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advancetowing · 26 days ago

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Private Property Impound Towing in Vancouver: What You Need to Know

Modern cities are packed with great infrastructure, like highways and multiplexes, but there’s one big problem: parking space. When cities were planned, no one thought that people in the near future would own multiple vehicles. Now, a family of two might have four cars of all sizes or a luxury motorbike. That’s where the parking issue starts. Yes sure modern spaces have parking but sadly it's not enough. This leads to people looking for empty spaces to park their extra vehicles without realizing they might be parked on private property.

If you've ever come back to find your car gone after parking somewhere you shouldn’t have, you’re not alone. In Vancouver, unauthorized vehicles can be towed from private property, and it can happen without warning. Whether you're a property owner dealing with unauthorized cars or just a driver trying to avoid a tow, it’s good to know the rules about private property impound towing in Vancouver.

In this article, we’ll dive into what private property impound Vancouver is, who can tow vehicles, the regulations that apply, and how you can avoid getting towed.

What is Private Property Impound Vancouver?

Private property impound towing is when a vehicle is removed from a parking spot or space that is owned by a private individual or business. If someone parks their car in your private parking lot, without permission, you have the legal right to have their vehicle towed.

This system is in place to protect property owners from unauthorized parking and to ensure spaces are reserved for those who have permission to park there.

In Vancouver, the process is regulated to make sure that the towing is done fairly and legally.

Vancouver’s Towing Regulations

Vancouver has clear regulations in place to govern private property impound towing. These rules aim to protect both property owners and vehicle owners by ensuring the towing process is carried out properly. A key element of these regulations is the requirement for clear and visible towing signs on private property.

These signs need to meet specific criteria in terms of size, wording, and placement. Depending on the situation, property owners can opt for different types of signs. For example, a 24-hour towing sign is perfect for those who want to enforce parking restrictions at all times. Alternatively, temporary towing signs can be used for specific events or short-term periods.

Who Can Tow Private Property in Vancouver?

In Vancouver, not just anyone can tow a vehicle off private property. Only authorized towing companies that are licensed by the city are allowed to perform private property impounds. This means that as a property owner, you’ll need to verify that the towing company you choose has the proper credentials and follows the local regulations.

There are various towing companies in Vancouver that specialize in different services. Some focus exclusively on towing vehicles from “no parking towing Vancouver” from private properties, while others may also provide car impound Vancouver services. Always choose one that has experience with impounding vehicles from private properties to avoid any issues down the line.

What to Do if Your Car Gets Towed?

If your car has been towed from private property in Vancouver, first contact the towing company to find out where your vehicle is being stored. Once you know the location, you’ll need to pay towing and storage fees to get your car back. Be prepared to provide any required paperwork, like proof of identification or ownership. If you believe the towing was illegal or the company is acting unfairly, you can file a complaint with the authorities.

How to Avoid Getting Towed

1. Watch Out for Signs

Always check for parking restriction signs. Even though they’re usually clear, some drivers miss or ignore them. If there’s a "No Parking" sign, your vehicle is at risk of being towed. Make sure you’re authorized to park in the area before leaving your car to avoid towing fees.

2. Avoid Parking Violations

Parking in restricted areas, like private lots or handicap spots, can lead to towing. Also, accumulating parking fines might result in your vehicle being impounded. Be respectful and cautious when parking.

3. Don’t Block Safety Zones

Parking in fire lanes, construction zones, or highways can get your vehicle towed. These areas are hazardous, and your car could interfere with traffic or emergency services. Always park safely to avoid towing.

4. Ask for Permission

If you’re unsure about parking, ask for permission. Whether it’s a business lot or private property, getting confirmation can save you from a costly tow later.

5. Follow Safety Regulations

If your car breaks down on private property, you must arrange for towing within 24 hours. Otherwise, the property owner can have it removed. Keep your vehicle in a safe, drivable condition to avoid impound costs.

Final Words

In conclusion, understanding the ins and outs of private property impound towing in Vancouver is essential for both property owners and drivers. Whether you're looking to protect your parking spaces or avoid the headache of an impound, staying informed is key. Always pay attention to parking signs and regulations to prevent issues like No parking towing or Car impound Vancouver.

Need No parking towing Vancouver, or Car impound service, Advance Company is here to help. Contact us today to ensure your parking spaces are protected and towing concerns are handled professionally.

#Private property impound Vancouver #No parking towing Vancouver #Car impound Vancouver

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mctowingservice · 28 days ago

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Comprehensive Towing Services for Private Property Owners in Houston

Over the years, you've invested a significant amount of time, money, and effort into maintaining your private property in Houston. As a property owner, it's vital to ensure that your property remains secure, well-maintained, and free from any potential liabilities. One way to achieve this is by utilizing comprehensive towing services specifically designed for private property owners like you.

As a private property owner, you're likely to encounter various issues that can compromise the safety and integrity of your property. In this article, we'll explore the common problems that require private property towing, how MC Towing can help, and why partnering with a reliable towing service is vital for your property's well-being.

In Section 1, we'll explore into the common issues that necessitate private property towing. Unauthorized parking, abandoned vehicles, and trespassing are just a few examples of problems that can plague your property. These issues not only create an eyesore but also pose a significant risk to your property's security and value. By understanding these common problems, you'll appreciate the importance of having a reliable towing service on standby to address these issues promptly and efficiently.

In Section 2, we'll discuss how MC Towing can provide customized solutions for your private property towing needs in Houston. With years of experience and a team of licensed professionals, MC Towing offers a range of services tailored to meet the unique requirements of private property owners like you. From removing unauthorized vehicles to providing emergency roadside assistance, MC Towing has got you covered.

In Section 3, we'll highlight the reasons why choosing MC Towing Services is the right decision for your private property in Houston. As a dependable, experienced, and licensed towing service provider, MC Towing boasts a proven track record of delivering exceptional results. By partnering with MC Towing, you can rest assured that your property is in good hands, and any towing-related issues will be resolved promptly and efficiently.

After all is said and done, as a private property owner in Houston, it's vital to recognize the importance of comprehensive towing services in maintaining your property's integrity and security. By partnering with a reliable towing service like MC Towing, you can address common issues like unauthorized parking and abandoned vehicles, ensuring that your property remains safe, secure, and well-maintained. Don't hesitate to contact MC Towing today to learn more about their customized towing solutions for private property owners in Houston.

Contact MC Towing at 10326 W Montgomery Rd, Houston, TX 77088, United States or visit their website at https://propertytow.com/ to learn more about their comprehensive towing services for private property owners in Houston.

By partnering with MC Towing, you'll be taking a proactive step towards protecting your property and ensuring that it remains a valuable asset for years to come. Don't wait until it's too late – contact MC Towing today and experience the difference that a reliable towing service can make for your private property in Houston.

#Battery jump service #Lockout service for cars #Towing services for private property #Private property vehicle towing

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qtowing · 8 months ago

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The Ultimate Guide to Towing Service For Private Property Quick Towing

In the realm of property management and private land ownership, Towing Service For Private Property Quick Towing stands as a crucial pillar ensuring order and safety. Understanding the nuances and necessities of this service is paramount for property owners, managers, and even the general public. Here, we delve into the intricacies Of Towing Service For Private Property Quick Towing, exploring its significance, regulations, and best practices.

Understanding the Significance of Towing Service for Private Property Quick Towing

Towing Service For Private Property Quick Towing Serves as a proactive measure against unauthorized parking, vehicle abandonment, and obstruction. By swiftly removing vehicles from private premises, property owners maintain control over their land's accessibility and functionality. Moreover, it ensures the safety and convenience of tenants, visitors, and customers by preventing congestion and facilitating smooth traffic flow.

Regulations Governing Towing Service for Private Property Quick Towing

To prevent potential legal entanglements, property owners must adhere to specific regulations governing towing service for private property quick towing. These regulations vary depending on location and jurisdiction but often include requirements regarding signage, notification procedures, and proper documentation. Familiarizing oneself with local laws and ordinances is essential to ensure compliance and mitigate liability risks.

The Role of Professional Towing Services in Private Property Quick Towing

Engaging the services of professional towing companies is pivotal in executing quick towing on private property effectively. These companies possess the expertise, equipment, and legal knowledge necessary to conduct towing operations swiftly and efficiently. From compact cars to larger vehicles, they are equipped to handle a diverse range of towing scenarios, ensuring minimal disruption to property operations.

Unraveling the Essence of Towing Service for Private Property Quick Towing

At its core, Towing Service For Private Property quick towing epitomizes a proactive stance against the encroachment of unauthorized vehicles, transcending mere removal to assert the domain's sovereignty. It serves as the silent sentinel, safeguarding against the tide of chaos and preserving the sanctity of private spaces. Moreover, it crystallizes into a beacon of efficiency, ensuring the uninterrupted flow of vehicular traffic and bolstering the safety net for all stakeholders.

Navigating the Regulatory Channels of Towing Service for Private Property Quick Towing

In the labyrinthine corridors of legal frameworks, the Towing Service For Private Property quick towing finds itself tethered to a constellation of regulations and mandates. From the emblazoned signage dictating parking protocols to the intricate dance of notification procedures, adherence to these regulatory beacons becomes paramount. Steering clear of legal shoals demands a vigilant eye and a steady hand, lest the tumultuous waters of liability sweep one astray.

The Symphony of Expert Towing Services in Private Property Quick Towing

In the orchestration of private property quick towing, the virtuosos of the trade emerge in the form of professional towing companies. These maestros, armed with a symphony of expertise and state-of-the-art equipment, conduct a harmonious ballet of swift removals, ensuring that the cadence of operations remains unbroken. From compact hatchbacks to towering behemoths, their repertoire encompasses vehicles of all shapes and sizes, orchestrating a flawless crescendo of efficiency.

Best Practices for Towing Service for Private Property Quick Towing

To optimize the efficacy of Towing Service For Private Property quick towing, property owners should adopt several best practices:

Clear and Conspicuous Signage: Installing clear and conspicuous signage indicating parking regulations and towing policies is imperative. These signs serve as a deterrent against unauthorized parking and provide legal justification for towing actions.

Timely Notification: Property owners should provide timely notification to vehicle owners before initiating towing procedures. This not only fosters transparency but also allows vehicle owners an opportunity to remedy the situation before towing occurs.

Documentation: Maintaining comprehensive documentation of towing incidents, including photographs, timestamps, and written records, is essential. This documentation serves as crucial evidence in the event of disputes or legal challenges.

