him, feeling him bottom out, completely. He curses and dips his head to kiss you, but it’s messy and desperate and feeds the fire that’s been burning inside of you for too long.

“So fucking…nng…so fucking pretty,” he says with a sharp snap of his hips. You gasp, clinging to his shoulders as he leans down. He kisses you again, hard, palms flattening on the bed on either side of your hips. He uses the leverage to fuck you harder, leaning over you until you’re pinned beneath him.

“D-Didn’t know it’d turn you into an animal,” you giggle breathlessly, hand fisting his hair. He groans and tilts his head to the side.

“You turn me into a fucking animal, baby,” Jackson grunts. “Makes me…makes me want to do stupid things, like fuck you without a condom and cum so deep the pill doesn’t do shit to stop it—”

“Jackson—”

“You said it first. Still gonna make you swallow the pill with my cum dripping down your thighs.”

You squeak and tug him down for a filthy kiss, tongues barely missing the mark as his thrusts become loose and sloppy. He’s fucking himself dumb, gripping the sheets and whining against your mouth like a dog.

“G-Gotta make you cum. Gotta make it good for you,” he breathes, reaching between you. You pull his hand away, shaking your head. He begins to argue but you squeeze your thighs around his waist, making him shudder and stumble. He falls against you, cursing into your hair as he continues his thrusts.

“Want you to cum first,” you whisper, hugging him tight. “Want you to fill me up like you said, so fucking deep—"

He groans, leaning on you and thrusting heavy as he snaps his hips forward. His speed remains the same, but you can hear the sound of his hips meeting your ass like he's trying to bury himself in you indefinitely.

"T-That's...fuck..." you whimper, nodding. "Good, that's good."

“Ah…ah…” Jackson whines, shaking his head. “F-Fuck, baby…gonna cum, is that…is that okay? Fucking…ah…c-can I cum?”

Oh. Oh.

You were going to explore this later, him asking permission to cum. But not now.

“Please, Jax. Please cum for me, in me?” you beg softly. “Promise, I’ll take it so good."

“Fuck, I know you will, princess. Know you’ll take it all so good for me…so perfect, so fucking beautiful…all mine, baby…”

Jackson clings to you so tight you have trouble breathing, but you feel him shudder, hear him gasp, and you squeeze him back just as much. He releases a sob into your hair, his muscles tensing as he cums hard. You feel his cock pulsing, the warmth spreading inside of you, and realize with a start that you’re feeling his actual cum seeping into your womb.

You rub his back for a few minutes while he recovers, until he finally sits up and hisses at the sensitivity of his softening cock still buried in you. When he tugs away, it’s your turn to gasp, shivering at the cool emptiness you feel.

“Was that okay?” he asks quietly, hands pushing your thighs apart. You nod.

“Yeah, ‘s good. What are you—shit.”

Jackson knelt between your legs, lips first kissing your clit before he sucks it into his mouth. You all but scream, trying to clamp your legs together, but his easy strength prevents that.

“F…Jackson...fuck, w-what are you doing?” you whimper again, trying to push yourself up to look at him. He uses a hand on the soft of your belly, pushing you back down. He pops off of your clit, free hand taking over the strokes.

“My babygirl didn’t cum. I’m gonna make sure she does,” he explains as though it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“B-But you…your cum…”

“Mhm, keep reminding me,” he moans, tongue slipping beneath the hood of your clit while two long fingers prod at your sore hole. You wince, but he slowly eases them in, his own cum working as lube. Rather than move them, he holds them there, gently stroking inside of your walls while he laps freely between your labia.

In a frighteningly short amount of time, you’re coming off the bed (literally) with a cry of surprise, mumbling his name over and over again as though he could save you from the crushing pleasure you felt. Your thighs clamped around his head, though he made no move to escape, apparently right where he wanted to be as it allowed him to continue sucking and licking the sensitive bundle of nerves until your legs trembled violently.

It stole your breath, and you saw stars, mixed in a few moments later with a boyish grin and someone peppering your face with kisses. It was the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had, definitely if you were comparing him to other men. Well. There was no comparison.

You could only imagine how it'd feel with his cock as deep as it was. Next time. You'd suck his cock, cum on it...maybe make him beg to do the same.

Jackson is patient enough to wait until you’ve mostly returned to your body before he smugly proclaims that he was right, the sex was great, and you owe him a backrub (don’t you usually have to make bets to win them in the first place?) but whatever, because you were fucked out and your boy was happy and probably planning your wedding.

But once you attempted to sit up, wincing at the soreness of keeping your legs open, Jackson kissed you sweetly and urged you to lie down again. He left for a few minutes, returning with boxers (darn it) and a bottle of water, which he forced you to sip whilst he ran you a bath.

You were helped down the hall, feeling like a frail old lady after you insisted you could do it—and had to catch yourself by the doorframe as you walked like a baby deer. You informed him it wasn’t polite to laugh at people you’ve nearly fucked to death, regretting your words immediately as a somehow cocky Jackson became even cockier.

He guided you into the bath, telling you to relax while he ran to the pharmacy. Before he left though, he knelt beside the tub, fingers tapping at the lava-like water you were soaking in.

“Do you like the smell?” he asks, resting his chin on his fist. You nod, letting your fingers find his and trying to pull them beneath the water. He compromised by pulling yours out, kissing the back of your knuckles. “Good. It’s strawberry scented.”

“Fucking me doesn’t make my bath bombs free real estate,” you say pointedly.

“Fucking me doesn’t make my clothes free real estate.”

You open your mouth, then purse your lips.

“Touche.”

“I have something to ask,” he sighs, resting his lips on your hand. “It’s really important.”

Oh god. What.

“Yeah?” you ask, your voice shaky. Jackson grins.

“Just…did you like my cream, pie?”

You stare at him for a few seconds, contemplating the last hour and four years of your life. “I want a divorce.”

“I love you.”

“How…how long have you thought of that joke?” you ask. You didn’t really want to know the answer.

“Um…about 20 seconds after I called you pie for the first time? Not with you of course.”

“Well why in the god damn hell not with me!?”

“I mean? Yes with you?”

“Creep.”

“I love you.”

“I still want a divorce.”

“I still love you.”

“Nng.”

“That means I love you in worm?”

“...Yeah.”

“Heh~”

“Hey Jackson?”

“Mm?”

“Your lil sperms might be kinda fast? So like? Maybe leave now? I do love you but I will not have your babies right now?”

“Oh. Yeah. Be right back. Try not to make a baby with those in the meantime, they’re not ripe yet, you know?”

"...Hurry."

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 28 days ago

Text

Words: 4,331 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader Era: S9, after Rick's "death" when Daryl is living in the woods (No Leah) Reader pronouns: she/her Warnings: language, sexual content (this one contains some spice babies!)

Daryl was just coming back from his morning snare check when he heard Dog barking excitedly down by the water. "Dog! The hell ya doin'?" he growled, stomping toward the noise. "Yer gonna bring the dead in! Quiet! No bark!" He rounded the shelter and strode toward the dock but quickly froze.

He was stunned to see you wading out into the water tentatively, your bare back exposed to him and steam rising off you in the cold morning air. His eyes traveled down the graceful curve of your spine to the dimples in your low back. He gulped thickly. The surface of the water lapped at your hips. Dog danced back and forth on his front paws on the shore.

"Y/N!" Daryl yelled. You looked back at him over your shoulder, your arms crossed tightly over your chest as armor against the cold of the morning air. You kept walking deeper into the river. "What the hell are ya doin'?!" He stormed forward, wetting his boots in the water. "Have ya lost yer damn mind?!" He was bewildered.

"I'm getting clean!" you yelled back, shivering slightly as your toes sunk into the cold mud on the bottom.

Daryl swore under his breath. He could see the goosebumps all over your skin. "It's freezin'! Yer gonna catch yer death out there!" he roared.

You were finally in up to your collarbone, treading water, and you turned to look at him standing on the bank. "It's not that bad!" you yelled back. "It's—it's invigorating!"

"Yer shiverin’! Get back here!" He swore under his breath again and rushed to his makeshift shelter to pull all the blankets off his cot before hurrying back to the water's edge again. "Y/N—C'mon! I ain't jokin'! I'll—I'll close my eyes. C'mon out and wrap these around ya."

You were simply treading water, trying to pull in deep breaths. "I'll c-come out once you come in!" you announced.

"What?" he spat, looking at you like you truly had gone completely mad.

"You're not taking care of yourself out here, Daryl! When is the last time you washed up?"

He dropped the blanket he had stretched out in front of himself to hang toward the ground. He chewed on his bottom lip and stared at you.

You smiled broadly at the expression on his face. He looked about ready to throttle you. You took a few lazy strokes backwards, into deeper water. "Alright. I'll j-just stay out here until you c come get me then!"

Your nose and cheeks were kissed red with cold and Daryl heaved a frustrated breath. "Have ya lost yer damn mind?!" he roared. "I ain't playin'! Get back here! Yer gonna get hypothermia!"

"Only if you l leave me out here t-too l-long," you said, shaking with the cold. It was starting to work its way in deep. You could feel your muscles growing tense as they tried to retain heat in your core.

Daryl flicked his hand in your direction. "Is this why ya came out here?! To give me all this damn grief?!" he growled.

"I can't f-feel my toes anymore, Daryl! Are my l-lips turning blue yet?" You smiled as you saw the frustration and worry on his face growing. You did feel a little bad, but you’d already told him what the solution was... and it was an easy one.

He swore under his breath and paced back and forth on the bank before tossing the pile of blankets he’d dragged off his cot down on the dock. He shot a deadly glare in your direction and you knew you'd won.

You submerged for a moment and came up blinking the water away from your eyes. You grinned at him and then spun in the water so you were facing the other bank. “I won’t look!” you announced. “Tell m-me when I can t-turn around!” Your shivering was getting worse.

Daryl was muttering to himself under his breath as he pulled layer after layer of his clothing off and piled them on the bank. “Ya best swim to the other side ‘cuz if I catch ya, ‘m gonna—”

Your laughter interrupted him. “You’re gonna w-what, Daryl?”

Dog seemed to think this was all a game as well and dashed back and forth in the shallow water, panting and smiling his Malinois smile.

Daryl’s hands landed on the hem of his final top layer, a waffle-knit thermal shirt, and he hesitated. He looked out at you bobbing in the water, your hair wet and clinging to the nape of your neck. He swore one more time and swept his shirt off. The cold morning air bit at his bare skin.

Then he was a blur of movement, trying to shed the last of his bottom layers before he lost his nerve. He felt sheepish as he discarded his pants and underthings, tugging his socks and boots off in one motion and kicking them aside. The mud was freezing on his bare feet and he swore again before hurrying to get into the cover of the water, not that it was going to be warmer at all.

You heard the splash of Daryl entering and bit your bottom lip. You tried to stop yourself from shivering so violently, but the fingers of cold were working their way in deeply. The next thing you heard was a murmur of expletives as Daryl immersed himself in the water and then what sounded like him walking and swimming toward you. Daryl was hurriedly scrubbing at the dirt on his skin while your back was turned. Taking his clothes off had revealed the striking demarcations around his sleeves and neckline and more where the dirt had clung to his skin instead of his clothing. Living out of a patched together shelter in the woods was hard and you were of course correct—he wasn’t taking care of himself. He had buried all his feelings in combing the banks for Rick and hiding from things past and he certainly wasn’t thinking about more than the basic necessities of survival. Bare minimum, that’s how he was living.

“C—can I turn around?” you asked, breaking him out of his musing.

There was a little more splashing and then his voice came from quite close right behind you. “Yeah,” he growled.

You turned and saw that he was only a couple feet away. His bright blue eyes were narrowed at you in a glare that could have curdled milk. You found yourself nervously chewing on your bottom lip and blushing as you realized how closed the two of you were, and how entirely naked you both were too. Though, the tea-colored water was a sufficient cloak to hide your bodies. Your eyes flickered down to the scars visible near his collarbones and on his shoulders and you felt a deep tug behind your navel, a pang of empathy and pain. “S-see? It’s not so b-bad,” you said, meeting his bright blue eyes again.

“Yer teeth are chatterin’,” he said. “I came in. Will ya get out now before ya freeze to death? This is the most ridiculous shit ya’ve ever pulled.” Your eyes flickered over his face and Daryl felt something shift in the air between the two of you and he thought he could read it on your face. He gulped nervously. “What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you breathed. But you swam a little closer to him. Then closer, within a foot. He could feel the currents whirling away from your legs and arms keeping you afloat, buffeting his bare skin below the surface. Water droplets were clinging all over your shoulders, running over your goosebumps and then rejoining the river winding around you. He was keenly aware that if he looked down, he’d be able to see much more of the shape of you than ever before, but it felt like an imposition despite the fact that you’d undressed yourself and created this whole ridiculous scenario. He kept his eyes fixed on your face instead, but that didn’t stop the thought of it, the very idea of you so bare so close to him from setting his heart racing and tugging up some bubble of feeling between his lungs that wouldn’t be ignored or shoved back down.

You reached up suddenly and your fingertips brushed gently into his hair and trailed down to the wet ends. From there, your fingertips dropped down and alighted on his bare chest for just a moment. Daryl felt as if an electric current suddenly zipped through his entire body and he found himself gulping thickly again.

“W-wash up, Daryl,” you whispered, another shiver wracking through you. “You d-deserve to be c-clean and cared for.” You gave him a tight smile that was touched with a mark of sadness and then paddled backwards away from him for a few strokes before you turned completely and swam toward shore. Your feet touched the soggy bottom and you were soon rising up out of the water, hugging your arms around yourself and shaking with the cold.

Daryl allowed himself to drink in the shape of your bare back, trace your shoulder blades, to watch you until the water dipped in against your waist, and then he turned away again. He cupped the water in his hands and splashed it over his face. He scrubbed over his body with his rough palms, wiping away the layers of sweat and dust and dirt and ash. His fingertips snagged in snarls and frazzled locks in his hair. He dunked himself below the surface and held his breath, let the cold pressure press against his ear drums, dampen his senses for a long moment as he ran his fingers over his hair. He surfaced again and shook the excess water from himself.

The cold was quickly working its hooks into him and he swore under his breath again, marveling at the sheer absurdity of this whole sequence of events and furthermore at the fact that it had worked. You’d gotten him into the damn frigid river. Of course you did. If you threw yourself into a fire, he’d follow after you.

He chanced a glance over his shoulder at the bank. Dog was sitting there dutifully, but you were nowhere in sight. He took that as his cue that it was safe to come ashore again. He hated to admit that though he was now shaking with the cold as he planted his feet back on the makeshift dock, he did feel clean, new, and somewhat restored. He hastily grabbed one of the heavy blankets still left behind beside your now drying footprints and wrapped it around himself.

Dog trotted up and down the dock happily as Daryl made his way toward his shelter. He cleared his throat loudly. “Hey, Y/N?”

“In here. C-come in, Daryl,” your voice answered.

Daryl stepped around the tarp and saw that you were standing in the middle of the space, still clutching a heavy, gray blanket around yourself, and positively shaking from head to toe with the cold. Your clothes were piled on the floor by your feet where you must have discarded them before your foray into the river. He sighed heavily and shook his head, moving past you to dig into a leather duffel bag that had piles of clean clothes in it that he never wore. “The hell’s wrong with ya? Look at ya. Yer whole body is shakin’,” he said in a low voice. He had planned to grab some clothes and go change into them outside the shelter to give you some privacy, but your voice soon stopped him dead. “Yer freezin’ to death over there...” he growled.

“S-so warm me up,” you said in a low voice.

Daryl gulped thickly. He heard your soft footsteps moving toward him and again was sharply aware of his nakedness beneath the blanket he was holding about himself. And of yours. “Lemme just grab some clothes and I’ll get dressed and get the fire built up.”

“That’s not w-what I mean.” Your voice was soft behind him.

Daryl turned, his heart jumping into his throat. “...what?”

You padded toward him across the dried pine needles he’d spread as a makeshift floor. You were still clutching the wool blanket around yourself. Water kept dripping down from the ends of your hair and running down the fabric like dew drops rolling off a blade of grass. “W-why d-did you st-stay outside last night?” you asked him in a low voice, unable to keep the shivering out of your voice despite trying hard to. Your eyes were questioning.

Daryl couldn’t tear his eyes from you. Something was happening. He could feel it like a tingle in his fingertips and the top of his head. And that bubble in between his lungs seemed to be growing, upwelling like the coldest, deepest layer of water in the river when his feet has disturbed it. You held his eyes steadily as he tried to come up with an answer to your question. “...I was keepin’ watch. And—I wanted ya to have the cot.”

Your lips tugged down into a pout that had his chest aching. God, and that furrow you got between your brows as you were puzzling over him. He couldn’t stand that pout on your face. It made him feel instantly guilty but he didn’t know why and as he would reverse the spin of the earth if that was the only thing that would fix it. It didn’t matter; he’d figure out how to do it if that was the cure. You took a couple more steps toward him, stopping within a foot of him now. The blanket slipped off your right shoulder and his eyes were drawn to that expanse of bare skin like a moth to a flame. He gulped again and tore his eyes away and back up to yours. Your voice broke through his jumbled, racing thoughts. “Daryl—I w-wanted you. Couldn’t you tell?”

He was paralyzed, dumbfounded. He felt like an idiot staring back at you, wondering how long he’d been talking himself out of what was apparently right in his face.

Your eyes flickered between his as you tried to read what was going on in his mind. “Why do you think I came out here? I was p-practically b-begging you to kiss me last night, by the fire. But you didn’t. And then I couldn’t s-sleep on your damn cot all night, alone. And you were just sitting out there...” You were searching his face for an explanation.

His lips parted as if to say something, but no sound came out. You were standing there just in front of him, shivering, telling him that he hadn’t imagined the charge in the air the night before, the heavy tension, the thickness between you like an approaching storm. He hadn’t imagined the way you’d been looking at him with that dewy softness in your eyes. He hadn’t been imagining your hesitation to disappear into his shelter completely. Anything he could come up with in response to that, to this, sounded stupid. Finally, he closed his mouth again and sighed, shutting his eyes briefly, drawing in a slow breath. “Just tell me—what ya want from me. Tell me, righ’ now, what ya want and I’ll give it to ya.”

Your eyes searched his face before you answered. “I already told you. I want you.” Daryl watched with bated breath as you backed up toward his cot and sat down on the edge. Though you kept the wool blanket clutched to your chest, it slipped completely from your other shoulder now and pooled on the cot behind you. “Do you want me in the s-same way? If you don’t, tell me now before I further em-embarrass myself.” Another shiver wracked through you. “I mean, I’m s-sitting on your bed basically naked right now, Daryl.”

Daryl pulled in a bracing breath and walked to you, sinking down beside you on the cot, his own blanket falling down around his hips. His bare chest and stomach were scattered with scars and goosebumps rose at the cold kiss of the air. His body was angled toward you and after hesitating only one nervous moment, he reached to cup your face tenderly in his hands, so gently it was as if he was worried you would crumble into ash under his fingertips. “Course I want ya. I’ve—I’ve always wanted ya.”

One of your palms landed flush in the center of his chest, and that was the last thing he needed before he crashed his lips against yours. Your hand drifted down to his side and rested there, exhilarating and grounding and electric. His palm came to rest on the side of your neck, his fingertips tickling around to the nape, and he kissed you with an urgency that suggested he expected you to dissolve into the air and vanish at any moment. He’d been hiding from so much out there for so long—and you were pulling him back to plant his feet on the earth again, to grab hold of something true and concrete and real right in front of him. He wasn’t a shapeless shade condemned to comb the banks of the river alone until he found what he’d lost... He was making a conscious choice in being there and he’d made a conscious choice to leave other things behind... You. He’d left you behind.

He kissed you more desperately, more hungrily.

A small hum of pleasure escaped you and Daryl deepened the kiss, his hands sliding down from your face over the curve of your neck and onto your bare shoulders. Your skin was chilled and damp still from the river. Droplets rained down from your hair. They did the same from his. They ran over the landscape of his scars and met your fingertips where they were pressed to him. They navigated his landscape and crossed onto yours in this way, where the two of you met and melded.

You pulled back from him slightly, just the tiniest bit, out of breath. “Daryl,” you breathed.

His heart was racing as his hands settled on your waist. He gripped to the folds of the wool blanket hard. Had you changed your mind? “Are ya okay?” he asked, his blue eyes opening and searching your face.

But a smile grew on your lips. “Y-yeah. Just cold.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Some mad woman went out into the damn river. I had to go after her.”

“She does sound mad,” you breathed.

“Little bit,” Daryl agreed. He straightened up slightly and looked at how you were shivering. “Ya should get some clothes on. Yer gonna get sick,” he said, turning away to stand, but your hand landed on his arm and arrested all movement.

“Wait—”

He glanced over at you again and settled more deeply into the cot again. Your simply touch had done that.

You were biting your bottom lip, your top teeth dented into the fullness of it. “I—I meant what I said. I want you to warm me up. If—if you’re okay with—”

Daryl’s brow furrowed. He was unwilling to make any kind of leap here as far as your meaning. You’d need to make it clear, exactly what you wanted from him, with him. He hadn’t even dared to hope for anything like this with you, and most of him was still doubting that this was anything other than some crazy whim of yours... though he’d never known you to be flighty or capricious in this way. But his whole life he’d been taught that he was worth nothing, undesirable, unlovable... and that gets into a person’s soul deep, like a splinter that works inward instead of out, year after year. But you had been always determined to show him his worth, to care for him even when he didn’t care for himself, to make him feel safe and home. He just didn’t dare to hope for more...

But now you made it clear to him by letting the blanket fall from your hands, baring more of than he’d ever seen, and reaching for him again. You pressed your soft lips to his and kissed him gently this time, but with the same intensity of feeling and desire. One of your hands landed on the side of his neck and the other alighted on his side. Daryl kissed you back with a growing heat, his hands drawn to your newly revealed skin like a magnet. He moved over you and you laid out beneath him on his cot, your fingers traveling over the tensed muscles in his back and pushing his damp hair away from his face. Your fingernails raked gently across his skin and heat flared in Daryl’s chest. He tugged the blanket that was still swirled around his hips and used it to cover the two of you. You felt a flush burning in your face and chest as you looked at the broadness of him leaning over you and the strength of his chest and stomach. Daryl’s eyes and hands wandered over your edges like he was trying to memorize every crest and curve by touch and new waves of goosebumps rose on your skin as the roughness of his palms grazed the insides of your bare thighs and the roundness of your hips and buttocks.

His lips crashed down onto yours again and the heat of his skin met yours. He bit gently at the plumpness of your bottom lip and heat flared in your core. His fingertips dimpled into your hip and the curve of your ribs. You let out a breathy sound as his mouth departed yours and kissed down your neck to your collarbone. “Daryl—”

The way you had just said his name was enough to drive him insane. It was at that moment that he was totally lost—whatever nagging doubts that had been still rattling around in his head were silenced and you were both completely immersed in each other. He pulled more sinful noises from you with his fingers and his mouth until your back was arching and your toes were curling and you were begging him in the prettiest voice for more, your fingernails raking down his back or tangling into his hair. Neither of you could bear to wait a moment longer by the time he finally pushed into you, drawing a gasp and breathy sigh from your lips, his teeth biting down lightly on your shoulder at the overwhelming sensations rippling through him. He tucked his face into the crook of your neck and breathed you in as you began to move together as one. Your hand stayed splayed on his lower back, pressing into him as if you were afraid he would suddenly put space between you again, but there was no risk of that.

Daryl’s breath was hot against your neck, but when both of you were nearing the peak of your bliss, his lips captured you in a desperate kiss before he withdrew and pressed his forehead to yours as the two of you crashed over your highs together. Your ragged breathing was the only sound to be heard in the early morning air. You pushed the sweaty strands of Daryl’s wavy brown hair out of his face and met his blue eyes. He seemed to be searching yours, trying to read what you were thinking.

