Latest Posts by slvt4fiction - Page 2

i just watched flora and ulysses for danny pudi and good lord this man

(from pintrest)

also. bonus. I knew that ben schwartz was also in it BUT I HAD NO IDEA BOBBY MOYNIHAM AND KATE MICUCCI WAS IN IT TOO

my soul has been healed seeing them all live action in a film together.

thank you god/studio executives

gif cred belongs to @troyandabedinthemorning​

requested by @love-and-virtues​ “troy (community) and reader in an established relationship and he’s so so sweet and fluffy to her? 🥺”

imagine dating troy barnes

you looked up as troy entered your dorm. you gave him a grin as he plopped onto your couch next to you, resting his head in your lap with a grin.

“how was abed?” you giggled, raking your nails through his hair. his best friend happened to be right down the hall from you, which was very convenient for everyone.

“he’s great,” troy gushed. “how’s y/n?”

“she’s wonderful,” you assured, giving your goofy boyfriend a bright smile. “how’s troy?”

“he’s so in love,” he spoke, shaking his head at you. you laughed, leaning down to give him a quick kiss.

“what has you so sweet today?” you questioned as he sat up, taking the remote to your tv.

troy sighed thoughtfully, his gaze looking past you. “i realized that life is short, and.. im already in college. i gotta live a little more. and im gonna start living by loving as much and as hard as i can.” he leaned over to give you another sweet kiss.

“you and abed almost died doing something?”

still grinning, troy nodded, “i got electrocuted.” you let out a laugh before snuggling into your boyfriend’s chest. college was just as dramatic as high school, but at least you had troy.

bring it back, don’t take it away from me

#i live there

Losers Weepers

|Robocop|

Rick Mattox/ fem!reader

Summery: Working along side Dr. Norton had its perks…having to deal with a very cocky older man was not one of them. Mattox scared you, to put it lightly. He was blunt and handsome and harsh and a timid little thing like you didn’t know how to deal with that.

MINORS YOU KNOW THE DRILL THIS IS NOT FOR YOU

Warnings: smut, dub-con, age gap (reader is in her 20’s-early 30’s, mattox is early 50’s) , lowkey manipulation…maybe not that lowkey, pet names, mention of the word daddy but used as a kink, over stimulation, multiple orgasms, sex in work place,

Notes: yea yea I’m obsessed with Jackie let me just ride this out.

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“As you can see his control and problem solving abilities have greatly improved since enhancing his software and multiplying the- please don’t touch that.” Dr. Dennett Norton halted his explanation and turned his attention to a man who looked to be much more interested in pressing the buttons on the main console to his left.

Rick Mattox was just about to poke at one of the display screens as he drowned out the words of the doctor. What with him only being there as a formality and not necessity, he couldn’t care less about what the kook said.

Dr. Norton had been so engrossed in getting each piece of information clear and concise that he didn’t notice the gruff man losing interest. Your panicked expression had been what alerted him; he was always glancing your way as if to ensure that he had your attention.

Dr. Norton adored your attention.

Mattox scoffed and peered through the glass at Alex…”Robocop”, who sat stationary and plugged in.

“What’s it gonna do, Doc? Make Tin-Man catch on fire?” He antagonized.

Norton rolled his eyes.

“If you tap the right sequence it’ll pump him with synthetic fluids for cooling.” You piped up, from just a few feet away from Mattox, and internally smacked yourself when each head turned to you. The older man that your boss had reprimanded was staring at you with a brow raised, “Um…b-but there’s nothing hooked up to the tubes…so he would have pressurized air forced into him…which would…well…make him explode.” You trailed off, staring down at your clipboard that had more doodles than information.

A beat of silence passed and he finally stepped away from the console and unfortunately closer to you.

“Well we can’t have that can we, princess?” Mattox said, a smirk sitting comfortably in the corner of his mouth. Your eyes widened and you refused to look up, pretending to not have heard his statement. The pet name made your skin warm and you were certainly not sure if you liked that.

“Let’s continue, shall we?” The Doctor sighed, and sent you an apologetic, small smile as he regained the room’s attention.

He continued, and you felt yourself start to glance at the notes you had as Norton’s voice filled the room. It wasn’t that you weren’t interested in what he had to say, it was simply that you had listened to his speech for two days to help him get every detail into it that was needed for Sellars and his entourage. Normally it would just be a few of his assistants to come and listen to any updates, but Sellars had insisted on attending…which always made things more tense.

When you looked up you caught the doctor’s eye, and you noticed the smallest upturn of his mouth, and returned it. Norton was a sweet man, and a genius one, too. You couldn’t have found a better mentor to guide you through such a project while you were barely out of school. He was patient and passionate, and knew how to light a fire under your ass.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Mattox glance over at you as he stood as solid as ever, arms crossed and still in his tactical gear. You wondered just how comfortable it was to wear a utility belt and combat boots all day…

He frightened you, to put it simply. He was blunt and skilled in every area you were not. Hell you were certain one punch from him would knock you out cold for a few days. You’d only met him once before, and you had tried to hide behind Dr. Norton the entire time as they chastised and argued over robot versus man. Sadly your attempt to hide had only amused the gruff man further.