Collaboration with Law Enforcement: Establishing a collaborative relationship with local law enforcement agencies can streamline towing operations on private property. Law enforcement officers can provide support and assistance when dealing with contentious situations or repeat offenders.

Regular Review and Updates: Property owners should regularly review and update their towing policies to adapt to changing circumstances and regulations. By staying proactive, they can ensure the continued effectiveness and legality of their towing practices.

Conclusion

In conclusion, Towing Service For Private Property quick towing is a vital component of property management and safety enforcement. By understanding the significance, regulations, and best practices associated with this service, property owners can maintain order, safety, and efficiency on their premises. Collaboration with professional towing companies, adherence to regulations, and proactive management are key to successful private property quick towing operations.

#Towing Service For Private Property

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towingservi · 1 year ago

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Accident towing service Washington DC-Towing Services in DC It can be annoying if your car’s battery dies but the private property Towing Washington DC can save you from any hassle. Our professional team can get your car going again quickly and reliably by giving it a jump start

#Private property towing Washington DC

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genderfluid-insomniac · 11 months ago

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Mechanic Wukong and Street Artist Macaque with a poly reader

Artists: pedrinho_lmk (left) and @scotchy-pie-art (right)

Mechanic Sun Wukong

Originally met you when your car broke down for seemingly no reason on your way to work and called a tow company that took your car into his shop. Wukong’s always been a morning person, even though he loves sleeping in, so he’s working down his list of chores with a white tank top covered in spots of grease and oil.

Wukong usually has his hair pulled back and will ask you to tie his fluffy ginger hair back so it doesn’t get caught in any car parts or dirty from oil. Loudly purrs when you comb through his mane, carefully detangling knots and cleaning any bits of dirt or grit.

Whenever you have a day off to stop by the shop he’ll purposely wipe off anything on his face with his tank top which shows bits of his bare stomach. He’ll use any and every excuse to take off his shirt, saying it’s too hot out or he doesn’t want to ruin his clothing which is already covered in oil and grease.

Wukong’s very strong already from training but his job only enhances that because cars are a couple of tons and he has a habit of sticking part of his tongue out when he’s focused which makes your mind wander.

A good part about your mate being a mechanic in addition to being the great sage is that with his powers he can find the issue with the vehicle quickly with the help of his eyes of truth which helps him end the day early a lot of the time and lets him get back to you earlier than usual.

You both love it when he throws and catches you in the air or carries you in an absurd but secure position partially to show off to others and you. You love it because it gives you butterflies and you’re never scared he’s going to drop you because he cares so much for you and he’s not that much of an airhead when it comes to you.

He's a great multitasker cause he can use his tail which comes in hand for both working and at home ;) Unfortunately, it is usually used for the various colors of paint splattered on a car, sometimes in a design or pattern, while his main focus is the engine or undercarriage.

Street Artist Macaque

Speaking of paint, Macaque is a well-known street artist who only leaves a special signature of his and so because of that he doesn’t have to worry about being recognized or harassed by police. All of his work is done with passion and originality, very rarely his art is on private property or people’s belongings and some are inspired by things he’s seen or people that are interesting to him (i.e. you).

However, a fair amount of his work is purposely painted on cars because he knows Wukong’s probably going to be the one to deal with it and adores the groans of agony from his frenemy. You’re kind of disappointed at his smug grin whenever Wukong throws a wrench or whatever is in reach of him at your boyfriend who partially deserves it and shouts an apology to the mechanic who greets you kindly.

He first met you when he was spray painting a unique design about a recent protest to raise awareness in his special way on a sidewall of a coffee shop when you walked out to take out the trash and saw him floating mid-spray as your eyes met his golden ones. You turned your head to call for your manager but got silenced by Macaque’s hand covering your mouth and gave him 2 minutes to explain, long story short you both intrigued each other and started to have dates discussing both of your jobs. Mainly he doesn’t solely rely on his work as an artist but also as a performer and combat instructor.

He does adore it when you sneak out with him to help with his art or to provide company as he paints although he’d much prefer you get a healthy amount of sleep each night even if he feels a bit lonely without you. Your health is a priority to him but if it’s during the day and in a more discreet place whether alleyway or back of the building he’ll bring you with him, often taking breaks to eat lunch while you both talk about certain aspects of that design that could be improved or highlighted.

You’re well aware of his artistic gifts because of the looks he gives you before you leave or anytime you’re near a work of his art and usually the crowd surrounding the artwork gives it away as well. It’s never expressed obviously that it’s you in the piece of art because if it was then you might be questioned about the identity of the rogue artist who is secretly your boyfriend and Macaque wouldn’t want that ever. So a lot of them have the symbolism of you and what he loves about you, some of them having somewhat clear images of your face if you squint and those are personally his favorites.

He assures you he’s very good at remaining hidden when doing his “illegal” street art because of his advanced hearing shadow powers so with both it’s very easy to make a quick escape if he hears the police or sees something that’d get him caught. It also comes in handy when you’re out with him if he’s ever in danger or if someone attacks since it means he can get you out of there quickly. This goes the same for if you run into trouble with him at night since you have self-defense and your boyfriend has helped by giving you tips on how to improve. He’s going to prioritize you if anything happens despite any claims from you and he won’t let anything hurt you regardless if it’s to get back at him or not.

Mechanic Sun Wukong + Street Artist Macaque (poly)

Surprise surprise you met both of them when they were trying to spite one another which as one could guess is when Macaque was trying to get back at Wukong so he spray-painted your car with a crude design and so you had to forget heading to work. That led you to Wukong’s repair shop and saw the very annoyed look on his face when he saw the trouble you were facing, especially since you both found the other very attractive eventually when he was able to remove the paint you both exchanged numbers. He threw out some obvious flirts about how beautiful you were and you couldn’t ignore how he was shirtless surely because of how hot it was showing off how toned and gorgeous he was.

Macaque however followed his “victim” through their shadow and relished in the annoyance he saw he gave the king, turning to see the no-doubt pain on his victim’s face only to see your divine face twisted in a frown and now regretting defacing your car. On the one hand, he was glad he met you but on the other, he already ruined your day and you seemed like a nice person. The fact that Wukong flirted with you only made him annoyed and he already wanted to know you more (after he apologized first of course), spiting him by becoming closer to you was a bonus now since he’d already planned to ask you out and now he had the perfect introduction planned. Shortly after you got out of work, he popped up beside your car and apologized in his own special way, flirting with you with a smirk proudly on his face and genuinely apologizing before getting your number.

Both of them ended up finding out they were attempting to date you and only tried to one-up each other in terms of winning your heart, making it a bit too obvious that you were the center of their affections and trying to make help understand you loved them both. You were able to get them both inside your apartment and sit them down to say that you loved them both dearly and couldn’t choose, all of you agreeing to a polyamorous relationship and ending the night in cuddles.

In your free time, you can often find both of your boyfriends playing their silly game of back and forth which leads to a repeated war of the whole thing. Meanwhile, all you want is to just be cuddled and not pay for excess repairs if it’s your car even with your boyfriend doing it free of cost. It takes little to convince them to give up their squabbles and give each of them kisses or any kind of affection and they’ll melt into your hands. Both of them will protect you from any harm (whether it’s from police from Mac’s illegal art or enemies who want to use you to get to Wukong) and it’s one of the few things there’s never any arguing on, focusing on your safety and taking care of the threat while the other makes sure you’re alright or hidden.

#lmk macaque #lmk x reader #monkie kid macaque #six eared macaque #lmk macaque x reader #macaque x reader #lego monkie kid #lego monkie kid x reader #lego monkie king #lmk sun wukong #lmk sun wukong x reader #sun wukong x reader #sun wukong

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juletheghoul · 5 months ago

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Request for another hurt/comfort the General bit (I'm counting the period chapter in that category). 'Greedy' made me think of other potential lovers that the Reader had in the past, maybe another master who had her before Marcus. Except not so much a lover but a slave owner using his property. And maybe this guy has some fancy job and gets invited to an event at the General's estate. And maybe he sees her and makes comments or approaches her in private. I'd love to see Marcus's reaction to something like that!

okay nonny, I see youuuu! Okay so I'm not sure if this is what you had in mind, but my mind raced and it is what it is - hope you enjoy! 🩷🩷

(thanks @absurdthirst for talking this one out with me!)

Lets get into it:

smut under the cut - 18+ and don't read more if you aren't into exhibitionism (not beta'ed and probably full of errors)

word count; 1.6k (series masterlist)

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He yawned, despite all of the flesh on display. You, were much more affected.

It had started out like every other gathering, food and soft music, raucous laughter and all manner of delights to draw the eye. Slaves adorned in intricate masks posed on pedestals, their bodies covered in white paint to make them look like living statues. Prominent Gladiators stood sentinel, stock still and oiled to showcase their bodies, breathing weapons, standing at the ready for the pleasure of the distinguished guests filling the halls.

Inevitably, the flesh on display had worked it's magic on the guests, and the lively conversation, had descended into cries of pleasure. The soft music changed from lutes and harps, to the wet, obscene sound of flesh meeting flesh. The liquid squelch of arousal ringing out around you.

It was hard not to think on what it sounded like when your Dominus took you, his lovely sounds in your ear, his cock coated in your desire for him, and it was in you to mount him then and there, but he had not given any indication that he desired this, and so you stood beside him, shifting your weight from foot to foot, ignoring the ache of emptiness between your legs.

Despite his hunger for your body, a thing he indulged in almost daily to your great delight, he was an intensely private person. Anything he did in public, was to send a message, to secure his peace and to remind anyone who showed him disrespect, that he was not someone to be trifled with. For you, there was no difference. Whether he took you here, in front of everyone, or at the villa where you were alone, it made you drip all the same. There was no shame left, only lust.

He was speaking to another, a friendly conversation while your hands fidgeted with your tunic, when you saw a ghost from your past. A former owner, recognition and delight on his face. That Dominus had given you pleasure as well, not nearly as much as your General, and never privately, he liked to be in the middle of it, to be spoiled and shared. He enjoyed the spectacle of excess.

He smiled wide, making his way over to you with one of his girls, and one of his boys in tow, both of them roughly your age.

Marcus saw him approach, and you felt him tense.

"I see you have been blessed by Fortuna, found yourself in the house of General Marcus," He smiled at you, benevolent. "and he has brought you here, much to my delight-" He ran his finger down your arm softly, you felt nothing. "Come, let us move to a private room and indulge as we did-" His words were cut short, when Marcus' hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you away and onto his lap.