You leaned up and kissed him again, but this one was soft and full of the yearning of all the long years you had wanted him but been too afraid of ruining the bond you already had. He settled down beside you and drew you in to press you against his heated skin, adjusting the wool blankets and skins over the two of you to keep out the cold morning.

You felt his eyes on your face even as you were still trying to catch your breath and you turned to look over at him. “Hmm?” you hummed in a question.

“I just—I can’t—I can’t believe yer here. I can’t believe ya came out here and now we’re—we—” he broke off, his eyes flickering over your face as if he expected you to disappear as soon as he stopped looking at you.

“I guess I got tired of waiting,” you breathed. “And I was afraid you were going to disappear out here completely.” Your expression was sad as you traced a finger lightly along his jawline.

“I think—I wanted to.”

You rolled onto your side to face him. “Do you still want to?”

He shook his head. “Nah. I want this,” he said, ducking his eyes, still feeling nervous about what had happened and was happening.

“Good,” you said. “Me too.”

There was a long silence as you tucked yourself in against him. Beneath the blankets, his arm draped over you and he pressed his palm to your soft skin.

“I still can’t believe ya went into the damn river like that,” he drawled suddenly.

You laughed lightly. “But look where it led us.”

“Yeah... but I think we coulda still got here without the near-hypothermia. Mad woman,” he said. You gave him a smile brimming with light. Daryl pressed a kiss to your forehead and then another soft one to your lips. The two of you were content to fall back asleep together and not wake until the sun was warmer and the day was half spent.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x y/n #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles

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archangeldyke-all · 2 months ago

Note

currently thinking ab loving on sevika she deserves the world :((( im tired and cold n i just wanna cuddle w her n have sleepy soft sex aughhh i need her so bad my wifeee

ROSE <33333 i love this i'm gonna combine it with this other ask i got because i want to pamper our wife

Hey Angel!!

Not sure if you've done this before, or are at all interested in this lol.

But I'm thinking butch or stud reader seeing how much sevika is overworking herself (possibly council member sevika?) but they dress up, get her flowers, make her dinner. Or it doesn't have to be anything fancy, maybe running her a bath and giving her a massage. Just sevika having someone to look after her, and however much she protests she's secretly loving it.

I love the idea of reader turning up at her door with a bunch of flowers, a bit nervous

Might be a bit weird lol, totally ignore this if ya want. Hope you had a wonderful new years and Christmas if you celebrate!!

-🌱

men and minors dni

your girlfriend's been busy lately. endlessly busy.

when you started dating sevika, she was an overworked, underpaid grunt for silco. now she's still overworked, though the pay is much better as the ambassador of fucking zaun.

where you used to catch sevika for a few hours at a time at the last drop between her important meetings, now, you're doing the same thing in the fucking council building in piltover. sevika's office is the size of your childhood home. both of you get headaches from the constant stream of sunlight leaking through the giant windows.

you're used to sevika's erratic, unpredictable schedule. but, you're both still adjusting to the bone deep tiredness and anxiety that come with her new responsibilities.

so when you get to her apartment for your weekly dinner date and she doesn't answer; you figure she's running late at work.

you use your spare key to let yourself in, slipping off your fancy dress shoes and finding a vase to display the flowers you brought her in.

you flit around her kitchen, collecting old coffee cups and cereal bowls and loading them in the dishwasher-- just trying to help her straighten up a bit. you know it gets away from her when works rough.

you lose yourself in your tidying, forgetting about your dinner reservations, mindlessly cleaning and fantasizing about your girl.

someday soon you won't have to come over to sevika's place to clean it for her, because you'll be living together. for the time being, sevika needs to live up in piltover as a requirement for her first year as ambassador, but you've been counting down the months until your co-habitation together. on sevika's rare free weekends you've even gone house shopping up on the promenade-- zaun's side of the river, but less of a trek up to the council.

a loud snore breaks you out of your haze, and you giggle as you tiptoe toward your girlfriend's bedroom.

and there she is: not at work but here, fast asleep on top of her covers, her fancy work clothes getting wrinkled as she curls in on her side.

poor thing. sevika doesn't nap willingly, and she clearly didn't mean to fall asleep before your date-- she's just exhausted. you pout a little, pushing her hair out of her face as she snores.

well, fuck it. if sevika needs to spend your date night sleeping, you're not gonna make her do it alone. you carefully pull off your suit jacket and slide out of your trousers, grabbing a throw blanket and being careful not to disturb her too much as you crawl into bed beside her. you over the pair of you up and drape an arm across sevika's waist, settling in for sleep.

two or three hours later, you're awaken to gentle kisses being pressed to your forehead. you're smiling before your eyes can fully open. "g'morning." you mumble. sevika chuckles.

"'s almost ten." she says. you shrug.

"good nap?" you ask. sevika pouts, and you reach up to scratch at her scalp.

"it was needed. 'm just sorry i slept through our date."

"don't worry about it, sevi-bear." you whisper. "we can order delivery pizza and watch a horror flick on the couch."

sevika hums happily, cuddling closer to you. "sounds amazing. just ten more minutes, 'kay?" she asks.

you laugh and shake your head. "no, baby, don't go back to sleep, y'know you won't wake up until morning if you do. and you need to eat something. i doubt you ate lunch..."

sevika pouts. "but 'm so tired." she whines.

you giggle and dart forward, nibbling at her earlobe. sevika gasps, her hands coming out to clutch your hips and drag you closer to her. "i know a fun way to wake you up." you tease. sevika giggles, intertwining her legs with yours to grind against your boxer-clad thigh. you chuckle, slipping your hands down to fondle her ass through her pants and ducking your lips down to suck on her neck.

"fuck." sevika sighs. "b-baby." she stutters. "kiss me." you groan at her request, pulling away from the hickey you were sucking in her neck to smash your lips against hers. sevika whimpers in your mouth, her arms pulling you so tight you struggle to breathe. eventually, she pulls away with a gasp. "y-you take such good care'a me." sevika whispers.

you groan and shove her onto her back, pawing at her pants to get them open. "it's my favorite thing to do in the whole world."

sevika growls and starts shoving at her waist band, desperate to get naked. you scramble between her legs, licking your lips at the promise of what's to come. (haha. cum.)

she's so warm, her body so cozy from the nap and cuddles, and when you finally get between her bare thighs you have to take a moment to breathe in the scent and sight of her. she smells like arousal and a days' worth of sweat and sleep and sevika. she looks fucking desperate. the dark curls of her cunt are soaked and clinging to her skin, and her clit's poking out sweetly, twitching and begging for attention.

"fuck, i could drown in you." you whisper.

sevika growls and makes your wish come true with a harsh tug to the back of your head.

you bury your face against her, letting her grind her clit against your nose while you lap up her leaking cunt, groaning at the taste of her. you reach up to claw at her hips, keeping her pinned to your face while you do your best to devour her.

sevika's shaky and sweet; still waking up, still too tired to care about how she sounds. and she sounds adorable-- soft little squeaks and surprised gasps escaping her, noises she'd usually bite her lip to muffle.

"y-you feel so good." sevika whines. you hum against her, closing your eyes for just a moment at the praise. sevika grunts. "no, no look at me-- fuck!" she whines when you open your eyes, blinking up at her while you shove a hand down your boxers to relieve the ache between your own thighs.

she's so perfect. she tastes like heaven, and she's desperately trying to keep her eyes open through her pleasure so she can keep looking at you.

"baby, fuck, i'm gonna cum." sevika groans. you nod against her, pulling away to gasp for air before diving back down, sucking her clit in your mouth. sevika squeals, and her thighs clamp around your head.

you cum at the feeling of her strong thighs squeezing your head. she cums at the broken, muffled moans you let out against her clit. when she finally lets you up for air, your face is soaking wet.

sevika bursts into laughter at the sight of you. "shit-- did i waterboard you?" she asks through giggles.

you giggle, wiping your face off on her shirt. "almost. i'm getting really good at holding my breath, though, thanks to you."

sevika pulls you on top of her, clinging to you as she cackles. "fantastic date night." she declares. you laugh.

"we haven't even gotten out of bed yet!"

"i'm just saying, we're off to a great start!"

"you go call for delivery, i'm gonna draw you a nice bath." you say, kissing her cheek as you get up. sevika groans and pouts.

"don't leave yet!"

"baby, if i stay any longer we'll both fall asleep." you point out.

she huffs then rolls her eyes. "fine. but will you at least get in the bath with me?" she asks. you grin.

"of course. who else is gonna give you a shoulder massage?"

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb @p1nkearth

#🌱 anon #sevika #sevika arcane #sevika imagine #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #sevika smut

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synvil · 2 months ago

Text

Starting Out // VID : 001 » Viewing Pleasure (( Camgirl! Series ))

a/n : sorry for the wait! i had to figure out how to get started tbh and i really didn’t think id get such love from everyone!!! <3 it means so much. hope you guys enjoy! taglist at the bottom!

synopsis : you start your adventure as the next camera girl streamer online, and receive an unexpected surprise on your first stream.

series masterlist : Viewing Pleasure

“You can’t do this, [Name].”

You heave a sigh as you readjust the camera on your monitor, managing to have saved up enough to afford one to finally get this started.

This idea has been in the works for a while, you attempting to split every cent you could save between bills and buying the equipment you needed to begin streaming, and finally you were ready.

JJ doesn’t receive an answer from you and he huffs before walking over and grabbing your wrist to stop you. “Come on, [Nickname].”

“JJ, it doesn’t hurt to try, okay? I need the money, otherwise i’ll be homeless within a month.” You defend yourself as you pull away from his grip and continue to adjust until the monitor displays the proper position. You break into a smile and go to adjust how close and how far you can make the camera go and JJ shakes his head.

"What if I gave you the money? I can lend you some if you need, Kie and JB made me start saving and-" You snap to him with narrowed eyes. "No way, J. I'm not taking your money, I don't want to owe anything."

The blonde just crosses his arms as he watches you look at yourself through the monitor, with him in the background.

“I think this looks good.” You plaster a grin but JJ heaves a sigh at you. You clearly weren’t gonna change your mind. He goes up to you and places a hand on your shoulder. “Okay, i’m telling you this as a friend, but [Name], this is a bad idea. You don’t know what kind of creeps are on the internet and even worse, once your body is on there, there’s no going back.”

It was sweet how concerned the blonde was for you but you were starting to get agitated at his persistence.

“Don’t you think I already know that, J?” I scoff as I brush off his hands. “Like I said, I don’t have a choice here, man, I’m about to be evicted. I heard some of the kooks talk about this and i’d figure i’d give it a try, so please let this go, okay?”

Whether it was the determination in your tone or the desperation in your eyes, it causes him to falter for a second and JJ pulls back slightly, taking a step back with a small nod of his head. “..alright, i get it. fine.”

You watch him carefully, not wanting to let guilt take over you for snapping at him like that but he seems to understand enough and you force your eyes away and back to the camera.

You do some last minute touches before making sure your profile was settled before starting to prep for your first stream.

JJ stares at your figure from behind, silent and in thought before he heads to the door. “.. I’ll see you later, [Nickname].” He says before shutting the door and you flinch slightly at the slam before exhaling softly.

If only you knew.

Fresh out of the shower, shaven and smooth, You adjust the clothes on your body before leaning back in your chair. Double checking your camera again, you take a deep breath. “You got this.. you’re just starting out..”

You wore a white button up that was left unbuttoned and just a cover up for your shoulders, and a black laced bralette underneath. Pairing that with a midnight blue spandex shorts as well. It wasn’t too modest but wasn’t too showy for your first stream.

Makeup was done, going for a natural look.

Mic was okay, picking up sounds good enough for you.

And you were comfortable in your chair and your room, having already cleaned up the background for aesthetics.

You had already written up a tier list of your donations that people could do for requests, aside from random custom ones, which you left on screen for people to see. It wasn’t anything too unreasonable and you were able to adjust anytime. So hopefully viewers would enter the stream soon.

With one press of a button, the camera begin to blink red, and you were now live.

Lips curl into a small smile at the sight and you watch yourself as slowly, one by one, viewers tread in.

“Hi, everyone..”

You fidget with one of your perfectly manicured nails for a minute as you wait and think about what to say.

“So.. this is my first stream, I won’t do anything crazy for today.. i’m just starting out after all.” It felt a bit embarrassing, you weren’t sure what to do and if you wanted to show your face in the first place, but you just reminded yourself of the potential threat of eviction and pushed through.

“New face? What a cutie~”

“You’re so beautifullll <3”

“Hot af”

Even though you knew these were potential creepy old men who were watching you, the praises still felt a bit nice, and if you were lucky enough, it wasn’t people near you.

You smile sweetly for the camera and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Thank you for the compliment. I hope you don’t mind my outfit choice.” You glance down at your torso, your skin and stomach exposed because of the bralette which tightly held your breasts together with great lift.

You hug your arms a little which accentuated them more, and comments and viewers began to flood in faster.

“So hot 🔥”

“take the shirt off bbg”

“shit you look good affff”

You can’t help the giggle that escapes your glossy lips at the reactions you get, a faintest blush warming your cheeks and eventually small donations began coming in. “Thank you~!”

"u single?" "fuck, a new girl to jack off 2" "'Anonymous' donated $10. ur so sexy" "@oldpervdude donated $30." "@KookTopper donated $300. 'You're so hot.'"

"Wow, thank you so much for all the donations, you're all so sweet." You can feel the excitement building up at the prospect of being able to afford this month's rent. "And thank you, @KookTopper~"

Fortunately within the flood of perverted compliments, there were a few that were asking questions about you, which you happily answered with relief.

Sitting behind his desktop mindlessly, a certain kook was scrolling through the internet and his social media, when a friend sends him a message.

His phone buzzes on the tabletop, making Rafe pick it up to read the notification. It was from Topper Thornton. ‘Fuck, Rafe, look at this. Click the link I just sent.’

"www.camgirlstreamers.com/[Name]/synvil.obxlive"

Rafe furrows his brows at the link as his thumb presses the button and it wires him to a streamers website, immediately to a live stream where a girl is currently on screen with her top sliding down her shoulders, the hem of her spandex riding up her thick thighs. The sight makes Rafe taken back, his lips suddenly becoming dry as he listens to the sound of her adorable giggles.

"Fuck.." On the side of her streams were her social media links, so after transferring the link to his desktop while he used his phone to go through her social media.

"[Name].." Her name rolled off his tongue as he murmurs it in the private of his room. He scrolls through your photos on IG, seeing your beautiful smile in a lot of them and various photos of your interests and hobbies.

Now, Rafe wasn't really one to be interested in camera girls, usually preferring the real life, in person experience instead, but lately, none of the women in all of Kildare was really attractive to him. He was starting to get bored, but this?

The curve of your breasts, the innocence of your eyes and the sexy plump thighs in those spandex that left much to his imagination of your ass.. it made him excited.

"Now.. how the hell do I add my card on here?.."

"Ugh, those disgusting bastards.."

A particular dirty blonde has been watching a live stream since it began, and reading the flood of comments talking about the girl's body filled him with disgust.

But what was worse, was that he felt the exact same way. "Shit.. you look so fucking hot, [Name].."

JJ stares intensely at the screen of his phone, watching you tease the camera by sliding the button up down your shoulders a bit. He sighs a bit breathily, contemplating for a moment but then the next second, adds his credit card information into the site without hesitation.

If she wasn't going to take his money, he'll just find another way to help you out. Besides, this benefits him too. And he was willing to spend every penny.

As you talk to your viewers, teasing them a little by stripping yourself of your button up leaving you in the bralette and spandex, your phone buzzes. You pick up your phone and furrow your brows. It was from Instagram.

'@TheKookKing has followed you.'

"Hm.." You shrug it off for a minute and set your phone down, looking back to your stream.

You hum softly, having discarded your button up to the side already and in just your bralette and shorts.

“@TheKookKing has donated $1000”

“Mmh, a new donation? Let’s see here.. o-one thousand dollars? from @TheKookKing.. wow, thank you so much. And thank you for the follow on IG, if you’re the same person. If you guys haven’t already, my social medias are linked on the side of my profile.”

As you take in the notification that pops up at the top of the chatroom, the message follows after.

“Be a good girl and sit on your knees in front of the camera.”

Your eyes widen at the demand as a small flush overtakes your cheeks. "Oh.. sure." With a donation like that, you almost couldn’t refuse, as you do what it says and move your chair aside, getting onto the ground and on your knees.

The position causes your spandex to rise up your thighs, exposing your skin further.

Just then, another message pops up. A donation of five hundred dollars from @ThePogueMechanic.

“@ThePogueMechanic has donated $500”

“Fuck— now open your legs wide for me, princess.”

The warmth spreads on your cheeks at the request and you do it, the tight spandex stretching as you sit on your knees with your thighs wide. It shows off your camel toe, revealing your lack of panties.

The chat quickly spams and floods with various emojis and the viewers going crazy.

"Oh so hot"

"🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥”

"SEXY GIRL FUCK"

"Anonymous donated $50."

"@TheBarracudaMan donated $100."

However when another message pings, it isn’t directed towards you.

“Fuck off, Pogue. She’s mine.”

“Screw you, Kook. Princess belongs to me.”

"H-Hey, let's not do that, okay?- Why don’t I distract you?" You say, hoping to alleviate the situation, not wanting to cause any issues on your first stream. It seems to have worked a bit and you decide to change the subject by biting your lip and ignoring the redness of your cheeks as your hand travels down your body.

Your fingers meet the heat between your thighs and you rub your clit through the thin fabric of your spandex lightly.

And quickly the chat changes once again, and the two viewers who were briefly fighting in chat, were now shut silent behind their computers.

“Anonymous has donated $80”

“Anonymous has donated $25”

“Anonymous has donated $5”

“@KookTopper has donated $200”

But considering this was only your first stream and you were already feeling embarrassed and overwhelmed, you quickly stand up. The spandex had ridden up, the sudden movement also causing your breasts to bounce lightly as you lean forward. "U-uhm, I think this is all for today. I'll come on again soon, thank you everyone. See you next time." Your face was out of view and you shut off the stream.

And the two men behind their screens share the same thought, the memory of you rubbing your pussy through your shorts engraved in their memories.

"Shit."

a/n: ahhh so glad to finally get it done, I hope it reaches your expectations!! thank you so much for the support! and also, I really appreciate the patience. and do not worry, im working on the next chapter already :)

sorry if it seems so abrupt and rushed, it’s also not proofread.

taglist : @haruvalentine4321 @lilithblackkk @sleepiibunniiii @kiiyomei

Synvil™️ Do not copy my work.

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dollfacefantasy · 4 months ago

Text

LAST MINUTE ♡

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: when frank won't give you attention, you have to convince him not to leave somehow...

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, boot humping, praise/degradation

wc: 3.3k

a/n: i love him i love him i love him sooooo badddddd. if you send me asks about this man i'll make out with you sloppy. anyways, comments and reblogs appreciated too <3

kinktober slot: day 25 - boot humping

Frank's eyes cast over to the corner of the room where you're sitting in front of the mirror. He can hear you humming to yourself, your voice rising and falling to the soft tune of a song you'd been obsessed with for the last few weeks. Your fingers smear some lotion across your cheeks. The pads of them massage the cream into your malleable flesh.

Your gaze catches his watching you through the reflective pane. He sees a smile spread across your lips before you turn around and spring to your feet. Your body is only covered by a t-shirt of his along with the pair of panties lying beneath. You prance across the bedroom and glide around to hover behind him.

The scent of your lotion and shampoo from the shower you'd just taken cloud the air surrounding him. It's light and airy, like the vision of you that floats through his head nowadays. He wasn't sure when you'd taken up permanent residence there, though he couldn't really complain. Thoughts of you are better than echoing gunshots or screams.

He hums in acknowledgement of your proximity, giving your forearm a pat with his rough hand. It's smooth beneath his fingertips. So untouched it feels wrong to drag his calloused skin across it.

You don't seem to mind though. Not with the way you duck your head and kiss his cheek.

"It seems like something's bothering you," you murmur, the wisps of your breath brushing over his face.

His attention returns to the weapons in front of him. He focuses on cleaning the parts and putting them back together. Your words were kind of stupid. There's always something bothering Frank. Moments where he has a clear head are few and far in between; reserved for when he's asleep in your arms or balls deep in your cunt.

He doesn't say anything rude though. He knows you're trying to be sweet. The statement is your subtle attempt at offering up your ear. You always told him he could vent. He could cry over the past or seethe about his plans for the night, either way you'd be right there. But that would only be if he ever actually took you up on that offer.

Instead, all you get in response is a grunt before a muttered "'m fine, baby."

You frown. He can see it out of the corner of his eye. Your lips turn into that pitiful little pout that drives him up the wall. Good thing his eyes are locked on a different target right now.

"Are you sure? Feel like you got something on your mind," you try again. Your hands slide up to his shoulders, fingers beginning to tenderly massage his tense deltoids.

"Told you I'm fine," he says again. The words are firm and closed off, but they don't strike you as unkind.

"Wellll… if there was anything wrong, would there be anything I could do to make it better?" you whisper.

Your lips press against his cheek bone again before migrating downward. Your soft, plump lips coasts over his jawline and onto his throat. You feel his smile make a brief appearance on his face, but his hands don't stop rotating the cleaning rag over the grip of his gun. He hasn't abandoned his task for you. Yet.

"There's nothing wrong. Don't start makin' a fuss over it," he grumbles.

"C'monnn, Frankie," you say softly, "Just tell me one thing. Even if you feel fine, just tell me one thing that you'd like."

A few more gentle pecks land on his neck. Your fingers continue to swirl and massage into the tender muscles in his shoulders.

"I'd like it if you got some rest tonight and didn't stay up worrying about me or watching the news," he responds.

You roll your eyes. Of course, you were gonna do that regardless. You always worried about him when he was 'working.' He'd spend the hours out taking care of what - or who - ever, and you'd occupy that time in your apartment doing just as he said, pouring over news reports and bouncing your leg until you were so tired your eyes couldn't stay open if they wanted to.

"Be seriousss," you whine, growing more petulant with him.

He glances over at you upon hearing that tone. That rise in pitch never did you any favors with Frank. He didn't fall for the puppy eyes or quivering lip.

"I am serious. I don't want you worrying or stressing. I'll be back tonight, and I want to come back to you sleeping in bed. Not watching for me at the fire escape," he says.

"Ok well pick something I can actually give you now," you concede.

Space. That's what he wants to tell you. Not in an annoyed way. He loves your touch, adores feeling your body heat oozing off of you. But it's hard to get in the mind frame of a killer when your breasts are pushing against his back and your nose is gliding over his throat.

He doesn't say that though because he knows no matter what tone of voice he says it in, you'll only take it in the 'I'm sick of you' way.

"What makes you think I need anything?" he asks. He puts the handgun he'd been working on down on the table and picks up a larger assault weapon instead.

"Oh my god, you're so difficult," you huff, "I'm just trying to be nice to you. I don't like seeing you all grumpy and stressed."

You may not have liked it, but grumpy and stressed was the version of Frank you saw the most. It was the one you fell in love with. The one that spends the night here in your apartment most days of the week. The one who's hoodies you wear. The one who holds you while you sleep and grunts against your skin when he has a bad dream.

"I'm not. I'm just thinking. You're making something out of nothing, sweetheart," he chides.

"You know… I think you just don't want to admit that you need a night off," you say, nodding in agreement with yourself.

"No."

"Just wait. Don't shoot it down before I explain," you try to reason.

"No," he says again.

"Yes! You'd feel so much better if you had one single night to relax," you argue.

He looks at you with a bit of disbelief. "I can't just call in sick. There is no 'night off,'" he says. His tone is strict, no room for negotiation or bargains, but that doesn't stop you from trying.

