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starsofang · 4 months ago

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CALL OF THE SEA / PART FIVE

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, not much for this chapter, but as always, be cautious! a/n: so sorry for the wait, this chapter isn't as long as the others but i'm in the process of moving! i'll be moved in by late next week, so when that happens, i'll finally have more time to deliver longer parts and be more active! <3 masterlist

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

“You let her get away.”

“S’not like I meant to, Cap,” Soap defended, scowling to himself.

The four men stood in Price’s quarters, all shoulders equally tensed and expressions grim. While Gaz and Ghost remained quiet thus far, the intensity rolled off of them menacingly. Soap could practically see the sourness fill the air.

“But you did,” Price reiterated, slamming his palm on the table. It shook the room, quill holders rumbling and threatening to spill onto the floor. “We already take a risk havin’ her on our ship until she grows accustomed to livin’ here. How could you be so careless?”

“Can ye blame her?” Soap spat back. The men fell silent with Price narrowing his eyes in suspicion. “The poor lass watched the four of us burn her village down. Then we took her in like a fit of scoundrels. I don’t blame her for runnin’ off the way she did.”

Price kept his mouth shut, pressed in a firm line. His shoulders were squared, an argument threatening to spill out, yet he didn’t encourage it. After all, Soap had a point, but they weren’t supposed to care. It was a simple part of being savages.

“She’ll understand eventually—“

“But she won’t,” Soap cut Price off, leaning his hands on the table to match the Captain’s. The two of them stared long and hard at one another. “We don’t even understand, so what makes ye think she will?”

“Soap,” Ghost warned. Soap’s gaze flickered over to the masked man, whose eyes were darkened with warning. Gaz shifted uncomfortably from beside him. “Watch your tongue.”

Soap opened his mouth to protest, but before he could, Price raised his palm, requesting silence. The look on his face was unreadable, but the sign of authority was clear.

“You need to get your head out of the trenches, Soap,” Price warned. “Carin’ for her will only have you throwin’ yourself overboard, and that’s not somethin’ I can save you from. We needed a medic, and she was in the right place at the right time. That is all.”

“So ye don’t have the slightest bit of sympathy for her, s’that right, Cap?” Soap asked, eyes narrowing in on the Captain.

“There is no place in this world for sympathy,” Price responded meekly. “Let alone for her.”

“And for us?” Soap questioned, gesturing to the other two men in the room.

“You are my men,” Price grunted. “She is an unlucky woman that came from rags rather than riches. That is to no fault but her own. You forget your place, Soap.”

Though Price had remained calm, Soap could see the building aggravation. It was in the way the Captain’s hands clenched atop the table, his eyes glossed over with a heated fire from being rebutted.

“It seems yer forgettin’ yers as well, Captain,” Soap muttered bitterly.

The atmosphere was so thick, it was suffocating. Not a single man said another word, caught in a deadly stare down. It was a rarity to challenge Price’s authority, let alone over an unfortunate woman who they had ruined all on their own.

If Soap’s words affected Price, he didn’t make it known. Rather, his irritability was evidence, and he appeared to be fighting off any resentment towards his own crew.

“Get out,” Price uttered, voice low, but the notion was clear. “All of you.”

Nobody argued. Rather, they filed out one by one, Price’s door slamming on the way out.

Ghost grumbled when just the three of them remained, stalking off to his own quarters for the night.

Gaz joined Soap in watching the masked man leave. It wasn’t until he was fully out of sight did Gaz speak.

“You have a point, Soap,” Gaz said quietly, slapping a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Good luck makin’ Cap see that.”

Gaz gave him another squeeze of his hand before sauntering off himself, leaving Soap alone on the upper deck, the summer air suddenly feeling frigid and bitter.

The cell was suffocating you all over again. You missed the feel of a bed, the soft furs that lined Price’s bed that showered you in comforting warmth for the night, the flood of fresh air in your lungs.

Part of you felt like you took it for granted. The bitter part of you, though, knew that you deserved to have those things without being in the possession of a pirate.

The shoes Soap left you taunted you from the corner of the cell. They mocked you, called you ungrateful. It painted you with an uncomfortable guilt that settled deep in your bones.

You shouldn’t feel bad for a bunch of savages, but what kind of savages would think to surprise you with shoes, even picking out ones that you might like? You couldn’t speak for the others, but Soap had shed a light of humanity in a time where you needed it, and you had fucked that up.

Now, you wanted it more than ever. The cell was cold and unwelcoming, and you missed the taste of freedom you were given so shortly.

It felt as if you were back at square one. For the first day, nobody came to offer you food like before. Your stomach grumbled with a might that had you coiled over, silently crying into your hands. The second night was torturous, and it felt as if your own stomach was beginning to feast on itself.

The third night, however, was when you were finally graced with sympathy.

What greeted you, or more so who, had taken you by surprise. Expecting Soap or Gaz, or even Ghost to degrade you for being so stupid, you were instead faced with the Captain himself.

Price stood with a steaming bowl of stew and another bowl of simple rice. The sight of it had your mouth watering and your stomach gurgling in desperation.

“Hello, dove,” he offered, his tone surprisingly soft compared to the spitefulness he held days before. It still held authority, one you didn’t think would ever rid itself, but it wasn’t as angry as expected.

You gave him a nod in response but said nothing. A touch of dread crept up your spine. He was all too calm to you, who had nearly sent his men to unforeseeable death.

Price balanced the two bowls on one arm so he could unlock your cell door and step inside. Once in, he carefully placed the bowls on the ground in front of you where you sat, taking a cautious step back.

As much as you wanted to devour the food without. a second thought, you remained frozen and stubborn. You stared at the bowls of hot food before shifting up to look at him. When he gave you a nod in confirmation, that was all you needed to begin eating.

Eating was the nicer word. Demolishing was more accurate.

You didn’t bother to eat with the spoon given, rather you used your hands to grab a fistful of rice and guzzle it down. Grains of rice stuck to your face around your mouth, showing an embarrassing display. You were so hungry you didn’t care.

“Slow down,” Price ordered. You paused in your eating, glancing up at him. He didn’t look angry, but he did look a bit disturbed at your desperation.

Flustered, you swallowed the food down, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Picking up the spoon in the stew, you ate it with eagerness but allowed yourself some decency.

Price was silent as you ate, standing with his arms crossed, watching. You were too enraptured in the meal to care, even if you look distasteful. The food had never tasted this good before, and you weren't sure whether it was because you were starving, or because somebody else cooked.

You imagined the pirates in the kitchen together, chopping vegetables and meat to place it in a pot, using an array of spices. Arguing over who got to do what, disagreeing with a choice of meal for the day.

It gave them a small sense of normality in your mind, even eliciting a small laugh from you. Price’s face contorted in confusion, wondering what could possibly be funny, especially in times like this. You, locked in a cell, given the worst hand the world could’ve given you, finding something joyful enough to laugh through it.

“Would you like to tell me why you’re laughin’?” Price gruffed.

You swallowed down your food, peering up at him from where you sat on the floor. “I was just imagining Soap and Ghost arguing over who gets to cook,” you confessed, looking back down at your food. “I apologize. It is not funny.”

You could feel Price’s stare. The air was silent, tense, before he ultimately broke it. “Ghost is the one that cooks,” he explained. “Used to be a butcher back in his day.”

“A butcher?” you repeated, pondering. The mask Ghost flaunted made him mysterious and concealed. You would’ve never imagined him as a butcher, though the more you thought about it, the more it clicked. “That seems to make quite a bit of sense, actually.”

“Does it?” Price hummed with the telltale sign of amusement. It was hardly evident. “Yes, I believe it does. Explains why he’s so good with a knife, aye?”

You grimaced at that. Ghost was certainly good in combat, that was something you could see from the jump. You just didn’t want to envision who and what he uses it on.

“I believe we got off on the wrong foot,” Price began. The words took you by surprise. “Might have ruffled too many of your little feathers too soon.”

“That is a severe understatement,” you muttered. Price shot you a look, successfully shutting you up.

“We do not normally have others on our ship. If we have treated you with hostility, then I apologize. You must understand the walls we have built up, you see,” he explained.

“Then why have you taken me if you are going to treat me as a mere rat?” you asked. He sniffed, feigning disinterest. “I thought you appointed me as a medic. It does not feel as though you are true to your word. Is there perhaps another reason for kidnapping me that you are not telling me?”

Price was quiet, eyes wandering off elsewhere. He appeared in thought, as if debating something heavily in his mind.

“No,” he finally said, hesitating. “You were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. I do not apologize for taking you, but I do… sympathize. Perhaps I should’ve been kinder.”

“Perhaps,” you repeated, albeit a tad bitterly. Price was unfazed by the subtle resentment you held. He didn’t seem to care at all. He was a hard man to read, even harder than Ghost. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and that was dangerous.

Price cleared his throat, the aura of awkwardness smothering him. It was evident to you that he wasn’t used to being kind and having to resolve with someone. You briefly wondered what made him change his mind.

“You are right,” he continued. “We took you in to be our medic. Medics cannot work in a cell.”

Price took a step back to leave the cell, yet the door remained open. He gestured for you to step out, to join him. You were weary, slowly standing from your spot and taking a skeptical step out of the cell.

“I will give you the choice in who you wish to stay with until we can arrange a space for you to sleep.” Price began stepping up the stairs that led to the upper deck, so you silently followed. “If you wish to stay with me again, that is fine. But if you wish to stay with Gaz or Soap, that can be arranged as well.”

“No Ghost?” you asked in, dare you say, amusement.

“Unless you would like to be strangled in your sleep, I would not advise it,” he responded.

“That was a jest, Captain. I know how to pick my battles.”

Price paused in front of the doors to the upper deck, turning to you. He stared for a long moment, before you saw the tiniest of smiles play at his lips. It was buried under his facial hair, but from the slight crinkle in his eyes, you knew.

“You’re quite the wise bird, I’ll give you that,” he mused, before opening the doors. “Up you go.”

The moonlight soaked into your skin the moment you stepped out of the brig. It was inviting, basking you in the warmth you so craved. The air was crisp, and you breathed it in heavily through your nostrils, your body immediately faltering in relief.

Oh, how you missed the outside. Though your stay in the brig was much shorter than when you first arrived, it was still just as alleviating to get a taste of being human again.

“You will stay with me for the night,” he explained, guiding you across the creaky decks. “The others are already in their rooms. Tomorrow, you can decide who you prefer.”

You gave him a nod in acknowledgment, following him quietly to his quarters. When you arrived, the familiar scent of musk and cinnamon invaded your nostrils. For a pirate, it was a comforting smell, and you found a strange solace in it.

“I’m sure you wish to bathe, yes?” he asked.

A bath sounded heavenly. To wipe the grime and sweat off your skin, to feel clean again. You would’ve jumped into the dark sea if it meant bathing.

“You do not mind?” you questioned, suspicious.

“You’ll be sleepin’ in my cot for the night. I’d prefer if you were unsoiled. No bad blood, aye?”

Price’s boots were heavy against the floors as he made his way to the back of his quarters, where a lone curtain hung. Pulling it back, he exposed a wooden bowl, large enough to fit you, but certainly a squeeze for him.

A barrel stood behind the bath, and Price made haste to lift it with ease. Water began to pour out of the spout, slowly but surely filling the makeshift tub.

While he worked, your eyes wandered to glance around his quarters. When staying in it previously, you didn’t have the gall to be curious. Now that the two of you were on good enough terms to be acquaintances for now, you allowed yourself to be a bit nosy.

The walls were littered with pinned up maps, all varying in land. You hadn’t a clue where everything was, so none of it made sense to you. However, upon looking over to his desk, you saw another map, one unlike the others.

This one was written on with the ink of a quill. You weren’t sure the location, however, it seemed to be a mixture.

Over some of the islands graphed on the map, a large X was drawn in its place. They were crossed out with the ink, covering up the names printed over the location, deeming it impossible to read.

However, two locations were circled rather than crossed out. One was in the middle of the sea, not a piece of land or island in sight. The other was circled around a small island, tucked away from the Mainland, its name unknown. Beside it, a scrap piece of paper sat.

“The one who heals the ill and poor

shall be the cure to all demise.

Washed away to land and shore

shall be the looking glass for ocean eyes.

Find the one that you shall seek

to end the curse of Shadow’s Peak.”

As you finished reading, a large hand came into view, slamming over the poem. Price loomed over you, leaning against the table.

“Go and bathe,” he ordered. “I will leave you alone to do your bidding and return when you’re done.”

Jostled by the surprise appearance, you offered a meek nod, sauntering off to the tub. As Price left, he rolled up the map as well as the poem, tucking them under his arm and leaving no trace of what you witnessed behind. He had something to hide, it was clear, but you couldn’t decipher the meaning of the passage you read.

Perhaps he was simply a writer. It would explain why he seemed defensive that you saw it, but it wouldn’t explain the map. He also didn’t seem the type to sit at his desk and meddle with written poetry. He was a Captain, and his priorities lied with the men on his ship and the thievery of neighboring villages.