"I think you have forgotten who she belongs to, I have not given you leave to touch." His hand lands on your thigh, heavy and so welcome where you were draped across his lap. Your hands instantly wrapping themselves around his neck.

"Oh come now Marcus, what is it to share amongst friends-"

"We are not friends." He places a kiss at your throat, his voice like ice despite the petal soft feel of his lips on your skin, "and I do not share."

Your heart raced, and you couldn't help but giggle softly, this was what you wanted, for him to claim you in front of all.

The other man let out a huff, half laughing, half disbelieving.

"They are but slaves, why bring one as lovely as her if not to tempt, I offer mine to you freely, in the spirit of good will." He thrusts his girl forward, the boy too, both of them staring at the way Marcus pulls your tunic to the side to kiss your shoulders, their gaze devouring the path of his big hand sliding under your tunic to caress the wet slit between your legs. His mouth pulls away, but his fingers glide between the lips of your sex slowly, slipping over your clit in soft, wet strokes.

"What I do with what's mine, concerns me, and me alone." He turns to watch your face, how your mouth hangs open, how your breath catches with every delicious swirl, "What say you, girl, should I share you?" He punctuates his words by sliding two thick fingers inside you as deep as they can go and you moan, wantonly.

"No Dominus, please no, just you." You press forward, pressing your lips to his despite not being given leave to have his mouth and he laughs into the kiss, pulling away after a moment and you whimper when he takes his fingers out. He rubs them against your lips like a rich Roman woman would with the juice of a pomegranate, before sliding them into your mouth.

"You may leave us." He speaks to the man, keeping his lust blown eyes on the way you hollow your cheeks around his fingers.

Once the man walks away, tail tucked between his legs, you shift, feeling him hard and heavy underneath you.

"Shall we return to the Villa? Or would you like me to take you here and now?" His lips bite at your ear and your heart races to have him offer this to you, control, choice, luxuries that you have not been afforded in this life. It is such a vast difference from the life you led up until you came to be in his service. Servitude is servitude, that will never change, but you've never wanted anyone as much as you want him, you sometimes think that what you feel for him, might be more akin to obsession, something dark and all encompassing.

You bite your lip, smiling conspiratorially in the strong cage of his arms.

"I would have you take me here and now Dominus, I would have you show them who I belong to." You speak into his ear, sucking a mark into his neck, he rewards you with a deep groan and a heavy palm on your ass.

"Stand." His voice is commanding, and makes your nipples hard as pebbles. "I will take you from behind, so everyone can see how well you take my cock." He whispers it in your ear, turning you so you lean against the lectus, he hands another blow, a loud crack on your backside that makes you jump.

Gooseflesh spreads across your skin as you feel him lift your tunic, rolling it in on itself at your waist so it doesn't fall, and within a heartbeat you feel the blunt tip of him prodding at your seam. His hand slides around, and he puts it to your mouth, palm up.

"Spit." He commands, and you obey. It's filthy, and your heart beats like a hummingbird in your cunt at his tone. Eyes find you, of slaves and owners alike and they smile, enjoying the show and you smile back, the arousal like the teeth of some great wolf around your neck.

His first thrust was like a punch, and your body bent forward, your face pressing to the silky fabric of the lectus both in relief, and on fire.

"No, no girl, you will stay up, and see how they watch you take my cock." He lifted you up, pressing his hand to your throat to keep you upright.

"Yes Dominus." You replied, eyes half lidded in pleasure as he pulled himself out and thrust back in. He was harder than you'd ever felt him, hot and heavy inside and you couldn't do anything but stand there, on the tips of your toes and take what he gave. His breath came out in pants in your ear, his thrusts hard enough to make your breasts bounce, the hardened tips of them tickled by the fabric of your tunic.

Eyes of other slaves watched, and a wave of slick seeped out to find them almost covetous of the pleasure your Dominus so freely gave you, of the way his hand slipped around once more to find your neglected little clit, to pinch it between wet, spit-soaked fingers and pull your world apart. The sharp, starburst of pleasure spreading like a tidal wave throughout the network of your veins and he laughed in your ear.

"Already? just a little pinch and you gush all over me, girl?" He sped up, drawing out the pleasure until you all but wept, his cock kissing something divine inside you. "You like them watching you take it, you like it when I claim you for all to see, you like being mine don't you, girl?" His pace stuttered, affected by his own words and you turned your face to meet him in a misaligned kiss, whispering into his mouth that yes, yes you did, holding one hand on his at your throat, while bringing the other to hold the weight of your breast.

"I want your gift Dominus, please, may I have it? Please?" You begged him, relishing the way he couldn't contain himself, pushing himself deep enough to hit your womb, pleasure and pain mingling together as he ground himself almost too deep and painting your insides with his spend.

"It's yours-" His whisper was gravel in your ear, softer words following and for a moment you can almost convince yourself you’d heard him say I'm yours but you ignore it, your imagination and your arousal running rampant. Instead you wait until he pulls himself out, and turn in his arms ignoring the eyes that follow you and wrap your arms around his neck. You claim a kiss, licking into his mouth with an authority unavailable to you in any other aspect of your life. His seed leaks out of you, dripping onto your inner thighs as he pulls you close, letting you take your fill.

"Can you take me home Dominus?" You press kisses to his throat, running your tongue across where you feel his heart beating there, "I desire for you to take me again." He shudders softly and never in your life, have you ever felt more powerful.

He nods and you smile.

Tag list: @frannyzooey @greeneyedblondie44 @lola4pedro @221bshrlocked @artsymaddie @supernaturalgirl20 @sleep-tight1 @sherala007 @cannedsoupsucks @thirstworldproblemss @ilikechocolatemilkh @freeshavocadoooo @hrk-fic-recs @maxwell--lord @the-feckless-wonder @kirsteng42 @thisshipwillsail316 @feministfanboi @stevie75 @readsalot73 @pedrostories @tobealostwanderer @mandocrasis @elegantduckturtle @diogodxlot @alczysz17 @evyiione @absurdthirst @beskarboobs @andruxx @littlemissoblivious @1800-fight-me @maievdenoir @gracie7209 @omlwhatamidoinghere @magikfanatic @frankiecatfish @pedritoispunk @studythoreauly @missswriter @pintsizemama @mswarriorbabe80 @a-trial-run-on-paper @la-le-lu @chickadee-djarin @dobbyjen @rosiefridayrogersunday @ajeff855 @johnsrevelation @the-witty-pen-name @zombiesnips-blog @sarahjkl82-blog @fan-of-encouragement @queenofthecloudss @deadhumourist @felicisimor @toomanystoriessolittletime @what-iwish-you-knew @pedrostories @athalien @bi-thewayy @literallydontlook @pedrosbrat @gamingaquarius @localddreamers @luxmundee @iamafadedmoon @nakhudanyx @littlemisspascal @grogusmum @recklessworry @heyitmelexie @killyspinacoladas @gothicxbarbie @evildxad @dragonslarimar @spideysimpossiblegirl @chemtrail-mix @breezythesimp @altarsw @artooies-scream @staygolddindjarin @softsweetedbeauty @littlemisspascal @yuiopiklmn @squidwell @just-blogging-around @bbyanarchist @girlofchaos @maddiedrmr @frasmotic @acourtofsnakes @buckybarneshairpullingkink @astoryisaloveaffair @harriedandharassed @shirks-all-responsibilities @androah @alwaysachorusgirl @dindjarinsmut @captain-jebi @gallowsjoker @tusk89 @dadbodfanatic-x @naiomiwinchester @blazedprince @avidreader73 @mr-underhills-things @avengersfan25 @tastygoldentaters @nyotamalfoy @mymindfuckery @its-nebuleuse @missladym1981 @inept-the-magnificent @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @ladyofmidlo72 @greenvita

#julesanswers #marcus acacius #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius x female reader #the general #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #marcus acacius x y/n

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yandere-daydreams · 2 years ago

Text

Title: Saved And Fucked By The Moth Man.

Pairing: Mothman x F. Reader (Cryptozoology).

Word Count: 3.6k.

TW: Death/Gore, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Inhuman Anatomy, Generalized Monster-Fucking, Car Crashes, Reader's Pretty Questionable In This One, and Blood.

Based On The Results of This Poll.

You thought it could’ve been a bird, at first.

A raven, or a crow – you weren’t entirely sure. Something big and black that flew so quickly, you hadn’t been able to make out anything more specific than a dark blur and the vague impression of feathers before it was gone, vanishing into the shadows of the forest before you could realize that you'd reflexively swerved to avoid it, before you could do anything to stop yourself from crashing into the base of an oak so tall and so opposing, it wouldn’t so much as shake under the force of the collision. By the time you stumbled out of your wrecked car, the windshield shattered and the engine utterly decimated, whatever threw you off-course had been gone, and you’d been left alone on a country backroad in the middle of nowhere - bruised, sore, and miles away from the nearest city. Really, the only way your night could get worse was if—

Thunder cracked somewhere in the distance, quaking through the otherwise silent forest. You glanced up, searching for the sky through the dense canopy of overlapping branches and finding it overcast. It’d rain, pretty soon, and you’d be left lost, injured, and drenched.

Well, at least now, it really couldn’t get any worse.

You fished your phone out of your pocket and pressed your back against the most in-tact side of your car, checking if you had reception for the millionth time. Of course, you didn’t, and of course, your battery was in the single digits – too low to justify using your flashlight and risking leaving yourself alone in the dark with a dead phone and no way to call for help if you did, somehow, manage to make it to the border of civilization.

You considered crawling into what was left of the backseat of your car, turning off your phone, and hoping someone else drove down this godforsaken road in the morning, but before you could let exhaustion dampen your better judgement, you heard something in the woods rustle, the sounds of displaced leaves and cracking twigs standing out against the stillness of the woods. Somewhat hesitantly, you turned towards the disturbance, half-expecting to see wolves or coyote or, as unlikely as it was, the same over-sized bird that’d gotten you into this, but instead, much to your relief, you found a group of three men – hunters, judging by the riffles slung over their backs, the dirt caked into their shoes. None of them were wearing visibility gear, and you couldn't say it seemed like a great idea to go skulking through the forest in the middle of the night, but you were already out of your comfort zone. You couldn’t be sure what people walking around in the woods at night were supposed to look like, and at that point, you didn’t really care.

You grinned, moving to call out to them, but the oldest of the group was already addressing you, already stepping out of the forest and onto the road. “What do you think you’re doing out here, darlin’?”