“Afraid of the big bad wolf?” He had said to you during a break in the argument.

You had frozen.

To come to your defence, Norton had waved his hand, “Leave her out of this and spare her your ridicule.” He had said.

But when you had chanced a look up at the man from your control board, he was looking right at you with mirth in his bright blue eyes and a smirk pulling into his stubble. He was handsome. And he had no boundaries. And you didn’t know how to deal with either-

“You wear that for me, sweetheart?”

That rough voice near your shoulder made you jump, and snapped you out of your memory. When you looked to your left, Mattox was looking ahead, and you hoped you had imagined him saying anything, but then he looked back at you and leaned slightly in your direction which made you squirm.

“Like your hair pulled back like that too.” He rumbled, “Looks pretty.”

So he did say that-

You blushed at the thought of him looking at what you were wearing.

Of course, you knew he was only flirting to egg you on; he thought you getting flustered was funny. Truthful or not, however, you did note that he was the only one to actually notice your new dress.

But he was probably just bored.

So you ground you teeth and didn’t look up.

“Aw you wound me-“

“Mr. Mattox? Care to share with the room what it is that has you so distracted?” Dr. Norton stood with his hands in his trouser pockets, and a tired expression. You felt terrible that rhe interruption was very partially your fault- you were certain he hadn’t slept in a couple days and he didn’t need this extra stress.

“Can’t say I’ve ever been one to share, Doc.” He shot back quicker than you thought he would. At his comment, you felt yourself flush completely; warmth spread over your face and down your neck at his insinuation.

Norton sighed tensely and turned back to Stellers, “In three days, we will be holding an other test with Mr. Mattox back there, and Alex, if you would like us to patch through a feed. Aside from that, this concludes our progress unless Ms. L/n would like to add anything?” He pointed the question to you in a far gentler tone, and you finally looked up.

You shook your head.

“No, Dr. Norton, I believe you covered everything.” You said softly. You hated presentations. Too many people and too much stress.

“Good. Well then, that’s it then.” He concluded and opened the lab door.

The room slowly emptied and you took your place back at your desk where you gladly made yourself look busy until everyone was out. Especially Mattox.

You saw the man in question look over at you as he headed to the door, just passing Norton. Then he stopped.

Rick paused once he reached Dr. Norton, was the last to be out the door.

He leaned in closer to him.

“Does your little mouse know you wanna perform a few experiments of your own on her?” He spoke quietly, and nodded in your direction.

Norton visibly blanched. “I don’t know what you mean. It would do you some good to watch that mouth of yours.” He snapped.

“Just a question Doc.” Rick said and raised a hand in faux defense, as if he cared if the other man was offended.

Mattox left and while you couldn’t hear what they had said, you felt a knot in your tummy as the possibility that they might have been talking about you. You had seen the jaded older man nod in your direction…

“You alright, Dennett?” You asked timidly as Norton came back towards you.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes under his glasses.

You were so sweet and gentle. Wouldn’t hurt a fly and smart. He felt horribly guilty thinking less than pure thoughts about you; he knew you saw him in purely a professional capacity. A father almost. He was nauseated by that man’s words and how vulnerable they made him. Was he so obvious in how he felt?

The man nodded and tugged on his tie, “Just fine.” Then he turned to you and softened his expression when he saw your mouth in a flat line, “I apologize…I’m alright. Don’t worry about this old man. Tell me about any progress you’ve made.” He sent you a very small, reassuring smile, and that was enough for you; you smiled slightly in return.

As Norton settled beside you, you prattled off the few advances that had been made, and didn’t notice the longing gaze the man beside you gave you. You never did.

The next day, you were feeling off. You had spilled your coffee on your work pants as you were leaving and were forced to change into the only other thing you had clean- a dress; you had missed your bus, and almost smacked into the lab room door when you forgot the sensor was out and had to be opened manually.

After nearly ten minutes of deep breaths, you sat at your usual perch in the lab, and engrossed yourself in reading a new stats form. Norton had come and gone, said a few things to you and you had barely registered them. However, you failed to hear your name being called since your mind was completely shut off to anything exterior.

The snapping of fingers in front of your face was the only thing that alerted you of someone’s presence.

“There you are, I was calling you.” It was Jae- another scientist you worked along side. You liked her.

“Sorry- I um…I was- doesn’t matter.” You tried to explain what you had been doing but your stressed mind couldn’t be unfrazzled.

“That’s fine. Where’s Norton? We need him to brief Mattox on the next training program.” She waved off your failed explanation.

You thought back to an hour ago when you had mumbled a reply to something he had said, “I think he had to go see Sellars.”

She sighed, “Alright…you’ll have to do it then. He’s waiting down in the corner lab 65A- at the end.” She said nonchalantly, clearly unaware of how distressed her words made you.

Your heart rate picked up significantly and your palms began to sweat at the idea of seeing that man, let alone with no one to buffer his direct nature.

Your eyes darted around and you frantically tried to think of a solution.

“H-he should be back soon I can page him-“

“No, no it needs to be done asap. Norton might not be back until tonight and we can’t wait that long- the run through is in two days.” She said, then left you there in silence.