Now left alone in the quarters, you willed yourself into the bath, sinking into the water. It wasn’t warm nor cold, but it was relaxing anyway, biting away the tension in your muscles. You were in desperate need of it, and you were grateful you and Price were at a standstill where he allowed you the pleasure.

While you tried to rid yourself of what you saw, it kept creeping in in waves, burdening you with questions unanswered. Even after you scrubbed away the caked dirt until your skin was raw and changed into clean garments that Price tugged out for you, the sense of unease never went away. You felt tainted, like a lingering darkness was coursing through your veins and oozing from your skin.

The garments you wore were large. They overtook your body, swallowing you whole, but they were much better in comparison to the rags that hung from your body, dirtied with nasty impurity. You didn’t know how to feel about the Captain after everything, but he was showing you humility, and that was enough for you right now. It was the best you could make out of being kidnapped by the four of them and thrown in a life of chaos and uncertainty.

As you tucked yourself into Price’s cot, you took one last glance to the maps that remained on the walls. None were like the one you had seen, not a scribble nor blotch tainting the paper. The one Price held was special, and you knew you’d be fighting tooth and nail in order to find out. Until then, you could let yourself relax. After all the torment you’d been through, you deserved a moment of peace before everything imploded once again.

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tojisun · 2 months ago

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sugar, spice, everything on ice (hockey au)

hockey player simon x f!reader’s relationship through the eyes of their fans but like smau - sorta like this!!

simon has never really used his socials properly before. hell, he probably still gets his gossip from the grapevine (being their locker room) or something. of course their goaltender, price, isn’t any better, but at least the man is active online. riley? a fucking ghost.

until, of course, his girl starts popping up in people’s posts.

emory @.emowysg

just found out that simon riley’s WAG doesn’t know hockey but she still flies to see him play 😭🙏

Simon Riley ✓⃝ @.riley41 to @.emowysg she’s the sweetest

STREAM TASTE @.bosseysnumber1 to @.riley41 AINT NO WAY YOURE LURKINJ

emory @.emowysg to @.riley41 WHAT IS BRO DOING HERE 😭

bry @.strobrymilf to @.emowysg The way you didn’t even tag them but he still saw this IJBOL

emory @.emowysg to @.strobrymilf IM SAYING 💀

sandra @.nightwingsgf

oomf was telling me that simon riley the type to overexplain the sport to his gf (tisming, if you will) and i fucked w that hard

icarizz @.brycelims to @.nightwingsgf tisming 💀

Simon Riley ✓⃝ @.riley41 to @.nightwingsgf haha no i go caveman when i try explaining it to her but she’s so patient with me anyway

papillon @.breedthatginger to @.riley41 i saw this comment, scrolled away, then audibly went, “PAUSE” yo king what thenrufk 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

sandra @.nightwingsgf to @.riley41 trying to stay nonchalant about simon fucking riley shirsey #41 forward and alternate captain of specgru just casually being in my replies (girl im failing)

cigarettes after shrek @.autumnblooms

can simon fight

[it’s a screenshot from simon’s instagram story—the phone is being jostled, leaving people looking like pixelated streaks, but the screenshot does a good job at capturing your wide smile as you hold up a puppy in the air]

huggy @.hghsbros to @.autumnblooms she is so so pretty 🥹

ouroboros @.ayacchi to @.autumnblooms heavy on the caption lmao

Simon Riley ✓⃝ @.riley41 to @.autumnblooms and win

marie @.mariejayp to @.riley41 what being in love does to a mf

౨ৎ @.persephonessin to @.riley41 shounen ahh reply 😭

jonah @.jonathanmllr to @.persephonessin bro said [image of gojo’s infamous ‘nah. i’d win’ quote/meme]

🍂 @.zeekewin

YALL LOOKIT RILEY AND GARRICKS GIRLFRIENDS CHEERING AFTER THAT LAST GOAL

[the first image is a blurry shot of you in the box, your mouth open as you yelled. the background is a mess of specgru’s colours, showing that the rest of the WAGs came in with this season’s WAG jackets.

the second image includes kyle’s girlfriend who is holding your hand while the two of you are mid-jump in celebration.]

hime @.peaxhespie to @.zeekewin are we.. seeing the formation of a new polycule

🍂 @.zeekewin to @.peaxhespie cant even be like “dont ship real ppl!!” bc theyre too cute 🥹

Simon Riley ✓⃝ @.riley41 to @.zeekewin is that the clearest picture you have?

🍂 @.zeekewin to @.riley41 KING?????? also, yeah. sorry :(

char-les @.charlatron to @.riley41 shit it’s not a myth - bro really /does/ pop up like bloody mary 😭

eren truther @.aotsucks

yall are we about to censor his fucking name because hows he always in our replies 😭

🎀 @.ttius_overkill to @.aotsucks no because he’s so in love on g 😭 “she’s the sweetest” sir stand up!!

eren truther @.aotsucks to @.ttius_overkill NOT STANDIP LMAJDHS

momo @.mrdawcy to @.aotsucks not us knowing who you mean right away 😅

louis @.lovingtomlinson

idek who simon riley is or the lore with his girl but that man is smitten as hell. good for him good for him

good luck babe @.stellastic to @.lovingtomlinson one of us one of us one- [screenshot of simon riley’s ‘likes’ on his page, with this post at the current top]

louis @.lovingtomlinson to @.stellastic it hasn’t even been five minutes 💀

John Mactavish ✓⃝ @.jmactavish_91

Okay but imagine hearing him in person

[video is of drunk simon, nuzzling his face on kyle’s shoulder, murmuring something too faint for the camera to pick up. there’s a muffled laughter from the person recording, probably johnny from the sounds of it, before they shuffle forward and stick the phone close to simon.

simon blinks at it, looks at the person from behind the screen, and goes, “s’at m’girl?”

video cuts with johnny and kyle laughing at their friend, fond and teasing at the same time.]

samson @.zachob to @.jmactavish_91 GIVE THAT MAN HIS GIRL 😭

susana @.sewswan to @.jmactavish_91 PLEASE WHY’S HE ACTING LIKE THEY ONLY SEE EACH OTHER ONCE EVERY 10 YEARS

baron @.mlawdy to @.jmactavish_91 bro must be winning in life if he’s that in love. lord me when

Simon Riley ✓⃝ @.riley41

Me and my baby

[image is of the two of you in the lake house, enjoying the last days of summer. the puppy is curled on your lap, sleeping, while you angled your head up to smile into the camera. simon has his arm looped around your waist, his head resting atop yours.]

sandra @.nightwingsgf to @.riley41 TEARS WERE SHED

emory @.emowysg to @.riley41 GOOD SOUP

cigarettes after shrek @.autumnblooms to @.riley41 TWO PRETTY BEST FRIENDS

i laughed making this fhjefjefw. idk just thinking about how simon fr the type to show off his partner if he can - and he could so here we are!! i also just love making outsider’s pov through SMAU <33

#hockey au #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #cod smau #suns

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that-student-that-has-homework · 9 months ago

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Louder than Words - Portgas D. Ace

Portgas D. Ace x Reader

This is like the mushiest piece I have written. I was kinda embarrassed...but here it is. Let's give him the hugs and space he needed huh? This could also be a message to you lovelies out there too. MasterList linked at the bottom too!

Ace didn’t know what came over you, but whatever it was, he wasn’t complaining. Per se.

You’d cupped his face gently, rubbing your thumbs along his cheeks tenderly, while he just looked back at you, curious. He smiled, in hopes of easing or appeasing whatever drudge was swirling in his chest and tainting this moment, “everything alright?”

You hummed and nodded at him, not a line on your expression but the bliss that pulled at your lips, revealing your peaceful serenity to him. His breath hitched slightly as you pressed your lips to his forehead, lingering for a moment. Then a shorter peck to his nose, before nuddling it back and forth with your own. He reopened his eyes when you tilted his head, still cradled in your palms, and pressed kisses to either of his cheeks.

You pulled away enough to look him in the eyes, and he felt his heart chase after you, beating with a tenacity meant to jump ship from his chest to yours. Your eyes dropped to the last target on his face, and he felt his entire physiology twist in anticipation.

You guided his face to yours gently, holding him as though he was the most prized treasure of all the seas. If he ever said that aloud, you would agree.

Your own personal One Piece.

You guided him, and he followed eagerly, gravitating towards you naturally, and you met him somewhere in the middle, colliding in an explosion of euphoria, igniting the wiring of his entire being.

His every sense sharpened, yet by attuning himself to your every move he melded into you. He-his edges-seemed to all but disappear as he chased after you unwilling to disconnect for a moment longer than necessary. Your pull, irresistible-inevitable as he continued to dive deeper into it.

Deeper and deeper.

Closer and closer.

Chest to chest.

Heart to heart.

Until you gently guided him away, again cradling his face and rubbing sweet, sweet, tender circles into his skin, massaging your warmth into him. Your eyes again held his, and gosh you’re just so beautiful. He’s pulled out of his daze when he felt your chest struggling under his. You’re panting slightly, your breathing a little strained, and he realized that his weight on you definitely isn’t helping.

He lifted himself up just slightly-unwilling to completely part but-no longer crushing you. He couldn’t help but wonder: when had he ended up on top of you like this?

You’re gently moving his head about in your palms again, pressing another kiss to his forehead. Then another to the crown of his head and for a moment he’s so glad he showered and washed his hair yesterday.

“I’m so thankful to have you in my life,” you breathed into his skin, lips inscribing the words into his forehead, and tugging on his heart strings.

Again his head is guided by your hands and again his eyes are treated to the sight of yours. Like a rope with a knot catching onto a splinter of wood, the air caught inside his chest. Your own eyes trailed over his features, slowly, carefully, as though committing every part of him, every detail, to memory. You studied him with a sort of reverence, your awe manifesting in a choked gasp and subtle widening of the eyes.

Your hands slowly slipped from his face, and he found himself missing your touch immediately. Thankfully, he didn’t have to part with it for long.

“I am so grateful,” your fingers ghosted along his cheek moving to his lips, “that you exist,” your words tugged at that stuck knot.

“That you were born,” a warmth spread through his chest - yet he couldn’t breathe.

“That you exist in this world - and that I,” your expression became impossibly soft, “that I get to know you.”

He opened his mouth desperate to return the sentiment, but you continued gently tracing his lips as you did, “that you’re allowing me to love you like this.”

He couldn’t-

You let out a little squeak at the speed and force with which he sat the two of you up and held you. His fingers interwoven with your hair, his nose buried in your neck, his other hand pressing you into him, melding you into his body. Soon enough, even his legs came to wrap around your own, completely preventing any chance of escape.

Though to be honest, you escape to him, not from him.

Oh the things you did to him.

He might be made of fire, but his devil fruit couldn’t protect him from the way your affections effectively set fire to his very brain-his heart. His chest heaved, pressing against yours, his eyes water and his grip tightened. Tremors overtook him as he fought the urge to crush you completely into his body.

How could joy resemble a knife tearing through his chest? How could the tearing pain feel so delightful? The contradictions were enough to make his head spin and his thoughts knot up.

A gentle hand - your gentle hand slowly worked its way through his hair, patiently undoing any tangles your fingers came about, consequently undoing the intricate knotting of the net entangling his mind. The delicate trails your fingertips drew along his scalp soothed his thoughts such that each raging beastly emotion was conquered in turn. It wasn’t too long before he’d vanquished the confusion, your tender care steering him to clarity.

You were steering him towards dreamland too if he’s honest, as his consciousness began to ebb under the rhythmic flow of your fingers through the waves of his hair. It wasn’t long before it plunged completely into the ocean of unconsciousness.

// ——

When he regained consciousness you were seated beside him, reading something or another. You were really engrossed in whatever it was you were reading, so much so that you startled a little when his hand lethargically claimed your own, pulling it closer to him.

He brushed his lips on the back of it, grinning up at you with eyes that drooped with the sleep still in them. He delighted in the flustered expression you wore in response to his own affections, blinking at you slowly. You marked your page with your free hand, before closing the book to give him your undivided attention.

“How was your nap, love?” Love you called him. Love.

His eyelids closed, succumbing to the weight they seemed to carry, basking in the bliss washing over him like a gentle summer shower.

Love.

He could hear you moving about, his hold on your hand tightening as you shifted. A little groan left him as he struggled to open his eyes and mouth to speak to you. You were not helping with how your other hand came to comb his hair again, but he managed, “mmm you’re…gon’ make me fall ‘sleep ‘gain.”

“Then that means you need more sleep m’love,” m’love, not just any love, your love. Yours.

He was your love.

Yours.

He was yours. Happily so. Forever would be too. If you’d have him.

He hummed, lips weakly pushing through sleep to show you his satisfaction.

Your voice was much closer to him now, speaking from right above his head, and he fought an uphill battle trying to open his eyes to look at you. His whole body felt heavy, completely sapped of strength. Heck even his grip on your hand was as limp as ever. He couldn’t help but wonder if he was in contact with sea stone or something.

He felt you press your lips to his forehead again, gently fueling him enough to pull his lips into a drowsy, wobbly, smile.