Your expression faltered, but you kept your spirits up. It was fine. This was fine. You could deal with a little backwoods chauvinism until you got to a mechanic. “Got into an accident,” you said, nodding towards where your car where it bent around the oak’s trunk. “No service, either. I guess I wouldn’t be able to bother one of you kind people to call a tow truck, would I?”

There was a long, silent pause. The two younger men exchanged a glance. Again, the oldest spoke to you. “This is private property, y’know. Not a lot of folks come through this patch of woods.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know. I… I’m just in town for the convention.” One of the younger men slid his rifle off of his shoulder, taking it in both hands. The other followed in-suit. “It’s a beautiful area. If I had to get stranded, I’m glad it was here.”

“So, no relatives nearby? Nobody who’d notice if you didn’t get home in the mornin’?”

You pressed yourself against the dented metal, your smile now strained. “You know what?” You asked, forcing out an airy chuckle. “I think I’ll just walk for it. How far could the next town be, right?”

He held up a hand, signaling to the rest of his group. You heard something click, caught boots scraping against rough pavement, and watched a broad grin form across the older man’s features. “Looks like there’s gonna be a hunt tonight after all, boys.”

Your first reflex was, somewhat counterintuitively, to laugh. The sound was jarring, too loud and too stilted, cutting your lips and catching in your throat like pieces of broken glass.

Your second, triggered when one of the younger men moved to step toward you, was to run for your life.

Without thought, without hesitation, you broke into a dead-sprint. There was a holler behind you, a round of hollow clicks and earth-shaking thuds, and then, they were chasing you.

You couldn’t be sure how far you made it. It felt like you ran for seconds, or days, or years. It felt like you traveled miles, or feet, or just a few steps. Everything looked like the same repetitive blur of trees taller than your eyes could follow and roots that jutted from the earth like pikes. Their footsteps remained constant, never growing closer or farther away, always lingering somewhere just behind you, always just barely breathing down your neck. Fuck this. Fuck your car. Fuck this entire goddamn town and their stupid convention. If you made it out of this alive, you’d spend the rest of your life as far from this state as you could get. Coming here had been a stupid idea to begin with, a spontaneous trip planned at the last minute and based on a half-baked desire to see something that probably didn’t even exist. You just thought you might’ve been able to see—

Your foot caught on a half-buried stone, and you were sent crashing into the earth, your shoulder taking the brunt of the fall. You were left on the ground, cursing under your breath and holding your aching arm as you scrambled to get back on your feet, to keep moving before your would-be murderers caught up with you. You weren’t fast enough, though – you couldn’t be, not when they’d always been on your heels, not when you’d already given them an opportunity to put their quarry out of its misery. You’d barely started to push yourself up when they emerged from the tangle of trees, guns cocked and hunting knives drawn. You shrunk into yourself, threw your arms over your face in a last-ditch effort to protect yourself, despite knowing that a bullet would tear through your skin like paper, despite being able to picture your body lying lifeless on the forest floor, bleeding out in the dirt like a wild animal. The last thing you saw was the oldest man, raising his riffle and aiming towards your chest before you shut your eyes.

You heard a shot, sudden and deafening, but the impact never came.

You felt something whip past you. There was a scream, wordless and torn and cut short with a ragged screech and a wet, visceral sound – like flesh being carved open, like teeth tearing into raw meat. It was all you could do to curl into yourself, sinking into your self-made shelter as the forest descended into the sounds of carnage, only falling silent when there was nothing left to cut down. Even then, it took you long, agonizing seconds to open your eyes, to take in the gore splattered across the grass and dirt, the guns that’d been bent and twisted into shapes they weren’t meant to hold. A disembodied leg laid to your side, the torso it’d been ripped from impaled on a branch nearly twenty feet off of the ground. Clumps of torn muscle and split entrails shined reddish-silver in the limited moonlight, but you could only focus on the gore for so long.

Only a few yards away, a man stood in front of you. Only, it wasn’t a man, not really, not when you looked beyond its – his? hers? theirs? – vaguely humanoid form. Its long legs and lanky arms were coated in a thin layer of grey, shaggy fur that grew shorter and finer over its defined chest. You could make out curved talons extending from its massive hands, a pair of ringed antennae curled back along its scalp, a pair of tattered wings folded against its back. Its head might’ve been the strangest part of its anatomy; low and stooped, too round to resemble anything human and too featureless inspire anything but an uncanny sense that you weren’t supposed to be here. From a distance, the only thing you could really make out was its eyes. They were gigantic, nearly spherical – orbs of pure crimson that seemed to glow in the dim light.

Before you could stop yourself, your attention drifted downward, to the space between its legs. It took you an embarrassingly long moment to recognize what you were looking at – the shaft absent of all veins or definition beyond a perfect spiral ridge that coiled from the base to the flushed, lilac-shaded head. The tip was tapered, ending in a sharp slant and budding with something white and thick. The entire thing looked almost painfully erect, inflating it to a size that, even when compared to the rest of its massive body, sparked a raw, preservationist kind of terror inside of you. Fear took root in the pit of your stomach, sprouting up and into the hollow of your chest, making it difficult to breathe, to resist the urge to curl back into yourself and never come out.

Second to only your fear, just as pervasive and twice as instinctual, was your arousal.

It would’ve been impossible to read its nonexistent expression, but as it shifted its weight, turning to face you, you could’ve sworn the creature was looking at you with as much interest as you held for it. Its scarlet eyes were wide and unfaltering, its gaze only growing more intense as it took a step in your direction, then another, approaching you in slow, tense increments. Despite its stiffness, it didn’t seem awkward or nervous, let alone afraid of you. If anything, it seemed like it was trying not to scare you, even if you couldn’t say there was much weight behind the gesture when you were sitting among the viscera of its last three victims. Still, you held your ground, not daring to so much as blink until it was standing in front of you.

From a distance, it’d been inhumanly tall. Now that it was close enough to touch, it seemed downright monstrous.

With jerky, unpracticed movements, it reached down, towards you. You waited for a beat, then another, and when it failed to pull away or bury its talons in your chest, you hesitantly placed your hand in its palm, a knot forming in the back of your throat as its claws folded and everything up to your wrist was completely encompassed. With a sharp tug, it pulled you to your feet and held steady you when your legs, still shaking, proved too weak to hold your weight. You let out a fleeting, nervous laugh, and in response, it chittered – the sound high-pitched and tittering. It was cute, in the way seeing a lion play with a ball of yarn would’ve been cute. You were still eminently aware that the creature in front of you could end your life, but still.

“Hey,” you managed, eventually, unable to think of anything else to say. You didn’t even know if it could understand you, but you weren’t sure what else to do. “Did you… did you save me?”

Another round of chittering, a slight glimmer in its otherwise blank stare. You smiled. “Thank you, I— I’m not from around here, and I didn’t know I’d have to look out for people like that.” You bowed your head, attempting to let your eyes fall to the ground, but rather, your eyes found its cock again, pressed against its abdomen and leaking. The adrenaline that’d coursed through your veins a few minutes ago was already starting to fade, making room for something else, something closer to an anxious sort of zeal. Something that made you want to do something less than advisable.

Slowly, doing what little you could to stop your hands from shaking, you reached out, your fingertips barely brushing against its soft cheek. It nuzzled into your touch, earning a small smile, a trickle of a laugh. “Poor thing,” you mumbled, almost comforted by the fact that it couldn’t respond, couldn’t mock your poor-excuse for a seductively saccharine tone. “Do you need help with that?”

You saw its talon’s twitch, its wings flutter almost imperceptibly against its back. You weren’t aware that you were moving, not until your back was pressed against the rough bark of the nearest oak, until you felt the clawed hand that it’d wrapped around your waist drop to your hip, then your thigh. The tips of its curved talons scraped against your skin as it ran its claws from your waist to your knee, cutting through the delicate fabric of your shorts and panties and discarding the material without a second thought. The open air was cold against your exposed skin, but something quickly replaced it – a gentle, oppressive warmth that seemed to sap the chill from your skin. Your legs were thrown over its shoulders, held in place by its massive hands as it buried its face between your thighs. You barely had time to straighten your back, to brace yourself before—

Oh.

It was more tongue-like than you’d expected.

Not to say that it was a tongue – you weren’t really sure what you should call it. Long, split at the tip, just rough enough to earn a breathy gasp, a new wave of heat rushing from your core to your head, obscuring your few remaining rational thoughts with a shimmering haze. Its tongue (tendril? proboscis?) ran over the length of your exposed slit, leaving a trail of thick, viscous saliva dripping down the inside of your thighs before jerking its head upward and finding your clit, the tip of its tongue circling the sensitive bundle of nerves as soon as it recognized the airy sounds now falling steadily from your lips for the unabashed moans they were. It was almost experimental, the way it bent and curled its tongue, clearly working towards a quickly approaching goal but constantly looking for a way to get there that much faster, to make your legs twitch that much harder, to force the coil writhing violently in the pit of your stomach wind up that much tighter.

It was all you could do to arch your back against the oak’s trunk and clench your eyes shut, your hands falling to the softened ridge between its curved antennae. Only half-consciously, your attention dominated by the feeling of its coarse tongue swirling over your clit, you raked your fingers through its cropped fur, doing what you could to show the creature your appreciation, your gratitude. You tried to be gentle, but the curling tips of its tongue slipped into your tight entrance and the world burnt white, your body jerking forward and your nails biting into its scalp. There was a deep, guttural sound from somewhere deep in its chest, and its hands rose to your hips, claws scrapping lightly against your skin as its tongue fucked into you. It was thin, but long and so flexible – twisting and coiling against the sensitive walls of your cunt, never repeating the same blissful pattern of thrusts and thrashes more than once. You found yourself grinding into its mouth, seeking out whatever friction you could with the clumsy movements of your hips. The pressure, the weight, the sensation – it was more than you could handle. You could already feel it, a certain tightness in your chest, a tension in your core that—

Without warning, without satisfaction, it pulled away from you, leaving you empty and quickly coming down from a high that you never quite reached. You let out a long whine, more desperate than disappointed, and as if to apologize, the creature nuzzled against the inside of your thigh, chirping softly. Thankfully, your reprieve was a short one. With its hands still on your hips, your body still held aloft by its inhuman strength, you were dragged away from the oak and into its chest as it stood to its full height. Your chest was slotted against the creature’s, the pointed head of its cock pressed flush to your dripping cunt. Its wings fanned out, its hips rolling against yours, and a sharp, aching moan was drawn from your lips as it thrust into you, finally filling you to the brim.