You couldn’t feel your fingers. You would have sat there for far longer but in an attempt to manage your anxiety you had started carrying out tasks you didn’t want to do faster rather than putting them off. You had read it in some article and you hated that it worked most days.

So you sucked in a breath, shrugged on your lab coat like armour, and began your way down the hall. It was a quiet part of the floor, and was used only for training. You had heard that the last session hadn’t gone very well for Mattox, and he was hellbent on getting another crack at it. At least that was what you had been told.

The door to Lab 65A came far too quickly for your liking. Your hairs stood on end when you went to knock on the door out of habit. But just at your knuckles went to fall, you stopped; this was your space, you didn’t need to knock.

After a moment’s hesitation, you opened the door and immediately were bombarded with that voice you tried to pretend you hated.

“Let’s get this over with quickly so you can get back that lit-…Well isn’t this just my lucky day,” Rick turned from his place in front of the dim console to see you, and he paused in pleasant surprise, “Have a change of heart there kiddo?” He asked smugly as he leaned back against the board, and crossed his arms- the fabric pulling tight.

You steeled your nerves and began to walk over to where he was against one of the control panels. “Dr. Norton is unavailable right now.” You managed to say calmly, coming to his side to pull up the information he needed. You put in your access codes and began selecting to correct files for him.

“So I’m in your soft capable hands?” He goaded you, probably laughing internally.

You sighed and chose to ignore him again, “These two programs will run what your bots will experience versus what Alex will with the new updates to him…should give you a better idea of how he problem solves and uses critical thinking to outsmart the other technology.” You started, and pointed to the screens. Some played the last run through in China, while others played the simulation from weeks ago.

For the entirety of your explanation, Mattox had remained leaning away from the screens, and focused on you. It make you highly uneasy. Something about his bright blue eyes made it difficult to look at him- for a man like him you would have imagined him to have eyes as black as coals…but instead he had pools of glacier water. They were startling. As was his undying confidence.

You saw him stand straight, and walk behind you out of your vision. “Mhm.” He hummed. You assumed he was taking a few steps back to get a better view of what was playing on the viewing screens.

Good at least he’s finally paying attention…

You continued, showing him the different programs he could run and the reports on the changes that had been made.

“- so if you think he’s reacting more mechanically, and similar to your bots, you’ll be correct. We’ve implan-“

You were stopped in the middle of your rant when you felt a pair of warm hands on your hips, moving your lab coat out of the way.

“What do you…” you tried, but your brain seemed to shut down at the contact.

There was warm breath on the back of your neck, “Shh…shh keep going…” you heard whispered from behind you.

You blinked and forced yourself to take some shallow breaths.

“U-um if an-anything lags or uh -doesn’t make sense…just-“ you tried, but then your coat was being slipped off your shoulders and the cool air hit you.

Mattox’s hands returned to your hips, bunching up the skirt of it and balling up the material into his fists, “-just um…r-reboot it. Sir what are you doing?” You forced out all in a rush as your mind tried to play catch-up with what you were seeing and feeling. The older man now had your dress’s skirt completely in his hands and he moved it out of the way for him to hold you, leaving you utterly exposed to him in just your panties.

“You want me to stop, Princess?” His breath was against your bare neck, and you felt his rough hands squeeze your hips, smoothing a hand over your left one to descend to the top of your panties. Just stroking a finger along the edge but going no further.

You forced out another breath, hands immobile and suspended in the air where you had been typing. You could only watch as he felt you and touched, unsure if you were actually just daydreaming and still sitting back at your desk in the main lab.

Mattox sighed in your ear.

“You don’t like me do you?” He asked offhandedly.

You swallowed, and felt your head start to pound when you forgot to breathe. “I-I- don’t-um…I’m i-indiff-erent-“ you stuttered out. Words jumbled together and you could almost feel your pride disappearing the more you tried to salvage your dignity.

The older man hummed, and the vibrations buzzed through his chest against your back and made you feel faint. “Do I scare you?” He whispered.

You wanted to disappear, get swallowed up by the earth. You could barely hear what he was saying over the rush of blood in your ears, but somehow your body made you nod shakily.

“Tell me why.” He prompted. It wasn’t goading or mocking…he sounded calm.

Which, you decided, scared you even more.

“Y-youre blunt and crass a-and forward and cocky and I-I don’t know what to do with that.” You breathed out all in a rush. Your fight or flight was kicking your brain to do something, anything, but you couldn’t move. He had managed to find something small in you that allowed him to sink his teeth into and pin you to the spot.

“You don’t know what to do with that?” Mattox rolled your statement over in his head, musing. “Well you’re quiet, tightly wound, and fucking adorable…and I think I know a few things I can do with that.” He purred in your ear, and this time he did sound rather condescending.

You could feel your breaths coming in shallow bursts as he continued to squeeze you bare hips- reminding you that he had you where he wanted you.

The older man sighed as if deep in thought, and ran a finger down the curve of your neck, speaking right against your skin so you could feel each word.

“I think you want me to touch you…don’t you?” He mused, “Just a little?” Rick wouldn’t normally work so patiently to get you, but he needed to break you down; you were like some little scared animal.