“Get some rest love,” you spoke softly, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Stay wit mmmmm,” talking was proving to be a challenge, “c’mere.”

He threw a heavy arm over what he hoped was your waist. It probably was? Gosh he couldn’t care with the way you were giggling next to him.

“Sure thing love,” you had to be doing some kind of magic with how he felt like he was levitating despite the weight that seeped into his bones, “just let me brush my teeth first.”

He couldn’t hold you down if he wanted to with how tired he was, “mmm back soo,” he mumbled.

“Sure thing,” his lips wobbled themselves into a smile as you pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead again.

He was out instantaneously. You kept your promise though; through his daze he felt you slip in and embrace him. Seems like his body knew what to do too, despite its earlier lack of cooperation, and he wrapped an arm around your waist to hold you in return before he was out again.

He woke up in your arms.

His head rested against your chest, with your arm languidly around his shoulders. Taking in a deep breath filled him with the nostalgia of the scent of home. A home that did not exist in his memories. Which meant it probably existed in his imagination then. A home that could be. A home with you.

It was the scent of home nonetheless.

He tightened his hold on your waist nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

I’m so grateful you exist.

His arms instinctively tightened.

That you were born.

His inhale was a stuttery one, his own lips and vision stuttering as well. He buried his face further into your neck, taking in your scent again. Yet all that did was push the tears out faster.

That was the opposite of what he’d expected!

Urgh. One of those hot, salty blobs ended up on your skin.

To his relief, and dismay - oddly enough - you remained unconscious. Your eyes closed and breathing consistent. Though that didn’t last long, as you shifted slightly, the arm around his shoulder worked to pull him into you, as your other one came up to play with his hair-you really liked doing that huh?

“Get it aaall,” your voice was thick with sleep, “get it all…out,” you hummed a bit, “let all that poison out.”

“Darlin’, did I wake you?” It was pathetic how his voice cracked - he hated this weakness that was welling up...again.

Just like that, your hold on him tightened, your lips pressing a soft kiss to the crown of his head.

“I’d be upset if you didn’t,” you sounded much more awake now, “you’re one of the people I want to be there for the most.”

Unfortunately, a choked sob left him. Gosh he was so pathetic. He was a full grown man! He wasn’t supposed to be some weak crybaby! To think he used to get mad at Luffy for crying too!

Yet…

He. couldn’t. stop.

His shoulders shook, the tremors traveled his body, and a violent shiver wracked it. Yet you laid and held him and ran your fingers through his hair, kissing your favorite spot on his forehead consistently. Every kiss, every gentle brush of your loving fingers tenderly working through his hair, every tender trace of your fingertips on his scalp, brought a fresh wave of tears to follow the next. At some point he’d started clutching on to you, like you were the life-ring preventing him from drowning.

He wasn’t sure how long you two stayed like that. All he knew that in between his sniffles and his sobbing there was your voice.

“Get it all out love,” you lightly encouraged - as though he wasn’t lesser for crying like a baby.

“I’m so proud of you,” you said a few times too - as though this pathetic display wasn’t shameful.

“I love you so much,” you reaffirmed time and time again stroking his hair - as though his weakness didn’t make him less desirable.

For whatever reason he didn’t doubt a word. Despite the mental cesspool working overtime to drown him in darkness, the light of your honesty shone through. No matter how far he fell, it followed.

He wasn’t sure how long you two lay there, holding each other, and he wasn’t sure when he’d lost consciousness again. His eyes were so incredibly heavy when he woke up again though. They must be swollen from all his crying. You weren’t next to him this time, however as his senses came back to him, he could hear the sounds of a pen scratching and paper flipping.

When he sat up, he noticed a pitcher of water and a tall glass with an opaque yellow-tinted liquid and some mint leaves in it-lemonade probably-on the bedside table. He had a moment to locate you at his desk before you turned to face him, “hey there.”

“Hey,” he croaked, voice still thick from lack of use.

You put the pen down, got up, and walked towards him with a kind smile, “I made you some lemonade, and got some water,” you sat down near his legs, “gotta replace all those fluids you lost.”

That got a chuckle out of him, “your lessons with Marco are going well, huh?”

“I also have a lot of personal experience with these things,” you grinned at him.

“With crying like a baby?”

You just hummed and nodded.

“This might sound bad,” you weren’t looking at him as you confessed, “but I’m kind of…” you trailed off, shooting him a quick glance, “happy,” you shrunk, your shoulders reaching your ears, “you felt safe enough to be that vulnerable with me.”

“So, you liked seeing me cry?” He poked at you. “Should I cry more for you, doll?”

“Ace,” you groaned, your smile only growing fonder as you looked at him.

“Didn’t peg you for a sadist,” he kept teasing, “I’m not sure how I feel about this kink of yours.”

He loved the way you rolled your eyes, but revealed your teeth with how big your smile was getting. “I don’t like seeing you cry,” you corrected, “I like that you feel safe with me.”

You paused, then appended, “well safe enough to not hide your pain.”

“Hide my pain?” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Crying is one way to get pain out of your body,” you twisted your body to face him more fully, voice soft as you shared your opinion, “emotional pain especially.”

“Isn’t crying just weakness?” He frowned at you.

“No?”

“It’s not?”

“Do you think I’m weak when I cry?”

“No.”

“Then?”

“But you’re a woman.”

A tired look flashed over your features momentarily, “so men aren’t allowed to cry?” You challenged, tone still as patient as ever.

“Only weak men cry,” for some reason the words sounded less convincing in your presence.

“Who says?” His gaze snapped up to meet yours and you repeated yourself, “who said?”

“Isn’t it just something that everyone knows?” His brow furrowed, scowl taking his features.

“No,” you paused as you said that, “well I guess in a sense,” you squinted at nothing, “yes… it is something that many people assume.”

“You just saw me cry like a baby,” he countered, “you don’t think I’m weak?”

“On the contrary,” he felt his eyes widen despite the weight embedded into them, “you’ve been carrying all that pain.”

An ache tormented your gentle expression, “and you choose kindness and warmth and bring joy to those you care about despite it,” you looked him in the eye again, “that isn’t something a weak person could do.”

A shiver traveled down his spine at the way your eyes studied him, softening as you opened your mouth to speak again, “kindness is the mark of the strong, Ace,” you placed your hand on top of his notably larger one, pride dripping from your voice, “and you’re so incredibly kind.”

What was with you and stealing the air from his lungs? He felt his chest constrict like he’d been punched too.

“We’re so lucky to have you in our lives,” your thumb traced circles onto the back of his hand, “we’re even luckier to be loved by you.”

He could feel that prickling in the back of his eyes he was becoming way too familiar with for his liking. “We really have to do something about that crying kink of yours,” he joked.

You scoffed, shaking your head, but you weren’t mad. “I think I’m just going to have to tell you more often how lucky I am to have you in my life.”

His heart lurched in his chest, “I think I’m the lucky one.”

“We can both be lucky.”

“Then I’m luckier.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Yea huh.”

“Agree to disagree?”

“No,” he has a huge grin on his face at your scowl.

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes, rising from the bed with a dramatic sigh, “I’ll let you believe whatever you want to believe.”

“Oi!” He couldn’t help the chuckle that left him.

“Drink some water and your lemonade, love,” you gave him a little peck on his forehead again, “then let’s get you showered and fed.”

He caught your wrist as you moved away, “where are you going?”

“To the desk,” you blinked at him.

“What’re you up to there?”

“I’m just going through some paperwork,” he really was the luckier one of the two of you.

“Marry me,” the words flew out of his mouth before his mind could even register them in his thoughts.

You laughed, raising your left hand for him to view, “already did.”

Shoot.

“Now,” mirth still colored your expression, “you drink your lemonade while I get these papers done.”

“Yes ma’am,” he saluted you and allowed you to slip out of his grasp.

It was when he’d finally moved to lean back against the wall and grabbed the drink you’d prepared that he heard you giggle a little. Strange, given what you were working on, “see something funny?”

“No,” you singsonged, cheerfully wiggling in your seat, “it’s just my husband asked me to marry him, again, and I’m feeling very happy.”

His head clunked against the wall he rested against, heat rushing to his cheeks as a disgruntled groan left him, despite the way he was grinning, “I swear I didn’t forget.”

“I didn’t think you did, love,” you giggle some more, turning slightly to look at him, “I’m just so happy you would want to marry me, again.”

“I’d marry you again every day if I could,” he took a swig of his lemonade enjoying the way you fought and failed to keep your smile contained as it threatened to split what he could see of your face.

You turned back around and he could see that you were fighting to focus on the papers in front of you.

“How about we have another wedding on the Moby Dick?” He found himself scooching his way down the bed, his excitement uncontained. “We can get you a proper dress this time! Your own!”

He looked up thinking some more, “and I’ll wear a proper suit with a vest and a tie and everything!”

“I’m surprised you know about vests and ties,” you shot him a teasing grin.

“Hey! I took some etiquette classes as a kid!”

“You did?”

“I didn’t tell you?” He’d have to tell you more about his life before he set sail then. “Yeah back when I was in the East Blue,” it’s been a while since he left huh? “Makino-a barmaid from the village nearby-taught me manners.”

“So she’s the one that taught you about vests and ties?”

“Yeah,” oh wait a second, “we can have Thatch make us a huge cake and a feast!” Now that he was back on the original topic he had so many ideas! “Pops can officiate! Marco can be the one to bring you down the aisle! And-and-”

“You really want to have another wedding then?” You were now turned to face him completely.

“Yeah! How about it?” He scooched even closer to you. “Our first one was nice too, but we were in a hurry and I remember we had to go with whatever we had.”

“Is it bad that I liked our small, humble wedding?”

“Huh? No of course not! It was great!” Where did that come from? “I’m just saying we can have another so I can ‘marry you again.’”

“Hmm the idea of seeing you all dressed up in a three piece suit is tempting,” you hummed.

He guffawed a bit at that. “I’d probably mistake you for an angel if I saw you in a white dress.”

“Aww you wouldn’t recognize me?”

“Nah because,” he smirked, “I’d be blinded by how beautiful you’d look.”

When you hunched your shoulders to your ears and looked away a bit, his chest swirled with pride. He was getting better at this flirting with you thing!

“Maybe we shouldn’t then,” sounds of protest were leaving him before he knew it, “I don’t want to blind you.”

That had the two of you laughing.

When you calmed down, you turned back towards the work waiting for you, “there isn’t much left to do commander, so stop distracting me.”

Your distraction quickly chugged the rest of that refreshing glass of juice, and moved back to pour himself a glass of water. Something seemed to click within his head as he pondered your order: “I’m distracting now, am I?”

“Very.”

He burst out laughing. “Well we’re even then,” he proceeded to take a loud slurp of water.

He almost choked on it laughing when he saw you startle a bit, his flirt landing well with you again.

Cradling his glass, he opted to just watch you work. He’d make your second wedding happen. You deserved to be celebrated again and again. Besides, it’s not like pirates didn’t party regularly. So it’s not like they’d be going out of their way really-if that’s what you were worried about. Well, knowing you, that was something you were worried about. He found an amused little huff leaving him at that thought.

“See something funny, love?” Seems you’d heard him.

“Nope,” he grinned your way, “just thinking.”

“Should I be concerned?”

“Hey!”

“You come up with some pretty crazy schemes,” he noticed the little smirk on your lips - oh you cheeky - “they’re usually fun, even if they’re dangerous.”

“Like you’re one to talk!” He grinned. “You always add on more crazy things!”

“My crazy things are to make your crazy things less dangerous,” you hummed, “I very much prefer you alive, well, and healthy you see.”

“You just like me,” he beamed at you with a laugh.

“I love you, actually,” you responded without missing a beat nor looking up from your paperwork.

Yeah.

He was definitely giving you that second wedding here on the Moby Dick. Maybe even at one of the prettier spring or autumn islands on Pops’ turf. Whatever you’d like the most! Heck he’ll give you two second weddings - er - a second and a third. Wedding. Yeah.

Oh!

Maybe he could even surprise you with it!

He ought to get started on it - today! Right now!

He threw back the rest of his glass of water and rushed to the door.

“Ah! Ace! Wait a second!” He paused right before opening it up. “I’m just about done with this! Let me finish and I can help you with your hair and back!”

“Huh?” He raised a brow at you.

“Huh?” You returned equally confused. “Weren’t you going to shower to feel better?”

“No?” He tilted his head.

“Then you’re going straight for the kitchen?” You continued, still confused. “Didn’t you want to eat together?”

Oh that was tempting. He couldn’t say no to that. Wait, even the shower help was tempting. You’d been the one to teach him how to properly scrub his scalp after all. But he didn’t want to delay his surprise a second longer!

“Then, I’m gonna get some fresh air,” not really a lie, he’d get fresh air on his way to see Marco, “then we can eat together.”

“So no shower?”

“Wouldn’t we get caught?”

“What do you mean? I’m just washi-Ace!” You let out a garbled sound making him laugh.

“Alright, alright darlin’,” he gave you a lopsided grin, “I’m just teasing. Yeah we’ll do both.”