For a long moment, it was all you could do to bury your face in its chest and try to put together a coherent thought. Only half of its length was inside of you, and yet, you could practically feel it pressing into your core, rubbing against the walls of your cunt, the cork-screw ridge that ran from the tip to the base threatening to split you open. It didn’t, though, and even if it had, you couldn’t be sure you would’ve cared. Before the creature could even begin to move, to fuck into you from below, you were grinding against it, mindlessly and desperately trying to chase that fullness, that peak. It didn’t take long for the creature to answer your fervor. There was a raised notch just above the base of its cock, a notch that caught on your clit as it beat into you with heavy, rough strokes. A talon was dragged down the back of your top, tearing the fabric away and allowing its tongue to lave over your chest. All of its gentleness, all of its restraint was thrown aside as its claws dug into your hips, cutting through skin and tinting your pleasure with an intensity that wouldn’t have been possible without a drop of pain.

A scream, wild and euphoric, was torn from your throat, and you wrapped your legs around its waist, dragging your own nails over its back as you fought to keep some part of yourself grounded. Even that was an effort made in vain. You heard its wings shift, felt the air rush against your skin, and suddenly, you were breaking through the canopy – speared on the creature’s cock mid-air, being fucked against the backdrop of the dark, velveteen sky. The shock, the adrenaline, the thrill was enough to leave you clenching around the creature’s cock, your vision burning white as you came undone. You might’ve been able to come down, to melt back into its thrusts and its affection, if something hadn’t clicked in its chest, if its wings hadn’t started to move a little faster, if something hadn’t happened and the creature hadn’t started to emit a sort of reverberating droll – the sort throbbing vibration that only seemed to make the friction against your clit, the feeling of it stretching you open more perfect. You couldn’t be sure how long you stayed in that hazy, half-conscious state – limp and moaning in the arms of a monster, always either spilling over your high or riding out the aftershocks. It only came to a climax – a real climax – when the creature stiffened against you, its cock twitching violently inside of your cunt. It pulled you as close as it possibly could and, with one last wave of pulsing reverberation, released something thick inside of you – viscous and warm and translucent. Like sap. Like nectar.

Light-headed and blissed-out, you buried your face in its chest as it began to descend, the sound of your giddy laughter muffled by its fur. This time, when it pulled away from you with an apologetic chirp, you didn’t complain, only pressing one more lingering kiss into the curve of its shoulder and letting it draw back. Your legs were too weak to hold your weight, so you braced yourself against the nearest oak as the creature disappeared into the dark of the forest, returning a few moments later with a bundle of bloody fabric in its arms. A shirt – a little torn but mostly in one piece, taken from one of the hunters’ corpses, clearly meant to replace your own ruined clothes. You smiled as you slipped it over your head. It was a size too big, and it was sure to raise a few questions, but it would do until you could find help. Whatever ‘help’ meant, at that point.

When you were finished, the creature took you up again; wrapping an arm around your waist and catching you under your knees, pulling you against its broad chest. This time, as it soared over the forest, you were able to admire view, the star-lit sky and sprawling woodland before it landed where the forest had started to thin and give way to the outskirts of a small town. Slowly, carefully, it lowered you to the ground, keeping you upright when your unsteady balance wavered. You laughed and, for longer than a moment, you held its unblinking gaze, Eventually, your hands fell into its claws, your smile turning bitter-sweet and sentimental. “Will I ever see you again?”

There was a slight chittering, a gentle squeeze to your hand. You felt its tongue against your cheek and let your eyes fall shut. By the time you could bring yourself to open them again, Mothman – because it was Mothman, you could only deny it for so long – was gone, barely a silhouette in the distance. You heard the crack of thunder, and watched it fly away as the sky broke open and rain spilled out.

The next day, you would learn that a bridge about twenty miles outside of the city the creature left you in had collapsed the night before, killing hundreds.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere prompts #yandere monster #monster x reader #monster fucking #yandere mothman #mothman x reader #yanderecore #yancore

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m-12-7-jo · 2 years ago

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"Anytime you seek help from the police, you're inviting them into your community and putting people who are already vulnerable into dangerous situations.

But we can build trusted networks of mutual aid that allow us to better handle conflicts ourselves and move towards forms of transformative justice [...]."

"Don't feel obligated to defend property – especially corporate "private" property. [...] ask yourself if anyone is being hurt or endangered by property "theft" or damage. If the answer is no, then let it be."

"If something of yours is stolen and you need to file a report for insurance or othe purposes, consider going to the police station instead of bringing cops into your community."

"If you observe someone exhibiting behavior that seems "odd" to you, don't assume that they are publicly intoxicated. Ask if they are OK, if they have a medical condition, and if they need assistance."

"If you see someone pulled over with car trouble, stop and ask if they need help or if you can call a tow truck for them."

"Keep a contact list of community resources like suicide hotlines. [...] people with mental illness are sixteen times more likely to be killed by cops than those without mental health challenges."

"Check your impulse to call the police on someone you believe looks or is acting 'suspicious'. Is their race, gender, ethnicity, class, or housing situation influencing your choice?"

"[...] create a culture of taking care of each other and not unwittingly putting people in harm's way." As in, encourage others to avoid inviting police into community and public spaces, including rallies and demonstrations.

"If your neighbor is having a party and the noise is bothering you, go over and talk to them. Getting to know your neighbors [...] is a good way to make asking them to quiet down a little less uncomfortable."

"If you see someone peeing in public, just look away!"

"Hold and attend de-escalation, conflict resolution, first aid, volunteer medic, and self-defense workshops in you neighborhood, school, workplace, or community organization."

"Don't report graffiti and other street art[tists]. If you see work that includes fascist or hate speech, paint over it yourself or with friends."

"Remember, you can support friends and neighbors who are being victimized by abusers by offering them a place to stay, a ride to a safe location, or to watch their children. Utilize community resources like safe houses and hotlines." (You could also offer to store money for them in a safe location if they need that)

Source: 12 Things to Do Intead of Calling The Cops.

#leftist theory #things we can do #community organizing #advice #safety tips #police violence #tags to get the notes out #my notes.

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somedaylazysomeday · 11 months ago

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Hooked

Billy Butcher x fem!reader

You're called to tow Butcher's truck. He's unsurprisingly offended by that. (Takes place before the pilot of The Boys)

Rating: Mature. Minors DNI

Word Count: 4,600

Warnings: Swearing, veiled threats, feelings of helplessness, mentions of alcohol, descriptions of injuries from a fight, insults, and frank discussions of sexuality. (Butcher is his own warning, tbh)

Next | Masterlist

---

When most people said they were on a run, it meant that they were getting some exercise. Or going to the store. Or maybe fleeing from enemies.

For you, a ‘run’ meant that you were out to tow a car from an illegal space. Honestly, it felt like fleeing from enemies sometimes, but that was only because the customers of your Uncle Bo’s tow service and impound lot didn’t want his product. Like any customer service job, you had your share of unpleasant interactions.

This particular one was an easy pickup. Some guy had parked on private property and the owners were having his car towed. Simple, quick, legal. Those were the best jobs, at least in your opinion. Bo tended to favor jobs where he could get a little extra for helping or inconveniencing the right people.

You didn’t need to pay attention to the familiar motions of placing the lift under the car’s front wheels. It was an older car with significant damage to the paint and body, so you didn’t have to worry that you and Bo would be sued for scratches or dents. In fact, there were good odds that the car had been abandoned on the property.

Still, you kept an eye on the surrounding neighborhood as you worked. This wasn’t a good part of the city. Just because you could take care of yourself in a nasty situation didn’t mean you wanted to get in one.

“Hold on, love,” an accented voice called. “That’s mine.”

You turned, already dreading the conversation. You had been helping your Uncle Bo long enough to not be cowed by many people, but that didn’t mean confrontations with angry vehicle owners were fun.

Fortunately, this vehicle owner - dark-haired and wearing a long coat - didn’t seem to be angry… yet. He also didn’t seem to need any input from you to keep the conversation going. “I’ll need you to lower my car back down. I’m on official business. Agent Butcher, CIA.”

The skepticism was clear on your face, you were sure of it. “Do you have some kind of identification?”

His eyebrows lifted, but not in disbelief. No, it was like he took your words as a challenge, one that he relished. He fished inside his black leather duster and retrieved a wallet. He flashed a shining badge at you, making sure you could see the identification card displayed in the opposite panel. “That all you needed?”

“Yeah,” you agreed, climbing back into the bed of the truck you drove to pick up tows across the city. The parking brake was already locked, so engaging the lift mechanism only took the press of a few buttons.

Your new friend was finally displeased. With a face like thunder, he stood outside of the truck and frowned up at your open window. You had already locked the doors, of course, but you were ready to start rolling up the window if needed. This wouldn’t be the first time you’d had a pickup get violent.

“Last chance, love,” he growled, accent thicker than ever. “Let me car down or I’ll have you charged with obstruction of justice and inconveniencing a federal officer.”

That surprised a laugh out of you. The man looked equally surprised, though with a lot more displeasure than you felt. “It’s not a crime to inconvenience a federal officer.”

“C’mon,” he urged, leaning heavily against the outside of your door. It was hard to claim that he was breaching your personal space through a truck door, especially when his expression changed to one of pleading. “Do me one favor. Just one.”

“Fine,” you conceded with a sigh. The triumphant smile that flashed over his handsome face convinced you that you were doing the right thing. “Here’s your favor: get a new forger.”

“Pardon?” he asked, frowning.

“The CIA doesn’t carry badges,” you told him.

He tilted his head at you, pulling out the wallet once more. He flipped it open to display the badge. “Hate to argue with a beautiful bird, but what would you call this?”

“I would call that an FBI badge with ‘CIA’ written across the top.” You reached out through the window to tap on the identification badge with his face on it. “The CIA doesn’t carry badges to show the public. They just have these ID cards. Get a new forger or change your cover story.”

You pulled your arm back into the truck for just long enough to retrieve a business card from the collection stored on top of the passenger sun visor. “Pick up your car here between six and ten pm, or anytime after nine tomorrow morning.”

That face was darkening again, but you didn’t give him the chance to say more than a syllable or two before you were pulling away from the curb. His car on the back of the truck made it more difficult to weave through the heavy traffic of downtown, but you managed. You had been navigating these streets for most of your life. Nothing about this was any different than every other day.

When you dropped the ragged car at the yard, Uncle Bo examined it with an expression of deep skepticism. “Tell me none’a those bumper scratches are from you.”

You scoffed. “How long has it been since I scratched a bumper?”