When you didn’t push him away, Mattox smirked against your skin and he ran his nose up along your neck. He could practically taste you with how much of a mess you were making without even touching you. After a moment of keeping you hanging by a thread, the older man eased his hand over your panties and ran a finger up at down your slit to your clit, and if it weren’t for his strong arm around you, you would have buckled and fallen to the floor.

He barked out a laugh at you losing your balance.

“That’s it, that’s it…Shh there you go. I got you.” Came his surprisingly soft voice from behind you. He chuckled, tightening his hold on you to bring you right against his sturdy frame as he continued to play with you. You felt your hips twitch into his palm which made you gasp involuntarily…then he was gone, and you whimpered at the loss.

The sound was so small but in the quiet room there was no hiding it. Just as you were about to turn around to see where he went, Mattox’s hand gripped your arm and began tugging you to the console where he wordlessly guided you to sit atop the screen while he took a seat, and spread your legs. You instinctively went to snap them shut, but he gave you a stern smack on the knee.

“Let me see you, babygirl.” He murmured with a slight rasp to his voice, “I just wanna look at you.” His bright eyes stared up at you, hungry.

Your brain was fighting hard to find something to snap you back from this daze he had spun you into, but there was nothing for it to grab onto. You were gone; so you gave in to your helplessness, and gathered your dress back up and bunched it around your hips like he had.

He heaved a sigh and shook his head, tsking you.

You felt fear soar through you at his reaction.

“Look at what a mess you made…you’re soaked…surprised you didn’t make a goddamn puddle on the floor.” He chastised you; you squirmed and looked away from his unwavering gaze, but his one firm hand on your knee stopped you immediately, forcing your thighs to spread. “Ah ah ah. Don’t even think about it.” He shook his head.

You whined and looked away.

“Sir I r-really dont th-“

You were cut off when one of the seams from your panties was torn clean in half. You stared down in disbelief.

He looked up at you innocently, “I’m sorry were you talking?”

Your lips parted but no sound came out. So you shook your head.

“Good girl.” He praised you and you would never admit how lightheaded it made you. Mattox ripped the other seam and tugged the panties from under you and shot you a wink as he pocketed them into his tactical pants. Something issued to him to serve and protect yet he was wearing them as he rendered you into a needy shell of yourself.

The older man then gripped your hips again and guided you into his lap and leaned back in the chair lazily; his hand stroking circles on the top of your thigh, dipping low. He sighed, taking pleasure in pretending like he wasn’t reducing you to a mindless toy in mere minutes. “Now what am I gonna do with you, hmm?” He thought out loud to himself.

An idea struck him and he held your gaze.

“Eyes on me.” He rasped, then your felt his hand slip down and disappear for a moment before the feeling of his finger stroking through your folds jolted you. You gasped and looked down to see him toying with you but he snapped his fingers in your face and you immediately looked up. “You can do better than that.” He told you and you couldn’t understand why you felt the need to prove to him that you could.

You swallowed and nodded.

“Let’s do that again, but this time do better, okay?” He spoke to you like you were so stupid…so small, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Mattox ran his finger through your slick again, and nodded when you kept your eyes locked on his. He smirked when he dipped his thick finger just barely inside you, and your lids got heavy and your lips parted in a silent gasp.

“You like that?” He cooed, running his wet finger up to your clit where he drew small circles around it.

You nodded, not daring to look away.

But then the man slipped his thick finger inside you to the knuckle and you fell forward against his chest; your head in his neck and your hips rolled into his palm. He hadn’t even started pumping in and out of you yet.

“Jesus you’re a needy little thing aren’t you?” He chuckled, but began a slow pace, easing his finger in and out of you steadily. He didn’t seem to mind that you couldn’t sit up.

The drag of his calloused fingers deep inside you had your muscles tensing and you twitched against him. Your fingers gabbed at his shirt, his smell overwhelming you and making your head dizzy.

Then he added a second, and curled them inside you and you choked out a sob into his shirt. Your little hands gripped him tight, rocking down onto his fingers in tandem with his ministrations. Your skin felt as if it was on fire and all you could hear were his words in your ears as the world faded away; as the heat inside you built and built until it was white hot and it snapped. There was no hiding how tightly you clenched around his fingers, he could barely keep them in your cunt from how tight you became- almost forcing them out. You cried into his neck, gasping and whining as you came on his hand after only two minutes.

You could hear him laugh,“Look at that, did you cum for me already? That easy, huh?”

You couldn’t even defend yourself. You hadn’t been touched by anyone since an office Christmas party two years ago and some delivery guy felt you up under the mistletoe. And Rick Mattox certainly knew what he was doing more than him.

Mattox gripped your hair and pulled you away from his shoulder. His bright blue eyes stared you down, almost carelessly.

“When was the last time someone fucked you?” He asked so bluntly as he sucked off your cum from his fingers, and began unbuckling his heavy belt.

“Um…I don’t…I don’t remember.” You answered truthfully.

He smirked again, “Thought so.” He effortlessly pulled his cock from his tactical pants with his free hand, and began stroking it; the head leaked precum all over his fingers and some leaked onto your dress. He was certainly not small, and most defiantly bigger than what you had had in the past; a length that you knew would burn the next day, and startlingly thick. The wet sound of him made you blush even more.