“Okay,” you seemed pleased with that outcome, despite it being more work for you.

He let go of the door handle to come press a kiss to your forehead, “love you.”

“Love you too,” you returned immediately.

He walked out the door feeling lighter than he had in a while.

Yeah he was definitely giving you the grandest wedding he could, and he was a Whitebeard pirate, and they really knew how to party.

Extra:

Later during an “Official Division Commander Meeting”:

Izou: she must be the one to pick out her dress

Ace: then I’ll take her out to get one picked

Izou: absolutely not! I will

Ace: hey she’s my wife

Izou: exactly! You’re not allowed to see her in the dress until the ceremony you fool!

Marco: (placing a comforting hand on Ace’s shoulder) well, there’s no one better for this task than Izou yoi

Izou: hmph! but of course

Thatch: you all have the easy part, I have to make all the food, and the cake

Ace: it’ll be worth it!

Thatch: for you maybe, you’re not the one cooking to feed a fleet. I swear I have the most difficult job

Marco: we have feasts all the time, no need to do anything extra yoi.

Ace: except the cake! The cake is really important!

Thatch: yeah yeah I heard you. groans

Marco: Besides your division has a bunch of cooks to help you out doesn’t it?

//------------------------

If you liked it: please toss a comment to the lonely oh people a'plenty

For More Ace Content: Tumblr MasterList and Asks are Open -> rules here

#portgas d ace x reader #portgas ace x reader #portgas ace x you #one piece x reader #one piece x you #portgas d ace x you #portgas d ace fluff #portgas d ace #portgas d ace fanfic #one piece fanfiction #one piece #ace one piece

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demonic0angel · 9 days ago

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I've been playing Dredge lately and had a thought:

Danny, a small seaside town's best fisherman, and his babies, Eldritch Dani and Dan, who prefer to live underwater and come up to see their dad, who goes out fishing every day.

His nets are always full, and his boat never encounters any problems. He always steers true, never goes off course, and keeps finding old sunken treasure in his haul.

Everyone in town knows Mr. Nightingale, and his boat sailing by becomes a sort of good omen for the folk of nearby towns. He always leaves on his own, comes back with his hold full, and two small children, which weren't in the boat in the morning, go running into town with their father at their heels. Then they all go to the beach at sunset, the children dive under the last big waves, just before the sun goes down, and twin masses of glowing lights swim into the distance, waiting for their father to go meet them again the next day.

It's good like that. The town prospers, the fish are good and plentiful for just having one or two fishermen go out every day, and the little family gets to live in a community that won't question their origins.

It's when one hero (whichever, Bat, Lantern, Martian or Super, whatever you prefer) in particular gets shot out of the air and washes into Mr. Nightingale's nets that questions start being asked, most importantly, where is the children's mother, and did Mr. Nightingale get intimate with the personification of the sea, like in Ponyo?

Extra: I know the favorite of the fandom is to ship Danny and a Bat, or a Super or Flash, or even Sam and/or Tucker.

But what if, in his late teens, Danny went off to learn from other Ghosts, met the ghostly embodiment of the ocean? They spent a few years being intimate, enough that they hosted Dani and Dan's unstable cores until proper maturity was reached, got two darling little ones out of the deal, and whenever Danny sails into the horizon, he goes to meet his partner in their own element, spends his time with them and comes back with gifts from his spouse, nets full of fresh fish, and gets the children for the rest of the day, so they can grow up in both worlds. They meet up at night at the beach so the little ones can play on the sand while their parents spend a few hours cuddling and watching the sunset.

Ooh, this sounds so interesting! Something about Danny being in love with an oceanic being sounds so ethereal? Like space and the deep sea, y’know? Two mysterious, deep places with hidden depths that humans cannot fully reach.

Not only does this remind me of Ponyo, but it also reminds me of the Pirates of the Caribbean (in a way), where two lovers are separated by sea and land. On that note, we could make Danny marry Davy Jones.

I have nothing to add, but I do think it would be funny if Danny was a hermit with a mysterious past and heroes start coming to his little sea port to ask for old, sage hero advice.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc crossover #danny fenton #ask #anon ask #ty for the ask!#this was so interesting I had nothing to add onto it lmao #ghost king danny

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loveindefinitely · 1 year ago

Text

༊*·˚ NEW JOBS AND DEATH THREATS — cod x reader

CRAVE YOU — call of duty x reader CHAPTER ONE

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + alejandro vargas + rodolfo 'rudy' parra + könig + keegan p. russ

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, prison au, serial killer au, reverse harem, therapist/patient, medical inaccuracies, graphic violence, depictions of murder, everyone's unhinged, poly tf141, minor ships, threesomes, foursomes, gangbangs, this is not medical advice!!

series masterlist. read on ao3.

Life was hard. That was a fact.

Bills and groceries didn’t pay for themselves. That was also a fact.

Adding these two factors together, the final product will be a high-risk job in one of the highest-risk places on Earth. That’s… not a fact.

And yet, here you are, standing at the visitor entrance of Las Almas Prison, sporting a disgruntled grimace and a new pair of black slacks that you’d splurged on. They, at least, made your ass look good, although that was truly the least of your worries.

No. Your current list of worries looked something like this;

Getting Murdered

Getting Attacked

Vomiting Within The First Five Minutes Of Your New Job?

…Yeah. Something like that.

The early morning sun is blinding where it sits, just off to the side of the giant concrete building that was the main offices and Visitor Centre. The fact that you were standing in front of what was only a small part of the overall prison grounds was… alarming.

You were well aware that this was the largest prison in your country, housing the most lethal and awful of criminals. Some you’d seen either on the news, or heard of in passing conversations.

This was the real deal. And, somehow, you’d managed to find yourself being hired to work here. You. Work with serial killers. The worst of the worst.

With the stress on your bank account, and the endless struggle that was trying to find a stable career in the current job market, you simply had no other choice but to accept the offer. It paid extremely well, had great benefits, and your safety was… fairly considered.

The amount of NDAs, liability clauses and agreements, however?

Not the best at calming your nerves, to say the least.

The biting chill of the winter wind has you wrapping your arms around yourself, leather bag slung over your shoulder as you finally step through the automatic sliding door.

You’re not surprised to find that the chill only deepens inside the concrete walls of the building, with no heaters or air conditioning from what you can see. There is, however, bright white overhead lights that do nothing except aid the throbbing in the side of your head – probably due to the restless sleep you’d had the night before, anticipation and anxiety warring inside of your thoughts.

There’s an office in front of you as you step in, with only a few decades-old couches to your right, in front of a dingy TV that’s turned off. Saving their budget for more important things, you suppose.

The walls are a pale, grimy yellow, with sparse photos hung about, framing newspaper articles that are surely from the last century, and black and white pictures of the prison’s opening.

It’s an unsettling place, that much you’ve already gathered.

You haven’t even actually been inside the prison, you remind yourself, your stomach churning where it now lays at your feet.

Without a second thought, you continue with hurried steps to the front desk, where scratched plastic encases the sole woman inside, sitting behind a monitor. There’s a circle of holes that allow for sound to pass through, but other than that, there’s no way of entering from this room. With a quick study of your surroundings, you see a steel door to the left of where the desk sits, with a small square window covered in iron bars.

…Jesus christ.

“Can I help you?” The woman drawls, sliding her glasses further up her nose. Her voice is nasally, and the words come out in a slow drawl as she looks you up and down, unimpressed.

You give her your best smile, although even you can tell that it’s an uneasy one. “Yes! This is my first day, I think I’m supposed to be meeting Kate Laswell?” You ask, nerves betraying your voice with unsteady breaths.

The woman snaps her gum.

You stand there.

She blows it again.

You continue to stand there.

Her gaze is bored and completely void of any thought, before she nods slowly. “Laswell… I’ll call her.”

Really, you couldn’t be more shocked if you tried. What the fuck was happening? How could one lack so much… professionalism?

“Hi, Kate. Yes, it’s Jenny. I have a new hire who apparently wants to see you…” Her voice remains that unbearably slow, sloth-like delivery, before her eyes unhurriedly meet yours again. “What’s your name…?”

You give it to her, tone only the slightest bit impatient as you roll back on the heels of your feet. You can only hope that your black boots are appropriate; you’d figured that they were safe, closed-toe and still somewhat professional.

Time would tell. Jenny was giving you the impression that they were more than acceptable, because at least they got you to do your job in a timely manner.

Jenny says a few more words to who can only pray is Laswell on the other end of the phone, before she places it back in its holder.

“Laswell will be here any…” She pops her gum once more, and maybe, just maybe, you can understand the urge to murder. “Moment.”

You give her a tight, painful smile. “Thank you, Jenny.”

She doesn’t respond, and you decide to just stand back and wait. You certainly weren’t complaining – any more conversation with her would’ve ended with a severe lack of hair on your head.

A minute passes, before a buzz in the pocket of your slacks has your throat tightening.

Pulling out your phone, your next exhale comes out shaky as you read the text.

Charlie: get milk otw home used it all

No ‘good luck’. No… ounce of care for you, or the absolute stress that comes with a new job, let alone one like this.

When you’d told him about the offer, all he’d said was, “It might make you worth something for a change.” Didn’t even question, not for a minute, the risks that came with a job like this. He simply couldn’t give less of a fuck.

“Doctor?” The sound of a door opening, and the kind, almost motherly tone of the voice has you shoving your phone into your pocket once more as you turn to the source of the sound.

It’s a woman, her hair pulled back into a slick bun, one hand holding what seems to be a clipboard. Her other hand rests in the pocket of a white coat, not unlike one a scientist would be fashioning in a lab. Her smile is warm, the corner of her eyes crinkling as you direct a smile of your own her way.

“Kate Laswell?” You ask, extending your hand for her to shake. Taking her hand out of her pocket, she accepts it gracefully, nodding her head.

“The one and only,” she says, before gesturing to the steel door she’d entered through. “Now, today we’ll get you set up with a keycard, general rules, and I’ll have you meet two of your patients.”

You nod, following her as she swipes a card in a black reader, before the red light buzzes green, and she pulls the door open. Right behind her, you take an unstable deep breath as you take in the greyed, jagged walls, a complete contrast to the painted ones of the entrance room.

“We really are so glad to welcome you to our team,” she continues, her black work shoes clicking against the smooth concrete flooring. She doesn’t turn to you as she speaks, but her voice carries around the echoey hallway. “You’ll make a great addition. A necessary one, also. We’ve needed an innovative, young therapist for a while. Most of our… previous hires have held out-dated beliefs, and a lack of humanity for their clientele.”

That makes your brows furrow in confusion. “That’s… odd,” you murmur, before pausing your steps as Laswell stops, swiping her keycard, before entering another room.

As you step into the newly revealed space, your eyes go wide as you take it in.

It’s a wide, large space, with several floors. Metal staircases sit at either end of the vast space, allowing access to every floor. Guards sit at every level, some walking around the space where you and Laswell stand.

It’s a lot, all at once. You’d never even stepped foot into a prison – not before now.

“Most inmates are at the mess for breakfast,” Laswell supplies, turning to you with a neutral expression. She gestures for you to follow her back out of the space, and you do with hurried steps. “The ones you’ll be dealing with, however… they usually eat by themselves.”

You don’t decide to push that statement, not now, as you continue to follow her down the hallway.

“You won’t be seeing much of the prison,” she admits. “There’s heavily guarded spaces on the top floor for your sessions, both for your protection and for the safety of our staff and other low-risk inmates.”

You nod, humming a sound of affirmation as the two of you start heading up the cleaner steps at the end of the hallway. The staff staircase, you suppose.

“Today, you’ll be meeting two of our more… understanding ambers.”

You raise a brow. “Ambers? What does that mean?”

She turns her head over her shoulder, just enough to shoot you a knowing look. “Ambers are our highest-risk inmates. We house ten of them, and you’ll be dealing with eight as per your contract.”

Your stomach falls. You’d known, of course, that the risks were high when applying for this role. But… this was more than you’d imagined, in a way. Ambers. Huh.

Silence falls over the two of you as you make your way up the never-ending steps, no windows in sight. It’s unnerving, in a creepy, strange way. When you finally reach the top, you try and hide how out of breath you are from that small exertion.

Fucking christ.

Laswell, for her part, looks completely fine in an effortless way. You can’t eve find it in yourself to be envious. The feeling’s closer to admiration.

“Here’s the files on them both. You’ll be seeing Kyle Garrick first,” she hands you the clipboard she’d been carrying, and you accept it with only a slight tremble. She doesn’t comment on it, and you find yourself warming up to her already. “They’ll be restrained, and there is heavy security, so you needn’t worry about that side of things.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” you say earnestly, flipping through the files without reading much of anything, not yet.

She waves you off with a soft chuckle. “None of that. Kate’s more than fine,” she insists, and you give her a bright smile in return. Maybe this job wouldn’t be so bad – a boss like this was much better than a creepy middle-aged man any day of the week.

You don’t realise you’ve made it to a small room until she stops walking, scanning her keycard and pushing the door open, gesturing you in. “While you have your first two sessions, I’ll sort your keycard and the rest of the processes out. I wish you luck.”