“Years,” Uncle Bo admitted readily. “You’re getting better.”

“Admit it,” you jabbed, “you’re going to leave this business to me when you finally decide to retire.”

Uncle Bo snorted loudly. “If you’re still around the tow yard when I decide to retire, sure. You’ll have earned it. But you better not hold your breath - I’ve got years of steam left in me.”

“I’ll remind you about that next time I catch you napping in the office.” You turned, patting him on the shoulder. “Speaking of, I’m going to go enter this in the books. The owner caught an attitude. We’ll probably hear from him again and I want to make sure all of our paperwork is in place.”

“Good idea,” Uncle Bo agreed. “I’m heading out for the night, but I’ll have my phone if you need anything. And I don’t nap in the office. My poor old eyes need rest!”

You didn’t bother replying to the age-old argument. Bo was already gone, and you were working the late shift. The lot stayed open until ten most nights, and all of Bo’s other employees had the day off. All two of them. They were both mechanics, and since they had planned to service all of the company vehicles early the next morning, you were stuck at the yard alone that night. Bo would have to cover tomorrow night, his tired eyes be damned.

You weren’t proud to admit that you had zoned out while entering the crappy sedan’s information into the tow yard log. This wasn’t a bad job, but there had to be something more out there. Working a dead-end job at a towing company wasn’t how you wanted to spend your life. Maybe it was time to start job-hunting. Again. During a recession and a notable lack of jobs on the market.

The groan you let out was slightly muffled when your forehead hit the log book.

The rest of your shift was spent at the desk in the back room, scrolling through employment sites on your phone. Tragically, the shitty job market hadn’t improved in the week since you had last checked. It seemed like your options were to stay at the tow yard, work in another equally unfulfilling job, or go back to school and learn to do something useful.

At two minutes past ten, you let your phone clatter loudly onto the table as you began to gather your things. You had chosen to wear a thicker jacket than normal that night. It wasn’t quite winter yet in the city, but it was close enough that the darker hours were unpleasantly chilly. The thick material was warm against your hand when you grabbed the jacket and started to put it on.

And, of course, that was when the phone started to ring.

You stared at it for a long moment, dismayed. It was almost five past ten by that point, which meant you were five minutes past any obligation to pick it up. But you couldn’t risk losing business for your uncle. And if he was happy with the work you had done, he would complain less when you left early the next day.

Cursing your own work ethic, you picked up the phone. “Yeah?”

“I’m here for my fuckin’ car.”

You seriously debated hanging up immediately. It was close, but you managed to hold onto your temper. “We get a lot of that here. Wanna give me some details?”

In a longsuffering tone, your charming caller gave you the license plate number. That information confirmed your suspicions: this was the same man whose car you had picked up earlier in the day.

“I’ll meet you at the gate,” you told him. “Did you bring a form of payment to settle your bill?”

“I’ve got your money,” he growled.

“Great,” you said, then hung up.

You were glowering as you stomped outside into the chilly night. Bo was going to have to pay your overtime. Family or not, you refused to work for free.

“Finally,” the man growled, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat. “Don’t wanna stand here all damn night.”

You stopped, crossing your arms. “We’re closed.”

“Now you tell me?” the man demanded. His accent was even thicker than it had been earlier, a rough British twang. His face was in shadows, but he was clearly irritated. “What the fuck are-?”

“I’ll help you get your car,” you interrupted tersely. “I’m just letting you know that I’m helping you when I don’t have to. Because I’m a great fucking person. You’re welcome. Now give me your ID and stop being an asshole or you can come back when we’re actually open.”

To your shock, he kept his mouth shut and held his ID out for you through the gaps in the chain-link fence. You took it, double checking the name against the one that the car had been registered to. An image labeled ‘Billy Butcher’ smirked up at you from the laminated card until you handed it back.

“Give me your keys and the money. I’ll bring your car.”

Butcher huffed at that. “Not a chance. Let me in and I’ll get my own car.”

“We’re closed,” you reminded, putting your hands on your hips. “I’m not letting you into the yard when I’m the only one here.”

“Fine,” he gritted out, offering a wad of cash. A moment later, a set of keys was also slipped through the fence, dangling from his fingers.

You frowned as you took the money and keys. Were his hands dirty? They looked dark around the knuckles… Quickly, you peeled off the correct number of bills and handed the rest back to him.

“Not taking a tip?” he asked, cocking a dark brow at you.

“I don’t need to steal your money.” With willpower, you managed to keep back a comment about how seeing idiots like him getting their cars towed was payment enough.

“Be careful with her,” Butcher warned. “She’s temperamental.”

He stepped closer to the fence as he cautioned you, and you fought back a gasp. Butcher looked like he had gotten in a few fights in the few hours since you had picked up his car. One of his eyes was black, his lip was split, and one side of his face was beginning to swell. With that image in your head, you could see that his hand wasn’t dirty. His fingers were bruised, dried blood flaking at the joints of his knuckles.

“I’ll be right back.”

Butcher didn’t say anything else as you walked off deeper into the lot, but it didn’t matter. You were lost in thought, trying to remember the signs of a concussion, and you were unlocking the door of his shitty sedan before you thought to wonder why you cared.

Uncle Bo always liked to say that you were too soft-hearted to live in the city. You had always answered that with a snort and a rude comment, but you were starting to wonder if he may be right.

A quick search on your phone brought up a list of symptoms, and you were keeping them fresh in your mind as you pulled the car up to the gate. As soon as you had thrown it into park, you slid from the stained seat and unlatched the chain.

“No stupid moves.” You backed up slightly when Butcher stepped through the gates. “I’m armed.”

Butcher looked you up and down, amusement on his face. “Whatever you say, love. ‘Sides, I don’t want nothing from you except my car.”

You gestured invitingly toward his car. Butcher slid into the seat, caressing the steering wheel for a moment longer than you were comfortable with. He slammed the door, then rolled the window down. “See ya around.”

Your reply - not that you intended to give one - was interrupted when he revved his engine and it promptly died.

Butcher sat in shocked silence for a moment. He broke it almost immediately with a loud curse that he punctuated with a slam of his palm against the steering wheel. “Didn’t engage the battery disconnect, did you.”

“Didn’t know you had one,” you said. “All the shit you said when I towed your car and you didn’t think to tell me you had a battery disconnect?”

“Too busy findin’ out me badge is bullshit, weren’t I?” he hissed.

“The disconnect couldn’t have been on when your car was towed,” you pointed out. “If it had been, it would have been on this whole time.”

“I wasn’t planning to be away from my car that long.” Butcher whacked the dashboard for good measure. “Just needed to scope out the supes. Twenty minute job, then I was gonna be back in and driving away.”

“The supes?” you repeated, frowning. “You were illegally parked in front of the Vought building. That’s why they called me to come tow you. You were spying on them?”

“Someone has to!” he snapped. “Everyone thinks those fuckers are up in their tower, waiting to protect the helpless and all of that shit. But they’re not. They’re a bunch of selfish cunts, and the only things they use their powers for is to get ahead or get off. And you’d better hope you’re never in their way for either of those, or you’ll be gone without anyone to ask what happened to you.”

The silence that fell after that was heavy and awkward. You nodded too many times, eventually finding the voice to say, “I need some coffee. Want some?”

Butcher gave you a look so full of disbelief that you almost apologized outright, but he gave a slow nod. “Yeah.”

You retreated to the office, filling two cheap paper cups with the pot of coffee you had unwisely brewed at eight thirty. Butcher hadn’t told you how he took his coffee, but he had answered one of your more pressing questions: he was definitely concussed.

Ultimately, that was none of your business, but it was still a little concerning. If you let him leave and he crashed his car, would it be your fault? Probably not in a legal sense. You could always claim that you hadn’t known he was injured. But would you be able to handle the guilt if he died or killed someone else?

The moral questions tumbling through your mind kept you so focused on your thoughts that you handed Butcher his cup in utter silence, staring at him. Eventually, he swallowed a sip of the black coffee and begrudgingly said, “Thanks.”

You blinked. “No problem. So, dead battery?”

Butcher scowled into the open hood of his car. “Yeah. Does this a lot.”

“I can get you a replacement,” you suggested. “As long as yours is decent and just needs charged, I can switch it out for another one for free. Or I have jumper cables if it’ll hold a charge long enough for you to get where you’re going.”

With a slow shake of his head, Butcher said, “Nah, the battery is shot. And the alternator was holding on by a thread. This will’ve bumped it off for good. I’ll need a full replacement for both before I can drive this thing more than a mile or two.”

Well. You sighed. “I can’t help you with a full replacement for either. I know a mechanic around the corner, but he’s not gonna be open this late. Best he’ll be able to do is tomorrow morning. At least it’ll be easy to get over there.”

Butcher gave you a sidelong glance. “Suspiciously helpful for someone working after hours.”

“I get paid overtime,” you replied, not missing a beat. “Besides, maybe I’m trying to earn a place in heaven.”

“I know a faster way.” Butcher took another sip of coffee while you waited, brows lifted. “Get a drink with me.”

The non sequitur made you blink. “What?”

“A drink,” he repeated, exaggeratedly slowly. “Something better than shitty coffee. With me. In a bar - I’m not going to a fucking dance club.”

“How did we get from you threatening me to wanting us to get a drink?” you asked.

Butcher smirked, and you suddenly understood the expression ‘curl of the lips’. “I’ve never threatened you, love. Trust me, you’d remember. But it’s been a shit night. Shit week, actually. The only good part of it so far has been you. Best I can figure… you’re the only thing that can keep tonight from being a waste of my fuckin’ time.”

“Flattering,” you said dryly. But you didn’t turn him down. You couldn’t claim to be interested in Billy Butcher. At least, not romantically. You thought he was interesting in a tragic comedy kind of way. More importantly, you thought - if you played your cards right - you might be able to convince him to see a doctor and make sure he didn’t have some kind of concussion-induced brain injury.

“You know what?” you asked, watching Butcher brace for whatever horrible thing he thought you were going to say. “I could use a drink. But I get to choose the place.”

He was quiet for much longer than you had expected, but he nodded at last. “Don’t choose somewhere shitty.”

You rolled your eyes, snatching the coffee cup from his hand. Despite his complaints, it was almost empty, and it sailed neatly into the trash can when you tossed it with an expert hand. “I’ll call my mechanic on the way.”

Butcher paused to lock his car before you left. It was a futile gesture since you would lock the yard’s gate behind you, but he insisted. Besides, it gave you a chance to call the mechanic. You even had time to find a route to your favorite bar that led past a 24-hour health clinic. All you had to do was make light conversation until you made it to the doors…

“Why do you work at a towing company?”