Mattox leaned you away and stared down at your soaked entrance as he ran the tip of his cock through you just as he had done with his fingers. You whined and pawed at him, trying to stay as still as you could lest he stop. He swirled the head around your clit, then just around the outside of your hole, dipping inside just barely when you started to get extra needy; trying to buck your hips to get him inside you, which he took great satisfaction in.

Mattox released your hair and brought his thumb down to explose your clit; he rolled his finger around it and you wanted to squirm away from the touch, still being too oversensitive from your orgasm, but you didn’t dare.

“Fuck…” he rasped under his breath. He spat onto your clit, and stroked just around the outside, teasing you to tears. Your fingers dug into his strong shoulders.

“I- please.” You whispered desperately. You could handle him stopping, but with this point of neither fucking you nor leaving you alone had you reduced to a needy little puppy.

Then, without much warning at all, Mattox thrust up and forced the first two inches of his fat cock inside you. You felt the air evaporate from your lungs as he shushed you, “There you go…that’s it. You can do it.”

He now gripped both of your hips, and watched his cock disappear inside you- a bulge forming in your naval.

Your brows pitched up as you tried to hold still, but you couldn’t help the twitch of your hips as he stretched you. You whined and hung your head as he bottomed out, the swollen tip firmly squished against your cervix.

Then he began to rock, barely guiding you to pull off of him. A filthy roll of his hips up into you as he ground his cock inside your sensitive cunt. The veins along his cock stroked your gspot brutally each time and you could barely keep your cries to a minimum.

“Christ you make pretty sounds, princess.” He breathed out in a satisfied rasp. He took one hand from your hip and brought it up to your cheek where he pressed his thumb against your lower lip and pushed down. You opened your mouth willingly, and sucked his offered thumb between your lips. You moaned around it and felt your eyes go glassy and unfocused as pleasure took over. You didn’t even notice how your body began to move with his. Not until your legs began to shake again and your pace began to stutter; increasing until you were leaning forward to rest your forehead against his as you held his wrist to keep his thumb in your mouth, and rode him desperately.

He wrenched his thumb from your lips and weaved the hand into your hair to get a firm grip before pulling you in against him tightly like before and sealed his lips over yours- his tongue eagerly tasting you. Licking into your mouth and sucking at your swollen lips.

The warmth of his mouth and scorching cock inside you made you dizzy, your mind slipping away until you could only feel him. He was invading all your senses.

You could feel yourself grow more and more sensitive which each second, your skin was hyper aware of every touch and breath.

He pulled from your lips away, and dipped his head to suck at your neck, which you tried to stop since you had nothing to hide any marks with, but he just grabbed your hand in an iron grip and continued effortlessly.

“You wanna cum for me again?” He murmured, rolling his hips harder, his tummy grinding against your clit, “You can do it…Cmon one more. You’re almost there.”

Mattox’s words hung heavy in your ears and his cock bullied your gspot again and again as he continued his filthy grind , until you couldn’t take it anymore, and you let go. A cry tore from your throat and a hand clamped over to your mouth to muffle the sound; you arched your back and somewhere in the back of your mind you felt him rip your dress’s neck down and latch onto one of your breasts, rolling your nipple with his tongue like a candy.

You felt a flood of liquid on your naval, but you barely registered it until you began to catch your breath, sagging against the older man beneath you. He continued a slow roll of his hips into you. You finally pulled away from him, and looked down between you, and he followed you gaze.

Your mouth gaped when you realized what had happened.

“What’s wrong? Never squirted before, kiddo?” He breathed out, throat starting to strain as he got closer to cumming in your young body.

You shook your head and began to breathe heavier as he fucked into your sensitive cunt.

He smirked and released you, then grabbed the hem of his now soaked shirt and brought it up to his mouth where he sucked; your lips parted in a silent gasp, and your forgot to breathe when you watched him taste you. His strong stomach exposed to you, and you wanted to kiss it, though you’d never admit it.

His hands gripped your hips, rough fingers digging into your flesh possessively. Mattox released the fabric between his lips, and smirked at you as you stared down at his taut skin, and where he entered you.

There was a moment where he paused, and stared at you, which caught your hazy attention. You slowly looked up at his eyes and he released a harsh breath before standing with you and dumping you onto the console; he pushed your thighs up to your chest and hooked your knees over his arms and leaned over you, effectively spreading you wide and rendering you at his mercy as he pumped into your cunt a few times as if to remind you to behave.

You gasped, and clung to his shoulders, feeling his muscles ripple and tense under your fingertips.

Mattox began rutting into you without abandon, his chest pinning you down. You sobbed and flushed with warmth when you felt another orgasm building inside you fast.

And he clearly felt it too. “One more? You spoil me.” He managed to huff, his face buried into your neck as he hunkered over you and started rabbiting into you.

You whimpered as his cock bullied that sensitive spot inside you and his stomach impacted your abused clit. You were already so sensitive, so it only took a few more thrusts before you were cumming for him again. You felt lightheaded and dizzy, and you could barely utter a moan as he bucked into you a few more times before stilling and sucking harshly at your soft neck as he came inside you. Warmth spread inside you; his ropes of thick cum filling you as he rolled his hips into you to ride out his orgasm. His hot breath was in your ear and you could barely think.