With that, the door shuts behind you, and you’re alone in a small room.

It matches the rest of the hallways you’ve seen – grey concrete walls, grey concrete floors. The only furniture, however, is one metal table drilled into the floor in the centre, one chair on either side.

…It’s depressing. Not at all like you’d prefer, not for a fucking therapy session, but then again, you hadn’t met your clients yet.

Ambers. High-risk.

With a deep breath, you take a seat at the chair closest to you, finally reading through the top file on the clipboard.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick.

You skim over the height, weight, sex – immediately reading the comments made and his sentence.

Mass murderer. Motivated attacks.

Your eyes go wide, almost comically so, as you bite at your lip, folding one leg over the other as you continue to read.

Of course, you’d prepared, been made aware that you’d be dealing with murderers. But having it in black and white, right in front of you, is a whole other thing entirely.

Apparently, they were motivated attacks. Targets being large CEOs, specifically those with reported claims of misuse of power, and those against green laws. Anti-environment types.

The motive is… you’re aware killing is bad. You hadn’t spent years studying for a degree in Psychology to think otherwise. But it wasn’t as simple as some made it out to be. You’d done papers suggesting that certain motives implied healthier patterns, healthier outlets.

If you had to choose between him killing pregnant women, and CEOs with broken moral compasses?

It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out your answer.

You’re about to flip the page when there’s a knock on the door on the other side of the room, before it opens.

There’s two guards that walk in, before a man in an olive green jumpsuit follows, hands cuffed tightly together in front of him, head down. Another guard from behind shoves him in, too rough for your liking. You sit up straighter, eyes assessing as you take in the man in the jumpsuit.

He’s forced into the chair opposite you, before one of the guards grabs his cuffed wrists and chains them to a rig in the middle of the table. You’re grateful for the precautions, but there’s a part of you that feels guilty watching the manhandling of the seemingly calm man.

“Half an hour,” the most brutish guard of them all grits out, beer belly spilling out over his belted jeans. He jostles the chain attaching his wrists to the table unnecessarily, and your eyes narrow.

He goes to leave, along with another guard, but one stands to stay in position inside, beside the door.

Your brows furrow, and you speak up before you can stop yourself. “Sorry, sir, but my sessions will need confidentiality, as for the best results. I’m sure that I’ll be safe with his restraints.”

The guard stares you down, seemingly mulling your words over, before shrugging and leaving the room, door shutting behind him.

…Huh. Alright.

You find your posture relaxing, just slightly, which is odd, considering you’re now only a metre or two away from a convicted murderer.

His gaze is trained to the table, left foot tapping incessantly against the concrete floor.

“It’s nice to meet you, Gaz,” you say with a soft tone and a gentle smile. You figure that his nickname is the best bet, not wanting to stir up any possible traumas with his given name during your first session with the man. “I’ll be your new psychiatric evaluator.”

His eyes flick up, meeting yours, and he nods slowly, as if awaiting a punchline.

“Is it okay for me to call you Gaz?” You ask, tilting your head to the side and flipping to an empty page to take notes on. You’d need to grab a notebook from home, you decide.

He relaxes, only the smallest of movements, and he nods. “Gaz, yeah.”

Your smile widens at the small victory. Any step towards progress was a huge one, in your eyes. You’d be facing a lot of them in the coming days.

“Do you have any advice for this place?” You push, trying to form a bond of trust with the dark-haired man. “I’m gonna be honest, you’re my first patient, and I’ve only met Laswell and… Jenny?”

His mouth quirks at that, a dimple showing to the left of his mouth as he looks back up at you. “Jenny’s a character, ain’t she?”

You laugh, a genuine one, and nod. “She certainly is. You’ve met her?”

He shrugs, shoulders relaxing slightly. “Few times, yeah. She drives me up the fuckin’ wall.” His accent is only minimally apparent, but his voice is of a somewhat humorous tone.

Small victories.

“Well,” he exhales, settling into his chair a bit as he seems to ponder. “Do ya know who else you’re assigned to?”

You’d been sure to thoroughly go over your contract, and you were allowed to disclose your other patients between your others. They’d find out within the day, anyways, so there was no point in being discreet.

“It’s only you and a… John Price? Today. I’m sure I’ll find out the other six over the next few days,” you say, appreciating that he’s starting conversations. It’s more than you’d allowed yourself to hope for.

Gaz’s eyes light up, and even if you hadn’t been incessant in watching him, it’d be an obvious shift in emotions. “Price?”

You nod, quickly making a note on your clipboard, before folding your hands in your lap as you gesture for him to continue with a quick inclination of your head.

“He’s the best. Man’s a legend,” he enthuses. “Love ‘im.”

There’s… a hidden truth to that statement, that you make a mental note to unpack during a later session. Your smile is a natural one as you say, “He’s an amber, correct? Laswell told me I’d been assigned eight out of ten ambers… you’re one of them, right?”

Gaz seems to fold into himself, and you kick yourself for going back to square one. He answers, however.

“...Yeah. Only Ghost ‘nd Valeria are aggressive, though. We’re just… misunderstood,” he murmurs, and in the back of your brain, you find yourself believing his words.

“Thank you,” you smile, and he responds with a sharp one of his own. Maybe you’d covered more ground than you’d expected. “I think it’d been mentioned that I was only assigned men, due to the nature of the job, or something like that.”

Seeming to mull over your words, he starts to slowly nod. “Sounds ‘bout right. As long as you don’t get Graves, you’ll be alright. The others are… fuckin’ weird, but they’re good men. Mostly.”

That’s a lot of information at once, and quite frankly, it takes a moment for you to process.

“‘Good men’. What do you think it takes to be a good man?” You ask, curiosity laced into your tone. Getting to ask such questions of a convicted murderer, it’s a thrilling, exhilarating task.

His eyes don’t shift as he replies. “Good men do the acts others are too scared to do. They see the evil in the world, and rid of it with their own bare hands. You can be an ethical murderer, Doc.”

Those words, they’re – they’re authentic, and conviction aches in their structure.

You swallow around a dry mouth.

“You think you’re a good man?” You ask.

His smile would be seen as warm to any who weren’t aware of his acts, but to you – it’s chilling. Haunting in a way you’ve never experienced.

It remains as he answers.

“I think that I’m a man who people wish they had the bravery to be.”

a/n. okay so im really nervous about posting this, cause ITS EIGHT FUKCING LOVE INTERESTS and also im a humanities girl not a science one!! sociology all the way not psych!! so forgive me for all the inaccuracies and legality issues please. im just a girl. hopefully u guys will like this one? i mean, obsessed serial killers cod is smth i need so here we are. all comments and feedback mean so muchhh ty ily mwah mwah mwah

taglist comment/msg to be added. [nothing to see here.]

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lovecuprite · 2 months ago

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Kinktober Day 3 - Knife Play with Sylus

contains: nsfw content :(mdni), fempov, knifeplay/fear, he fucks you a little with the knife handle...sue me

˚₊‧ for more kinktober here - wc:- 2.1k

˚₊‧꒰ა i'm not showing up in tags yet so reblogs are greatly appreciated, ily <3

His hand moved with deliberate slowness, slipping the slender blade out of its sheath. The metal shone in the light, wicked and sharp. The very sight of it had your breath catching.

"Tell me," he murmured, voice low and rich with a dangerous edge. "Do you trust me?"

You nodded, your throat tight. But that wasn’t enough. Sylus wanted more than your silent agreement. “You know the drill, you give me words.”

"Yes," you whispered, voice barely steady.

His smirk deepened, dark and full of something possessive. He moved closer, looking down at you spread out on his bed, his body heat brushing against you in the cool air of the ship. His free hand found your waist, grounding you to him, his fingers pressing gently into your skin, a stark contrast to the cool steel of the blade in his other hand.

"Good," he breathed, his voice now a rasp of approval. He lifted the knife, the tip glinting as it hovered just above your skin. Slowly, achingly slowly, he pressed the flat of the blade against your collarbone, just enough for you to feel its weight, the promise of its edge. It was sharp, but Sylus would never let it actually hurt you.

"Stay still for me," he said, his eyes never leaving yours.

A shiver ran through you as the blade slid down, tracing a line over your chest, across your breasts, grazing just enough to send your nerves alight without breaking the skin. You couldn't help the way your breath hitched, heart pounding in your chest.

"You like this, don't you?" His voice was a low purr now, filled with a dark kind of satisfaction. He could see everything—how your body responded to him, how the line between fear and pleasure blurred into something heady and intoxicating.

"Yes," you said, your voice trembling but honest. In every word, every touch, there was an unspoken understanding: in complete trust that he would never take you further than you wished to go.

The blade moved lower, tracing on your skin with precision, as Sylus's gaze was sharp and unyielding. His other hand cradled your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek in a surprisingly tender gesture as it grounded you once again. Even in this game of fear, his touch reassured you that you were safe with him.

The knife now hovered just above your panties, and you felt your arousal pool as you looked up at him: the controlled tension in his muscles, so carefully toeing the line between danger and desire. His smirk softened slightly, though his eyes still burned with that same intensity.

"Good," he said softly, leaning in, his warm breath ghosting over your lips. "So do I."

He ran it along the fabric before lifting it, tilting your chin up with the edge of the blade, the cold kiss of steel juxtaposed against the warmth of his lips as they brushed yours. The tension was thick in the air, the knife an ever-constant reminder of the power he held in his hands. Even with a razor-thin line of danger, the trust between the two of you was palpable, a steadying undercurrent anchoring you both.

Sylus pressed his lips fully to yours, a deep, possessive kiss that stole your breath. The blade never wavered, hovering close enough to thrill but never harm. It was a dance of control and surrender, of trust so deep that even in moments of fear, there was nothing but the intoxicating pull of each other.

Sylus’s kiss was slow, deliberate, mirroring the tension that crackled between the two of you. Every press of his lips felt like a promise, heavy with unspoken desire. His free hand trailed from your waist, sliding up your side, caressing the curve of your body while the cold edge of the blade remained a ghost on your skin. The contrast sent jolts of electricity through you—his touch warm and soft, the knife cool and sharp.

You exhaled shakily against his mouth, a soft moan escaping your lips as his hand slid beneath your shirt. The metal followed, teasing your bare skin, never cutting but always reminding you of the danger that lingered at the edge of pleasure. Sylus pulled back slightly, his breath hot against your lips, his eyes searching yours, looking for any sign of discomfort.

“You’re still with me, right?” His voice was softer now, a question coated with genuine concern. Even in this game of fear, your safety—your comfort—was paramount.

You nodded, whispering, and leaned into him, pressing your body closer to his. “I am.” That was all he needed to continue. His smirk returned, a glint of satisfaction flashing in his eyes as he shifted the blade lower again, just enough to brush the waistband of your panties once more.

"That’s my girl," he whispered, voice like velvet. His words sent a ripple of heat through you, pooling low in your belly as he traced the knife along the delicate fabric, the cool touch adding an edge of thrill to your growing desire.

Your heart hammered in your chest, the sensation of being at his mercy—knowing he could push you just to the edge of danger but never past it—was intoxicating. The trust you had in Sylus was unshakable, and that’s what made this moment so incredibly intense. The way his gaze stayed locked on yours, never wavering, even as the blade hovered at such an intimate point, told you everything. He had you, and you were safe in the hands of his control.

“Tell me how it feels,” he murmured, his lips grazing your ear. His voice was low, commanding, but there was a tenderness there too, a need to make sure you were with him, enjoying this as much as he was.

"It’s… it’s good, cold and nerve wracking." you breathed out, barely able to form words. "But good, Sylus."

Your body was trembling now, the thrill of fear mixing with desire in a way that made you feel alive, like every nerve was on fire. He was pushing you, but not too far. Just enough to keep your senses heightened, your mind focused on him—on every touch, every breath, every glide of the blade.

He shifts as he settles you comfortably on the bed before leaning down over you, a finger looping in the waistband of your panties as he brings the knife to the fabric.

His eyes held yours and with a quick, precise movement, Sylus flicked the knife, cutting the fabric of your panties just enough to let them fall loose. The sound of the tear made your breath hitch, excitement surging through you as the cold air hit your bare skin.

“Perfect,” he murmured, running the flat of the blade down your now exposed thigh, teasing and torturing with that same controlled touch. “You look so pretty like this, my own personal angel.”

The knife moved again, slowly, deliberately, as Sylus slid it up along your inner thigh, the cold metal a stark contrast to the heat of your body. You bit your lip, your breath coming out in soft, ragged gasps as the blade brushed dangerously close to your most sensitive areas, teasing you, testing your limits, but never truly hurting you. He was playing with you, savouring the tension between fear and pleasure, knowing just how far to take it.

A low, satisfied growl rumbled in Sylus’s chest, and he leaned down, pressing a searing kiss to your lips, his hand sliding between your legs, fingers ghosting over your heat. The knife remained poised at your thigh, a silent reminder of his control, but now his focus shifted. His fingers moved with practised ease, rubbing your clit, teasing you with the same precision he’d shown with the blade.