"I know, but you don't have to go out. You could text your 'people' and they could do whatever for the night," you say. His people is the term you call whoever he works with. You know there's at least one other guy, he's just never told you any names or details. "Just one night to let me take care of you. It would be good for you. And plus, I miss you," you pout.

He eyes you for a moment, dark pupils scanning over each small curve of your face. The pause gives you hope that he's considering it. That maybe he'll choose to stay with you instead of the shipping yards or rooftops.

"Don't give me that 'I miss you' act. You know I miss you too, but I can't just stay with you and sit on my ass all night cause you think it's the magic cure to me being a hardass," he says.

You narrow your eyes as the look on your face likens more to sulking.

"It's not magic… just if you rest, you'd be less uptight," you say. You loop your arms around his neck again and smoosh your cheek against his, letting the prickly spikes of his stubble scratch you.

With a little sigh, your attention shifts to what he's working on. He's still cleaning the metallic item on the desk in front of him. You watch his hands work, moving in methodical swipes. Efficacy learned from years of experience. Still, it's so boring to you that you can't even come up with a question to feign interest. Not that he'd answer anyways. He didn't like involving you in his other job.

You puff air through your lips to signify your apathy. "Frank…" you whimper, right by his ear, soft and quiet.

Usually, you avoid asking him to stay home. You never complain about the awkward hours or inconsistent time you get with him. You don't accuse him of being uncaring or allege that he's using you. But maybe it's the fact that he so blatantly denied you tonight that has your mind acting up.

"Quit while you're ahead, baby. I don't wanna argue before I leave," he says.

"I'm not trying to argue. Why can't you just consider it?" you ask.

"You know why. Now, enough," he says, bringing the discussion to an end.

Your head slumps over onto his shoulder, your ear flush against the cotton of his shirt. Of course, you know why. You know why this stuff is important to him. And it makes you feel guilty for even suggesting a brief reprieve from it.

Sagging down, you slide around to the front of his chair and drop to your knees at his feet. You rest your head on his thigh, displeasure displayed across your lips.

"You're so mean to me," you mutter.

He glances down at you, smirking a little at your exaggerated defeat. "You think so?" he prompts.

"Mhm," you hum, nuzzling against the denim covering his leg.

You scoot a little closer to his leg, pressing your torso flush against the limb. Closing the distance brings his foot to rest right between your legs. You feel it, but you don't care to notice it yet. Instead your fingers massage his calve absentmindedly.

The bedroom is quiet for a few moments spare the sounds of fabric rustling and both of your soft breaths. He just watches you for a few moments before you feel his hand pet the curve of your head.

"So unfair," he says.

You suppress the smile wanting to show on your features. The look of joy at receiving his attention. His thumb swipes back and forth over your skull. The warm weight of his palm coasting over you does soothe ypu even if you still wanna act coy.

"Yeah, especially cause I just wanna spend time with you," you sigh.

"You'll get to. Tomorrow," he responds. You can hear the clipped amusement in his voice.

Just as quick as it came, his hand leaves your head. It's back to the table. He moves onto a knife now, cleaning some grimy stain that you don't even want to know the origin of.

Shifting your head upward, you rest your chin on his knee and glare at him. "But-"

"I'm not gonna tell you again the answer is no."

The words die in your throat, leveling down to a whine. "See? Mean," you say.

You turn your head back to his side, squishing your cheek against his knee. The hard bone divots the soft flesh of your cheek like a crater on the moon.

You're content to just sit in this position and rest there until he stands up to go. To cling to his leg like the words "please please please" are about to spill from your lips. But in your deflated state, you sink down a bit more. You relax the muscles in your thighs and inadvertently bring the seat of your panties in direct contact with the scuffed top of his boot.

It doesn't shoot bliss through you like a bolt of lightening, but it sparks a fuse in the pit of your belly. The solid curve of it slotted right up against your clothed heat.

As an experimental touch, you grind your hips down. You make sure to be subtle, not wanting him to see what you're doing before you can determine if it's worth the humiliation. The muted sensation of pleasure that fills your belly answers that question quickly though.

Once you get the first taste, you rock your hips back and forth in little bursts. It wouldn't be noticeable to a quick glance, but a more intentional look would catch the way your ass pushes forward and back.

What gets him to notice is the feeling of you gripping his leg tighter. You press the hard front of his shin between your breasts and down your stomach harder. That gets him to look in your direction. When he does, he finds the sight of you getting yourself off with his boot.

"What're you doing?" he asks, giving you the chance to explain first.

"Nothing," you answer almost instantly.

"Doesn't look like nothing. Doesn't feel like nothing," he says as he tilts the point of his shoe upward. The boost grants some more friction to your clit, drawing a sharp whine out of you.

"Might have to get you a collar if you keep acting like a puppy, baby," he teases.

"I'm not," you whimper. You press your face harder against his knee as if it could act as a shield against the embarrassment.

"Really? Whining and humping my leg like you're in heat doesn't count?" he mocks.

"Shut up," you choke out.

"Attitude," he tuts. He shakes his head before his eyes flit back to the weapon on the table, letting you do your thing.

And you take advantage of that. Your hips move back and forth like a pendulum. You can feel the thin cloth of your underwear getting sticky as arousal leaks from you at the soft stimulation blooming between your legs. Your poor, swollen clit presses on the firm material as you let out a raucous whine. He tsks at you from above.

"It's getting late. You might wanna keep your volume down," he says.

The words come out so dismissive, so passively entertained. As if you're merely background noise. You can't help whining again. Your grip tightens on him, and your hips move in broader circles. If he's just going to let you do this, you're going to take advantage.

More sparks of white hot pleasure fizzle between your thighs. Your cunt ruts over the expanse of Frank's boot in quick strokes. The fabric of your panties only serves to provide some extra friction. Your eyes flutter and your cheek feels numb from the pressure of his kneecap again.

It feels as if you're in your own little world while doing this. Even if you're attached to him, it still seems like you're in a haze of your own at the moment. Just a lusty daze focused on making yourself feel good.

Vaguely, you can hear the clicks of his equipment above. The rustling of pouches and cloths. The clunking of organization. It all means nothing to you. The only thing you're concerned with is how your folds spread across the shape of his shoe.

You mewl softly. A trickle of saliva leaks from your mouth onto the rough fabric of his pants. All your thoughts have melted away. Your limbs stay locked around his leg, ensuring you have secure leverage to rock yourself back and forth.

He still doesn't acknowledge you. His eyes stay on the table. Honestly, you would believe he didn't even know you were there if not for him lowering his foot and then raising it again. The motion gives you a burst of stimulation, an interruption to the rhythm you'd set for yourself.

A desperate whine crackles out of your throat. You spread your thighs further to get down on him and press your aching pussy against him harder.

"Frank…" you whimper before biting your lip for a moment.

This time he doesn't disregard the call for him. He reaches down, sweeping his hand over your head and cupping your jaw. He directs you to look up at him and gets clear view of your empty eyes.

"What is it, baby?" he asks. His thumb brushes back and forth across your lower lip. The simple touch is enough to send you into orbit.

"I…" you try to start. But words are hard to conjure when thoughts have become nothing more than memory. "I love you," you end up choking out.

He chuckles. "Yeah, you do," he agrees.

You whine and lower your head again. Your body doesn't stop swinging your hips. His hand migrates back to the top of your head.

"I love you too, sweetheart," he says. His voice rumbles out low and quiet, so gravelly you can almost feel the vibrations in your bones.

He continues to gaze down at you. His eyes drink in the sight of you getting yourself off on his leg. Your hips constantly drag over the seamless surface of his shoes. Cute little noises pour from your mouth in a never-ending flow. Your eyes scrunch up and your nose crinkles when rushes of euphoria course through you.

"You gonna cum on my boot, doll? Gonna make a mess?" he rasps.

You nod eagerly. "Mhm. Mhm. Mhm," you whimper. In direct contrast to his, your voice floats into the air light and soft.

"Do it. Maybe I'll have you lick it up afterwards. I know you'd do it. Shit, you'd probably fucking like it," he says.

That's all you need to rush the spark on your fuse to the end and send you into an explosion of pleasure. Your back arches and you cling to his leg like it's a lifeline. Your grip gets so tight that had you been more lucid, you probably would have worried about cutting off his circulation.

Your pussy clenches around nothing, your walls fluttering with the urge to feel him spilling inside you in unison. Regardless, you keep rabbiting your hips and working yourself over the peak. Your noises come out more whiny and full of need, aching to hear his grunts in your ear.

As blissed out as you are, your droopy eyes still catch sight of the solid bulge in his pants. You hold out hope that maybe you'll get to have some of what you long for before he goes.

The intensity of your high begins to simmer down to a satisfying warmth as you reach the end. Your hips move slower and slower until they come to a stop. You catch your breath, panting and leaning against his leg totally lax.

He doesn't say anything. He just finishes up what he was doing and lets you come down on your own.

After a few minutes though, he does scoop you up off the ground and into his lap.

"That feel good?" he asks.

Your head bobs up and down.

"Looked like it," he grumbles.

"Not as good as it would've felt with you though," you murmur.

He stares at your content, post-release face. It's not a surprise you want more. Had you not hinted at wanting him to fuck you properly after that, he would have been actually concerned for your well-being.

"Guess you'll have to wait till I get back to find out," he says lowly with a kiss to your temple.

"But Frank…" you say, lazily sliding your hand down. The center of your palm lands on his swelling bulge, giving it enough pressure to drag a hiss from his lips.

He pauses, lets you stroke him a few times. It feels good. He knows he should just push you off. Should send you off to bed now that you're all nice and relaxed. But he can't resist that light caress.

Sighing he lifts you and steps over to the edge of the bed. Dropping you back on the mattress, he starts to remove his belt.

"You got fifteen minutes, ya little brat. After that, I'm still leaving," he tells you before dropping forward and hovering over your body, bringing your lips into a brisk kiss.

#frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle smut #punisher x reader #marvel x reader #marvel smut #ch: frank castle 💌

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thegothicchangeling · 5 months ago

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Babydoll

Alpha Sevika x Omega Reader drabble

Summary: Sevika makes a bad call and upsets you while you're in pre heat. You're pissed at her.

You looked at the barebones nest you'd assembled. It was made up of pillows, clothes, and throw blankets you'd stolen from around the apartment, because Sevika had insisted on washing everything in preparation for your heat.

It wasn't like Sevika had forced you to give up the bedding, or gone behind your back. No, she was a good alpha. She talked you into it with good old fashioned logic.

"It's time to wash the bedding anyway," she had said calmly. "And I think it's more important now than ever. Come on, you know how filthy this stuff is gonna get."

You couldn't argue with that reasoning, but that didn't mean you were happy about it. Already you were in pre heat, and every instinct was screaming at you to fix this mess. Because what was this? Not a nest.

Tears welled in your eyes. You didn't want to disappoint Sevika.

That was when she walked in with the sheets and comforter. Her scent was relaxed and she clearly had no idea how upset you were. "The laundry's dry," she announced.

"It doesn't smell like you!" You rebuked her angrily.

"You're right," Sevika said calmly. "I'll get right on that." And she started rubbing her scent glands against the bedding. She tried to sit down with you, but you growled.

That was when she realized how upset you were. You could see her nose move as she sniffed nearby you. Her face fell. "You're mad about the laundry, aren't you? And you smell like you're hours away from heat, at most."

"Yes, so hurry up and scent that shit!" You snapped.

Sevika's eyes widened. "Okay, okay." She worked faster. "I'm sorry I upset you, babydoll."

You huffed and didn't answer. All you did was work on your nest. It had to be perfect within the next few hours, and you didn't work well under stress.

Sevika took your giving her the silent treatment in stride. She brought you more things from other rooms and talked to you from time to time, attempting to win you over again.

"I was thinking I'd make your favorite tonight. How does that sound?"

"My pretty omega's gonna look so good spread out naked on that blanket."

You steadfastly ignored her, and your growing arousal, unless it was to ask her for something.

"The nest looks soft. You did such a good job making it. You're such a good omega, making this for us."

You softened. Sevika saw her chance and dove for it. "Is it okay if I come in now?"

"No!" You snarled. You turned away from her and lay on your side, staring at the wall.

Sevika paused, then spoke softly. "You're really upset, aren't you babydoll?"

"I'm not your babydoll."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pressured you into letting me change the bedding," she said sincerely. "If I'd realized how deep into pre heat you were, I would never have done it."

"How could you not realize?" You asked angrily. "Couldn't you smell me?" You were honestly hurt, and you knew your alpha could hear it in your voice.

"I was preoccupied with making sure everything was ready for you," she sighed, and you could imagine how she was probably running her hands through her hair. "Cleaning, meal prepping, and then I realized I forgot to submit my PTO, so I had to do that, and the bedding was just one more thing to check off my to-do list."

Knowing she was trying to help you made you feel guilty for being angry at her. In her own way, Sevika was nesting, too. You rolled over and looked at her.

She unfastened your poncho. "Hey. It's okay. It's alright." She handed it to you. "I bet this will be great for the nest."

Your eyes widened. She wore that thing almost every day, and now Sevika was handing it over to you. You took it from her and brought it up to your nose. It smelled more strongly of her than any other item of clothing. Cologne. Incense. Sevika. Perfection. "Thank you, 'Vika," you sniffled, feeling like you were about to cry.

"Well, I gotta keep my omega happy, right?"

You placed it on the pillow at the headboard, so you could lay your head on it later. Then you turned and looked back at your mate. "Will you get in and hold me?"

Sevika's face lit up. "Of course, baby," she purred, and she crawled into the nest with you. Then she pulled you into her chest and kissed the crown of your head.

"I'm sorry I was so mean," you admitted. You knew she was just trying to take care of you.

"Oh, it's okay, precious," she rumbled happily. Then her demeanor changed to something more dominant. She tipped your chin upwards and made you look at her. "Are you my babydoll?" She asked.

What could you say except yes?

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ashen-char · 1 month ago

Text

expensive cars never took me where you do

my masterlist, to check out my other works, is here

ship: anora mikheeva (anora) x gender neutral reader

summary: being a mechanic dating a stripper is hard because you never get to spend enough time together. so anora spends a day in your garage.

word count: 3000+

notes: requested here. enjoy!

With your respective jobs, your schedules don't allow much time to be together. Not much overlap when you're in the garage from 8-6 every week day, while Ani's out from 5pm to the late morning stripping. Weekends, your main time for relaxation, were HQ's busiest times. As such, you had to make the most of the time that you did get. No more meal prepping for Ani when she gets home, for example. You took it upon yourself to whip stuff up for her to take to work in her trusty Tupperware, saving you two some much-needed cuddle time. Plus, you loved the awed look on her face whenever you made her favourite meals, the way she'd dance and hum happily when you let her taste-test it.

The train blares its horn, rattling Ani's entire room as it passes by. Cheap rent, Ani had explained the first time you stayed over and jerked awake to the sound, startled by the sudden noise and movement. She hadn't even opened her eyes, just stayed cuddled up on your chest. She's used to it. Even after months of dating her, it wakes you up everytime, which makes Ani laugh, teasing and calling you 'Princess and the Pea' for being so sensitive. So right now you're wide awake, checking your phone to see if she'll be home soon.

wifey💕: on the subway now! keep the bed warm 💋

You smile, sending back a kiss of your own. "stay safe," you type.

It's 4am when Ani slips into the room. Her harsh expression (or resting bitch face as she sometimes refers to it as) softens when she sees you, and she quickly sheds her coat, scarf, and beanie as well. "Why are you still up, dummy? You're gonna fall asleep on the fuckin' job, I swear..." she chastises.

"Sorry, babe," you whisper, stretching and shifting over to your side of the bed to let Ani into the sheets. "I knew you were coming home soon is all. Wanted to see you come in."

Your sleep shirt, like most of your clothes really, has these distinct splotches of oil on them. Made worse by your bad habit of wiping your hands on whatever's around. After years in the garage, you've learned to not bother with trying to keep clothes looking clean. The very worst of them get turned into rags or purely as sleep clothes since you don't like wasting anything. 'Waste not, want not' is a deeply-rooted mantra from when you didn't have the money to dispose and replace things so easily.

"I'm just saying." Ani shrugs, slipping the rest of her clothes off too. Fluid in her movements, as if her commute clothes were made to be taken off just like her HQ attire.

Your eyes trail over her frame appreciatively, taking in the rose tattoo at her ribcage that makes you smile, or the slight muscle of her core and arms. She's fit. She needs to be to work the pole like that, but can't put on too much muscle to turn away the knuckleheads that frequent Headquarters. Stupid but it brings in the dough, as Ani would say.

"Don't blame me if you smash your finger in a door again 'cause you weren't paying attention," she says, giggling when she throws her tank top at you. You catch it, give it a deep sniff. "God, you're so gross!" Ani complains. There's that laugh you were looking for.

"I'm not that clumsy." You frown, but it's hard to keep on when she's giggling like that. "It just clipped me, I didn't lose a nail or anything."

After slipping one of your larger shirts on - which almost comically swallows up her frame - she finally slips in beside you. You kiss Ani's cheek, and let her cuddle into you. Even if you know you smell of grease and gasoline and she's gonna cuss at you and say you need a shower. Burrowing her nose into the crook of your neck, she inhales you deeply, letting your scent fill her lungs. With the way she hums, you know she's content. Soothed. Letting the night melt away, all the pressures of the club or the bullshit from Diamond. She doesn't have to be on, not when she's here with you.

"Some of your body glitter's still on ya," you tell her. Your finger dabs at the corner of Ani's neck, which must have been missed by her makeup wipes.

She shivers at the contact. You used to be insecure of the fact that your hands feel like sandpaper but Ani sure seems to love it. One time she told you it was weird that you've never seen her as 'Ani'. The way she is in the club, she meant. No makeup, no heels, no cute little outfits. Of course, she likes to glam up when you two do make the time to go out on dates, but it's not similar to what she puts on for the club. Doesn't have to think about balancing the right amount of cling to show off her assets with the ease of removal.

With you, Ani said she felt like the girl she was before all this. Before the club, before Vanya, before the glitter and glam. There's nothing sexy about your lives, really. Both of them working shit jobs, living paycheck to paycheck. But for some reason, she found it comforting.

"Well, I missed you."

She's so tired. Never enough sleep, always on the go. But your body is warm and solid and she can relax. Just for a bit. "I missed you too," she mumbles. "Even if you fuckin' stink or whatever."

Ani lifts her head to look at you, eyes soft. "What time you gotta be at work?

"In a few hours," you answer in a groan. You didn't want to be reminded of it. You hate leaving before she wakes up, hate the way her body always tries to cling to you by instinct. Feels wrong, even if you know it's necessary. "The new apprentice, Jon, he still needs to be trained. He keeps texting me dumb ass questions. Like, dude, change the oil, you don't need my permission!"

"Mm I getcha. Like sometimes I show new girls the ropes. I remember Lulu being the newbie once actually," your girlfriend shares. "Poor thing. She was scared shitless when she mixed up a song request and didn't know how to play it off like a pro yet."

Ani tells you about the 'fresh meat' sometimes, how they're usually gone within the month when they realise the gig's not their thing. Usually 18-21, the type of girls that got told they were pretty enough times to want to make some coin off of it but without any dance training to speak of. The established girls do their best to make the space inviting and fun. To guide them to the right classes, how to manoeuvre around the club and look impressive on the pole without getting hurt. But ultimately it's their choice. Leave or stay.

Mostly, your definition of 'training' is trying not to yell at the poor kid, unless it's a safety concern obviously. He's an idiot and fixing his mistakes is a pain in the ass, but you don't want him quitting. It'll be more annoying to find a replacement since you've already spent the last few months making sure he can do shit without your supervision. The garage is small, started off as a glorified chop shop that you converted with some friends,

You must have gotten lost in your thoughts for a while, because Anora laughs at your scowl and shoves you. "Geez, who pissed you off? You're not even listenin' to me now huh?" she complains from her spot on your chest.

"Sorry, sorry. Just the apprentice. Broke a 10mm bolt today."

"Boooo. Speak American. What the fuck is a millimeter." Her eyes roll at the excuse and the metric system, and her sheer... Anora-ness makes your bad mood lift and a smile crack.

Which is where the idea comes from. "Do you have any days off soon?" you ask.

Anora shrugs. "Yeah, this Thursday. Why?"

"I want you to visit the shop! Come on. Didn't you always say you wanted to come and 'see what I do all day'?"

Her nails scrape up your arms, and her words are mumbled and muffled against your chest. A vibrating sensation that tickles you. "What would I even do there though? No offense, I'm sure it's riveting, but you can't exactly entertain me if you're working. Plus, when I said I wanna visit I meant I wanted to drop in sometime, give you coffee or something. Not... what, sit there and look pretty?" Anora laughs at the image, shaking her head against you. It's clear she thinks she'll just be a burden if she comes, that she'll do more harm than good.

"For one, I'd be a lot less stressed explaining myself over and over to him if you were at the shop. I could pretend I'm explaining to you," you say, trying to convince her.

Honestly, the idea of Ani 'sitting there and looking pretty' has already won you over. Who wouldn't want their gorgeous girlfriend there to impress with their mad car skills? You've been dreaming of this moment since you were a teen, fixing up a rusted hunk of a truck. Looking back it's embarrassing, but you were convinced that if you got it up and running, your crush would've swooned and asked you to give her rides to school then and there. Explaining your passion to a beautiful girl, showing off your hard work and how you could help her... it's a fucking dream.

Anora giggles. "Oh, I'm sure. You just wanna flex your mechanic brain and your stupid sexy muscles." Tilting her head up, she flashes those big brown eyes at you and you're gone. She's so heartbreakingly perfect like this. No makeup, bags under her eyes, the natural pout of her lips. Tired, from all the hard work and effort she puts into everything she does.

"Come on, please?" you ask, tilting your head down in response so your forehead meets hers. Skin to skin, gaze to gaze. Her nose presses into yours. "I wanna spend more time with you. I wanna show you what I do. Bonus points that it'll help me not scare off the new kid."

Anora nods sagely, like it's a sacred task you're entrusting to her. Her arms wrap around your neck, keeping you pressed against her. She's definitely not complaining about how you smell now. "Alright, grease monkey. I wanna be wowed."

"OK, you might remember this one. That's what I attached my cables to when your car wouldn't start," you say, gesturing to the battery, particularly to the red end in case it looks familiar to her.

To you, it's unforgettable how the normally cool and confident Ani was shaking in her leather boots when you told her to clamp it. Like she thought she'd get electrocuted then and there. Anora grasped you so hard, and your heart thumped at the knowledge that she trusted you'd never let something bad happen to her.

Ani leans against the wall, watching you work under the hood of a car. Her arms are crossed, one foot kicked up behind her, resting against the wall. She's putting on her best 'cool girl' attitude, but inside, you know she's fascinated. You know your shit.

"So, like, what's all this stuff do?" Ani asks, gesturing vaguely at the engine. "It's all just metal and wires and shit to me. Rusted shit."

You chuckles, wiping your hands on a rag before taking hers. "Well, babe, this here's the heart of the car. The engine. Makes it go vroom vroom," you teases, revving an imaginary engine.

Ani rolls her eyes but smiles. "Okay, smartass. But like, what do all the parts do?"

You take the time to point to the different components, explaining in layman's terms. The specific car you're looking at is one from a regular customer, so you've run maintenance on it for years. You tell her stories of the parts you had to replace, especially the shitshow last month when you had imported specific parts from Japan and the apprentice misplaced them.

Ani listens intently, asking questions when she doesn't understand. She grins like she's won the lottery whenever you tell her she asked a great question. You involve Jon too - if it seems like something he should be able to handle, you make him answer it. Correcting him when he gets something slightly wrong, or if you wanted a more detailed explanation. It makes you laugh when Jon messes up his words because Ani is just that gorgeous. As for the complicated ones, you're patient, breaking it down so she grasps the basics.