You blinked at the abruptness of the question, but gamely answered it: “My uncle owns it. I’ve been helping him since I was a teenager.”

Butcher grunted. “Most people leave their first job.”

“And what about you?” you asked, a hint of challenge in your voice. “Why do you do what you do? What do you do?”

“I help keep supes from killing us all.”

“Yeah,” you agreed awkwardly. “They seem like a real threat to society with all of the crime-fighting and donations to charity.”

“Public relations, love,” Butcher told you, “nothing more.”

“Of course they use public relations,” you replied, trying to ignore the little tingle that went through you at him using that pet name in that tone. “Most businesses have to do some kind of public relations. Especially big companies like Vought.”

Butcher snorted. “They don’t use PR to neaten up their image; they use it to cover the mountain of shit their pet psychopaths get into. And that lot ain’t heroes. They’re a bunch of cunts with too much power and not enough people to tell ‘em to knock it off. They’re dangerous, and what makes ‘em that way is people like you who think they’re heroes.”

“Okay,” you said slowly, trying to decide between pacifying him by agreeing or antagonizing him so you could hear more of his ranting. It was fascinating and oddly entertaining, and you found yourself slowing down so you could keep talking before he got to the clinic. “But what about-?”

“They ain’t good for society,” he insisted, interrupting you without seeming to notice. “You’re probably more of a hero than they are, and all you do is inconvenience good people.”

“You were parked in a fire lane,” you reminded him, getting irritated. “If anyone was inconveniencing people-”

“Have you ever thought about the people who are around for a supe fight?” Butcher asked, ignoring your excellent point. “Collateral damage, they say. Supes ruin a lot of lives, and it’s supposed to all be worth it.”

“Sometimes,” you conceded. “But it all depends on the situation, right? If you’re just basing it off of lives saved versus lives lost, doesn’t it make more sense to sacrifice a few to save a lot of people?”

Butcher narrowed his eyes at you. “Spoken like someone who’s never had to see a kid crushed by a car or a couple cut in half by a laser beam.”

“What are you doing about it, since you hate supes so much?”

“Fuck-all,” Butcher told you. At your strange look, he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Seems like it most days, anyway.”

“And on the other days?” you pressed.

“The other days…” He frowned, staring at the dirty sidewalk in front of you both, but he didn’t really seem to see it. “Some days, I help people. Help ‘em from being the next statistic Vought sweeps under the fuckin’ rug, you know?”

You didn’t, not really. But something about the weariness in his voice was familiar, and you felt its echo in your chest. “Yeah, I know.”

Both of you fell silent after that, but it wasn’t uncomfortable or stilted. You were at ease beside him as you walked. In fact, you were almost a little sad when you saw that you were rapidly approaching your secret destination.

Halfway up the block, a small medical clinic advertised its services with signs in multiple languages and a well-illuminated caduceus symbol. The automatic doors opened at odd intervals to let patients in or out, spilling light across the sidewalk every time. It was staffed and reliable without being crowded, and everything in the clinic was ruthlessly clean. It was the place you took Uncle Bo, your coworkers, and yourself if something happened at the tow yard, or if someone was feeling under the weather. They had always been good to you, and you knew they would be good to Billy Butcher, too.

“Maybe we should stop here for a minute,” you suggested, pausing by the door.

Butcher glanced up at the sign, dark brows furrowing. The next instant, his eyes were roaming up and down your body and face. “You hurt?”

“No, but you might be.” Butcher sighed and started walking again, but you didn’t budge. “I’m serious! You might have a concussion and that can end up ruining your life.”

Butcher rounded, now several feet ahead of you. “You really think I don’t know what a concussion feels like? Just call me a pussy. It’s faster.”

You rolled your eyes, but caught up with him as he started walking away again. After a block of irritable silence, he glanced sidelong at you. “Are you actually interested in a drink? Or did you just want to get me to a doctor?”

“Bit of both,” you answered after a moment of consideration.

“Makes one of us,” he muttered. “Don’t know how much I feel like having a drink now. You’ve ruined my appetite.”

“Wanting a drink doesn’t count as an appetite.” You weren’t entirely sure why you were still following Butcher down the sidewalk.

“Is this what you do?” he demanded, stopping short and rounding on you. His face was all righteous fury, dark brows stabbing upward as his nostrils flared. His hands braced against his hips, splaying his coat until he looked like a big creature puffing itself bigger with rage. “Nag people to make yourself feel more important? It’s annoyin’ as fuck.”

You had stopped short to keep from running into Butcher, so it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing that you dropped your eyes to the bit of sidewalk between you. After a few breaths to get yourself back on an even keel, you met his eyes again.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized freely. “I didn’t realize I was bothering you so badly. I’ll have one fo the technicians call you tomorrow morning with details about your car.”

It was your turn to whip around and start walking in the opposite direction. You weren’t entirely shocked when a second set of footsteps began to echo yours. You glanced up at Butcher. “You don’t have to come back with me. I’ll make sure your car gets to the mechanic shop tomorrow.”

“Not gonna let you walk back there alone, am I?” he asked. “There’s too many dumb fuckers about for that.”

There was clearly no point in arguing with him, so you didn’t bother. You wrapped your arms around yourself, even though it made you walk like a duck. The evening was just tipping from cool to cold, especially with the wind picking up. And the lack of conversation between you and Butcher somehow managed to be colder than the autumn night.

“If it makes you feel any better,” you started, breaking the silence, “I don’t think that you’re concussed. Not anymore.”

“Yeah?” Butcher pressed when he had finished giving a loud snort. “What am I then, doctor?”

You stared him full in the face as you replied, “A conspiracy nut with a vendetta against supes. But you’re pretty harmless, all things considered.”

Butcher laughed at that, loud and sharp. The joy made him look more savage, his teeth flashing sharply white against the darkness of his facial hair, and you needed a moment before you could pull your eyes from his face. “Can’t argue with none of that, love. But if you think I’m anywhere near as dangerous as an uncontrolled supe, you haven’t been payin’ attention.”

“Maybe you’re not, but I don’t see any supes around here,” you pointed out. “Controlled or otherwise.”

“Thank fuck for that,” Butcher muttered. “Well, seein’ as I’m not so dangerous after all, maybe we should go get a drink.”

“Thought you weren’t in the mood anymore,” you said, a challenging little tilt to your chin.

Butcher stroked his chin, thoughtful eyes on you. “I could be persuaded. That is, if you’re still in the mood.”

“Not really,” you admitted, watching him deflate slightly from the corner of your eye. “But I have some energy and frustration to burn off. You interested in helping out with that?”

It took a moment for Butcher’s parted lips to form words, and you watched the process patiently. “Are you propositionin’ me?”

“Yes,” you confirmed. “Are you offended by that?”

“Offended you beat me to it.” Butcher’s grin had gone from disbelieving to wolfish in less time than it took to get that sentence out. “And I accept.”

“Good, we’ll go to my apartment,” you decided. “It’s close and clean.”

“Had me at ‘close’,” Butcher told you, trailing close to your heels. “Lead on, love.”

---

Author's Note - This definitely isn't a substantial enough plot to need two parts, but I ran out of time to edit. Explicit part two coming tomorrow!

#fanfic february #fanfic february 2024 #the boys #the boys amazon #reader insert #billy butcher #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher x you #fem!reader #reader insert fanfiction #reader insert fic #the boys fanfic

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count-alucard-tepes · 5 months ago

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Headcanons and a short fanfic for Arashiyama Jurota 🤼‍♂️

He owns his own mountain because he doesn’t like living near the city or near too many people that doesn’t mean he doesn’t allow others to live there…it’s just his private property though. He named the mountain Mount Arashiyama.

He loves fishing and often invites Rolon and some of the younger gladiators to stay with him so he can go fishing with them. He likes to teach the younger ones to live off the land. He’s very patient.

He’s really good with children and when he has time, he often visits Judo clubs to train kids. He believes Judo is genderless and everyone should learn, he does not discriminate.

He was married when he was younger but he lost his wife to an illness shortly after marriage. He’s open to marrying again and having children.

He doesn’t smoke but occasionally drinks alcohol.

Taking over a class…

It was a usual day for Arashiyama where he would wake up early, go catch some fish and make some breakfast before doing his morning training. He would receive a call from a Judo center that they would like for him to host a few classes for beginners and of course he agreed. He loved his sport and wanted to share it with anyone who wanted to learn.

He would not take any matches that week so that he would be in his best shape for his soon to be students.

He arrived earlier than the required time and was talking to some of his previous students just to catch up and what not.

“How is the mountain? Must be thriving in this weather”, a familiar colleague asked gently.

“Yes, it’s especially nice in the mornings and evenings…I am planting more fruit trees in hope that they flourish and thrive…”, he said with a small smile. He did love gardening very much and spent a lot of his time taking care of the land and in turn, it took care of him.

“That is amazing, to imagine what the mountain was to what it is now…you truly have made it a sight to behold”, his colleague said with a smile.

Arashiyama smiled and nodded as the students would soon make their way in. He noticed all were young girls and women, aged 5 to 15. It’s been a while since he was teaching such a group but of course he didn’t mind at all, everyone was welcomed to learn Judo if they were willing.

He would be lost in thought for a moment or two when he felt someone tug on his trousers. He looked down with a raised brow to notice a young girl staring up at him.

Naturally, he bent down to her level, “…hello little, everything alright?”, he asked gently.

“…sensei…I’m Sayuri…it’s my first lesson today! “, she said excitedly as she bowed to her instructor, “…I’m going to try my best!”.

Arashiyama couldn’t help but smile at this little child before him, “it is a pleasure to meet you, Sayuri…I am Arashiyama Jurota and it is an honor to be your sensei…I will do my best to teach you well”.

She smiled happily before nodding and quickly running to get her spot as they would get ready for Arashiyama to start his lesson.

“Welcome, students…I am Arashiyama Jurota and I will be your instructor for a few weeks…it is pleasure to be working with you all”, he said gently before bowing to his students who immediately bowed to him too.

“…now…let’s begin “, he said before the lesson commenced.

Once the lesson was over, the students came to say their thanks and goodbyes to Arashiyama along with their parents/grown-ups.

Sayuri would quickly come with her grown-up in tow, “Sensei! Did I do good today?”, she asked with big wide eyes.