You weakly held onto him, and felt him catch his breath, then he heaved a sigh and held you tight before pulling you with him to sit back in the chair. Sweat soaked you, and you didn’t even realise you were clinging to him until he eased you away from being buried in his neck and he held your face far more gently than you would have thought.

“There’s my girl.” He purred, stroking your cheek. There was something dishonest in his face but you couldn’t even recognize it let alone dwell on it. “Look at you…” he mused to himself.

You stared back at him.

“All relaxed and fucked out of your mind…” he grinned, and tucked some hair behind your ear.

You breathed out a weak laugh, and he took satisfaction in how dazed you were. Mattox slowly guided your head down to him, his lips catching yours just barely.

“I think you like me a bit more now Hm? Still scared of me, Princess?” He spoke so quietly, but it was the only noise in the silent room.

You tried to think. You shook your head.

He chuckled and shifted under you, his cock still nestled inside you.

“No? Not so scared of me?” He repeated gar too gently.

You shook your head again, eyes glazed over. “I think I like you more than I should, babygirl. Guys like me aren’t supposed to like girls like you.”

You pulled away a couple inches and felt concern flood your features.

He sighed and elaborated.

“I could be your daddy, honey…a bit old for you, don’t you think?” He cooed, clearly not believing a word he said.

You worried your lip and he smiled, and pulled it from your teeth with his thumb.

“No, you don’t care that I’m an old fuck? Hm? Bet you even like it.” He tilted his head as he spoke, almost thinking. You looked away, and felt yourself blush again, a little embarrassed.

“Awe look at you. I’m just fucking with you, Cmere.” He inclined his head and guided your lips to his. You weakly moaned and he held you tight and his tongue entered your mouth, tasting you. You were embarrassed when your hips started rocking again, almost a reflex, but he didn’t appear to have a problem with it.

After a few minutes, he pecked your lips once more then pulled away. Your eyes were sufficient hazy, and he knew you weren’t thinking straight. “Are you my girl?” He cooed once a moment passed.

You nodded your head without even considering what he said.

He smirked and nodded with you. “Yeah you are.”

Mattox told you to wait for him downstairs, and while your senses were slowly returning, you still couldn’t say no. You didn’t even know which way was up and which way was down let alone who you were. The man even made a joke about having to carry you out.

You had hurriedly ran to the staff room on sore legs to get your coat and told someone you were feeling unwell and needed to head home. You knew they were staring, but you couldn’t care. You were just thankful the elevators didn’t take long. You didn’t even notice when you walked past the lab and Norton called your name, and stared after you.

Just a few minutes later, Mattox waltzed into the lab- a satisfied smirk on his face.

“I trust the training programs were to your satisfaction, Mr. Mattox?” Norton asked, without looking up, not that he cared.

“They were a little rusty Doc…I ran some tests of my own. That little assistant of yours was more than willing to help.” He pretended to look around as he walked over to the doctor.

Norton looked up at that. “Y/n?”

He held out a small drive to the man, “Take a look for yourself.” Norton took the drive and stared down at it, confusingly.

There was just one word on it.

Your name.

A Pretty Butterfly

|The Watchmen|

Rorschach x fem!reader

Summery: Watching a stranger from your windows quickly turned into a human connection you craved. You just wanted to help this strange man who walked past your home everyday…but it seemed you got more than you had bargained for.

Warnings: SLOW BURN, violence, mentions of rape and assault, age-gap (reader is mid -late 20’s and Rorschach is 45) smut, dub-con, fingering, obsession, stalking, anxiety, Rorschach being a tit, pessimistic thoughts, self-sabotage, sunshine and grumpy old man dynamic

Word count: 13.8k words

MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE YOU WILL BE BLOCKED IF YOU DO FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DONT READ THIS

Notes: In the film, they claim Rorschach is 35, but the comic has him at 45 so I went with that instead. a special thanks to my buddy @mandowifey for sending me down this rabbit hole and helping me out with my scatter brain🤍

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You didn’t mean to stare.

That was a lie.

…a half lie.

You liked to watch, but you didn’t mean to latch onto one face in particular when you peered out of your window. You never really had before; perhaps the odd flamboyantly dressed hooker or someone with outrageously done hair, but you couldn’t say you had ever taken notice of someone who seemed so inconsequential.

It was his red hair that made you look twice, at first.

From your little window, above a small tea shop that was run by a family who smelled of jasmine, you first saw that little man who wandered the streets of New York with his picket sign.

“The end is nigh” it said.

The first time you saw it, it made you laugh a little. So pessimistic. You wondered why he felt the need to forecast such a statement to the city. Was the end all he could see? Was there no good in his eyes?

Silly, you thought, to busy yourself with a stranger’s story that you had fabricated entirely in your mind.

But then the second time, those words made you think.

Perhaps it was close- the end, that is. The more and more that chauvinistic Dooms Day Clock ticked, the more you started to believe that man.

It was inevitable.

Perhaps it was close, too.

You wondered if he was unstable- mentally or otherwise. Wandering the streets when he should have been getting help. But the more you watched, the more you realised about him and his meandering walk; never once did you see him lash out or scream like you had seen so many times from those who injected and snorted and drank any substance they could get their hands on.