"So, like, this is why it's important to get your oil changed regularly," Ani says, tapping the oil pan. She's squatting down to watch you as you're laid out on the dolly. "Cuz if it's all gunked up, the engine can't, what, lubricate itself or something? No lube is rough, I get it." She sighs, patting the hood like she's empathising with it.

That makes you chortle, never prepared for Ani's crass jokes or references to your very active sex life. "OK, hold on, no lube has always been your idea!" you protest, giving a weak kick from underneath.

"I didn't say I didn't like it~"

"Alright, masochist." Rolling your eyes now, you focus on her actual observation. "And to your previous point, exactly," you beam, proud of her. "See? You're a quick learner."

Ani preens under the praise. "I got a good teacher."

She helps you out from under the Nissan Tiida, sliding you back out. Work's slow sometimes. The city's got a lower amount of people who own their own cars, and you don't like the monotony of working on the same make over and over, so you don't usually go for fixing up taxis or rented cars. This specific one has been a passion project, something you toy around with when there's not much to do. You've wanted to take it home for a while, but you've been holding off. Not until it's perfect.

"Alright. What's, mm, that one?" Anora asks.

Standing up, you come up behind her, your warm breath on her neck as you lean over to see what she's pointing at. "That's the intake manifold. It brings in the air and fuel mixture the engine needs to run. Sometimes it cracks and leaks out more air than it should."

Ani nods, trying to wrap her head around it. "Okay, I think I get it. So, like, if this thing's fucked up, the car won't run right? Or at least the engine will go fucky."

"Pretty much," you confirm, wrapping your arms around her waist now. Jon's off on a lunch break. You make him go pick up burgers at a spot a few blocks down when the shop's quiet like this. Means less time of him hassling you. "But don't worry, I'll always make sure our ride is in tip top shape."

You press a kiss to her hair. The tinsel in it always falls straight down, which is why Anora straightens her hair every day to make it look right. With you, all natural without anyone else to impress? Her hair's got her natural waves, looking healthy and sleek.

Ani melts into your embrace, leaning her head back against your shoulder. "I know you will, babe. You're the best."

The two of you stand there for a moment, just enjoying each other's presence. You can't help it. You wanna tell her everything, there's a compulsion in you. Then you pull away, taking Ani's hand. "C'mon, I wanna show you something."

You lead her to the car you were just working on, opening the driver's side door. It's not flashy, not luxurious or even running perfectly yet. But it's got its charm. The seats are comfortable unlike leather which gets hot quickly, it's surprisingly spacious on the inside, and the wooden look of the interior detailing makes it look and feel cozy.

"What are you-"

"I bought it for us. Out of pocket," you explain, helping Ani into the passenger seat. "It wasn't cheap, but it's been sitting in the shop for months, and I just couldn't let it go to waste."

Ani runs her hands over the dashboard, the textured cream seats. It's not new, but it's been lovingly restored. All by you. No way you'd let Jon touch this. "It's beautiful," she breathes. "Did you do all this?"

You nod. Her awed look makes you push out your chest a little, ego thoroughly inflated. "Most of it. I had a friend look at the AC, but yeah. This is all me, babe."

Ani turns to you, throwing her arms around your neck. "I love it. I love you. You're amazing," she gushes, peppering your face with kisses.

"I figured it was time we had a real car. One that's ours. No more borrowing beaters or taking the subway everywhere. Even if you say it's alright and you like the subway." You return the 'I love you' and pucker your lips for her to kiss.

"Thank you," Ani whispers, cupping your face in her hands. "You're the best partner a girl could ask for. I mean that. Who the fuck fixes up a whole car just to surprise their girlfriend?"

"Anything for you, princess," you murmur against her lips.

"Princess?" Anora playfully shoves you away. "You're fucking high."

But you mean it. You wanna spoil her to the best of your abilities, wanna make her feel like a princess even with your meagre funds and lack of time together. You want to make her feel like the most special girl in the world.

"How about I take you for a spin in our new ride?" you offer. Your hands grip the steering wheel, the polished wood under your hands. "And the best part! No more relying on the subway. I know this isn't exactly rolling in style but..."

Anora shakes her head, taking your hand. It's calloused and rough, but the way she holds it makes you feel like you could be tender in your own way. Makes you appreciate that your hands and hard work is the way you show it, not by blowing cash. "It's perfect," she tells you. "Because you did it, because you wanted to provide. That's all I need."

"Better than the limos Ivan rode you around in?"

Anora rolls her eyes, looking at you like it's a stupid question. Because how could she even compare the two when you're in front of her, giving her everything you can? "No competition, baby. I thought I wanted that, back then, but you're what I was really waiting for."

It's so mushy and vulnerable, coming from her. Just straight from the heart. "I'm nothing special," you attempt to refuse.

"You're the only fucking one who knows what I need. Who gives it to me, no matter what it is," Ani tells you, refusing your refusal. "You've got me. Body and soul."

#anora #mikey madison x reader #requested #anora mikheeva x reader #if there's typos sorry i did it on my phone again lmao

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fawnwilde · 4 days ago

Text

Taboo I gratitude .𖥔 ݁ ˖

dutch van der linde x reader

◃◃ [chapters] ▹▹

rating: explicit (18+)

You wake up in a camp surrounded by outlaws. but they're really not as bad as you feared.

Especially the gangs leader, dutch van der linde, who inspires new desires in you...

content warning: f reader, smut MDNI, inexperienced reader, older man younger woman, v fingering, cowgirl position, this is filthy and my ancestors r frowning up at me

word count: 6.5k

You wake up in an unfamiliar place.

Canvas walls surround you, objects littered around as if this was someone's home, crammed into a small space. A blanket covers you, warmer and softer than anything you’ve ever owned.

You move feebly, trying to wake up properly, when a twinge of pain erupts in your shoulder and bicep.

Gasping, you sit up, further aggravating your wound and panicking you further.

You're not tied up, but you could still be a prisoner. For all you know, outside this tent is an army of O'driscolls.

Fear engulfs you, and you frantically search your person for your blade.

“You're awake!”

Startled, you flinch and look up at the source of the voice.

A young woman sits across the room, a closed book in her hands. She’s pretty, and her face glows as she smiles warmly, rising and crossing the small space swiftly to sit at your side.

“How are you feeling?” She asks, looking over you but not touching, noticing your shaky breaths and wide eyed stare.

You go to speak, but your throat feels like it is coated with sand, and you wheeze out a breath. The woman grabs a tin cup and brings it to your lips, smiling reassuringly when you give her a questioning look.

“It's water, don't worry.” She takes a sip herself, proving it to be fine.

She holds it to your mouth, which you’re grateful for, as your arm burns with even the slightest movement. When the cup is drained, she puts it down, and turns back to you with her kind smile.

“I'm Mary-Beth.” She introduces herself, “What's your name?”

You shrug, “Ain't got one.”

“Oh.” Mary-Beth says sadly, “You haven't got any people, do you? You’re alone?”

“Yeah. Have been for a while.”

Mary-Beth nods understandingly, “Can I check your bandage? I think you may have pulled a stitch.”

You hesitate, but nod, deciding the woman has not given you any reason to see her as a threat. Her voice is calming, gentle like a breeze, and her eyes hold no malice.

But you’ve fallen for honeyed traps before, and there's a quill on the table beside you that you could use as a weapon if she tries anything.

As Mary-Beth begins to deftly remove your bandage, you mentally take stock of the room.

Books and papers are littered about, an unlit lantern sits on top of one of the many crates, a few bullets discarded around it. A strange object is in the centre of the room, which you stare at warily.

You’re startled when you hear voices outside the tent. They’re deep and masculine, talking too lowly to make out their words.

Mary-Beth notices, laying a comforting hand over your clenched one, “It's okay. Just Arthur and Dutch, they’re not gonna hurt you.”

You eye her sceptically, as the canvas walls shift and a man enters.

He's tall and broad, sandy hair below a weathered cowboy hat. His eyes are the colour of spring water, blue with hints of green. He's got a handsome face, that softens when he sees you.

“You’re awake.” He says.

You recognise his voice, and you realise now he is one of the men you helped in the O'driscoll camp.

“It's you.” You murmur, feeling relieved at a slightly familiar face, but confused as to why he's here. And where here is.

“Yeah, it's me.” Arthur sighs, his face stormy as his eyes shift to the bloody bandage Mary-Beth removes from your arm.

You look down at your wound, bile rising as you survey the reddened flesh surrounding a deep wound. Though it's bleeding, it's clean, and a few stitches hold the flesh together

“I'm sorry about that.” Arthur mumbles, avoiding your eyes.

You furrow your brows, “You’re sorry about what?”

“You’re hurt. And it's because you took a bullet meant for me.”

Nodding, you remember such events. An O'driscoll had sprung from the shadows, gun aimed at the man you know now as Arthur. You hadn't thought before you jumped forward, shielding him as you raised your own gun.

It was pure luck that you were only shot in the arm, and in your non-dominant one at that. You didn't even notice it at first, focused on killing the O'driscoll.

But it was agony once the man was down. You fled like a deer, no destination in mind, just needing to get Bo and get the hell out of dodge.

Your memories run out at that point.

“You got a name?” Arthur asks.

“She doesn't.” Mary-Beth explains to him, noticing your far away look.

You itch with the desire to ask questions. Who are these people? How did you get here? Where’s Bo? The last question makes you agitated, and as soon as Mary-Beth ties off your bandage you are rising out of the bed.

“Where's Bo?” You demand, rising from the bed on shaky legs. Arthur immediately grabs your uninjured arm, balancing you.

“Where's what?”

“Bo! My horse.” You sob, growing shaky with the fear that something's happened to him.

The last thing you remember is holding onto him for dear life as he gets you away from danger, falling in and out of consciousness as you grip onto his mane.

What if Bo is still out there? What if he got injured? You don't know these people, what if they hurt him?

“He's fine, he's fine, don't worry.” Arthur comforts, and you relax slightly.

“Can I see him?”

“Of course you can.” He says, voice soft in what you can assume is empathy, “Lemme bring you to him. Mary-Beth, can you grab the Miss some more morphine from Strauss?”

“Of course.” Mary-Beth says, patting your arm gently as she leaves.

“Morphine? What's that?” You ask, confused and scared. But Arthur soothes his hand over your uninjured arm, awkwardly but it's comforting nonetheless.

“Just something' to help with the pain.” He explains, “Now let's go see to yer horse.”

Arthur leads you out of the tent. You’re taken aback by the camp you’re in. It's tidy and lively, a nice atmosphere permeating from the people and nature.

A few people look over at you, and you shrink. But they’re expressions aren't unkind, some pitying but some offering smiles. A slender, dark skinned man goes as far as to offer you a good morning, which you return weakly.

Arthur stops just outside the main area of camp, releasing your arm.

“I need to talk to our cook about getting you something to eat, would you mind staying here a second while I grab him?” Arthur asks apologetically, “I wouldn't leave ya if it weren't necessary, but he's already got a bottle open and he won't be conscious next time I see him.”

You nod weakly as you lean against a tree stump, bracing your weight against it.

Arthur thanks you, walking over to a stout man taking a swig from a bottle. He grows annoyed as Arthur calls out to him, and you avert your eyes.

Across camp, you spot a few horses mingling about amongst some sparse trees.

You beam when you see a familiar stallion.

“Bo!” You call out, stumbling forwards a little to get to him.

Bo’s head snaps to the side, and he starts neighing and huffing when he sees you.

The man cleaning the horses manages to jump out of the way just in time before Bo takes off running, sprinting over to you. The camp goers watch with wide eyes as the horse that dwarfed Arthur and Charles sprints to the injured girl, before stopping and nuzzling her gently.

He noses at your injured arm, and you pat his neck affectionately. His snorts and your shushes act as nonverbal communication between you and your bonded steed, comforting each other in this strange and uncertain situation.

You rub at Bo’s nose as the man walks over from the horses. He watches in amazement, looking between you and the horse. He does not seem threatening, but you look at him in your peripheral vision, unnerved by his staring.

Noticing you eyeing him, he flushes, stammering out an apology, “Sorry. M-mighty fine horse you've got there, miss!”

“Thanks.” You smile as you look up at the horse in question, running your fingers through his mane, “Hope he hadn't been too much trouble for you, he's not used to being in one place for too long.”

“Oh he's, uh, he's been fine. He's a bit rowdy, wouldn't let me brush him or nothin, but he ain't gone nowhere or caused a ruckus. He eats hay like it's no one's business.”

“Yeah, he's a greedy boy.” You laugh.

The man joins you, though quietly. “Oh! I’m Kieran, by the way!” He introduces himself.

“Hi, Kieran.” You smile.

“They didn't tell me your name.”

“Ain't got one.”

“Oh.” Kieran frowns, but you’re surprised to see him looking sympathetic rather than confused.

You rub Bo’s neck, “But this guy is Bo. So you can call me Bo’s human, if you want.”

“Oh, that isn't a nice enough way of referring to a lady, miss. Especially not such a pretty one.” Kieran laughs, blushing slightly and clearing his throat, “And I don't think Bo would take too kindly to that. I'm already on thin ice after trying to brush him this morning.”

Bo huffs, like he was agreeing, and you chuckle.

Someone groans nearby.

“You annoying the nice lady, O’driscoll?” A voice drawls.

Kieran stiffens, his face dropping, “I told you, ain't no O'driscoll, mister.”

You narrow your eyes, looking from Kieran to the new man, who wanders over from where he was leaning against a tree. He's greasy looking, with beady eyes and a handlebar moustache.

He's one of the other men you helped, but he isn't as welcoming as Arthur.

You look back at Kieran, “O'driscoll, huh? O’driscolls took my home and tried to kill me years ago. They’re why I don't have a home.”

Kieran swallows, face dropping further, a frown appearing on his lips.

But you shrug.

“I wouldn't have thought you were one.” You say, “I've been around them long enough to know an O’driscoll from a mile away. Nothing about you seems like one to me, I ain't got a problem with you.”

Kieran visibly relaxes, smiling brightly, “Well, I'm real glad about that.”

Micah groans, agitating you both further.

“She ain't gonna fuck you, O’driscoll, so stop slobberin.”

You furrow your eyebrows at the mustached man, as Kieran goes bright red, “I ain't- I'm not- I'm just tryna be nice!”

“What the hell is going on here?” Arthur calls, appearing at your side, “I leave her alone for five minutes and you two creeps swarm her like flees to a cat.”

“Mr Morgan, I swear I was just tryna talk to her about her horse.” Kieran sighs.

“Kieran ain't done nothing.” You say to Arthur, before nudging Bo, “Bo, go with Kieran.”

Bo huffs, and you push his side. He's three times your size, but he lets you manoeuvre him in Kieran's direction. The ex-O’driscoll watches with wide eyes, before Bo nudges him with his nose, pushing him in the direction of the hay bales.

The two of them leave, leaving you, Arthur and Micah.

“So what's your excuse, Micah?” Arthur asks, crossing his arms.

“I'm just tryna be friendly to the woman who saved us.” Micah smirks, looking you up and down, “And what a woman she is.”

“Alright, enough of that.” Arthur takes your uninjured arm, leading you away from the other man, ignoring his annoyed huff.

“C’mon, Dutch’s been wanting to meet you.”

Arthur leads you through the camp, to a table where two older men sit, talking quietly amongst themselves, sipping coffee while they observe the camp around them.

They look like opposites of each other. One is dressed in dark, luxurious clothes, with raven coloured hair and a perfectly maintained moustache. His golden rings glint against the evening sun as he gestures around him. The other has silver hair, wearing lighter, more worn clothes. His eyes are dark and warm, especially when they lock on you.

He says something to his companion, and the two stand as you arrive at the table.

“Miss.” The dark haired man greets.

A steaming bowl of stew waits for you at the table, and Arthur keeps his hand on your arm as you sit. You feel awkward at all the coddling you’re receiving from everyone, feeling like a bird with a broken wing.

The three men sit as you look over the table, eying the food.

“That's yours, you can eat.” Arthur encourages, pushing the bowl closer to you.

The other men nod as you look between them. Hesitantly, you pick up the spoon and begin eating. After the first unsure spoonful, you dig in, your hunger overtaking your insecurity.

The silver haired man smiles warmly at your eagerness, while Arthur chuckles gently, “I think this is the first time someone has eaten Pearson stew so happily.”

You hear the other men laugh, but you’re too focused on eating to pay attention to it.

When the bowl is empty, you clear your throat and wipe your mouth, “Thank you.”

“Such nice manners for a wild woman.” The dark haired man comments, “You’re welcome, miss.”

Arthur takes the empty bowl away, and you fidget with your nails, blinking down at the table.

“Now, I think introductions are in order.” The dark haired man says, “My name is Dutch Van Der Linde, my friend here is Hosea Matthews.”

“We’re glad you’re up and moving, dear.” Hosea says softly, “You gave us quite a scare.”

“I'm sorry.”

“You've got nothing to apologise for, miss…”

“I don't know my name.” You shrug, growing tired of having to explain this. You haven't spoken with anyone who wanted to know your name in months. You‘re half tempted to just make one up at this point.

Arthur returns, bringing with him a shawl that he offers you. You reach for it, and he helps you place it on your shoulders.

“Is there something we can call you? Perhaps a nickname?” Hosea asks, “What is it people refer to you as?”

“‘Girl’. Or ‘woman’. ‘Freak’, ‘you there’, 'bitch’...” You list off.

“Well we won't be calling you any of those, angel.” Dutch chuckles.

“You don't need to call me nothing, mister. I’ll get out of your hair as soon as you want me to.” You murmur, wanting to shrink into the floor.

You feel uneasy at the attention. Arthur looks at you with a guarded expression, Hosea looks at you with pity, and Dutch eyes you with a look you’re unused to.

“Do you have somewhere to go? A home, a family?” Hosea asks.

“No.”

“Then why are you so eager to leave?” Dutch asks, tilting his head to try to catch your eye. You look at him, and he looks at you, focused.

Once you stare into Dutch’s eyes, you find it impossible to look away. They’re dark, filled with an intensity you had only ever seen in predators in nature.

Yet you’re unafraid of him.

The intensity seems to come from a place of intelligence, from experience. He searches your soul for evidence of malintent. He's a black bear defending his territory, not one looking for a fight.

Dutch blinks, and the spell is broken. Whatever threat he was looking for, he did not find. His eyes became warm, and a smile appears on his face, surrounding his eyes with crinkles.

“You can stay as long as you want.” Dutch says, “Afterall, you helped our people out of a very bad situation. You’ve got friends here, angel.”

Hosea nods, offering you a smile. You return it, though not entirely convinced of the group's intentions yet. Arthur watches you from the wide, a thoughtful look on his face.

“Now, those clothes of yours have seen better days.” Dutch chuckles, rising from his chair, “Let’s find you something more warm.”

He offers you his arm, leading you back through the camp towards the large tent again.

“Who's tent is this? I feel bad taking it from them.” You murmur, fingers tapping nervously against the fine material of his shirt.

“Well you shouldn't. The man who’s letting you use it likes to think of himself as generous.” Dutch winks, and you huff out a laugh.

“Thank you, Mr Van Der Linde.”

“You’re very welcome.” He leads you inside, turning to call out to an older woman, asking her to find you some new clothes. You stand awkwardly, looking around the tent again.

“What is that thing?” You ask, nodding to the strange object.

“Ah!” Dutch exclaims, a beaming smile on his lips as he walks over to the contraption, “This, my dear, is a phonograph. It plays music, listen.”

With a couple swift movements, the phonograph comes to life. Just as Dutch said, music starts playing, slightly scratchy yet clearly melodic.

It puts a small smile on your lips, and Dutch puffs out his chest in pride at your reaction. He walks back over to your side, his hand finding your wait. Opening his mouth so say something, he hesitates as he looks into your eyes.

Your heart rate picks up, tilting your head curiously at him.

Someone enters the tent, and Dutch looks away. He nods at Mary-Beth, who comes over to your side with a sunny smile and a bundle of clothes in her arms.

“I'll leave you in Miss Gaskill’s care.” Dutch murmurs, his hand lingering on your waist before he steps back, “I’ll see you later, angel.”

He leaves you confused, but Mary-Beth steals your attention away. She’s very eager to dress you up, and you smile as her kind energy lights up the room.

As the sun begins to set, the camp settles down with food and beers, chatting around the campfire or retiring for the night.

You have washed and changed your clothes. Mary-Beth styled an old skirt and blouse for you. The skirt was a bit short and the blouse was too large, but you were grateful to be in something other than your raggedy dress you'd been wearing for just under a week.

Another girl named Tilly brought you water to wash, and helped you clean the dirt off of your skin and out of your hair. She talked to you the whole time, complaining about a woman named Miss Grimshaw. While you didn't respond, she was content with your hums of acknowledgment, and it was nice getting clean and being treated like a normal person.

Once clean and warm in your new, borrowed clothes, you felt ten pounds lighter, and followed the women as they led you to the campfire. A few others mingle about, but you sigh in relief seeing that there were far fewer about now that the sun had set.

You slightly wish you could be left alone to lick your wounds, disappearing back into the woods with Bo at your side.

Not that these people aren't nice. In fact, they happen to be the kindest people you have interacted with in months. You’re just unused to being surrounded by so many people, especially by people who actually see you. You've spent your days wandering the world like a spectre, far more comfortable in the presence of animals than people.

Maybe you could get used to being around other people. But you wanted the option to leave, in case the other shoe drops and these people turn out to be just another cruel gang of outlaws.

Mary-Beth sits you at the fire, leaving you to grab you both some supper. Nearby, a man sits in the ground with a guitar in his lap, his eyes closed as he strums a simple tune.

The soft notes he plays transfix you, and you find yourself hypnotised by the music, the world falling away around you. The man looks at you, a smile on his lips at the sight of you enjoying his music. For a moment, you’re completely entranced.

New voices startle you, and you look up to find an older man with a bushy beard settling down around the fire.

“Evening, miss.” He says.

“Hello.” You greet in return.

“Glad to see you're alright. Old Dutch was mighty concerned about ya.” He rambles, opening a beer and nodding at you with a grin, “The name’s Uncle by the way.”

“Uncle?”

“Yup. At least, that's what everyone knows me as. I reckon we're alike, you and me, both got names that are no-one's business.”

You don't bother correcting him that you don't know your name, or asking you how he knew you didn't know your name, so instead you smile and nod.

Mary-Beth returns alongside a blonde woman, who raises an eyebrow at Uncle’s statement, “You ain't even got a name?” She comments as she takes a swig from her beer.

“Karen, be nice.” Mary-Beth chides as she sits beside you, handing you a bowl of familiar stew, “She doesn't remember it, poor thing.”

“What are we supposed to call you, then?” Karen inquires.

You shrug, “Whatever you like. People call me whatever they want, don't matter much to me. Dutch seems to like calling me angel, for some reason.”

Karen's eyes widen at that, as the guitarist hums contemplatively, “Mm, you are an angel. A guardian angel, saving the men like that. Muy valiente, cariño.”

Though his words are lost on you, they sound as melodic as the music he plays, and you nod in thanks, tapping your fingers on the rim of the bowl in your hands.

“How long are you planning on staying with us?” Uncle asks.

“I don't know, as long as it takes for my arm to heal, I guess.”

“Dutch seems real keen on keeping ya.” Karen says around her bottle, before promptly being elbowed by Mary-Beth.

“Well it's not every day an outlaw gets to save a damsel in distress.” Uncle chuckles.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“He was the one who found you in the woods.” Uncle explains, “You were in a real bad state, saw it myself. Dutch came in like one of those fancy knights from Mary-Beth’s books, carrying you through camp all bloodied. I was real surprised he was willing to get blood on his fancy clothes.”