Arashiyama crouched down and nodded, “Yes, you did exceedingly well…keep practicing and eat well…and don’t neglect your studies at school “, he said gently.

Sayuri nodded and promised she will before bowing and rushing off.

“I can understand why so many take students now…it is for moments like those, yes?”, he asked one of his colleagues.

“Oh yes, it is a sense of pride you feel once you see them grow…you should become a full time instructor, Arashiyama…you might feel it fulfilling “, his colleague suggested.

“I will see how I feel when I am done with this group…no promises though”, Arashiyama said with a small smile before he went to get changed in his room regular clothes and began to get ready to go home.

He’d stop for some sushi as it’s been a while since he was in town and relaxed, “…maybe becoming an instructor isn’t a bad thing”, he murmured more to him.

What did he have to lose anyway…

#arashiyama jurota #kengan omega #kengan ashura #purgatory #Jurota Arashiyama

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advancetowing · 7 months ago

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mctowingservice · 29 days ago

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Battery Dead? Reliable Jump Service in Houston with MC Towing Services

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xappetites · 1 year ago

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jouissance (2)

Phillip Graves x Reader | political marriage, Graves is down bad and buys an engagement ring, reader gets shy about her personality being taken into account to choose said ring, Graves' older brother continues to be an asshole | word count: 2,033

Phil’s always been smart, so it’s never really been a problem to see why Pete’s his father’s favorite. He’s the eldest, salt of the earth rancher following in daddy’s footsteps, obeying the old man to the letter of the law. While Phillip himself, well, he’s been a fighter his whole life.

School was a struggle, since he's never liked being told what to do, but he was just too damn efficient at acing his tests for any teacher to do shit about his attitude. They did call home to complain, though; got his dad good and fired up for when Phil made it to the house. Where he found himself doing everyone's chores for months on end before he backed down. Which is why, he figures, the old man was actually real pleased when he enlisted and got his ass into West Point.

Phillip Graves Sr. probably thought the military would straighten out his problematic namesake son, and maybe it would’ve, if Phil hadn’t run into the same problem, made even worse by a much stricter hierarchical structure. Thing is, he’s smart, he can pinpoint better ways to do shit, if you let him look at it long enough, and it gets on his last fucking nerve when people don’t even try to listen to what he has to say.

So he waited his contract out, poaching as many worthwhile guys as he could along the way, set his own private army up; and ended up exactly where he promised himself he never would: folding to his father's designs.

Except, it doesn’t fucking feel like it.

Here, heat drunk and mostly horizontal, lounging on a recliner as the senator’s girl swims laps from the dock to the property’s edge, he feels unburdened.

It’s nice, being this relaxed with someone he thought he was going to fight with for the rest of his life, or at least the first couple years. The way Pete did so famously with his oil heiress that even Phil overheard them have a go at it during one holiday or another, before she resigned to the particular blend of manipulation and pettiness his mother is so fond of.

No, Phil’s never had a fight in the few months he’s been traipsing around through weekly breakfast dates, being fed waffle bites and smoke tasting kisses.

He tells himself that it’s because neither of them care enough for it, but truth be told he just likes this girl who’ll gladly ride him at ten in the morning when he shows to pick her up, so he can play footsie at the restaurant table knowing how she sounds when she comes around him.

Likes her to the point of requesting a safe link to call her from half the world away, probably making a weird face about it, since more than one shadow commented on it, ribbing him about it being ‘suspicious’. And that’s after he swore Vance to secrecy for hearing her answer with a surprised chuckle and sleep in her voice.

So now, he’s in town for Pete’s birthday with the folks, senator’s girl in tow, and the engagement ring he finally settled on burns a hole in the back of his mind. Nothing in his heart but the rabid, acidic satisfaction of doing what he can to ruin his brother’s event. He’s quite proud of it, too. Having spent months looking for a ring that encompassed all those things he’s come to associate with his soon to be wife —the glint of the thin chain she always wears, the lines of her clothes over her body; being warm and naked under her, chasing shapes across the overcast morning sky that looked endless from the giant windows of her apartment in the city.

“Your mother hates me”

Phil isn’t exactly expecting her, so he almost flinches when she drags herself out of the water, reaching to brush wet fingertips against the overheated skin of his arm. And since he doesn’t expect it, he can’t think before reacting. The shock of temperature and the instinctual violent response he’s trained in himself have him pulling her down over his thighs in a second.

She laughs high at being suddenly straddling his torso, crushed against his chest; it makes him pause long enough to look at her, sun kissed and shining water droplets hanging off her lashes.

“If she liked you, I wouldn’t.”

Phil can’t help but smile at how she isn’t afraid of him, even now; can’t stop the way his cock hardens under the pressure of her hips. But the impulse of brutality is still there, motion and strength, flesh on flesh. So it’s a rough, clumsy thing to get his mouth on her, clacking teeth and bruising fingers on the back of her neck.

Her gasp tastes of the Bellini she’d been sipping before her swim. And her hands come up around him for purchase, sliding delightful and drenched and cool against his flanks. Until she finds the curve of his ass and tugs with the same sort of fierce compulsion he’s lost to.

It jolts him enough to pull away, panting like a fucking dog against her. She’s out of breath too, but chuckles again, peach sweet, and she doesn’t let him go, just nudges her body a little further into his half chub. Her flushed face fills Phil’s chest with the sort of pride he feels for his shadows; amused and startled at the fucking stones on her.

“Marry me.”

It comes out of him as a demand, with one palm steady over her thigh and the other dipping into the chill of the cooler for the tiny square box he stashed in there just in case.

“I thought that was a given.”

“Not until I’ve given you a ring,”

“You’re going to propose to me at your brother’s birthday dinner?” the look in her eyes is sweet fucking poison, shines like there’s nothing she’d rather do with her night but cause a good bit of chaos.

“No,” Phil flips the lid open and offers the ring to hopefully soothe the sting of disappointment that furrows her brow, “no one’s gonna yell at you during your proposal. But we’re gonna make damn sure everyone sees it tonight.”

He expects her to laugh, go along with it, because he’s used to having her on his side by now, in a way that suddenly seems incredibly dangerous. Hell, he’ll even take her complaining, but she just stares down at the ring in his palm in complete silence, expression unreadable.

“You don’t like it? Want it bigger?”

That gets him a giggle, higher pitched than anything he’s heard from her, even in bed. So he leans into the innuendo, even waggles his eyebrows, dumbstruck at how much he wants her to like this stupid thing. She has to like it, Phil’s not gonna have her wear something of his, that marks her as his, and not be fucking proud of it.

“I love it,” she says, in the end, looking like she can’t fully put into words whatever’s going on in her head, “it’s mine.”

“Damn right it is, baby.”

She has the gall to come off shy —when he slips the ring on and it fits as right as he knows it would—, sitting over his cock in her little bathing suit, kissing him like she means to make them late to this damn dinner.

“Your mom’s really gonna hate me now.”

“And why would that be?”

The playfulness finds its way back to her smile, squeezing relief into his bones until he’s pretty much hanging off the lounge. She follows, pressing her body onto his, tilted sideways so her body blocks the view from the lake as she gropes him over his shorts. And Phil needs this conversation to move away from his mom, expeditiously.

“‘Cause you’re her favorite and she doesn’t want you to be anyone else’s”

“Yeah, well, too fucking bad.” And he’s gonna let go for now that she doesn’t clarify if she means he’s now her favorite or just hers, which in a way are one and the same with that goddamn pleased cat look she keeps giving him. “Now, you’re gonna stop talking about my mom, you’re gonna get this ass in the house and I’m gonna bend my wife-to-be over the first surface I find. How’s that sound?”

“Like we’re gonna be late, husband-to-be.”

…

It’s been a hell of a long time since Phil’s had a family event like this. Generally he comes in, shotguns a drink or two, plays with the kids for an hour and dips with a bag of leftovers and the annoying opening notes of a headache. And he honestly thinks he could hardly be blamed, when the conversation revolved around either cows or school districts, or Marnie’s —Pete’s pretty blonde wife— friend’s struggles to express milk, of all fucking things.

Occasions at his folks’ saw him show up already tense, looking for his way out even before he made it in the house.

Well not today. Today Phil’s excited.

He feels it in every muscle, bubbling as laughter in his chest, easing his joints with the residual afterglow. So he breezes past the birthday boy, and the nephews and Mama Graves, keeping his senator’s girl tucked to his side out of a compulsion that’s borderline need.

She laughs under her breath at the ugly look his mother gives her, she pours his drinks and perches on the armrest of his single seater for cake slices in the den, like she did the first time, close enough to smell his aftershave on her skin. Therefore, Phil has no choice but to pull her all the way into his lap, abandoning his plate so he can play with her free hand. And he presses a deliberate kiss to the diamond on her finger just to see the glint in her eyes when he shit-stirs on purpose.

Her smile is the sharp one he likes the most, for a second that feels stretched huge like sugar syrup, before the gesture sends his father roaring into a mess of congratulations. Shouting and clapping shoulders, the old man rushes out for the champagne from the cellar; while Mama Graves follows close, most likely to slam a couple cabinets with the excuse of breaking the good glasses out.

“You know he’s only marrying you so dad won’t cut him off the inheritance, right?”

Pete’s voice rises, mocking, in the silence that’s left, because of course it is. Pete isn’t dumb either, he can pretend to behave when he’s got their parents eyes on him, but he has no compunction being a fucking asshole when it’s just someone he considers beneath him in the room.

It’s got Phillip’s skin itching in a way that’s also quite nostalgic. Their last physical altercation’s been a few years in the past, too, and he’s got a whole host of new tricks to keep Pete from thinking he can ever talk to his girl like that again. But she shifts, while he’s still considering it; chuckles into the skin of Phil’s neck, leaning so far back that she’s looking down her nose at the rest of the room.

“So?”

She doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t justify a goddamn thing. She simply stares at Pete as if she’s waiting for him to explain why he thinks he has any right to question her decisions.

The question floors him, Phil can see it in real time, how there’s no possible answer for it that doesn’t involve admitting that the effort to humiliate her failed so badly, that Pete’s probably gonna be resenting it for months to come.

She waits a minute for a response and then giggles when it doesn’t come, gloats so deliciously that Phillip has to cling to her; has to kiss her. He has to sit there and pretend to pay attention to his parents when they come back, because against all the odds he ever thought he was going to have to deal with, he can’t wait to call this girl his wife. He can’t wait to make sure no other man ever gets her in his ranks.

#m: cod #r: smut #ish again #phillip graves x reader #personal #they're brats your honor horrible brats

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