You watched him for months- accidental at first, then you found yourself checking outside your window to see if he was there. It was as if he was your own personal dooms-day clock- each time you saw him it was a tick. Somehow you found him far more comforting than the Armageddon timepiece the government kept.

Then you got tired of walking from your desk to the window, and moved it up against the glass. You told yourself there was no harm in thoughtfully gazing at someone…you weren’t harming him or yourself. You liked to pretend you were friends…though you knew he wasn’t even aware of your existence. You bet he had a million odd stories of the world around him- he looked far older than you. Older and harsher.

Then came the day that changed your private little relationship.

The day he stared back.

It had scared you half to death when you had been watching him in your usual daze- silly smile on your face and chin in your palm- and he had paused. He had looked down the street, stopped, then snapped his head up to look you in the eye. He was 25 feet below you yet he saw you so clearly and you felt stripped bare.

You had nearly fallen out of your chair to scramble away from the window; goosebumps had sprung up on your arms and your feet had pins and needles in them. Your heart had leapt into your throat and pounded furiously. It had taken you 10 minutes to finally inch back to the window. To your relief, he was no longer there, but then distress began to set in as you wondered if you had scared him off. He didn’t exactly look blessed with monetary abundance, and you doubted he appreciated a strange woman staring down at him.

The next day, you thought he might not pass your street; having a stranger watch him was likely not on his to-do list and there were hundreds of streets for him to march down instead of yours.

However, even though you agreed with this likelihood of him not coming back, you found yourself unable to complete any work until noon. A call from your employer was the only thing that snapped you out of your reverie, and even then, you could barely focus on your work.

Your knee bounced as you did your best to prfioritize, and almost got lost in the work in front of you until out of the corner of your eye, you saw a flicker of red. It was embarrassing how fast you looked down, not that you truly cared.

Your heart jolted. He was there. You didn’t scare him off.

Then, he looked up again.

This time, you didn’t run. You held your ground…and even managed a little wave.

He didn’t wave back, and you even wondered if he saw it.

He only readjusted his sign over his shoulder and kept walking.

What an odd man.

Though you supposed you were just as odd to show such an interest in him.

Perhaps a little perverse…

You blanched at the thought; hoping to god that he didn’t think that.

While making dinner, a thought struck you. You made just a little extra food, and saved it in a container, even writing a note for yourself to not forget to give it to that strange man. You knew it was silly, and forward - truly very unlike you- but in a city where it was next to impossible to make any selfless human connection…you didn’t want this to go to waste. Even if he told you to piss off, at least you could sleep at night knowing you tried.

So you waited.

You truly hoped against hope that your wish to show compassion wouldn’t be seen as anything but what it was…though a part of you began to think you were practically asking for trouble or misinterpretation. The longer you sat the more nonsensical you felt as your knee bounced twice the speed of your heart beat.

It was almost 10 am when he came into your view, only this time it was as if he materialised out of nowhere instead of the slow walk from your right to your left.

You didn’t even wait to see if he would look up.

You didn’t let yourself think.

You dashed to your door, food in hand, and tore down the stairs to the small gate separating your home’s entrance from the figures trudging past. You opened it and stepped out onto the street, trying not to get stepped on by passers-by as you looked for him. To your luck, he was only ten feet down from your building, and before you could stop yourself, you quickened your pace to catch up.

“E-excuse me! Sir?” You called softly once you were behind him. The man came to a slow stop and turned- a stoic look on his face.

Now that this man was in front of you and was giving you his very real attention, you felt your lungs cease their function for a few seconds, no words forming in your mouth either.

He was handsome…in a strange sort of way.

He looked…jagged, and guarded.

Thin, short, and tired…but by god you couldn’t look away. Not until you realized you were staring again.

Simple and to the point.

You looked down at the container of food in your hands that was still warm.

“I’m- I apologise…I wanted you to have this…it’s getting cold.” You said, holding out the food to him.

Most impersonal act of kindness in recorded history, well done.

You returned your eyes to his face, and found him looking right back at you. Neither angry nor kind. He simply looked…beaten. Tired of his life…tired of the world…you didn’t know for certain. But you understood.

Somehow.

“I’m-…I’m sorry for staring. And I hope you’re not allergic to anything…um, there’s a fork in there, you can keep it, good to have, you know?” You knew you were rambling, and very aware that he hadn’t looked away from you once. You fought to hold his gaze, but admittedly it was an intimidating stare.

He turned to walk away, and you felt panic fill you.

“Please take it.” You tried again, but he didn’t say a word.

He silently left you standing there, and you felt like New York’s biggest idiot.

It was the rambling…defiantly the rambling. Oh maybe it was the act itself I mean he probably isn’t used to having that kind of- okay now that’s a bit of an over-assumption…he might have lots of people offering him kindness…and now you’re the one standing on the street staring at a lamppost.

…pull yourself together.

You watched him disappear, just like your pride; whatever had been left of it. Your shoulders began to sag as defeat settled into you and turned your tongue sour.

Which was why you decided to do the exact same thing again the next day.

You waited. Perfectly ready to not see him after that embarrassing display yesterday…but sure enough, there he was.