You gasped into his kiss, your hips instinctively lifting into his touch, seeking more. His lips curved into a smirk against your mouth, and he broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to whisper against your lips. “You wanna take the handle?”

You felt the flush of heat spread throughout your body at his words, the potent mix of excitement and anticipation swirling in your gut. Sylus's gaze was fierce, locked onto yours with a hungry intensity that set your heart racing. The world around you blurred into obscurity, leaving only the two of you tangled within this delicious web of trust and temptation.

“Please," you breathed, the word slipping from your lips before your brain could catch up.

Sylus's eyes darkened with desire at your plea, a wicked smile spreading across his face. He loved it when you begged for him, when you gave yourself over to him completely. And right now, you were doing just that.

"As you wish," he purred, his voice low and husky.

With a swift, sure movement, he positioned the handle right at your entrance. Slowly, teasingly, he pushed the handle inside, bit by bit. The stretch was exquisite, a mix of pleasure and thrill that had your back arching off the bed.

"You’re taking it so well" Sylus groaned, his fingers still working your clit with one hand as he slid the knife handle a little deeper with the other. "This is a sight that’ll I’ll never forget."

Sylus groaned as he watched the knife handle disappear inside you. Your body was so responsive, so eager to take him in. He could feel the heat of your arousal against his fingers as he continued to work your clit, his fingers trailing down every now and then through your folds, the slickness coating his digits.

He began to move the handle in and out, setting a steady rhythm that had you gasping and moaning. The combination of that and his fingers was too much, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your body was on fire, each nerve ending screaming for release. The sound of your moans filled the air, a symphony of pleasure spurring him on.

"Look at me," he commanded, his eyes burning into yours.

You complied, your gaze locking onto his as he continued his relentless assault on your senses. The knife handle was nowhere near as good as his cock, yet the combination of it all and the fear was sending waves of ecstasy coursing through your body.

Your walls clenched around the handle, desperate for more. Sylus could feel your walls fluttering around the handle, and he knew you were getting close. He increased the speed of his thrusts, the knife sliding in and out of you with a slick, wet sound that was almost obscene. His fingers worked your clit harder, determined to bring you to the brink.

“Come on, pretty girl-” Sylus encouraged, “Let go”

"Don't hold back," Sylus urged, his voice a low rumble. "Let go for me, baby. I've got you."

With a final, powerful thrust, he sent you over the edge. Your body convulsed, a cry of pure pleasure tearing from your throat as you came undone, his name spilling from your lips along with a string of incoherent mumbles. Sylus watched, entranced, as your face contorted in ecstasy, your eyes rolling back slightly.

"Atta girl" he growled, continuing to move the handle through your orgasm, prolonging your pleasure as your legs slightly trembled. "So fucking perfect."

As your climax began to subside, Sylus slowly withdrew the handle, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. He ran his hand along your slit, collecting some of your juices and bringing his fingers up to his mouth, where he could lick your essence off with a low moan.

He leaned down and captured your lips in a searing kiss, the taste of your arousal still on his tongue. His hands roamed over your body, caressing and teasing, stirring the embers of your desire anew. "Was that good for you?

You nodded, a smile tracing your lips, a haze in your eyes.

Sylus's lips curled into a satisfied smirk as he pulled away from the kiss, his eyes dark with desire. "I can tell it was," he purred, his hand trailing down your body, ghosting over your sensitive skin. "You're still trembling."

He shifted his position, settling beside you, his erection pressing against your thigh. The warmth of his skin was so different from the coolness of the metal of the knife that still lay beside him. "Well, I'm not finished-" Sylus's lips crashed against yours in an avid kiss, his tongue delving deep within your mouth to claim you as his own.

taglist:

@yowumi @yuhig-blog @psychedellyc @char-35

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mokulule · 1 year ago

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A Man has Needs part 1

This will hopefully be a short thing, maybe three or four parts. Silly with a small dash of angst for flavor. Also someone needs to stop me from starting new stories, instead of indulging my insanity.

Ship: Dead on Main (Jason/Danny)

It had been an exhausting Friday, people were out celebrating the weekend and payday both. To top it off it was prime petty crime weather too with no rain. It was a patrol that would never end. Crime Alley had really lived up to its name tonight.

Jason was exhausted. Not because anything had been particularly challenging or dangerous, but it had just been one very long night of constant stupid little crimes.

It was five in the morning and his bed was calling him. He’d already stashed his gear in storage on the roof and he was so close to being home he could practically feel the soft sheets, the promise of sleep. The open bathroom window was a bother when he was this tired. Maybe he should have just gone down to the street and walked in the door, but keys also seemed like such a bother right now and more stairs… No, window was fine, he was in.

Bed. Now.

He bumped into something outside the bathroom door. Fuzzily he looked down to see a moving box - odd. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, he’d deal with that in the morning. Bed, comfort, safe.

He stumbled into the bedroom when it turned out the door wasn’t properly shut just pushed mostly closed.

Okay check list. Boots off. What else? Pants off, shirt off. He’d pick up in the morning. Did he forget anything? Toothbrush. He glanced backwards halfheartedly, he’d already left the bathroom; bed was right there.

The bed won. Tomorrow he would deal with teeth.

Tomorrow…

He crawled under the sheets. Warm and nice and safe and mmmmh he snuggled closer to the source, breathing in mint and something biting like frosty morning air. His nose buried into soft short hair and breathed in deep again. Good. Amazing. Safe. Sated.

Sleep.

Oo o oO

Danny turned and stretched with a yawn. He frowned when something held him into place. Must have gotten himself caught in the sheets again. It wasn’t a problem, he just slipped away intangibly, rolling to the edge of the bed to reach blindly for the night table.

Where was the phone? It took him a moment but finally it connected with his hand.

He groaned when he saw the time, it was nearly midday. Jazz would frown at him for already messing his sleep schedule up, but he’d just wanted to get as much set up in his apartment as possible, that had to be an okay excuse? He turned back on his back and looked at the light dancing across the ceiling from the light breeze moving the curtains. Okay time to get up. He had another day of unpacking today.

He got out and stretched absently. He turned around intending to make his bed if only to look responsible for when Jazz would come later to see the apartment.

He turned and promptly clapped his hands over his mouth to contain the frightened scream.

There was a guy in his bed! How was there a guy in his bed?! Ancients, what the fuck?!

Wait.

Danny tilted his head, eyes trailed down the muscular and scarred back, to a well shaped butt, which the tight boxers did very little to hide, and then those thighs!

There was a hot guy in Danny’s bed!

Focus Danny. He shook his head and slapped himself for good measure. That wasn’t what was important right now - though those thighs… Ancients, Danny would happily die again crushed by them.

No!

What was important was somehow there was a (hot) stranger in his bed. Danny had not invited him, of that he was sure. He had been unpacking yesterday, there had been no consumption of ghost zone alcohol yesterday, which could otherwise explain the lack of memory.

Which meant the guy had for some reason entered Danny’s apartment and slept with him - in the boring ordinary sense, Danny lamented this fact quietly for a moment.

Danny wasn’t surprised he hadn’t woken up, he slept, well, like the dead. The only thing that would wake him was very loud noises (like his alarm or his Dad’s inside voice) or occasionally his ghost sense.

It wasn’t even that Danny was surprised to find a bedmate. It was rare that Danny slept alone these days. He was, no matter how you put it, a very powerful ghost and he gave off a lot of good concentrated ambient ectoplasm.

Sometime last year the blobs and animal ghosts in Amity had started to join him every now and then when he slept. According to Frostbite it wasn’t so strange. They fed on the energy he gave off and also benefitted from his presence, which apparently radiated safety.

At first he’d been woken up by his ghost sense every time, but he’d gotten to a point where he just subconsciously dismissed the sense when the ghosts in question didn’t have ill intentions.

So Danny wasn’t surprised he wasn’t alone. He’d expected a bit more time to pass before whatever weak ghosts might be around figured out he was here, but you don’t wake up six days out of seven with cuddly animal ghosts in your bed and get surprised by it.

No, Danny was surprised by the fact that it was a guy. A human. A person. With muscled arms and- Oh, Danny realized cheeks heating up, that probably hadn’t been the sheets he’d been stuck in earlier.

Danny covered his face with his hands and groaned in despair.

Why was there a guy in his bed? Why couldn’t there be a guy in his bed for normal reasons? Danny would have brought this guy to his bed for normal bringing a guy to bed reasons.

He crawled onto the bed intending to wake the stranger, but as he reached out for the guy’s shoulder he turned leaning into the touch and sighed like the weight of the world had just lifted off his shoulders.

Danny was frozen, staring at the point of contact. He could sense it now: the man’s malnourished ghost core.

Danny swallowed thickly, suddenly seeing the many scars on the man’s back in a different light and that pure white streak in the otherwise black hair, it all seemed so obvious now.

The man was a halfa, or halfa adjacent. Because that was definitely warm human flesh underneath Danny’s hand.

So incredibly, unbelievably, absurdly this was essentially the same situation as usual, except not at all, because this was a person. Humanoid ghosts and ghosts with human-like or above intelligence didn’t do this. There were social conventions in place and not to mention they were usually powerful enough on their own to not need the ectoplasm.

But this guy was malnourished. He probably never had a good stable source of ectoplasm to properly develop his metabolism. Also to Danny’s metaphysical senses he smelled like he’d done the ghostly equivalent of dumpster diving to survive. Danny’s ectoplasmic aura had to be like the siren call of a buffet table.

Shit.

New plan. Danny was not gonna embarrass the poor guy. The situation was weird enough as it was. Danny was just gonna act like this was normal. Danny woke up with guests practically every day.

This was a person, not an animal, therefore petting was out of the question, so coffee.

Coffee was normal to offer guests. Also Danny needed coffee. He nodded to himself in satisfaction and floated off the bed to enter his combined kitchen and living room. The coffee machine was the first thing he got set up yesterday, clearly smart of past Danny.

It wouldn’t be long before his guest awoke with Danny no longer in the room to supply passive ectoplasm.

Maybe his human stomach wanted food too?

Oo o oO

Jason woke up with his head and nose buried in a pillow that smelled wonderful and comfortable somehow. He breathed in deep, catching mint and that biting cold he vaguely remembered from last night. Now, however he wasn’t dead on his feet, he was awake, more rested than he remember feeling for a long time and his brain connected the details into very alarming facts:

This was not his pillow. This was not his bed.

He sat up, quickly taking in the bare white walls and the stack of emptied and flattened moving boxes leaning against the wall next to a built-in closet.

This was very much not his apartment.

There was a noise of a cupboard clanging shut and Jason’s head snapped to the door that was open just a crack; he was not alone.

Shit.

He jumped out of bed, bending his knees upon impact to soften the sound. He needed to leave. Where was his clothes? His gaze darted around and he hurried to pick up his discarded items of clothing as he found them. Somehow one of his boots had ended up under the bed.

Quickly he pulled on the jeans and the shirt, was he wearing a jacket yesterday? He didn’t remember. Boots on and then he was going out the window- except there was the scent of coffee and something in the air. What was that smell?

He found himself moving to the door instead. The door squeaked as he pulled it open and he froze, hand still on the door handle, when the sound drew the attention of the young man in the kitchen.

His hair was black and sleep tousled, he had a slender athletic build and as he walked around the kitchen island bearing two cups it became apparent he was just wearing boxers. Jason’s inspection ended on his legs, which were admittedly very nice. When he looked back up he found the man standing a cautious distance away and a cute pink blush stretched all the way from his cheeks to his chest. Sky blue eyes looked up a him from underneath slightly frowning brows.

“So, you’re awake,” the man opened with an admirable attempt at a smile considering the situation. There was a beat of silence in which Jason grasped for what to even say, then the man reached his hand forward offering one of the cups, “coffee?”

There were many a thing Jason could say or should say. Like, what the fuck? You’re just gonna offer the guy who broke into your apartment coffee? Or, I’m sorry I broke into your apartment (and bed!)? And, why do you sleep with your windows open and unlocked? This is freaking Crime Alley! Or, what is it that smells so good?

What he actually said was a quiet, “yes, please.”

The cup was warm in his hands as he sipped it. And clearly this was enough for the cute guy because his smile turned more real and he nodded to himself and walked back to the kitchen counter. Jason really hoped that didn’t mean the coffee was poisoned.

“Feel free to take a seat. I hope you like pop tarts, it’s kinda all that I have at the moment.” As if summoned the toaster made a swish noise popping up the tarts. Hesitantly Jason sat down at the small square table paired with two mismatched foldable chairs. He really should turn and jump out a window. There had to be some kind of reckoning coming. Maybe the guy really cared about hospitality and Jason would be questioned after the food? Maybe that’s what was going on.

But also strangely his gut was telling him he was safe here? He really had no clue what to do with that.A paper plate with a pop tart was set down in front of him and after setting down his own pop tart and coffee the man joined him.

Jason was supremely aware of the few inches between their knees. This wasn’t a large table after all and if he moved just slightly they would be touching. But why would he want them to be touching? Why was it so tempting?