You stare at him, surprised to find out it was Dutch who rescued you. He hadn't mentioned it, which you thought he would, being the proud and enigmatic man he was. Surely he would boast about it,

Feeling eyes on you, you turn your head to find Dutch watching you from afar. He’s sat beside Hosea, who talks to him not residing his friends attention is elsewhere.

Dutch has that look in his eyes again. Dark and pensive, and though you feel you should be fearful, different emotions plague your system. Pleasant emotions, your heart rate increasing and your stomach fluttering.

But he turns away as Hosea asks him a question, and the spell is broken.

You excuse yourself from the conversation, taking your bowl to Pearson before heading back to Dutch’s tent. Sleep should help quell the sudden desires you feel.

But sleep does not come easily.

You can see Dutch’s eyes in your imagination, watching from the dark corners of dormant spaces. Thoughts spiral around your mind,

Huffing, you run your hands over your face, your bandage tightening before snapping. You sigh further as you sit up, looking down at the loose wrappings.

You try to retie your bandage, your frustration building when it unravels again. So much for being independent.

Someone clears their throat, and you turn your head to see Dutch standing at the entrance, offering you a smile as he gestures to your attempts, “Would you like some help?”

You hesitate, but nod.

He moves to sit beside you on the bed, looking over your work before turning you around, your back to him as he expertly winds the bandage around your upper arm, tying it at the back and tucking the edge away.

“There you go.” Dutch murmurs.

Why is his voice so entrancing?

His close proximity makes goosebumps erupt along your exposed flesh. But it's not unpleasant. In fact, you seek out his warmth, leaning against him as he works. You briefly worry that he can feel your racing heart through your ribs.

Dutch smooths his hands over your arm, ensuring the bandage is secure. His touch sends shivers through you, bolts of lightning with every brush of his warm, calloused skin against yours.

You lean into it, humming appreciatively.

Dutch hums too, his fingers travelling from your upper arm to your wrist, rubbing his thumb over your pulse point. He watches your profile, looking for any sign of discomfort.

Finding none, he brings your wrist upwards, pressing his lips to your skin. You gasp, unsure but intrigued by his action, melting against his front.

“My apologies if this is forward…” Dutch murmurs, though there's no real apology in his tone, “I've been finding myself thinking of you far too often since finding you in the woods. My strange treasure.”

He presses a kiss to your palm, “It's not every day a beauty like yours falls into my lap, please forgive my desire to indulge.”

You look at him over your shoulder, biting your lip as you look over his face. His eyes move from your hand to your eyes, his gaze appraising like he was looking at something magnificent.

“Such a pretty thing.” Dutch drawls, his other hand circling around your waist, making you jolt, “Hmm… you ain't done nothing like this before, have you, angel?”

“No…” You whisper.

You vaguely understood this attention, even though you have never experienced something like this before. In your years in the wild, you had stumbled upon enough passionate lovers in isolated fields, and found the odd O’driscoll having his way with a working girl. You had seen enough to not be completely clueless.

But you'd never been touched.

Even in your wildest dreams did you imagine the first man to do so, and to do so so reverently, would be a powerful gang leader. What had you gotten yourself into.

Dutch hums at your revelation, softening his movements, caressing your arms and waist in slow movements.

“Would you like me to make you feel good?” He asks, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear, “Show how much I appreciate your selfless act of saving my men from certain death?”

“I feel like I should be the one showing gratitude.” You mutter, “You saved my life.”

Dutch hums, kissing the skin below your ear, “We can find ways to thank one another.”

Deftly, his fingers begin travelling along your body, caressing your bare and clothed skin. You squirm against him, unsure if you are trying to escape his attention or encourage him.

A gasp escapes you as you feel one of his large hands slip below your skirt, the cold of his rings cooling the heated flesh of your thighs. and you keen as they come in contact with your most intimate place.

His rough fingers drag through your slit, and you hold your breath for fear of making a noise that will surely wake the entire camp. Dutch groans, pressing his face against your hair as he feels how wet you've become.

His fingers move upwards until they find your clit, a small bundle of heaven you had only explored by yourself in moments of desperation. He plays with it expertly, skilled fingertips circling and rubbing at it until you feel yourself shaking.

You turn your head to look at him, seeking out comfort in his dark eyes. He hushes you, pressing his lips to yours.

It's clumsy on your end. You've never been kissed, and your lips are hesitant against his confident ones. Dutch brings a hand up, cupping your jaw as he urges you on with his lips. You begin to move your own, moaning against him as his tongue requests

You really like kissing, you soon discover, finding yourself quickly becoming addicted. You turn in his arms, pressing yourself against him as you indulge in his lips.

The two of you manoeuvre yourselves until you sit on Dutch's lap, thighs bracketing his own as your hands wind into his hair, holding his head still to have your fill of his kisses.

Dutch groans against you, enjoying the feeling of you taking control, his hands rubbing up and down your back.

He sinks back into the cot, body relaxing as he surrenders to your exploration.

You’re uncomfortably wet, the early caress of his fingers combined with your kissing making you drench his waist below you. Squirming against him, you gasp when you feel something hard below you.

Separating from his lips, you take in the sight of the powerful man below you.

Dutch reclines against the cot, looking up at you with hungry eyes.

His hands move from your lower back to your hips, then upwards. His deft fingers play with the ties of your shirt, and he looks up at you with a raise eyebrow, “May I?”

“Yes.” You say confidently, though unsure as to what he wants.

Dutch unties the knots that keep your shirt closed. It's far too big for you, and when loose, it drops and exposes your breasts to the air.

Your hands twitch against his chest, fighting the urge to cover your skin from his eyes. Dutch groans, pupils dilating as he admires the slopes of your breasts and raised nipples.

His hands travel gently over the soft skin of your breasts, to the skirt bunched up at your waist, to the meat of your thighs, groping and caressing greedily.

Your own fingers move to the buttons of his vest, and he grins up at you, eager. Opening his vest and shirt, you eye him with flushing cheeks. His torso is firm from years of gunslinging and lawless labour, skin slightly tan from the summer sun. Taut muscles and dark thatches of hair you desire to run your fingers through.

He urges you to do so, taking your smaller hands in his to place them on his sides, Copying his own actions, you run your own hands over his exposed chest, exploring the firm skin and the dark wiry hair. Your fingers follow the hair's natural line as it travels down until it disappears into his slacks.

A bulge has formed there, pressing against the fabric aggressively. You know from the horrid O'driscolls and the drunken farmers you often stole from that this meant that he was aroused, but what lay below is a mystery to you.

“Are you alright, angel?”

You look up and meet Dutch’s eyes, finding them soft yet still hungry.

“I’ve never…”

“That's alright, darling. Take your time.” He soothes, caressing your sides, “But, we also don't have to go any further than this. You hold the cards here, my beautiful girl.”

You smile a little bit, feeling some of the tension in your body dissipate.

And you shock him when you cup his solid bulge.

Dutch groans and his hips buck, surprised by your action and quick to apologise for his initial reaction. You bite your lip, rubbing your palm over it. The action makes Dutch sigh softly, his fingers clenching against your waist as he looks down at your fingers.

You play with the edge of his trousers, “Can I…?”

“Of course.”

Slowly, you undo his pants, revealing his lack of underwear. You raise an eyebrow, and he chuckles.

“It's real warm this time of year.” Dutch explains, “Makes this easier, too.”

“Were you planning this?” You ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, I only hoped… I'm only human, sweet thing.”

You blush, moving your eyes back to his lower half. Tugging his slacks down, his uncovered erection springs free. Your eyes widen, taking in the solid length of it.

It’s as long as your hand, and reasonably wide. Having nothing to reference to it, you find it quite nice. Whether it's bigger than average you can only guess, but it’s certainly not disappointing to your virgin eyes.

“Do I please you, my lady?” Dutch smirks, his hands moving back down to your bare thighs, pinching you as you stare for too long.

You huff, leaning forward to kiss him again, far too obsessed with doing it. He doesn't complain, sighing happily against your lips and wrapping his large hand in your hair.

As you lean over him, you can feel him poke against your stomach. Sitting up a bit, you look down at it, shuffling forward until it presses against your clothed stomach.

Seeing how much of it could go inside you, your eyes widen.

“That thing’s never gonna fit in me.”

Dutch laughs, shaking his head slightly, running his hand over your cheek, “Don't worry, angel. It will. But we’re not gonna force it. I'm gonna make sure you feel good.”

You hum, leaning into his palm. He soothes your flushed skin, tracing his fingers over the apple of your cheeks down to your jaw. You adjust yourself on top of him, trying to figure out how best to do this.

Dutch notices your fumbling, “Need help?”

You smile, nodding.

“Show me.”

He obliges, moving his hands to your hips firmly and lifting you up. You follow his guidance, moving forward to hover over his lap.

A gasp escaped you when you feel his tip against you. It's hot, incredibly hard and slightly damp. Dutch moves you gently, rocking you over it. When it catches your clit, you shudder, keening and moving automatically as you search out more of that delicious feeling.

“Such a good girl.” Dutch breathes, “That’s it sweetheart, take it easy. We ain’t in no rush.”

You rock against him, letting the rip catch your entrance. You squirm as you feel the first two inches slide in and out of you, easily due to how you’re practically dripping.

The sensations are unusual, but far from unpleasant.

Bracing a hand on his stomach, you sink further, stifling a moan as more pleasure emerges the longer you girate.

Soon enough, you’re taking enough of him to feel him pressing against something sensitive inside you. It shocks you at first, but then you begin searching for it, releasing sharp moans every time you drop and feel the ecstasy rise, your whole body riding waves of pleasure.

You can hear Dutch's breath quickening, and you open your eyes. You didn't even realise you shut them, but when you blink away the bleariness and look down at Mr Van Der Linde, you moan at the sight of him.

Dutch’s skin glistens in the low light, his chest and neck flushed. His chest heaves as he groans and grunts, releasing praises with every breath. “So tight.” “Keep going, baby, you’re doing so well.” “Good fucking girl.” His head is thrown back, neck exposed and eyes fluttering closed.

You keep rocking, trying to keep pace while you lean forward and kiss his throat.

Dutch groans loudly at that, his arms wrap around you to keep you in place. His hips buck, his restraint fraying. His need for release is growing too strong for him to handle.

“I need fuck you now, baby, would you let me?” He bites out.

You murmur out an ‘mhm’ into his neck, head too gone to really respond, but knowing that you want him to have his way with you now.

At your affirmation, Dutch grips you to his chest, feet planting on the bed as he begins thrusting upwards. You release a series of moans and whines as he fucks up into you, hips slapping against yours.

He’s strong, fucking with short and hard thrusts that shake you. You grasp onto him for dear life, surrendering fully to the feeling.

Your body tightens, a feeling deep in your abdomen grows, like a string pulled too taut and ready to snap.

“D-dutch, feels weird…” You gasp out, burying your face in his neck.

“That's it, cum for me, angel. Give it to me.” Dutch commands, huffing into your ear as he grips onto your hips and slams you down on him as he thrusts up even harder than before. He tip of him repeatedly bullies the sweet spot inside of you, and you see stars.

The string snaps inside you, and you're blinded by pleasure. You cum with a cry of his name, tears swimming in your vision as you shake and leak all over him.

Dutch’s pace stutters, murmuring continuous “fuck, fuck, fuck”s into your ear.

Swiftly, he turns you over, lying you both on your sides as he pulls out. He fists himself fast in between your bodies, exclaiming as he jolts and warm spurts of his release hit your stomach.

“Fuck, so good…” Dutch sighs, nosing at your face as he pumps himself lazily, staining both of you with every drop of his seed.

You breathe heavily, coming down from the high. You lie boneless beside him, his eyes half closed as he watches your face with parted lips.

Sleep creeps up on you, and you almost get pulled under until you hear Dutch shift. His presence leaves the bed and you wonder if he's leaving you all alone.

But he returns after a second, a cool rag caressing your belly and cleaning you of his spend, before cleaning over your sensitive cunt. You shiver and he chuckles, wiping the rag over your sweaty skin before putting it away.

He wraps his arms around you, moving you to lie on his chest.

Sighing contentedly, you relax against his solid warmth, and fall into the most peaceful sleep of your life.

As the morning birds wake you, you stretch out on the soft bed.

You search blindly for Dutch, eyebrows furrowing when you come up empty handed.

Opening your eyes, you look around the room. It's unchanged. You don't know what you expected, but you thought the world would be different after the new sensations you experienced last night.

But alas, the world is still the same.

Standing, you fix your clothes, smiling when you see that Dutch buttoned your shirt to protect your modesty and put your socks back on your feet to keep you warm. For a man who seemed so strong, capable of immeasurable violence, he seemed insistent on treating you with the kindness you had never dreamed of receiving.

Dutch's phonograph plays gentle music, and you can see his silhouette, standing outside the canvas door. You exit, finding him smoking a cigar as he watches over camp. He's less put together than you were used to seeing him, and your chest flutters knowing you're the cause of that.

Coming to his side, you awkwardly hover next to him, wondering what you do now. Do you greet him casually? Do you take his hand in yours?

Noticing you beside him, Dutch smiles, answering your unspoken questions by swiftly taking your hand in his and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. Some of the others look over, curious but not a bit shocked.

Smiling, hold onto his hand, leaning into him as the two of you watch over camp.

Maybe you will stick around, just for a little while.

AN/ need that crazy moustache man ugh. hope you enjoyed this! also thank u for 100 followers that's crazy xoxo

fic taglist: @warmsideofthepillow03 @sammymcsamerson @m1stea @iamaunknownsecret @love-you-louise @vanpan8 @6esi @idcmannn

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nekomata7 · 1 month ago

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Wade: Peanut, my tummy hurts :(

Logan: *not looking away from the tv* did you drink bleach again?

Wade: No! I ... Wait, how do you know I have drank bleach before?

Logan: I have seen the stuff you put in your mouth, it's just logic bub.

Wade: >:/ I was in a bad moment ok?

Logan: uh hu.

Wade: >:/

Logan: .....

Wade: *walks to the kitchen*

Logan: *hears the clic clic of ... Glass marbles?* .... *Big inhale* Wade ...

Wade: yeah?

Logan: what's in your stomach right now?

Wade: well, do you know I have a bowl full of hard clear candy in my room?

Logan: *rise and eyebrow* uh hu...

Wade: well...i think it got confused with my bowl of marbles ....

Logan: you ate the marbles...

Wade: I ate the marbles :(

Logan: *suddenly remembers that he "cleaned" Wade's room because couldn't bear the chaos and reorganize the stuff in a more "logic" order* ......

Logan: how many?

Wade: .....

Logan: wade...

Wade: THEY ARE HARD CANDY OK?? I JUST SWALLOW THEM WHOLE AND LET THEM MELT IN MY STOMACH.

Logan: *regretting all his live choices* god fucking dammit Wade

Wade: I can wait for them to...pass through?

Logan: by the sound of it i don't think they can get out of your stomach.

Wade: I am a walking maraca!! :D

Logan: *do not laugh, do not laugh, do not laugh* shut it *inhales* come on, on the table. I'm gonna get them out.

Wade: oh Peanut! You do care!! But, how are we gonna....?

Logan: *claws out*

Wade: oh ...

-----//-----//-----//-----//-----

Al: WHY THE FUCK THIS HOUSE SMELL LIKE A BUTCHERS???

Wade: oh! Hi Al!! *Open like a pig on the table while logan goes through his organs pulling out marbles* good morning *suppressing grunts of pain and arousal*

Logan: don't worry, I put plastic beneath him this time.

Al: I'm way too sober for this. I'm gonna head out. You better finish your kinky shit and clean before I come back.

Logan: it's not kinky shit!!

Wade: I don't know, honey badger. I'm having a blast here. :)

Al: disgusting. *Leaves*

Logan: you are a fucking lunatic. You know that?

Wade: and yet here you are: elbows deep in my guts. *Non existent eyebrows wiggle*

Logan: *glares and gives up* yeah yeah *kiss his temple* now stay still, I'm trying to catch the last one.

Wade: you know *grunt* you could just rip of my sonofabitch *pants* my organs out and let them regrow

Logan: *putting the last bloody marble in the jar that now says "marbles: DO NOT EAT"* I know *watching lovingly at the flesh snitching back together while caressing the skin*

Wade: aww I love you too.

#deadpool and wolverine #deadclaws #poolverine shitposting #they love each other #writing this on my cellphone was a bitch #poolverine #logan howlett #hugh jackman #ryan reynolds #logan wolverine #deadpool

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deansbeer · 2 months ago

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𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐀𝐒 SKIES & 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐒 TIES

000. PROLOGUE ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ִ ݁ ♡ .

✸ 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟓; the first time you and jensen met.

PAIRING. cowboy!jensen x female reader ꒱

SYNOPSIS. in a stormy december of '95, your world shifts when jensen arrives at your family's ranch. what starts with an awkward meeting becomes something unexpectedly sweet.

kari yaps. hiii there, i feel SO soso happy n giddy inside, seeing all of u as excited as i am for this new series !!!! i'll try my best to keep up w it, esp this upcoming week for xmas <3 & if it isnt finished by then, hopefully by new years it is. HOWEVER, if it isnt done once the new year rolls in, someone yell @ me, i give u full permission !!!!! im crossing my fingers, though. n e ways :) love yall smmm <3

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ୨ৎ 𝐉𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐘.

DECEMBER brought the kind of cold that made texas feel foreign. you weren't expecting company that morning, which explained your current state: sleep shorts, an old long sleeve baby tee that had seen better days, and crew socks that reached above your ankles. your hair was a mess, tangled from sleep, but you didn't care—until your dad's voice boomed through the house.

"honey, alan's boy is here to help with the storm prep!"

you froze, halfway through pouring your coffee. through the kitchen window, you caught sight of a red chevy pickup truck pulling up, and your stomach dropped. everyone knew alan ackles' son—jensen was practically dallas royalty when it came to ranch families.

"coming!" you called back, but it was too late. the screen door creaked open, and there he stood: tall, broad-shouldered, in worn jeans and boots, his green eyes catching yours immediately.

"jensen, this is my daughter," your dad said, clapping him on the shoulder. "sweetheart, this is jensen."

you wanted to die right there, especially when his lips curved into a slight smirk. "nice to meet you," he drawled, his voice deep and warm. "nice pajamas."

your face heats up in embarrassment. "i wasn't exactly expecting visitors at seven in the morning."

"storm's not gonna wait for proper attire, darlin'," your dad chuckled. "why don't you go get dressed? you're helping us today."

"what? dad, no—"

"actually," your mom chirped, appearing from nowhere like she always did when there was potential for embarrassment, "if you help today, we can hit the mall this afternoon."

you narrowed your eyes. "promise?"

"cross my heart."

yeah, you're never going to the mall.

twenty minutes later, properly dressed in jeans and boots, you found yourself trailing behind jensen and your dad toward the stables. the horses needed tending first—they were always priority during storms.

"beauty's been real fussy lately," your dad was saying. "might need extra attention."

"i can handle the horses," you offered quickly. anything to avoid more awkward interaction with jensen.

your dad nodded. "good idea. jensen and i'll check the fencing. don't forget to clean their areas too."

you watched them head off, relief flooding through you until beauty, your black mare, nudged your shoulder. "i know, girl," you muttered. "i'm a mess."

the next hour passed peacefully enough. most of the horses were being difficult—storm weather always made them antsy—but beauty kept them in line with warning neighs whenever they got too rowdy. you were halfway through brushing down the last horse when boots scuffed against the stable floor behind you.

"need any help?"

you jumped, spinning around to find jensen leaning against one of the stalls. "jesus, wear a bell or something."

he laughed, pushing off the frame and walking over. "your dad said to come check on you. more workers showed up to help with the heavy lifting."

"'m fine," you said quickly, turning back to the horse. "almost done."

"you sure? because that one looks about ready to bite."

as if on cue, the horse snapped its teeth, and you jerked back. jensen stepped forward, his chest brushing your back as he reached for the brush. "here," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. "let me."

you stepped aside, watching as he effortlessly calmed the horse with a few gentle strokes. "show off."

"nah," he grinned. "just been doing this since i could walk. your ranch is different though. bigger than ours."

"yeah?" you leaned against the stable wall. "how so?"

and just like that, the awkwardness melted away. jensen told you about his family's ranch, about learning to ride before he could properly run, about the differences in how each ranch operated. by the time your dad called everyone in for dinner, you'd almost forgotten about your embarrassing first meeting.

your mom, ever the hostess, had prepared enough food to feed an army. neighbors started arriving, filling your house with chatter and laughter. you showered and changed, choosing a soft sweater and clean jeans, your hair finally tamed.

"movie time!" someone called after dinner, and suddenly the living room was full of kids your age, all piling onto couches to watch christmas reruns.

you tucked yourself into the corner of the couch, trying to take up as little space as possible. but then jensen sat next to you, his thigh pressing against yours despite the space on his other side. you tried to scoot away, give him room, but he just moved closer.

"cold?" he whispered, and before you could answer, his hand found yours.

your palm went instantly clammy. across the room, you caught daisy oliver's glare—everyone knew she had a thing for jensen, had been trying to catch his eye for months. you tried to pull away, but his fingers tightened.

"relax," he murmured, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "this okay?"

you nodded, unable to form words, and spent the rest of the night hyper-aware of every small movement of his hand against yours.

the next morning, you hid in your room, avoiding the inevitable goodbye when his dad came to pick him up. you'd heard the rumors about him and daisy so holding his hand felt like crossing a line you hadn't meant to cross.

you didn't know then that jensen had never looked twice at her. didn't know that he had spend the whole ride home telling his dad about the girl in pajamas who'd caught his eye. didn't know that this was just the beginning.

𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 taglist. @deanswidow @a1ecmcdowell @beausling @titsout4jackles @frosttbitessam @aileenunfiltered @deansbite @jasvtsc @fallbhind @ostaramoon @lacydollette @ultravi0lence14 @rubyvhs ◟ ☆ ݁ ⋆ 🏇 ˚⊹ ˖ ﾟ✶ ݁. comment OR send an ask to be added / removed !!!!!

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bigification · 10 months ago

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Step Daddy

"You really need to get over your stepdad man." My friend tells me, concerned.

"Look, I'll try this one last thing and if it doesn't work then I'll give it up." I respond. "Did you bring the sunglasses?"

"Yes, but just remember he's like 25 years older than you. He's probably not going to be into you, even after this." He says as he hands me a pair of old pilot shades.

I told him I could let it go, but I can't. I'm just putting all my eggs into this basket, the sunglasses. Apparently they're supposed to transform someone who wears them mentally and physically to match my type. He already is my type, but I guess I wouldn't mind him bulking up a bit and growing some hair. It would be sexy if he got more charming, but he's already charming as it is. I guess there's only one way to find out.

I wait on the living room couch watching tv. He always gets home from work at the same time, so I know he'll be here any minute. I sit and stare at my reflection in the glasses. Am I really ready to change this man's life so drastically. My friend said no one else would take notice of the change, so it'll be like nothing happened. As I'm thinking over it, I hear the roar of his engine from the driveway. I try to calm down, but I can feel my body vibrate from the nerves. The door flies open.

"Hey buddy, hows it goin?" He asks me with his hot southern accent.

"Not bad. By the way, I found these sunglasses lying around, and assumed they were yours." I try to play it cool as I lie to his face.

"Oh, thanks. But these aren't mine." He responds.

"Well you might as well keep em, they don't fit me anyway." I try to convince him to take them without seeming too pushy.

"Well alright, thanks kid." He swipes the glasses and throws them on.