Jason clenched his hands firmly and stared down at the pop tart, with an intensity born of the fact that for some reason he had to focus on not knocking knees with a stranger.

“You look at that poor pop tart as if you think it’s gonna explode, that’s not actually what pop tart means, you know.”

Jason looked up at the guy in disbelief.

He rubbed the back of his neck, “yeah that was terrible I know.”

Silence stretched between them and clearly embarrassed the guy hastily took a sip of his coffee and a bite of his pop tart avoiding Jason’s gaze.

Guilt twisted in Jason’s chest, not only did he invade his home he was also making him uncomfortable. His only comfort was the fact that the guy clearly wasn’t afraid of him.

Jason started eating the pop tart. For whatever the reason breakfast was part of the script the guy had decided on to make an attempt at normalcy. What else was Jason to do? He hadn’t fled when he had the chance and-

Oh-

The guy had shifted in his chair, one of their knees were touching, there was a spark and it felt like something uncurled inside him, a weight lifted. Jason blinked. This was…Mint and frost was a sting in his nose, a fullness in his chest. Goose bumps ran along his arms, and it tingled all the way to his fingertips.

Jason snapped his head up, but the guy was just looking at his phone sipping his coffee. As if he couldn’t feel the cold electricity between them. There was no way he could sit like that if he felt it? Was Jason just imagining it? He shuddered and moved slightly, just enough that they weren’t touching and instantly he regretted it. The wave of longing was almost enough to make his vision black out.

The guy looked up with a frown. “You okay, man?”

“Fine,” Jason said hoarsely, desperately focusing on the half eaten pop tart and taking another bite.

When the pop tarts were eaten and the cups emptied the man stood and Jason matched him. Jason wasn’t sure what he expected to happen at this point but it certainly wasn’t the guy, to walk over to his front door with a casual, “well I should get ready for the day.”It was a clear dismissal. An out for the whole strange situation. Jason stood up and walked over to the door.

The guy opened the door letting Jason out with a short electrifying clap on the back and a “Take care, man.”

Jason was left standing outside the door to the previously empty apartment 4A, several floors below Jason’s own top floor apartment. How did he ever mistake it for his own?

What was the deal with the guy’s touch and why did Jason crave it so desperately?

Unsettled. he started walking towards the stairwell. As he moved further away from the apartment the pull to go back lessened. It was still there, but it was replaced quickly by something else.

He felt rested, energized in a way he hadn’t felt in a long while. There was an urge to do something. He felt like he could take on the world - maybe even Sunday dinner at the manor tomorrow.

Jason laughed. Wouldn’t that surprise everyone?

He was so caught up in the euphoria of productivity and social interactions that didn’t go sour for the next couple of days, that he completely forgot about the strange Saturday morning.

If you liked this consider telling me your thoughts in the replies or tags, it is motivating. Now to hopefully write a bit on Catnip. Edit: Masterpost now up if you wanna subscribe

#dp x dc #dead on main #a man has needs #Danny is trying his best to pretend this is normal #and okay #Jason has no clue whatsoever.

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hereforthehitsbaby · 3 months ago

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Good to be Back | Cooper Adams/Abbott x F!Reader

Synopsis: You have lived across from the Adams' for what feels like ever, since you started your bachelor's degree. You notice Rachel's car peeling out of the driveway with such force it causing the ground to shake. Before you could escape back into your home, your eyes connect with Cooper's. "Care for a drink?"

Warnings: Language, Infidelity, Rough Sex, Bondage, Oral F!Receiving, Oral M! Receiving, PIV sex, Implied Age Gap (legal), Mention of Disappearances, Spanking, Choking, Daddy Kink (Heavy), F!Reader, Mentions of The Butcher

Rating: M

Author's Note: Fandom hopper oh my god...but I cannot stop thinking about Cooper Adams!!

Word Count: 5K

Tagging Moots: @rubyfruitjungle @babygorewhore @cherryinterlude @vamplreslayer (If you do want to be tagged going forth, please let me know! If not, I can remove you! (: )

If you would like to be tagged for my fics, please fill this out

Invisible. The notion itself holds mystery. One not being seen by the world, but observing all of the tactics. It's the equivalent of being a ghost, or a fly on the wall; taking in every moment, every conversation. It can be useful, but also can be deadly. One small slip up and it was forever embedded in the air. There was no way to escape the truth when it slipped through intoxicated mouths - or fake bodies. But there is a perk to knowing everyone's dirt. Easy to manipulate, and easy to interject.

That is how your next door neighbor is, but you have no idea.

It has been so long since you were last home, God it must have been an eternity. After graduation you wanted - no needed - to get away. Something about being stuck in Philly made you ill. When the opportunity arose to get the fuck out you hopped ship faster than you were brought into this world. The freedom, independence; sights to see and a life of adventure to live. You thought that is how it would be, you were wrong.

College life wasn't as everyone made it out to be. You should've known it was bullshit from when you first stepped on campus, your roommate fucking some random on your bed. It set the entire tone, first it was your bed getting defiled, then it was your desk. Before you could even process what was happening, your life took a complete turn. That one frat party.

That's a moment you hate remembering. It was fun but the aftermath was scary enough. You were always warned about frat parties, what could arise. But being a young, naïve student you had everything stacked against you. This didn't even happen in your freshman year, but your senior. Every time these guys were throwing a shindig you found yourself buried in schoolwork - wanting nothing more than to let these dude’s fuck off. With your final year coming into play you wanted to branch out, though you wished you hadn't.

The party was fuzzy, all you remember was what you were told. But it happened so quickly - one day you're a wallflower and the next, the talk of campus. Eyes burned holes into your soul with every step you took, every glance was directed at you. You couldn't handle it. Something needed to happen, you begged to whoever was listening to give these guys the revenge they deserved. The things that they did, what was said - someone needed to take them down. In fact it only took a week, and your prayers were answered.

It was freeing, hearing around campus how those four dude’s just disappeared. Poof, out of existence. The matter was dropped; life was normal again. Curiosity got the best of you when you heard their names, exactly who did you wish to for this to happen? Like everything else in life it all slips away, becoming of the past. Life ticked on with its duties - you couldn't let go. From the beginning to the end everything went by quickly; a college graduate and ready to take on the world.

Graduating was suppose to mean getting your dream job, working in the field that you loved - but everything took time. As you packed up your car with the memories of the last four years, you couldn't help but reminisce. Four years worth of memories and mistakes, tucked away in the cheapest cardboard boxes. Why did life have to change so much when you were just getting comfortable again? Although you will miss college it was a good riddance, now you could prep yourself for the world.

It wasn't ideal to head back to your hometown but, it was needed. Your family hasn’t seen you in a while, plus job searching is better when you don't have to pay for room and board, especially in this economy. The four hour drive felt like an hour, tunes blasting through the car as you head back into the vortex. Your hometown felt like it was a time warp, one giant forcefield keeping everyone and everything in. Breaching that meant coming to terms that you, as well, might be stuck. Only for a few months, that's it.

As you turned down your old street, it felt like something straight out of a movie - it looked fake. Perfect houses with perfect families, this was some Truman show shit if you have ever seen it. Before you could get wrapped up in conspiracies, you saw your home - smiling softly as you rounded the corner. Pulling into the driveway there was a heavy shroud on your chest - things were out of place. Fixating on the note from the garage door you saw only a glimmer of what it said:

Going to be out of town for a month for our retirement trip. Love you, be safe!

“Great”, you thought. Just when you wanted to see your family they were gone. There was something naughty about having the house all to yourself, not worrying about anyone barging in. A smirk spread across your lips whilst shutting your car off, wrapping your lanyard in your palm. Breaking you out of your thoughts was the door slamming, screaming followed behind. It was instinctual to not be nosy, but let's face it. As you slid out of the driver's seat, you slowly reached for the backdoor - peering over to see who exactly was yelling. For a split second you caught the image of a man and woman yelling at one another while a boy and a girl sat in the backseat. Cocking an eyebrow, you leaned forward a bit more to peer out your back window.

Cooper Adams and his wife Rachel were exchanging some very colorful words, your eyes shot wide open at their argument. It felt wrong to listen in, but they didn't have to know. You bit your top lip in anticipation of what he would say next, but before the argument could officially commence, Rachel was slamming the driver’s door - and speeding so fast out of the driveway it left marks across yours. Seeing how close the car got to you made you jump, smacking your head against the roof of the car. Backing out you rubbed the swollen top, holding back tears.

Peering across the street, Cooper ran his hands through his brown locks - tugging hard. There was something sexy about how mad he was, frustrated even - but it hurt your heart. You've known Cooper since you were in college, considering that's when he moved here. All you knew was that he was a firefighter - nothing more and nothing less. There were a few occasions when you found yourself looking for the fire department’s calendars – for research purposes. Mr. October happened to be your favorite. Cooper’s gaze caught yours, showing a bit of embarrassment. He didn't think anyone was around to see what happened. Giving him a sweet wave, you smiled small in condolence at what you witnessed. He didn't return your gesture, remained at the end of your driveway - his hands fixated on his hips. "I'm sorry you had to witness that."

His words pierced deep, something about the low tone sent sparks through your body. The way his broad shoulders squared up to yours. His fucking stance in itself made you want to drop. Those impure thoughts flew through your mind as he stared at the ground, awaiting your response. Catching on you shook your head, leaning back against your car. "Don't be sorry, are you okay?" Cooper saw this as an invitation to move forward, his hands in his front pockets. When he was in front of you, he couldn't look in your eyes - instead focusing on his home. The way he held himself was strict, he was so tense all the time. It was understandable with the line of work he did but this was different, he was frustrated. "I'll be okay - back from school so soon?"

He changed the subject as fast as he sauntered over to you, not wanting to focus on the negative. You shot Cooper a smile as you held your house key from your lanyard, motioning to your car filled with boxes. "I'm officially done, graduated last week." This was the first time you saw Cooper smile since you've been home - heat rushing to your cheeks. In a way you felt as if he was reading you, browsing through your entire life story off of one sentence. Lost in your own train of thought you didn't realize how close he got, his shoulders parallel to yours - boxing you in. His right hand placed on top of the roof, dangerously close to your head. Swallowing down every ounce of dignity you had. His russet brown eyes poured over every inch of you, tracing you through the clothing.

"Congratulations, I hope you got spoiled for that big accomplishment." Honey, that was the best way to describe his tone. Molasses and honey flowing in a splendid river, drowning you with every syllable. His musk - fennel and pine radiating off of him made your stomach flip, muscles contracting. You had no control over your body anymore, it was like a flip was switched. You watched as Cooper trailed his left hand over your arm, dragging his nails against the grain. His right hand fell to your neck, fingers resting at the base whilst his thumb rubbing circles by your throat. With a hard grasp, he pulled you forward - inches away from your face. "Did you get spoiled, sweetheart?”

Words could not form, no matter how hard you tried to muster them out. All you could do was shake your head as a form of no. Both of your hands fell slack to your sides, growing clammy by the second. Cooper was not happy with your answer, pouting playfully as he dug his thumb harder against your neck, causing your breath to hitch. It was a huge accomplishment, but you didn't want people to go out of their way to celebrate it. So, after you went to commencement you had a small lunch with your close family, then went back to your off campus apartment. Nothing too out there, enough to satisfy you. "Will you let me spoil you, and be a good girl?" His words made you weaker, slumping slightly into his touch. You couldn't shake the fight you saw earlier, how angry they both were. This was proof Cooper needed to blow off steam but, you felt guilty. A married man, father of two - you didn't want to intervene. "Baby, I'm getting divorced - that's what the fight was about."

That was enough for you to lean up to his lips, pressing your body flush against his. There was something about being out in the open for everyone to see that made your body burn hotter. There was a chance you could be caught by anyone. Cooper felt it too, but it was too good to stop, you were too intoxicating. His large, calloused hands slid across your lower back to drape around your ass, cupping it like it was the last thing his hands would ever do. Entangled in the pleasure you let a hearty moan slip from your mouth to his, the bulge pressing harder against your thigh. Delicate hands laced their way to the back of Cooper’s neck, scratching over the tender skin. He licked at your bottom lip, begging for entrance. Obeying his silent command you parted your lips, bringing your left leg up higher to lace around his waist.

The taste of whipped cream on his breath drove you mad, his scent lingering in your nostrils as he passionately kissed you - growing harder with each motion. You couldn't handle it anymore as you grinded down against his bulge, lightning shooting through your core. Cooper’s hand slid from your throat to the base of your neck, tangling his fingers in your soft strands. With a single twist of his hand, he yanked your hair back - making you gaze into his eyes. A devilish smirk rested upon his lips, swollen from how hard he made out with you. A small whimper left your mouth, tiny enough to show you turned on you were by his actions. The hand that was once secured to your side pulled your keys out, waving the lanyard in your face. "Lead the way." He smirked, draping the lanyard down the valley of your breast - watching your shudder at the feeling.