That was easier than I thought. As soon as he put them on, he stopped moving. His jaw slacked as if there was not a thought running through his mind. It started slow, his button up started to look a little bit tighter. His once flat chest started to push against his shirt and the shape of a belly started to show. Then it started to speed up. His chest started to pulse, growing in size with each one. They grew until the button on his collar popped off, then another button popped, then another and another. His juicy pecs flopped down after being released from his shirt. His stomach was next. His midsection widened and his stomach grew into a respectable beer belly, straining against his shirt. It wasn't long before more buttons began to pop, until his shirt was completely open. His arms also looked like they doubled in size, filling out his sleeves with thick muscles.

Next his legs start to look like they're gonna burst out of his dress pants. I can hear the rips ripple through his pants as his thighs grow inside of them. His ass fills out all the space in his pants and proceeds to rip open his fly and snap his belt in half. I can tell his underwear is barely staying in one piece as a large bulge formed in between his legs.

Finally his face begins to change. His once skinny face fills out with fat, giving him a rounder look. I can see that hair is falling out of his hat until he is left completely bald under there. Though in return his clean shaven face grows a bushy beard. But the hair doesn't stop there. It continues down his chest and to his belly, and presumably the rest of his body. He finally regains control of his body. He sighs as he stretched out his arms and cracks his knuckles before looking right at me.

"Come here, son." He says in a deep buttery voice.

A shock travels through my spine as I think he might know what I've done to him.

"What'd I say boy!" He raises his voice.

I jump a bit before I walk closer to him. I realize how imposing he is up close. He must have gotten taller because he seems well over six feet tall now, and at least 250 pounds.

"Daddy had a stressful day, why don't you help him release some tension." He says as he pushes me to my knees.

I blush, this is everything I wanted from this, it just happened so much faster than I thought.

"Don't be shy, boy. This will be our little secret." He says as he pulls his underwear down.

#male tf #masculine #fat tf #hairy #reality change #muscle tf #male transformation

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rainbowsuitcase · 3 months ago

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Ice is woken up way too early by insistent knocking on the door of his room. Wondering what could possibly have caught on fire before 0800 in the morning, he opens the door trying to blink sleep out of his eyes and freezes when he's met by a very angry looking Nick Bradshaw.

"I really didn't think you'd stoop that low," Goose scoffs at him.

Ice glances down at himself. He's wearing dark boxers with no embarrassing pattern and the old USNA shirt he sleeps in is a little worn out, sure, but also clean. He knows his hair is a mess but c'mon, he just woke up, whose wouldn't be?

He concludes that he has no idea what Goose is talking about. "Uhm, what?"

"Don't play stupid, Kazansky. You know what you did."

Oh. This is about something in the past.

Ice still has no idea what though. "I... have not had a hangover in quite some time, so yes, I can say I remember just about everything I did lately-"

Goose interrupts him with a hissed, "That's really all you have to say to me?"

"-and I have no idea which of those things could have possibly pissed you off this much."

"Fuck you too, Tom." Oh no, not the first name. "What did Mav ever actually do to you?"

Ice is just more and more confused by the second. Is he still asleep? Is that why nothing's making sense? Mav did... quite a lot to him just a couple days ago, but Ice sincerely doubts Goose actually wants to hear about any of that.

"Uhm- not much lately?" he tries slowly. "Which I guess is actually impressive now that I think about it?"

"I'm not fucking around, Tom," Goose growls, leaning forward to get in his face. "Why did you punch him?"

"I... punched him?" Is this a joke? It's way too early for this.

"I fucking saw the bruise," Goose doesn't sound like he's joking. "Mav's refusing to tell me anything. What the fuck did you do to him?"

Ice tries to take a deep breath but no, he's not lacking oxygen, his lungs feel fine, his head doesn't hurt and this isn't making any sense. "You saw... the bruise?"

"Tom, I swear to God I'm gonna give you a bruise if you don't stop repeating what I'm saying and start answering!"

"Okay!" Ice exclaims, lifting his hands palms up because threats from Mother Goose should never be taken lightly, even by a very confused recipient. "Okay, uhm... what bruise did you see?"

"The one on his hip!" Goose shouts and Ice realizes too late that that was the wrong thing to say. "Is there more than one? What the fuck, man?"

"I- the bruise on Mav's hip-" Ice winces. He can't exactly say he didn't put it there, but he's not sure that admitting it's not really a bruise is such a good idea either.

And thankfully, before he's forced to find out, there's shouting from down the hallway. "Goose!" And that's Maverick running toward them. "Goose, stop! Ice didn't hurt me!"

Goose politely gets out of Ice's face and huffs. "How'd you know I was here?"

Mav is breathing hard, grabbing at his chest - did he run the whole way here? And he's still wearing his sleeping shirt too, with a stain on the collar, though he's taken the time to put on actual pants at least.

Gasping for air, he still does his best to answer. "Well I- I woke up and you weren't there and... You got so pissed last night, it wasn't that hard to figure out. But I swear, Goose-" he straightens up and raises his voice, "-Ice didn't punch me!"

"You don't have to defend him just because we used to be friends." Well, that emphasis hurts. But Ice is sure- he's hoping that they'll be fine once this gets cleared up.

"You can still be friends!" Mav throws his hands up in a frantic gesture. "He didn't do anything to me I didn't want!"

Goose freezes on the spot, anger melting into confusion at record speed. "What?"

And because apparently, Ice before 0800 is in the business of digging graves, he clears his throat. "Yeah, I... didn't exactly make that bruise with my hands."

And because apparently, Mav is a little shit in any and every situation, he meets Goose's wide eyes with a grin. "The one on my thigh, though-"

"Nope!" Goose raises his hands. "No, shut up, I don't need to hear more! I..." he hesitates, looking back at Ice. "I am very sorry for waking you up, Ice. And for yelling at you... And I'm gonna give two some space now! Happy for you both!"

He backs away slowly, giving them two thumbs up until he turns around and sets out at a fast pace.

Ice looks down at Mav and sighs, "That went well. You couldn't have just told him?"

Mav's smile dims. "I didn't think he'd react that badly," he mumbles. "Just wanted to keep you to myself for a while."

That's so damn sweet.

And, well. Mav is here, looking all ruffled and soft from sleep, and there's no one else around.

Ice puts a hand on his shoulder. "You do have me for yourself, Mav." And then he leans down to kiss his boyfriend.

#this is silly #silly plot bunny wouldn't stop following me around #it just wanted to play don't think about it too hard #icemav #tom iceman kazansky #pete maverick mitchell #nick goose bradshaw #top gun #top gun 1986 #top gun fanfiction

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thehorrorsoftheblackbunnymask · 11 months ago

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Paid Internship (Part 1)(Prison AU)

Author's Note: This is a Prison AU that the viewers of my blog seem to be pretty fond of. The main focuses for the romance parts will differ depending on the part, but for part 1, it's Liu, Jeff, and Toby. The reader is gender neutral and uses She/He stuff, but sometimes depending on what's going on I'll use stuff like Tits. Also, Sully will be in the fic, but I won't use his name. Pay attention to how Liu talks, they will be major differences between his first meeting and his interview.

Author's Note 2: This is definitely one of my longest and most plot heavy fics on my account. I do plan for this to be multi parter, so this part will be heavy on introducing the characters. This part will have some yandere moments, but they will be mostly prominent in part two. If you wanna be tagged for part two, leave a comment, or reblog.

Summary: Welcome to your paid internship at Roosevelt Federal Prison. After being seen for your potential and skills by your instructor at the Academy, he decided to give you opportunity of working in the US' most dangerous prison despite the disapproval and rejection from the higher ups. However, due to miscommunication and faulty paperwork, you're gonna up working with some of America's most danger serial killers for the semester.

Warnings: Descriptions of crimes, Rape Mentioned, Perversion, Manipulation, Gaslighting, Gore, Sadism, Violence, Implied Nudity, Kidnapping, Implied Abuse, Hostages, Death, Murder, Threats, Mood Swings, Sexual Abuse Implied, PTSD, Mental Illness, Dealings, Attempted Murder, Survivor's Guilt,Cursing, Sleep Deprived Workers, Stress, Agression, and More. This AU is not fo the faint of heart.

Word count: 13.5k

Links: {Masterlist} {Prison AU Introduction}

"Hey kid, you ready?"

You were taken out of your train of thought by your instructor and mentor, Officer Joseph Gibbons. Joseph was a man in his 50's, his once hazelnut hair now started to fade into a light grey, he was a man on the heavier side, plump like a mall santa clause, and despite his uniform being quite clean, it was covered in the smell of cigarettes and men's colone.

"...Not really. Are you sure I'm ready for this?" You asked, fiddling with the sleeves of your uniform.

"Ready? Out of the students at the Academy your the most ready for this. Any other Prison just wouldn't do you any good."

"Any go-"

"And we're here!" Joseph exclaimed, cutting you off mid sentence as he walked out.

You took a deep breath before walking out of the car. When you stepped out, you were greeted with heavy rain and loud thunder. As you looked up at the Prison, you felt a sense of fear hit you. It was like something straight out of a horror movie. The Prison was massive, you could probably see it from miles away if not further. Various plants were taking over the brick and metal walls, you could see officers walking around with flashlights, making sure nobody was trying to get in or out, two large guard outpost stood high on each side of the building, each of them blasting a bright light, and a large metal barbwired gate keeping whatever was inside from getting out.

"Joseph!" A voice yelled from the distance, causing the two of you to shoot your heads in the direction of the noise.

Whoever the voice belonged to, they were running towards the two of you pretty fast, waving their arms around like a lunatic.

"Esther, my dear friend. How the kids?" Joseph asked with a smile as he hugged the man.

Now that the man was closer, you got a better look at him. He had short red hair, a face full of a freckles, a small beard slowly starting grow in, and he was definitely younger than your mentor. He was maybe in his late 30's, early to mid 40's. He was in well shape too, his biceps peeking through the gaurd uniform he wore. He had a pistol, taser, and handcuffs strapped to his waist band on the right side of his body, meaning he was most likely right handed.

During your first year at the Academy, you were taught to see every single detail in a suspect or in a scene, no matter how small or big it was, and now you found yourself doing it like it was second nature at this point.

"They're good, they're good. Havent seen them for a while though, I've been stuck here all week! Now, where's this prodigy you've been pushing for?"

"Esther, meet Y/N L/N. Y/N, this is Officer Esther Wibbsy, I met when I first worked here. He's gonna be watching over you during this whole thing."

"Nice to meet ya, L/N," Esther said, sticking his hand out.

You shook his hand with a nervous smile, unconsciously gripping his hand hard in an attempt of letting out your nervousness.

"Dang, nice grip," He said, pulling his hand back.

"Thanks..."

As you pulled your hand back and wipped your sweat on the pants of your uniform, Joseph started to slowly walk back to the car.

"Your shift ends at 10AM tomorrow, you got this, kid! Remember everything I taught you and you'll be fine."

And as Joseph closed the door of the car and drove off, your only hope of backing out left with him.

"Don't worry, you're not going to be working with the actual dangerous ones."

"I'm not?"

"Walk and talk with me, I'll explain everything on the way."

You let out the biggest sigh of relief before following Esther.

"Roosevelt is divided into two sections. The section you're going to be working in is the normal prisoners. They're still extremely dangerous, but they're a lot more manageable then the others."

"The others?"

"The other section is what give Roosevelt it's reputation. You see, Roosevelt doesn't hold only people, we hold monsters, demons, supernatural beings that we didn't even know existed until we caught them. They're in the other section. The goverment put them here because they don't know what to do with them."

"Woah, so, how do you know I won't run into them?"

"That's the thing, I don't really know. To be honest with you, I think the only reason most of them are still here is by their own choice. Most of them are on death row, and if they really wanted to they can leave, especially Ben."

"Ben?"

"Huh? No I was just rambling..."

As the two got closer to the main gate, something caught Esther’s eyes.

"You see that random brick wall," Esther said, pointing to a wall that stood in the middle of the courtyard, starting from the building all the way until it hit the gate. From the angle you were at, you could just barely see a roof.

"Mhm."

"They're behind that wall. That entire half is their section. Most of the officers who work in that part have been trained specifically to work there and nowhere else."

You felt chills go down your spine as you stared at the wall. Something about it gave off a terrible aura.

"Who's staying in that part..."

"Have you heard of Jeffery Woods?"

"Yeah, Jeff the Killer? Slit mouth?"

"Yeah. That guy, is in that part."

"He's real? I thought he was just some urban legend from when I was a kid. His face was everywhere."

"Nope, he's real, and he's in there. Those pictures aren't what he actually looks like though, he's not that ugly. However, people like him are the reason why you're working in my part, it's a lot safer."

And as those words left his mouth, the two of you stood at the gate entrance. You and Esther walked up to the booth where a lady stood there with a tired, blank expression.

"Who's that?" She asked.

"The intern from Gullermary Academy. Joseph's student."

"Oh... Proceed."

Esther nodded as he opened the metal door and allowed you to walk in first. As you walked in, you were greeted with loud screams and banging from all directions.

"You'll get used to that," Esther said as he walked past you. "Wait in my office, I gotta go get your file from the boss." He then pointed to the door that had Officer Wibbsy written on a metal plate. "You can take any of the snacks, get comfortable because this might take a while."

"OK, thank you," You said, smiling.

Esther merely gave you a soft smile before walking off. Once he was out of view, you opened the door to his office and looked around. On his desk, you saw a picture of a woman smiling. She had freckles with long blonde hair. When you picked up the picture, you saw a date at the bottom.

"September 17, 2017," You read.

Was the woman dead? Or was it the date the photo was taken? Either way, it really wasn't your business. As you sat the picture back down, next to it was a picture of Esther with the woman in the photo next to him. The woman was wearing a white gown while Esther wore a suit, and in his arms was a baby girl wearing a little white dress and next to him was a little boy in a suit as well. Looking up, you saw his diploma in Criminal Justice and next to it was his certificate from the academy.

After taking a look, you plopped down on the chair and stared up at the ceiling. You weren't exactly sure what this internship had in store for you. When Joseph brought it up to you last semester, he kept it very vague. He'd often dismiss your questions and cut you off when you pushed it. You weren't suspicious however, since he was always like this when he tought you during your first year.

You wondered on what kind of prisoners you'll meet. Will you meet someone who was falsely accused and now is paying the price? Maybe you'll meet someone who has been in and out of jail and now is here. Due to your young curiosity, your mind just kept on racing with ideas. But suddenly, your phone began to ring.

Looking down, you saw the words "Mom's calling..." on your phone.

"Hello?" You asked.

"Hi sweetie, how are you?'

"I'm alright. I'm just waiting for my observer to come back with my stuff."

"Oh honey, I'm so proud of you! But, be careful, alright? I don't want anything happening to you."

"I will, mom, I will. You know how good I am."

"I know, I just don't want anything happening to my little girl/boy."

"I know. But, how are you doing mom?"

"I'm doing alright. Me and your father plan on taking a trip to Florida in the spring."

"That's great! Enjoying retirement I see," You said in a teasing tone, earning a giggle from your mother.

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN?! THIS IS NOT WHAT HE SIGNED!" A voice suddenly yelled, overpowering the screams of the inmates.

"What was that?" Your mother asked, worried.

You stayed silent as you tried to listen to what was going on.

"I'll call you back, mom," You said, before hanging up.

You slowly walked out the room and looked down the narrow hallway, holding onto your gun tightly as you did.

"I'm telling you for the last time, this is what Joseph signed, his signature is right here."

"That is not what he fucking told me. I know damn well he's not stupid enough to put some barley experienced 24 year old in a room with this country's most dangerous criminals. As their observer, I can't allow this!"

You felt your heart stop when you heard those words come out from Esther's mouth. Despite your wonky confidence in your abilities, you were far from naive. You were not ready for this.

"Look, I'm just as unhappy about this as you are, Joseph is fucking stupid for signing this, but legally there's nothing we can do."

"I already told them that they were going to be fine, I won't even be able to observe them! Who's going to even teach them shit?!"

"I don't know, Wibbsy, I don't know. I can call Joseph and ask him what he wants up to do, but for tonight, they're working in the Creeps section, whether you like it or not."

Esther pulled at his hair and he looked at his boss with rage.

"If that kid dies because of this, I'm fucking done with this place, you hear me?"

"I hear."

When Esther walked out of the room, he was greeted by your shocked, frozen figure at the end of the hallway.

"You heard it, didn't you?"

"Y-Yeah..."

"Just... Shit... Take this and just, go straight down that hallway, and they'll take you from there."

"Uh...Ok. I'll see you later," You said nervously as you took your file and walked off.

Esther stared at you as you walked off, feeling a sense of guilt and responsibility consume him like water.

"Please don't die..."

The hallway to the other side was extremely narrow and costraphobic, you could feel the walls press up on you as your walked. One thing about the entire journey that disturbed you wasn't the leaking walls or the filthy floors, but it was the silence. Compared to the other section that was booming with noise, the closer you got to the second half, the quieter it got. You could only hear little whispers from behind the walls, but they were so quiet that you couldn't make out a word. The hallway was dark, dirty, and wet. You assumed that the rain from the storm has leaked through the walls and onto you. You could see roaches and even saw a rat run past you. You wanted to throw up. It was as if this place was abandoned.

When you got to the end of the hall, there was large metal door. There was no card scanner, or even a person standing in a booth.

"Hello? Hello?" You said, knocking on the door.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and a short lady started at you with wide eyes.

You could only see the woman's head, but she looked as if she was held hostage for years. Her eyes were wide, as if she had been traumatized, her hair was a mess, her officer cap was barely covering her head, and her face seemed to be bruised.

"...Name..." The woman said, staring into your eyes.

"Y/N L/N. I'm the intern."

And before you could blink, you were grabbed and forced into the horrors that awaited you.

The lobby section was bright and white, similar to a hospital. However, there was no cameras, or an officer sitting behind the glass with a computer.

There was a metal door that stood in front of you, keeping from whatever was on the other side from getting out. Ingraved into the door were the words "Inmate Quaters."

"Let me see your file," The woman said shakily, taking the file from your hands.

"Um, are you OK, ma'am?"

"Me? Oh...I'm alright, I didn't get the worse of it."

"WE NEED SECURITY PERSONAL IN SOLITARY CONFINEMENT, BEN'S CELL 001 IMMEDIATELY, I REPEAT, WE NEED SECURITY PERSONAL IN SOLITARY CONFINEMENT, BEN'S CELL 001 IMMEDIATELY!" The woman's walkie blasted as she read your file.

Suddenly, a large group of men ran past the two of you, carrying guns and covered in riot gear.

"Um...Ma'am?"

"Hm?" The woman responded, not taking her eyes off your file.

"Who's Ben?"

"If you're not working on his case I can't tell you anything, sorry."

"Oh...Ok."

"Huh...The Woods... Rogers... Otis... Wright... Thomas... This... no, this can't be right. Are they fucking stupid?" The woman asked, looking up at you.

"I don't know, maybe?"

"OK, It's fine, it's fine! Who's on the roster for today... Rogers... Jeffery... Liu... At least you got Liu... Ok, follow me."

The woman walked towards the door that had "Inmate Quaters" written on it, beckoning you to follow her.

"Have you gone through your file?"

"No, I've only been for forty minutes..."

"Here, read it. Read the first three for now, the others you'll be working on at a later date."

Once the lady handed you your file, you started to read through it as the two of you made your way to the cells.

The file was the one of a picture of a man with pale skin, greasy black hair, a slitted mouth, and a crazed smile. He was a picture of his mugshot, eyes bloodshot with a large shit eating grin.

"Jeffery Woods. A man in his early 30s, arrested for multiple accounts of serial Murder, Mutilation, Kidnapping, Torture, Stalking, Vandalism, Arson, Breaking and entering, Parricide, Drug use and rape. He has the reputation of assaulting, mocking, teasing and harassing guards. Jeff is often in solitary confinement, but that doesn't stop him from his usual actions. Has to be kept away from Jane Elizabeth Arkensaw due to them activity starting fights. He is deemed one of the deadliest prisoners in our institution. During your internship, he will be one of the prisoners you'll be interacting to help sharpen your skills. He will by far be one of if not the hardest to interrogate. His case is still under investigation..."

You read the words on the paper with disgust. His smile, so deranged, so sadistic, as if he was talking a school picture, ignoring the lives of those he's ruined or taken.

"Be careful with Jeff, he likes pretty ones," The woman commented as you read.

"Wait, I have a question."

"Ask it."

"Will be looking into their case? Like, will I be doing interviews and looking at evidence?"

"Well, I'm not sure about evidence, their cases are gruesome, and the transcripts of victims' families interviews and the interviews of victims who survived are not pretty... However, I know you will be interviewing some of them, like The Woods and Rogers. Now keep reading, we're most there."

You nodded as you moved Jeff's paper to end and looked at the next one. The image was the one of a man with stitches. He had a blank tired expression in his mugshot, not sad or sadistic, but one of bordem. He had brown hair with bright green eyes, and just like Jeffery, he was pretty pale.

"Liu Woods, also known as Homicidal Liu. A man in early to mid 20s, arrested for Serial murder, stalking, kidnapping, robbery, breaking and entering, assault, and vandalism. Currently serving a a sentence of 50 years but has a chance of parole once he serves 20. Liu is the little brother of Jeffery Woods, and after Jeffery almost murdered him, he developed an alter ego named Sully. Lui is is relatively quiet, observant, possessive and violent. But his violence gets worse when he's Sully. Lui normally doesn't harm guards or prisoners unless provocted, but he has attacked them with no apparent reason on multiple accounts. Liu is one of the prisoners you will be seeing often due to you working mostly in his section of the prison, where most of the pastas are such of Eyeless Jack and Toby. Warning when dealing with Liu, watch your words and actions, DO NOT touch anything of his unless it's a danger to him or others, and don't ask him too much about his past due to it being his biggest trigger in becoming Sully. If you're dealing Sully, be extremely careful, don't make sudden moves and don't anger him. Sully is extremely violent, sadistic but oddly childish. Sully is supposedly a seven year old according to both himself and Liu, so treat him as an extremely dangerous child."

You stared at Liu's image for a few moments after reading the report. Him and Jeff barely looked the related besides in the eye shape and skin color. With mugshots alone, you felt as if your experience with the two brothers will be drastically different.

"Do you have any advice on Liu?" You asked to woman.

"No. He isn't too bad, just really, really quiet. But when he does talk, he's very charming. He's a man of few words."

You nodded in response as you placed Liu's file in the back and looked down at the last one. It was a picture of a man, messy brown hair, the right side of his cheek was missing, revealing his teeth and gums, his eyes held heavy bags as if he hadn't sleep for days, and his neck and hands were covered in bandages. His expression was a pretty tired one, his eyes were droopy as he stared into the camera, some of his hair covering his face as he looked.

"Tobias Erin Rogers. A man in his late 20s arrested for Serial murder, Torture, Vandalism, Arson, Stalking, Patricide, Breaking and Entering, Kidnapping, and suspected of multiple accounts of sexual assault but is yet to be confirmed. Currently sentenced to life in jail with possibility of parole after serving a minimum of 30 years. He suffers a handful of disorders and quite often causes trouble for both staff and other inmates. He struggled with controlling his emotions and his impulsive behavior which often leads to himself, inmates and staff to be harmed. Despite this, you will be interacting with him during your internship due to him being able to get a long with staff for a short period of time if he finds them "hot." Warnings, don't get too attached, don't believe most of the things he says, don't give or take anything from him, and don't let his suffering fool you. He has a history of using his suffering against others and actually led to him escaping when he was first sent here when he was 19, and they didn't capture him again until last year when he turned 27."

"WE still don't know much about Rogers," The woman said as she stopped walking, causing you to bump into her.

"Oh, sorry," You said, backing away to give her some space. "But, why is that?"

"He hasn't told us jack shit. He hasn't told us about his motives or his past, the only things we know is the murders he's rambled about in past interviews. Since you two are pretty close in age, maybe you got a better shot then we do," The woman responded, opening the door that led to the door of the inmates quarters.

When the woman opened the metal door, there was a massive wall of metal and glass. It was a look in to see the inmates, and luckily it was a one way mirror.

"This is where the inmates sleep and spend most of their time. They don't leave this area unless they're sent to solitary confinement."

As you looked through the glass, you saw two men sitting next to each other against the wall, and above them on the second floor were two women talking.

"The two men on the bottom are Timothy Wright and Brian Thomas. You won't be meeting them for a while, but they're on your roster."

"How bad are they?"

"Depends on who you're asking."

"And above them is Jane Elizabeth Arkensaw and Natalie Outlette. Jane is definitely one of the most well behaved inmates we have here, hell, she shouldn't even be here..."

The woman continued to explain the operations and how things functioned in the Prison.

"Inmates eat breakfast at 4AM, and they don't eat again until 11:30 for lunch. After breakfast, they have freetime to do whatever they please, they don't get jobs or specialties like the other inmates. We tend to leave them to their devices under close observation."

You took a look into the inmate quarters and noticed that the man with short black hair was staring directly at you. He held a blank expression as he stared through your soul. You felt your blood run cold as he stared you down with his cold, emotionless eyes. You saw the man next to him look at him with amusement before telling him something, which cause the man to take his eyes off you and look at the other man with rage. You watched as the man yelled at him, but due to the noise canceling effects the room you were in had, you only saw the movements and gestures, no actual words.

"Ma'am, are you sure they can't see us?" You asked as you slowly turned your head away from the scene.

"Positive. Why must you ask?" The woman asked as she walked towards a door that read Officer Sarah Mandel.

"The man with the sideburns was just staring at me," You said, pointing to the man.

"Oh...Wright. he does that from time to time, ignore it."

"Uhhh, ok," You responded as you slowly turned your head away from the man named Wright.

"What time is it?" The woman asked.

"6:30 PM, why?"

"In 15 minutes you'll be interviewing Jeffery Woods," The woman said as she began to walk into a room.

When you were about to follow her, she walked back out with a piece of paper in her hands. She then rubbed her eyed tiredly before handing you the paper with a yawn.

"You ok, ma'am?"

"Yeah...Just tired, I've been working 18 hours and I don't go home till 10. Now, ask Jeff the questions on this paper, don't go off script. If he tries, redirect him, don’t give him a chance to get off topic. Now, he says some pretty perverted and weird things, ignore it and you'll be fine. An officer will be waiting outside the door, and there's a button under the table to notify him to come in. There will also be another officer with you in the room since this is your first time. Got all that?"

"Yep! So uh, where the place I'll be interviewing him?"

"Follow."

You and the woman then walked deeper into the area you in, going past the inmates quarters and going through a door that read 'Interigation Roon, Level 4 and up.'

As the two of you walked, you decided to read some of the questions on the paper. Most of the questions were ones you've seen at the Academy. Stuff like, 'Why did you do what you did?' And 'Did you know your victims?' And so on and so forth. Some of the questions were more detailed though. One in particular asked 'At the scene of one of your crimes, we found a dog next to a door that was locked. When we tried going through the door, it killed two of our best officers. What was behind that door, and who was that dog?'

You remember when you were younger, this image of a dog with a crazed smile was circling around. Some said it was cursed, others said it was some urban legend. But, you picture the image in your head, and you look down at Jeffrey's wanted photo, you couldn't feel like that was connected to him somehow.

"Alright, you'll be in room 899 for all of your interviews, keep that in mind. Now, they'll be here in 5 minutes with Jeffery, you ready?"

"Yeah, I think so," You said as your hands and legs shook with nervousness.

The woman let out a light chuckle before putting her hand on your shoulder with a smile.

"You're gonna be ok, kid. It's you first day, and you're already working with some dangerous people, but it comes with the job. You'll get it no time."

"Thanks, I appreciate it," You said as you took a deep breath and walked into the room.

The room was small with bright lights, two cameras on each side of the room, clean white walls, and a table with a chair on each side in the middle.

You sat down on the chair facing the door and pulled at your uniform to fix any wrinkles or badges that were out of place. You opened the folder and took out Jeffery's paper before placing the folder under your chair.

"It's ok, Y/N. He isn't going to do anything," You said to yourself as you looked down at the papers.

Suddenly, you began to hear footsteps and the sound of chains walking towards you.

And then, the door opened, and you were greeted with a sight that gave you chills.

A man, so tall that could barely fit through the doorway. His hair was long and greasy, covering his face as he looked down lifeless. He was pretty skinny too, that inmate uniform he wore being quite baggy on him. Covering him were chains, his hands were cuff and his ankles were chains together as well. You couldn't see his face, but you could see his eyes. His eyes were bloodshot and wide, staring at you with insanity and rage.

You did your best to keep your stone cold expression, but you couldn't hide the deed of sweat that rolled down your brow as he got closer to you.

The two officers that brought him forced him down of the seat before tying him to the chair tightly.

"That's a bit much, don't you think?" Jeffery said, turning his head to look at the male officer. He had a massive grin on his face as he asked the question in a joking manner.

"No," The male officer said coldly before walking in the corner.

The female officer looked at you with a nod before walking out and closing the door behind her.

Now, in the first semester of your second year at the Academy, it was mostly focused on interagation and the art of the mind. You were told to remain calm and composed at all times, but don't be too serious as well.

Joseph said people are less likely to comfortable and truthful when you make yourself appear as stone cold serious or far too casual. He said to find a balance, make them feel comfortable, maybe joke once or twice, but make them aware that this is serious.

"So, how are you doing, Jeffery?"

Jeff then shot up and slowly turned his head to look at you. His face was neutral, but the nasty scarred smile on his face did give you goosebumps.

"Jeffery... I haven't been called that in a while."

"What are you called then?"

"Jeff."

"Well, Jeff, how are you doing?"

"Shitty. I've been stuck in solitary all fucking month!"

"I'm sorry to hear that."

When you going the ask why, you remembered that the woman told you not to go off script. You took a glance at the officer in the corner before peeping down at the paper.

"So, Jeff, you've been charged with a books worth of crimes, and you've been on death row since December 25, 2014. We've had you in this place for a few years now, but you still haven't told us why you did it."

Jeff stared at you before scoffing and rolling his eyes.

"Same old question! How many times do I have to tell you fucking people. It was fun! Stalked a few people, kidnapped some, fucked the pretty ones, and at the end of the day all of them would be fucking dead," Jeff said with a grin, his eyes slowly starting to move down to your tits.

"Hey! Eyes up here," You demanded, snapping your fingers to get his attention to your face. "I'm here for answers, Jeff, not to be your eye candy."

"Awwww," Jeff moaned, giving you a pout.

"So..." You said, looking through his file. Jeff looked at you boredly as he yawned and leaned back into his chair. In the corner of your eye, you saw the police officer in the corner give Jeff a glare.

"A girl...oh. A girl went missing right before your arrest, her name was Abbie Grace, 21 year old college student. We haven't found her since and evidence is pointing towards you. Does the name ring any bells?"

"Abbie...? Nope! Not at all," Jeff answered, a strange optimistic tone laying in his voice.

After those words left his mouth, you pulled out a picture of Abbie. She had long pink and blue hair with pale skin and bright blue eyes. Her face was covered in freckles and her eyes had a shine to them. She seemed friendly and kind, her bright smile showing off her dimples and crooked teeth.

"Does she look familiar?"

Jeff leaned forward and looked at the photo. He paused for a few moments before realization hit him.

"Oh! Candy Head."

"So you do recognize her?"

"Yeah."

"What happened to her?"

"Heh, I don't know. I was told to kidnap her, not kill her."

The word told caught your attention immediately, and it seemed to catch the other officer's attention too. Nothing in his file said anything about a boss, it was said that he worked alone, a solo act.

"Told? By who?"

"Eh, I don't feel like telling."

"Jeff."

"What? Suck my dick first and maybe I'd tell you."

"You're not getting anything out of him, rookie," The other officer said, letting out a sigh.

"Well, what'd you do with her while she was with you?"

"Hmmm, well, She was definitely an ugly crier. She would always cry and cry, the bitch even tried to kill me with a butter knife," Jeff answered before laughing at the girl's attempts to escape.

"Hm. Do you remember you remember the last thing you did to her?"

"She did have a pretty face, and a fat ass," Jeff said before his eyes glazed over with lust as he reminisced. An errie smile continued to grow on his face as he contiued his thought. "She was the whole package, and I wasn't going to ler a girl like that go out easy."

You knew what he meant, his file didn't lie one bit, the guy was a fucking sadist.

"After fucking the bitches brains out, I gave the her to Toby."

"...Toby? Is he your partner?"

"Partner? You're funny! As if I'd work with that retard. if you wanna know what happened to her, ask him."

"You are aware that makes you an accomplice?"

"Like I care."

"And you do know that can make your stay here a lot longer, post poning your death sentence to look into your case further."

"If looking at your body means staying here, I'll stay."

"Well, I guess that's where our talk ends for today."

You then stood up and walked out of the room, leaving the officer with Jeff. As you walked off, Jeff stared at your ass, feeling a grin creep onto his face before the officer pulled him out from his seat.

As you walked out, you saw the lady from earlier waiting for you, drinking a red bull as she leaned against the wall.

"How'd it go?"

"Better than I thought... But he's, weird."

"Weird as in perverted? Yeah, we know. What'd he tell?"

"Well, I asked him about Abbie Grace, the 21 year old, and apparently he didn't kill her."

"Really? What did he do?"

"Well... He kidnapped her, raped her, not sure how many times though, and then gave her to a guy named Toby."

"Has to be our Toby," The woman mumbled before taking another sip of her red bull. "Did you ask him anything else?"

"No, just getting those answers were difficult."

"Pity."

RING!

"ALL PERSONNEL, PLEASE REPORT TO THE CAFETERIA FOR DINNER!"

"Welp that's us, let me tell you how this is gonna go," The woman said as she pushed herself off the wall and began to walk.

"The most dangerous and chaotic parts of the day is Lunch, Breakfast, and Dinner. All the pastas normally stick to their groups or by themselves, but during these parts of the day they're all trapped together like sardines. Fights breakout, stealing, and just too much shit goes on. When you're assigned your spot, stay there. If any of them try to get a reaction out of you or try to bother you, don't react. They're not your average criminals, and since they've never seen you before, that's definitely gonna happen today. Stand strong, stay quiet, and observe. Cops like us are merely meang to supervise them, not stop them, that's what Security is for."

"So, is that all I gotta worry about mainly?"

"For right now, yes. And don't leave the cafeteria until lunch is over. Some of them like to sneak out, and let's just say cops who wondered off, weren't found the same way they left. May that be mentally, or physically."

"Oh... So, stay in post, stay quiet, and don't leave."

"Yep, you pick up fast."

"Thank you, Officer...?"

"Mandel. I guess I never told you name, my apologies," Officer Mandel said before taking a another sip of her red bull, "Its been a long day."

‐---------‐-------------------------------------------------------

The moment the two of you walked into the cafeteria, you were met with a loud wave of noise.

"Shit, is it always this loud?" You asked Officer Mandel, who nodded her head in response.

The two of you then walked over to one of the security guards.

"Jesus! You look like awful, Sarah," The guard said with concern.

"I know right. Newbie needs their post."

"Oh, you see that guy over there," The guard said, pointing to a guy with stitches in the corners of his mouth.

"Yeah."

"You're posted in the front of the door behind him."

Looking at the man closer, your eyes widened with realization.

"Is that-"

"Liu Woods? Yeah, good luck," The guard responded before Officer Mandel slapped the back of his head.

"He's not that bad, don't listen to him."

Nodding in response, you took a deep breath as you walked towards the door.

All the inmates were divided into their respective groups. The two men you saw from earlier were sitting at their own table, but a man with part of his cheek removed was sitting with them as well, arguing with the one known as Tim.

"For the hundredth time, it's not my fault the bitch ran away!"

"You sure? Cause last time I checked, she was you last."

"*FUCK YOU* Whatever, Tim. The bitch most likely dead anyway."

You made sure to note that in your head for later. Tobias Erin Rogers, he was listed on your roster, and based on Jeff's info, you'll be meeting him very soon.

When you passed Liu to get to the door, you felt the atmosphere shift. It hit you like a truck, your heart raced as you took at glance at him.

His skin was so pale that he could've been considered sick. Since Jeff was paler than him, you just though it was family trait. But, the stitches on his face and hands made you think otherwise. In his file, it did mention that Jeff tried to kill him. An injury from the incident was mostly likely the cause for his apperance, but you kept your theories to yourself.

Much to you surprise, dinner went by pretty smoothly. But, you couldn't help but grow curious on why so many guards were coming in and out of the cafeteria. You knew better than to let your curiosity take over, but through dinner it became harder to fight.

"Something bothering you?"

Flinching at the voice, you looked down towards Liu, he was looking at you with a tilted head.

"What? Of course not."

"You sure? I ain't telling nobody," Liu persisted as he fully turned his body towards you.

You knew better than to respond, much to Liu's dissapointment.

"You interviewed my brother eariler, right?"

"Who's asking?'' You asked saracastically as you avoided eye contact.

"Me, who else?" Liu answered bluntly, a slight bit of attitude hidden in his tone.

"I don't know."

There was a moment of silence as Liu followed your eyes, realizing that you were looking at the cafeteria doors.

"The doors, huh?" Liu whispered to himself as a grin grew on his face. "You know, past those cafeteria doors is Solitary."

"Ok, why would I care?"

"Why would I care," Liu mocked.

"Jesus, just like his brother..." You thought as you rolled your eyes in annoyance.

"Hey, can you do me a favor?"

"No."

"It might benefit you," Liu said in teasing manner.

You didn't say a word, but you did raise an eyebrow with interest.

"Jeff stole shit from my cell before he got sent to solitary. You convince him to give me my shit back, and I tell you what I know about Candy Head."

"Candy Head?" You asked confused before realization hit you. "You have something to do with Abbie Grace's case?"

"Nah uh, uh, uh, get me my stuff back first," Liu answered bluntly, sending you a glare.

Something wasn't adding up. Jeff told you that he gave Abbie to Toby, but how did Liu fit into any of this? Maybe her disappearance isn't as cut and dry as you thought.

Looking around, you let out a sigh.

"I'll think about it."

Liu nodded his head in understanding before turning back around.

"Wait. How'd you know I'm on her case?"

"Stuff. First."

Letting out a groan, you lightly flinched as a loud ring echoed across the room.

"DINNER'S OVER! BACK TO YOUR CELLS!"

As the inmates got rallied up, Officer Mandel walked up next to you.

"So, how'd it go?"

"I don't know what that file said, but Liu is anything but charming. It was like I was dealing with Jeff all over again, just without the pervsion."

"You sure it was Liu?"

"Hm? What you mean?"

"You'll see. Now, the inmates are getting brought back to their cells, but our job isn't over just yet," Mandel said before beckoning you to follow her. "You'll be interviewing Toby in an hour or two, until then, I need you to look over the testimonals of their previous victims who survived."

"Their?"

"You said Jeff didn't kill her, right?"

"Right."

"So, there's the chance that Toby did. Toby didn't work alone, he worked with those two guys we saw earlier. I want you to get familar with their methods, and I want you to understand this very clearly," Mandel said before stopping in her tracks. "These people are dangerous, they will hurt you if given the chance. After today, you're not gonna have another officer in the room with you. I best not find out that you got hurt because you wanted to be fucking stupid."

Placing a hand on your shoulder, Mandel looked at you with a look you couldn't decscribe. "You're young, and you got so many years ahead of you, so listen to my advice. Listen to the files, and don't ever, I mean ever, go into solitary. I saw you looking at it earlier so I'm shutting the idea down now."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Wonderful. Now, while you were interviewing Jeff, I decided to hand pick the evidence and testimonials that mostly involved Toby. You're not going to meet Brian and Tim for a while, so don't worry about them."

Nodding your head, you looked at the door labeled "Intern 1."

"Oh, and heads up. The voice recordings are really dark, so, good luck," Mandel whispered to you before patting your back. "I'll get you when Toby's ready."

"Ok."

As Mandel left you alone, you took a deep breath as you opened the door.

The room was bright and clean, a decently sized desk placed in front of you with a computer on it, but it was also covered in various files. In the corner was an old box TV with a VHS and CD player, with a chair placed in front of it.

The room wasn't bad by any means, but it gave you an odd vibe.

Taking a seat at the desk, you decided to look at the different files.

Most of them were detailed descriptions of various crimes scenes related to Toby or the proxies in general, but under all the files was a VHS labeled "Elizabeth Todd's Testimony."

Since you didn't want to spend lord knows how long reading papers, you stood up from your seat and made your way to the TV, placing the VHS into the player before taking a seat infront of the TV. The TV took a while to process the cassete, but once it did, a woman appeared on the screen, the date April 26th, 2008 resting in the top right hand corner.

The girl looked about 19, dark skinned with big curls rounding around her face, fairly skinny but you weren't exactly sure due to her hoodie covering most of her frame, but the thing that you took notice of the most was her eyes. They lacked any sort of life, giving you an uneasy feel as she stared past the camera, implying that someone was in front of her.

"Your testimony will be recorded and kept for evidence, would you like to remain anonymous? If not, please state your name," A light voice said behind the camera.

Pausing for a few moments, the girl looked down to her hands before looking back up to the officer infront of her.

"My name is Elizabeth Todd," The girl started, her voice meek and low as she spoke.

"Would you mind telling us what happened on the day of the incident?"

"...It was my freshman year of college. I didn't know anyone, but I made some friends within the first semester."

Leaning back into your chair, you took notice of Elizabeth's body language. She fidgeted with her hands as she spoke, and always kept her gaze down, rarely looking up at the officers. She appeared nervous. You decided to keep note of that as she continued to speak.

"When spring break came around, me, Lilian, Austin, and Kevin decided to take a camping trip in tye woods near our campus. We took a bunch during the fall so we were pretty familiar with the area. But, when it came to us planning the trip, I always felt like something was going to go wrong..."

Elizabeth's voice cracked as she spoke, causing her to swallow her spit as she shook her hands, trying to keep her composure.

"Nobody listened though, saying I was paranoid even though we went there countless times before. So, we went anyway. Kev and Lilian were setting up a fire while me and Austin were setting up tents. Austin and I were dating at the time, so when Lilian and Kev weren't looking, we wondered off."

Snapping her fingers, Elizabeth continued.

"Austin and I were making out against a tree not too far from our campsite, fucking in the woods was on our spring break bucket list after all. But, before we could do anything I felt my heart drop. You know that feeling when you know something is wrong but you just don't know what?"

"Yes, I've felt it countless times while on patrols," The officer responded, which helped in calming Elizabeth's nerves.

"Well, I got that feeling. We stopped and looked around but nothing was there. But, it was really quiet, no crickets, no owls, just silence..."

Elizabeth paused, pulling at her sleeves as spoke, her eyes starting to water. "It all happened so fast..."

"It's ok, your words will help us in bring your friends justice," The officer said softly, placing a hand on Elizabeth's.

"Next thing I knew I was running. Austi's blood was all over me, but I don't remember what happened. Once I got back to the campsite, Kev and Lilian were roasting marshmallows at the fire..."

----------------------------------------------------------------

"Done fucking, yet?" Lilian teased as she placed her marshmallow on her cracker, turning around with a cheeky grin.

But, that grin quickly fell as her eyes fell on Elizabeth, wearing only a T shirt as blood stained her body.

"What happened...?" Kevin asked, eyes wide.

"He's gone...," Elizabeth responded, looking down at her blood stained hands before looking back up at the two. "We gotta leave. Now."

Without asking anymore questions, Kevin grabbed the keys to the car as Lilian helped Elizabeth stand.

"Are you hurt?" Lilian asked as she walked with Elizabeth.

"He's gone, Lily...He's gone."

"I know, I know."

"Lily, call the cops, tell them what's happening!" Kevin said as he led the group, flashing his flashlight at any sudden noise.

"Once we get to the car," Lily said.

But, Lilian and Elizabeth watched as Kevin's flashlight fell to the floor, being followed with the sound of a loud thump.

Lying infront of them was Kevin's body, a hatchet cutting through the middle of his head as he stared at the two.

"No no no no no no no," Lilian mumbled as she gripped on Elizabeth, backing up slowly as she did.

"BULLSEYE!" A cheerful voice yelled.

Stepping out from the bushes, a man with bright orange goggles appeared in the light, taking the hatchet out of Kevin's skull as he admired his work.

"Big guy aren't *KOO KOO* ya? No *SUCKY* wonder you were so easy to hit," The man stuttered out, his head twitching from side to side as he joked, the loud cracking of his neck echoing throughout the forest.

Frozen in shock, Elizabeth looked towards Lilian, who was just as frozen as she was.

"Damn... You two sure *WOW* are pretty," The man spoke, turning his attention towards the two girls. "I've never *SHOO* had a girlfriend before," The man continued before his gaze darkened, his body language becoming more hostile as he took out his other hatchet. "Mind giving me a chance?~"

Without wasting a moment, Lilian grabbed Elizabeth's hand before running off, causing the man to chase after them.

"We gonna split up," Lilian said.

"Huh?"

"It's better if at least one of us survives. You go left, I go right. We're going to have to get Kev's keys and phone."

"No, no please."

"It's fine, if I don't come back, leave without me. Now go!"

Lilian quickly ran to the right, jumping over a few bushes in the process. Hesitating, Elizabeth stumbled over a few branches as she ran the left, separating the two.

"Jeez, are they *KOO KOO* really that stupid?" Toby mumbled, tapping his chin with his hatchet as he looked both ways. "Tits or thighs...tits or thighs... Tits," Toby declared, looking to the right.

Running through the woods, Elizabeth saw the light from Kevin's flashlight in the distance. Picking up speed, Elizabeth felt her heart drop as Lilian's screams echoed throughout the woods, causing bird to fly up from their nest as it echoed.

"Lily," Elizabeth mumbled, staring in the direction of where Lily ran. "No. Get the keys, get the keys."

Standing over Kevin's body, Elizabeth felt nausea fill up her body as she examined his features. His once bright brown eyes now laid dull, staring at Elizabeth as his mouth laid open. Searching his pockets, Elizabeth felt a chill go down her spine as she caught a feel of his skin, painfully cold.

"I'm sorry Kev, I'm sorry," Elizabeth repeated as she pulled Kevin's keys and phone from his pocket. "I'm so sorry."

Standing up, Elizabeth decided not to take the flashlight, not wanting to risk being seen by the man who was chasing them.

Saying one last goodbye to her friend, Elizabeth ran in the direction of where their car was parked. But, as she ran, she could hear the sound of twigs being snapped.

The sounds came in short but consistent burst. He was following her, mocking her.

"I can see you~" Toby teased, letting out a chuckle as he watched Elizabeth stop for a moment.

Brian would always scold Toby for wasting time on victims, saying that too much time on one could lead to another escaping. But, Toby never listened. Having been a proxy for only a few months, the bosses were starting to grow quite fond of him, much to Tim's dismay.

But, this task was different. This was his first solo mission, and a surprisingly easy one too. Stalk the campers, kill them, dispose of their bodies, and go back to the cabin, easy, right? Well, maybe he should've listened to Brian's advice.

The moment Toby spoke, Elizabeth booked it, running much faster than she normally did.

"Fuck, *LOOKIE* she's fast,"Toby mumbled, chasing after her.

Reaching the car Elizabeth shakily pulled the keys out from her pocket, attempting to open the car door as Toby gained on her.

"Please-please-please, God please!" Elizabeth begged.

As the door opened, Elizabeth quickly jumped in, slamming the key into the holder as the car started up.

But, just before she could slam on the gas, a hatchet was flown as her window, causing glass to shatter on her. Luckily, the hatchet didn't touch her, her dodging just in time for it to land on the seat next to her.