You reached up to snatch your keys away, swaying your hips as you headed for the front door. Cooper sat back to watch how your ass shook with every step, wanting to take you right then and there on the lawn. Bringing his hand down he began to palm himself, trying to relieve some of the tension his cock was holding. Out of the corner of your eye you could see it too - causing your core to ignite. To tease him further you arched your back - pushing your ass out enough to wiggle it as you slid your key in. When you least expected it, the hard crack of Cooper’s hand came down across your backside; you swore it echoed through the neighborhood.

The yelp that left your mouth was masked with Cooper’s hand, gripping at your face so hard you felt it against your teeth. Without any more effort you spun the doorknob to the left, kicking it open. Cooper ushered you inside with haste, the hard oak door slamming into its respected slot. You have never seen a man be this passionate, this rough - it made you ache all over. Standing in the foyer of your home, you gulped as you watched Cooper’s eyes blacken. There wasn't an immediate danger lurking between you both, but it felt like it - he looked as if he was going to snap. Biting hard on your first finger, you tried to jet away towards your room - to not avail. It was like Cooper read your mind - knowing exactly what you were going to do. "Now princess, where the hell do you think you're going?"

His large, calloused hand came down on your right wrist - yanking it behind your body as you pushed you into the wall separating the kitchen from the dining room. You could hear the metallic clank of his belt coming undone, groaning at the sound. Prepping yourself for the feeling of his hardened cock against your thigh, you slid your ass out a bit more - only to earn a hearty smack to the reddened flesh. "Fucking Christ, you enjoy being a brat?" The sinister smirk on his lips sent sparkles through your eyes, hearing just how lust filled he was becoming. The cold, smooth leather of his belt slid against your wrist. With a rough tug, Cooper slid your left wrist into the makeshift cuffs - cranking the end of the belt back so your hands were snug. As his fingers left your leather-clad wrists, Cooper came up to lace his fingers through your hair - ever so gently pulling you back to his mouth. His musk invaded your senses as his free hand trailed down your front - paying the softest attention to your throat. You couldn't help but slide your eyes closed at the feeling, wanting more.

Taking you out of your moment was your body being forced away from the wall, pushing you along until you were face to face with the marble countertop. This was new, must have been one of the new renovations. There was a second where Cooper completely let go of you, watching as you stood eyes forward - not daring to look back. The anticipating was killing you; you needed his touch. Sweat slid down your brow as you tried to shake your hair out of your face, letting your heart calm for a minute. The warm grasp of Cooper Adams returned but, in a harsher way. He didn't warn you when he yanked your shorts down, pooling them around your ankles. Without being told you kicked them off, wanting them far away. The cold air of your home ran through the heat produced between your legs, never realizing your panties were discarded as well.

Lost in the thought of how your core ached, Cooper had the advantage - tossing you up onto the new countertop, legs spread wide open. "Is my good girl aching for me?" You couldn't help but chew on your lip at his words, the praise shocking your cunt. Nodding gently, you batted your eyelashes in his direction - watching as his drank up your appearance. His fingertips returned to your thighs, pushing hard into the skin - knowing it was going to bruise tomorrow. Slowly he massaged his fingers upwards, draping them over your inner thighs - ghosting over your hot cunt. It was driving you mad, you needed - wanted his touch, his mouth, his everything.

The bucking of your hips into his hand only caused the fury to set itself onto Cooper, his eyes narrowing to your face. Slamming his right hand onto the countertop next to your thigh, he reached forward with his left to grip at your neck, pulling you fast towards him. "Words, use your words." Your pupils were blown out, no color except black showed. The way your expression held lust only made Cooper grow harder - wanting you more than anything. "Y-yes, Daddy." The name came out with a smirk, eyeing him up and down. Cooper’s grip on your neck got tighter, pressing his plump lips flush against yours. The heat of the kiss made you moan into his mouth, wanting him to know what effect he had on you. As the kiss got deeper he slid his hands away, unbuckling the cuffs on his shirt as he dragged the long sleeve's back, exposing his forearms. Cooper trailed his hands down to his slacks, pulling them off with ease - brief's following right behind. The slap of his erect cock against his stomach made you moan, eyes widening at his size.

"Daddy, y-you're so big..." You couldn't help but stare at his length, the wetness of your core seeping down to the counter. He would break you, split you in half - he will be the biggest cock you have ever taken. There was something ignited in Cooper when your eyes cascaded over his length, his ego growing - knowing he was big. Hearing you say it only made him ache harder. Licking his lips as he pulls back from your mouth, he pulled your ass to the edge of the counter - leaving sloppy kisses on your inner thighs, red marks littering the soft skin. With your hands pressing into your back, all you could do was whimper to Cooper - puppy dog eyes boring into his. "I need you to be loud for Daddy, okay? Don't hold back."

Obeying Cooper’s command, you braced yourself as his hot tongue slid up your seam - flat against your slit. The feeling in itself made you want to jump, stuttering your hips into his mouth. Cooper did not like that, pinning your hips down to the counter with his massive hands. He made sure to never leave your eyes, especially as he bit right where the crease of your pelvis met your thigh - tugging at the skin. You could feel your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he dove back into your steaming cunt, lapping at your arousal. Cooper was a pussy eating champ, you fucking knew it just by how he sucked your clit - rolling it in between his teeth and lips. The attention he was paying your nerve bundle made your whole body flop. You couldn't moan, no - screams were leaving your throat. Each swipe of his long tongue had you falling apart - enough to where Cooper slammed you back down onto the counter. The grunt he let out into your cunt made your orgasm approach quickly. Bucking your hips up, you let a string of whimpers slide out, signaling how close you were. "C-Coop… I-I-I'm gonna...."

"What did you just call me?" Cooper pulled his head back from your thighs, your essence glistening upon his lips. One of his eyebrows cocked in your direction, rubbing little circles into your hips. It was painful how fast your orgasm approached, but not letting it burst. The torture Cooper was pushing onto you made you want to cry. You could help but grind your hips against the air - hoping to at least reach that point you once were at. "Brats don't get to come." He tsked into your ear, biting on your lobe. You couldn't help but pout as you strained yourself, wanting something to help take you to the brink. "D-Daddy please...I-I need your mouth."

Cooper pulled you off of the counter, shaking his head at you. The tears swelling in the corner of your eyes made him soften for a moment, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. Even though he was dominating you in everyway you needed, he didn't want to push you into something you may not have wanted. With a stray tear that fell, he made sure to kiss it away - peppering sweet kisses all over your face. Rubbing into his lips, you licked yours - lowering yourself to your knees. Lurching forward you returned his kisses to his hips, thighs and lower stomach - making sure to never break eye contact. "L-Let me make it up to you, Daddy."

Before you could let Cooper respond, you licked one singular line up his shaft - watching at his thick length twitched against your lips. As you came to the top you let your tongue swirl over his swollen tip - lapping up his precum. Cooper couldn't help but slam his eyes shut - wrapping his fingers in your hair to make a ponytail. Opening your mouth all the way, you let Cooper position your mouth over his tip. Nodding in anticipation, Cooper slammed your mouth down onto him - taking him fully in. It was way too much for your to grasp - choking slightly on the girth of him. Tears spilled from the corners of your eyes as you hollowed your cheeks out - suctioning tightly around him. "Oh fuck, princess..." He tossed his head back as he moaned out, jetting his hips back into your face.

This was a new sensation for you, never ever being face fucked. With Cooper it felt so natural, your undying hunger strengthened with every thrust. The way his tip slid against the back of your throat made the butterflies in your stomach erupt. You couldn't handle it anymore, feeling your wetness sliding down your weakened thighs. With every bob of your head against Cooper’s cock it shot electricity through your nerves, wanting him more than anything. Through tearful eyes you watched his expression - how his forehead scrunched up, his bottom lip pulled taut between his teeth. He was trying so hard to suppress his moans for you, but it was sexier hearing them. Lightly you dragged your teeth up his shaft, causing him to pan his eyes back down at you. Cooper humped himself into your face with such aggression it made you gag more, spit dripping from your mouth over your clothed chest. As you clamped your eyes shut to breathe through your nose, you felt how his hips stuttered - shooting his creamy rope right down your throat. With weakened thrusts, he slowly started to ease out of you, rubbing his thumb over your wet chin. "Such a good little princess for Daddy, you did a great job." He cooed, placing a kiss to your forehead. The praise shot right into your cunt.

"Now it's Daddy's turn - I want you to cum on my cock. Can princess do that for me?" The eagerness to your nod made Cooper laugh at how adorable it was, helping you up to your feet. As he spun you around like the princess you are, he pressed your face into the cold countertop - it felt so good on your warm cheeks. The feeling of his toned legs kicking your open made you squirm, arching your back ever so slightly for him. Cooper leaned forward, pressing his lips to your shoulder as his cock slides between your folds, gathering your wetness on his shaft. The way he pressed his tip into your clit had you moaning out ripples, it couldn't - no - wouldn't stop. Each slow thrust of his hips caused your body to jolt, not even fully given in yet. Just then, with a snap of his hips - he sheathed his thick cock inside your wet heat. The scream you let out was enough to break the wine glasses sitting on the countertop - it felt so fucking good!

"I bet those college boys couldn't fuck you like Daddy can. Am I right princess?" He didn't give you time to adjust as he plowed into you from behind, scratching his way to your shoulder and back. The pain mixing with pleasure made you rock your entire body against him - wanting to hold and caress his form. Your wrists writhed against the leather belt, still bound from earlier. Cooper saw you struggling - taking that as his cue to release your hands. The way they flopped to your side felt unreal as he demolished your pussy. Gaining your strength back, you pressed against the countertop, pushing your hips back to meet Cooper’s thrust. "N-never, y-y-you fuck me way better, Daddy. I-I can't get enough of your b-big cock!"

Your words had Cooper laughing sinisterly - lust lacing his tone. It became too much to deal with, his dirty words flowing through your brain as his cock hit that spongy spot within you. From the way you were angled you could feel everything. The way his tip punched your cervix without a care, how your walls tightened around his girthy shaft. How with every thrust you felt your entire body come undone. Nothing in life brought you as much bliss as Cooper was, this was your whole world. You have been fantasizing about Mr. Adams ever since you first laid your eyes upon him. Now you had him where you needed, and you were never going to lay off. "Princess, I-I'm gonna-" Before Cooper could finish his sentence, he was coming undone within you. Ropes of his sweet seed painting your walls - this is when you were thankful for having an implanted contraceptive. Feeling his seed shooting in you was enough for your orgasm to spray - drenching his cock with so much force. The moans, groans and whimpers slipping from yourself and Cooper echoed throughout your vacant home - this was the best day of your life.

Cooper pulled out of you with ease, rubbing his gentle fingers across your behind. Every stroke made you weak, feeling like jelly under his grasp. Pulling you upwards to his chest, he swept you up bridal style as he made his way to your living room, seeing the new conversation pit your parents had installed. It was essentially like a giant bed with seats, causing you to laugh lightly into Cooper’s chest. As he stepped down the stairs, he pulled blanket from one of the seats over you both, pulling you closer to him. Turning around to face him, you wrapped your left leg over his, rubbing small circles into the stubble lining his chin. The moment was perfect, too perfect. The way Cooper looked at you with so much admiration and love, made your entire soul flutter. "It was me." He mumbled out, looking at you with no emotion to his words. It was like his body was taken over by an unseen force, his hand going ridged against your side. "What was you?"

He let out a gentle sigh, chewing on the inside of his cheek, never leaving your gaze. He was debating heavily if he should tell you, or leave it alone. But it felt wrong to not let you know. He slid his hand to cup your cheek, kissing you as soft as silk - lingering over your swollen lips. His large hand cupping your back as well, drawing patterns with his thumb as he let those forbidden words out; "Those guys at the frat party, I made them disappear." His words make you go stiff, eyes widening as you realize what he did. The ones who hurt you, who humiliated you earlier last year - Cooper disposed of them. Your breath grew more erratic as you realized what was going on, there was only one question flowing through your brain. "Did you...did you kill them?" It was weird, you should've felt afraid - but you felt the opposite, safe and sound within Cooper Adams’ arms.

"Yes, for you. They were going to get away with what they did to you, and I didn't want that to happen. I wanted them to feel the fear you did. I wanted them to feel the way they made you feel, I only want to protect you from the evil this world holds." Little did you know, Cooper was the evil this world held. He was after all, The Butcher.

#cooper adams #cooper adams trap #cooper adams x reader #cooper adams x f!reader #cooper adams smut #josh hartnett #josh hartnett fanfic #josh hartnett fanfiction #cooper adams fanfic #cooper adams fic #cooper adams fanfiction #cooper abbott #cooper abbott fic #cooper abbott fanfic #cooper abbott fanfiction #cooper abbott smut #cooper abbott x reader #cooper abbott x f!reader

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

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Main Masterlist || Navigation || All works are F!Reader || All images sourced from Pinterest ||

SONGS THAT SOUND LIKE SEA-FOAM || Mini-Series || Completed

PAIRING: Fisherman!John Price x F!Mermaid!Reader

SYNOPSIS: In which a lone mermaid finds good company with a handsome fisherman who trespasses in her cove. But the word isn't what it used to be...hunting ships patrol the waters.