Looking up in horror, Elizabeth watched as Toby appeared from the woods, out of breath as he came into frame. But, in his hand was Lilian, blood dripping from her body as Toby held her by her hair.

"Lilian...," Elizabeth mumbled.

Toby then tilted his head as he lifted Lilian's arm, waving it side to side with a sadistic grin.

She wasn't dead, not yet at least. Her chest was rising and falling slowly as Toby forced her to wave. But, blood was covering her face and neck, coming from the top of her head where Toby banged the handle of his hatchet into.

Staring at the two, Elizabeth came back to reality as quickly as she fazed out of it, slamming on the gas.

As she drove, in the corner of her eye she saw a piece of paper tied to the hatchet. Taking a look, she felt her blood run cold.

"If you survive, don't tell anyone what you saw. You'll see what happens if you :)"

She should tell the police? Lilian was still alive when she left, sure there was blood all over her, but maybe if she called the cops she could make it. Or was it too late?

Looking at Kev's phone, Elizabeth made her choice.

"911, what's your emergency?"

---------------------------------------------------------------------

"Elizabeth? Elizabeth? Fuck, fuck," The officer said as Elizabeth's head slammed into the table, not responding for five minutes before her head fell.

"JOHN, GET A MEDIC!"

The interview stopped there, but the tape continued.

"Elizabeth experienced a seizure during her interview, dying shortly after. But, evidence at the crime scene helped is in determining a series of events," You read as words appeared on the TV. "The bodies of Kevin Howard and Austin Brown were found. Kevin was found with a gash in his head while Austin was found with his head cut clean off. Lilian Smith's body has yet to be found at the time of this recording."

Then, the video finished.

The interview didn't tell you much about Toby's personality, but it did give you a glimce into his cruelty. You decided to use this case as a baseline for the other files you would be looking into, wanting to find common patterns in his crimes and how he picked his victims.

Standing up, you took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for the deep dive you were about the take.

After an hour and thirty minutes, you were able to figure out common themes in Toby's crimes, and in two, you were able to get a solid idea on his behavior and personality.

You filled up three pages in your notebook with notes on Toby.

It seems that the proxies in general were very diverse in their victims, some of them being normal civilians while others could be big shot politicians or businesses owners. Toby in particular seemed to mostly target people in their early to late 20s, and most of them were normal civilians or low profiled criminals.

When it came to his behavior, a common theme was that many of Toby's male victims had much more brutal deaths than the women. Women's bodies were often found with a hatchet in the back of the head, or a gash in the side, but their deaths were often simple and quick. The men on the other hand were always found in almost unrecognizable ways. One body was found with his chest completely torn open, his intestines wrapped around his throat and blood smothered all over his face, a truly horrifying site.

The deaths in which his victims would have slowly started to give you ideas. It seems that Toby has some sort of vendetta against men, or more specifically, men with blonde hair. Men with blonde hair were often the ones found in unrecognizable ways. This was something that you would definitely do more digging on and try to get an answer when you're interviewing Toby. Now, you wouldn't say Toby has a soft spot for women, that clearly wasn't the case the more you looked into his behavior, but he did appear to be a lot more merciful and playful when it came to their deaths. Well, maybe not all of them.

You recall that in Toby's file that he would be more complient with people he found hot. Well, in a few cases, there had been women found days or even weeks after incidents. All of which were found dead and in horrible condition, implying that they were kept with him for a while. Maybe that was the case with Lilian.

Now, when it comes to Toby's personality, it's obvious he's mentally unstable. And his mood swings seem to be very self destructive. Often thrown into periods of mental exhaustion where he becomes a blank slate, too mentally out of it to bother with reality.

Despite being in his late 20's, it's been reported that he can be surprisingly teen like when it comes to his interest and some of his behaviors. In past interviews, he's expressed his love for sappy rom coms, and interest often seen in teenagers. It was something that you took interest in, and you decided to figure out if it was just how he is, or if there was a deeper issue at play here.

"Y/N," Mandel said as she opened the door, cutting you out of your train of thought.

"Yes Ma'am?" You responded, looking up from your notes.

"Toby's ready."

Nodding your head, you stood up from your seat and followed Mandel as she led you to the interview room.

"Figure anything out?" Mandel asked.

"A lot, actually. Figured out common patterns in crimes, and some stuff I would like ask hin about."

"Like what?"

"He seems to be much more aggressive men, blonde men to be more specific."

"Hmmm."

"May I ask you something?"

"Ask away," Mandel responded, opening another can of red bull.

"Do you know what happened to Lilian Smith?"

Mandel froze in place, causing you stop with her.

"Ma'am?" You said shakily, looking at Mandel with worry.

"I was on that case... Remember it well..."

"What happen?"

"A week after Elizabeth died, we found her body in a cabin nine miles into the forest... Her head was split in two, going into her neck," Mandel said, her voice shaking as she took another sip of her red bull. "She's the reason why we're trying to charge Toby with sexual assault, the way she was found..."

"Oh... I'm sorry for bringing it up, Ma'am..."

"No, no. It's alright, it's been nearly a decade. If we can officially charge him with it, the judge will be more willing to put him on death row."

Sighing in relief, you watched as Mandel stood up straight and continued to walk.

"I want to remind you, these guys are monsters. Be careful with Toby, he's a lot more unpredictable than Jeff. He might meek today, but tomorrow he could be wild."

"Advice taken."

"Anything else you figure out?"

"He doesn't seem to have a specific preference for victims, only a preference in death styles. I do find his treatment of women kind of interesting though."

"Why you say that?"

"Oftenly, his killings with them tend be more merciful, but, there's multiple times where they've been on the more gruesome side of things. You think I should ask him about it."

"I don't see why not, but don't ask him up front, a lot of the inmates are stubborn and aren't going to give you any favors."

Next thing you knew, you were in the hallway meant for interrogations. You weren't sure why, but the vibe was completely different than last time you were in the area.

"Room 111 is Toby's. Remember what I told you."

"Yes ma'am."

"Oh, also. After Toby, you're gonna be on your own for the rest of your shift. I'll check up on your every now and again, but that's about it."

"What? What am I supposed to do?"

"Look into your other inmates cases. You still Tim, Brian, Ben, Jeff, and Liu to look into. If you stay in your office, you'll be fine."

"...Ok."

Nodding your head, Mandel turned the corner, leaving you alone in the silent hallway.

"111...111...there."

Opening the door, the room was no different than the last one you were in. Table in the middle, a chair on each side, bright lights, nothing new. One thing you did notice was that this part of the prison didn't have any cameras, or computers. You thought it was just the hallways, but it didn't make sense on why they wouldn't be present in an interrogation room.

Taking a seat, you pull out your notebook, looking over the various notes you made. You considered asking questions, but then you remembered what Mandel said.

"Ask them the questions on the paper, nothing else."

You couldn't deny the sketchiness of it all. Yes, you understood why they'd be so strict with who they let in and what they'd ask, they are harboring America's most notorious serial killers after all, but some of the questions didn't even matter. Trying to gain trust is one thing, but asking complete bullshit is something completely different.

"Why did you do it? Stubborn my ass, he would never answer that," You mumbled, reading each question on the paper. "What do you like to do? What does that have to do with anything?"

But, you quickly fell silent as the sound of footsteps echoes in the hallways.

CLICK! CRACK!

The sound of various cracks and clicks could be heard. The cracking of bones made your neck ich, and the sounds of the clicks caused you to grind your teeth together. It didn't help that the sound chains could be heard as well, moving side to side with every click and crack.

Taking a deep breath, your back straightened as the door opened.

Stabding in the door was three figures, two police officers holding onto the man in the middle. The man held a bored expression, his head angled downward as he looked around with his eyes. Much to your suprise, he was much shorter than you thought, maybe around 5'5, 5'6 if you wanted to push it. However, you couldn't help but stare at the injury on his left cheek. Pieces of skin were ripped out, showing his gums and teeth to the world. Not to be rude, but you were kind of glad he wore a muzzle like mask.

When his gaze met up to yours, the two of you made eye contact for a few seconds. Within those seconds, you saw his eyes widen, his eyes softening for just a moment before switching back.

"Cute...," He whispered, tilting his head to the side as a grin slowly formed on his face.

"Quiet," One of the guards said as they sat Toby down, bringing his arms up in order to chain them to the table.

"I wasn't *WOWIE* talking to you," Toby snapped back, rolling his eyes.

"Thank you, I got it from here," You said, earning a nod from the officers as one of them left the room, the other one quickly prompting themselves into the corner. "Hello Toby, I'm sure you know why I'm speaking with you today."

"*CLICK* Yeah."

"So, how have you been feeling recently?"

"Terrible!" Toby exclaimed, an irrated look on his face as he mumbled under his breath.

"Why is that?"

"Hmmm, let me *KOO KOO* think. Oh, maybe because I'm fucking here! Would you be happy and shit if you got caught?"

"I'm not exactly sure."

"Liar."

"I'm no liar, Toby. Now, may I be able to ask you a few questions about your cases?"

"Does it matter?"

"...Uh."

You quickly turned your head to the officer in the corner, who nodded their head in response.

"Uh yes! Yes, it does matter."

"...Fine."

"So. Before you were arrested, did you ever know someone named Abbie Grace?"

"Abbie Grace... Colored hair?"

"Yes."

"Yeah, why?"

"We were informed that you were involved with her disappearance."

"...Snitch. *FUCK* He owes me big time," Toby groaned, leaning back into his chair as he looked up at the ceiling.

"Hey, focus. Can you tell me what happened to her?"

"What if I don't wanna?"

"It's not up for negotiation."

"Aw, look at you toughening up."

"He isn't gonna tell me anything, isn't he?" You thought, doing your best to hide your irration. "Well, Toby. If you don't tell us anything, we can't charge you, but, if, or when, we get evidence on you, you're punishment will be more severe."

As you talked, you noticed a shift in Toby's mood.

"And I'm talking death row, Toby. Death. Row."

"I could get death row right now if I felt like it. Do you honestly think these chains can stop me from bashing your head in? Or from taking his gun and shooting you in that pretty head of yours?"

That was the first time he didn't stutter on a single word. No sudden words, no sudden tics, clear cut.

"You're alive because I'm letting you live," Toby said coldly, his eyes lacking any emotion as he stared into your soul. "Isn't that fun!" Toby suddenly cheered, leaning over as he stared at you wide eyes, a strange amount of joy written on his face.

"...I don't think we have the same definition of fun."

"You're so boring..."

"OK. How about this then."

"Hm?"

"Talk about yourself. What do look for when choosing your victims? How do you treat your weapons? Go crazy."

Both Toby and the officer looked at you in suprise.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Uh... What about *FLOWER* me exactly?"

"What did you like to do when you were a kid?"

"...I was in and *CRACK* out of hospitals a lot... Whenever I was out, I would *LOOKIE LOOKIE* go play in the woods with my sister," Toby said. "I hated being home..."

There were two things you took note of. The fact that Toby has a sister, and that he didn't like being home.

"You have a sister?"

"Had."

"Oh... What was she like?"

"She was the best. *BIRDIE* She'd always take care of me, stop kids from picking *CLICK* on me...and always made sure I was ok."

"She seemed nice."

"The nicest," Toby said, his eyes softening as he dazed off. "What else?"

"How do see this...hobby of yours?"

"It's a job, not a hobby."

"Hm. What do you hate most about it?"

"My *CLICK* co-workers."

"Why's that?"

"Tim is always yelling at me about something. *COOKIE* You fucked up on this mission! You never shut up! Mehmehmehemehmeh! And *SHOOT* Brian is just there! Sometimes he gets on me too, and other times he's on Tim! *TICK TOK* Like hello, pick a side!"

To be honest, you were surprised by Toby's words. Back at the Academy, Gibbons would always remind you that every criminal was human, so they would and behave as one. Even though you were considered very skilled, sometimes you forget this simple fact, that even the smartest or most dangerous of criminals, can crack.

The way Toby described them sounded like a worker talking shit about their boss in an office. Now you couldn't help but wonder how Brian and Tim would describe each other.

"That seems annoying."

"Finally someone gets it!" Toby exclaimed. But, after he spoke those words, you watched as he slowky looked at you, a faint blush forming on his face as he sent you a smile. "You know what, I like you."

You felt a chill go down your spine as you stared at him. Yes he called you cute, but the way he was looking at you, you couldn't help but feel concern.

"Um. OK, anyways... Did you have any favorites?"

"Favorites?"

"Yeah. Whenever you did your job, did you have a set preference that you could follow or no?"

"Hmmmm... I hate open spaces. *WOWIE* The noise, the people, the attention... *FUCK* I hate it."

"That explains the locations. Maybe I can figure out a pattern in Toby's preferences that can give me more clues to Abbie's case."

"I've always liked the woods, especially the campers. They're always to unaware. *CHICKEN* I once killed a guy who was half way through fucking *FUCK* his girlfriend, oh you *CAN'T *should've seen her face when I bashed his brains in!" Toby exclaimed before moving his up into the air and quickly slamming them down into the table, looking you dead in the eyes with a manic expression, "Just like that! She had your exact face!"

Least to say, you were dumbfounded. This guy was energetic, loud, and manic, the way he talked about his murders held so much life, so much passion, so much pride. The joy in his voice almost made you forget that you were talking to a criminal, and a manipulative one too. Despite his tone, you couldn't tell if he was being genuine, or at least what everything he was saying was true. If he fell for your trick, maybe he wasn't as aware as Mandel said.

"Oh...um. Is that all?"

"Maybe, maybe not. I don't wanna talk anymore."

"Wait, we're not done yet, we still have to talk about Abbie."

Toby sent you glare as his body tense up, his once playful energy gone.

"I know you don't care about death row, but, if Jeff gives us more evidence against you, the judge may consider lightening his sentence, while you, will get a more severe one. Maybe not death row, but still worse than Jeff's."

"So you want me to snitch."

"I wouldn't say that. I don't really care who tells me what happened to Abbie, I just wanna know."

Toby stared off to the side, assumingly in thought.

"Getting Candyhead was an order from the boss...She's *OW* the daughter of a powerful business *CRACK* owner that didn't keep his end of the deal with the boss. So, he had Jeff capture her, and then Jeff *POW* gave her to me to keep her *WOW* hostage."

"Wait... She's?" You mumbled. "Toby, is Abbie dead?"

"I don't know who told you she was."

"Wait. If she's alive, then we have to look over everything!"

You turned around the officer in the corner, who was just as surprised as you were.

"Miss, who's the head of the Abbie Grace case?"

"Detective Adrea Banklin."

"Can I meet with her after this?"

"I'll have to see if she's right now."

"Ok. Toby, our interview ends here."

"Ok~"

Standing up from your seat, you quickly made your way out of the room, keeping the door open as another officer ran in.

"Abbie's alive. But, how? She's been missing for over a year, how can she survive that long," You spoke to yourself as you rushed to your office.

As you opened the door to your office, you rushed to your desk, pulling out the Abbie Grace file from your cabinet.

"OK, ok. Calm down, Y/N, calm down. I understand it's your first real case, but stuff like this happens, so calm down," You said softly as you took some deep breaths. "OK, OK. I don't even have all the files on Abbie yet, so what should I do now..."

Then, it hit you.

"Liu."

Looking into the hallways, you, quickly made you way towards the inmates quarters, making sure to hide from other officers.

"Oh my God, what am I doing, what am I doing? Mandel is going to kill me, Gibbons is going to kill me. But, if it's solve the case, it's fine."

The inmate quarters were dark. You could see figures moving around, but since it lights out, the power in the quarters was out.

"How am I even going to get in?"

"Intern."

"AH!"

Turning around, the officer from earlier was behind you, giving you a suspicious look.

"Oh, you scared me."

"What are you doing over here?"

"...Just wanted to look around."

"...mhm. Well, Banklin is here at the moment, but she's preparing to go home. She's willing to speak now, but she won't wait long."

"That's great! Can you take me to her, please?"

The officer merely nodded her head before walking off.

"Liu can wait," You whispered to yourself before following after her.

"She's at the end of the hallway."

"OK, Thank you, officer..."

"Cherry, Officer Cherry."

"Y/N L/N."

"Pleasure. Also, if you're gonna meet with inmates, be more discrete."

"...How did you-"

"Been there, done that. Got caught up in a deal with Ben, was his bitch for months...You learn a thing or two," Officer Cherry said before walking off, leaving you alone.

You quickly made your way to Banklin's office. Opening the door, you saw Banklin placing various files into a bag.

Banklin was a tall woman with long brown hair, she seemed quite put together despite the stressful work environment.

"Detective Banklin?"

"Hm? Oh, you must be the intern."

"Yes, um. I've gotten some important information about the Abbie Grace case."

"From?"

"Toby, ma'am."

"Rogers? That man is a bipolar punk, I don't trust a word that leaves his mouth."

"I cam see why, but he implied that Abbie is still alive."

Banklin froze as she looked up at you, dropping the file in hand.

"Alive?"

"Yes, when he was talking about her, he talked in a present tense, and when I asked if she was actualky dead, Toby said that he never said she was."

"...It does make sense, we never did find her body, " Banklin said, rubbing her chin as she looked at the floor? "But, we've never had a case where one of their victims survived for more than a month."

"I don't know if you've noticed, but Toby has a pattern of keeping women for long periods of time before killing them."

"I've noticed, but in each of those cases, they didn't live past a month on average when we conducted their autopsy."

"So we're just going go let this info go?"

"I'm not saying that, I'm saying it's unreliable. Toby is far from stupid, and he tends to withhold info. He claims that he'll 'never be a snitch'."

"This claim can change this entire case, Miss. Banklin. Even if Toby is lying, what if he isn't? He sounded genuine when he spoke, and if she's alive out there, why should we just wait and see?"

"Listen here. This is your first time working with these Motherfuckers, you don't know anything about them. We asssigned this case to you because it's still on going. If you fuck this up and put this case in jeopardy, you're internship is done. I don't care what Joesph says."

All you could do is stare at Banklin, frozen in place as she closed her bag. You couldn't deny the fact that you often get way over your head, maybe being labeled the best officer in the academy made you a little over confident, but you didn't want to just throw this possibility out of the way. You didn't have a solid conclusion to Toby's true behavior, you still needed a bit more time on that bit, but until then, you were going to trust a few of his words.

"I'm sorry, ma'am."

"Don't bother. Abbie's case is the last case we have regarding Jeffery. Listen to Jeffery's words before Toby's, Jeffery rarely lies to us."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good, now if you excuse me, I have a family to go home to," Banklin said, pushing past you so she opened the door. "Oh, also. Stick to what we assign you. We don't only want you to not fuck anything up, but it's also to protect you. Some of these cases are extremely classified and cannot get released to the public. I hope you understand."

"No, no I do."

"Good, see you in the morning."

Then, she was gone. You didn't even realize that you were holding your breath.

After meeting Banklin, you had come to the conclusion that no one was going to take your theories seriously. But, maybe there was someone who would.

Checking the hallways, you quickly dashed back to the inmate quarters. As you ran, you remembered a lesson that you had with Gibbons.

--------------------------

"Wrong!" Gibbons said for the hundredth time.

"What?! How is that wrong? The suspect obviously lied!" You yelled, pointing down at the paper, "Look, you see the inconsistencies in her statements."

"Y/N, in this field, not everything is simple."

"Yeah, I know that."

"So... Let's look over this paper one last time," Gibbons said as he sat in front of you. "The detective is pushing the suspect. When under stress, people will either do two things. They'll either confess, or make someone hear what they want to hear. With this in mind, what do you think is going on here?"

Looking down at the paper, you did your best to come up with an answer. Before being put under stress, the suspect's story was adding up, but, the moment the detective put them under pressure, their claims fell apart.

"They're telling the detective what they wanna hear?"

"Nope!"

"What?! What do you mean no?"

"Before the suspect was put under pressure, their story was adding up perfectly with the crime, but, the moment they were put under pressure, everything fell apart. This tells you two things. 1, they're not alone. They're most likely being used to take the fall, explaining the perfect line up. And 2, they indirectly confessed that they were innocent."

"You got that from this alone?"

"When you're in this job for as long as I have been, you pick up on things quickly. But, this, situations like this is what makes solving cases so difficult. When you do your internship, I want you to keep this in mind."

"Keep what in mind?"

"If someone is willing to tell you info about a case, take it, especially if it's from a snitch. A snitch is more willing to throw their friends under the bus for than own gain, making them more reliable than a direct source. "

"What if I can't talk to them?"

"Find a way. Roosevelt is Big, many places to hide. Be smart, not crazy."

"So you want me to break the law?"

"If you can make look legal, than yes."

"...You're the worst cop ever."

----------------------------------------------------

"Guess I'm the worse cop ever," You muttered, taking a deep breath as you stood infront of the door separating you from the inmates.

Looking to the right, you noticed a key pad with various numbers and letters.

"Shit... uh, how about, 1 2 3 4 5?"

"WRONG, 6 DIGIT CODE" was written in bold letters.

"Six digits?" You questioned, clenching your eyebrows togethers as you thought. "It can't be something simple, but what if it's so simple that people wouldn't even consider using it?"

Then, it came to you.

"Wait...Roosevelt Federal Prison, Creepypasta Ward? R F P C P W."

CLICK!

"Oh thank god."

Openng the door, you felt the atmosphere shift as you took a step into the room. Due to it being curfew, it was pitch black in the ward, leaving you to rely on the sounds of various voices.

"Shit, why did I do this, why did I do this? If I'm caught in here my internship is done. Can I get arrested for this? Probably. Well, too late now..."

You weren't exactly sure where to look for Liu. You weren't sure if he was on the bottom or top bit, or if he even had a roommate. You knew better than to turn on your flashlight, but, you started to feel the consequences of you actions. Maybe you should get you impulse under control.

Caught up in your thoughts, you failed to notice the figure creeping up behind you. However, you were able to hear the sound of faint breathing.

Whipping your head around, your gun was already in hand, but, the figure grabbed your wrist and covered your mouth, immobilized you.

Adjusting to the dark, you were able to make out a pair of green eyes. You weren't exactly sure if it was Liu, but, the feeling of stitches rubbing against your hand confirmed your suspicions.

"Liu?" You whispered, tightening your grip on your gun.

Liu remained silent as he stared at you.

"What do you want."

It wasn't a question, it was a demand.

"I'm accepting your deal. If I get whatever it is Jeff took from you, you'll tell me what you know about Abbie."

You couldn't see his face, but Liu looked down at you confused. What deal? He did recall slipping in and out of conciouness during lunch, sharing a few words with you before blanking out once more. But, his face quickly turned into annoyance as he imagined Sully interacting with you. The little bastard had to have made a deal with you.

"...Ok," Liu answered blankly, letting go of your wrist.

"What does Jeff have that you want me to get. "

Liu stayed silent for a few moments. What was it that Jeff took this time? One of his guns? Nah, he hates the noise. His bandages? Maybe. So, Liu only shrugged, much to your disappointment.

"If I get you whatever Jeff has, you'll tell me about Abbie, right?"

"...Yeah, yeah, sure."

"Promise?"

"I'm not saying it again," Liu said, sending you a glare.

You quickly shrieked back, nodding your head in understanding before sliding past him.

Feeling around for another key pad, you quickly entered the pass code. Squeezing through the door, you let out the biggest sigh of relief, but you quickly felt that relief be replaced with regret.

"I just made a deal with a fucking inmate," You said, your eyes wide in shock. "What kind of cop am I? Best at the Academy my ass..."

Little did you know, this was only the beginning. The start of your fall from grace.

#creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x y/n #yandere creepypasta #creepypasta x you #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby x y/n #yandere jeff the killer #jeff the killer x you #jeff the killer x reader #yandere ticci toby #ticci toby x you #jeff the killer x y/n #yandere creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x female reader #creepypasta au #.Prison AU #homicidal liu x y/n #homicidal liu x reader #Yandere homicidal liu

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