You noted that he did not not look up today, not that you blamed him.

You were out the door before you could dissuade yourself.

“Mister!” You called.

He didn’t turn this time.

You repeated yourself a little more clearly. “Mister!”

He kept walking. And somehow every time you almost caught up to him, he would slip out of your grasp.

You could only continue like that so far down the street, and eventually had to give up. He was stubborn…and you could be too. You didn’t know this man’s story, and if he didn’t see himself as good enough to receive kindness, then you could continue until he did understand…or until he called the police on you for harassment.

So you did it again. And again.

You told yourself you would try two more times and if he didn’t take them…that would be that. You would have to move on.

You made a rich stew, and even put a few pieces of bread in a bag for him. You steeled your shot nerves, and began to walk down to your entrance before even seeing him.

You saw him coming from a few blocks away, and very slowly made your way into his path. He gradually took in your form, but didn’t pause or even stop. Not until he was a foot from you. But you held your ground.

“Look…I’m not…I don’t know why you won’t let me help you, but I don’t want you to think I’m trying to get some gold star or have you boost my ego by being thankful…I just want to show you kindness and if that’s too much for yo-“

He held his hand out to you, palm up. He didn’t look away, and blinked slowly.

You might not have been the best at reading every person you met, but his message was obvious. “If I take it will you leave me alone?”

You grinned timidly, and placed the food in his hand gently. “Keep the container…they’re good to have.” You said under your breath almost out of habit- it had been something your mother did and now you found yourself doing.

He took it without another word, and you felt a pleasant heat bloom in your chest.

The next day, you childishly watched for him again- as if he was your Santa Clause or tooth fairy…although he looked like he might knock someone’s teeth out rather than give them a couple coins for them.

You made a soup that would fill him up and picked up an extra loaf of bread to give him. Both sat on your lap as you sat on your stoop, ready for him. You kept telling yourself you just wanted to help out a lonely soul like yourself, and that you weren’t developing a juvenile crush on the man who hadn’t even spoken to you.

You leaned out periodically to see if you could see him, and found yourself readying your nerves to confront him again.

You sighed and went to lean out again, only to freeze rigidly.

“M-morning-“ you squeaked.

The very man you were waiting for was standing just feet from you, staring, and his free hand in his pocket. As if he had come up from the gutters themselves.

You hadn’t prepared for this kind of sudden interaction, and found yourself mentally throttling your brain to do something.

Anything.

It seemed however that whatever god was above you decided to take mercy on you for once, and the man reached out his hand just as he had the day previously.

You wordlessly handed it to him then remembered the bread. “Oh! This um is for you too…it’s fresh.” You added, pretending like your cheeks weren’t warm and your hands weren’t shaking.

You smiled gently, but it faded fast when you notices a small group of seedy men approaching the two of you. You didn’t like to instantly label people, but this particular flock of men were well known in the area…you had watched them many a time from the safety of your window.

You instantly began to shrink in on yourself, and it seemed your change in demeanour was enough to catch the older man’s attention. He followed your stare behind him, and his nose momentarily scrunched up in a displeased snarl. A mere twitch.

Vermin.

Rorschach felt something ugly build in him. He knew their faces well…rape, theft, assault, vandalism. These men were true scum under his boot…he hated that he couldn’t put them in their place without his face.

“Hey-yo mammi lookin good!”

“Hey you wanna lift that skirt a little more?”

“Whatcha doin with the little rat, hm?”

You could feel your heart rate pick up as they got closer, and you hoped that they didn’t realize you lived in that building. You wished you didn’t feel so small but-

The older man handed the food back to you without even looking. It was enough to bring you back to reality, and you took it quickly- the last thing you wanted was to antagonise him. Then he turned his body fully to the approaching group, and he waited patiently.

Your heart stopped. Was he about to-

He didn’t move from his stance in front of you, and he almost looked bored. Inconvenienced.

“The fuck you gonna do weasel?” One of them sneered.

That’s not very nice-

They’re not nice PEOPLE

You watched, terrified, as they got into his face and towered over him. The last thing you wanted was for him to get beaten for just being near you-

“What’s your fucking problem huh? Just gonna stare at us with those freak eyes cuz you can’t fight?” Another taunted, guffawing.

You winced, and your eyes unfocused…just like they used to-

But then, something in the men changed like a light switch. With his back to you and now a few feet away, you couldn’t tell if the man had said something, or done something, but what you did know was that the skinniest of the group was clapping the biggest on the shoulder and telling him “The little rat ain’t worth the trouble.” But there was an urgency in him what wasn’t there before.

The men huffed and some blew kisses at you which made you wrap your sweater tighter around yourself wishing you could disappear. Your eyes refocused as you heard them walk away, and you slowly looked over at the older man who was now half turning back to you.

You stared at him, your appreciation evident on you face. “I- Thank you sir…I don’t…” Don’t want to think of what might have happened if you weren’t here, you wanted to say, but you kept it simple instead. You sighed and shook your head, then held out your offering to him, and the bread you were sure he would like.

The man stared, and rose his right brow slightly, then took both from you. He turned and left you there as if it was a normal day.

Your heart was still beating wildly by the time he had left your sight, and you couldn’t help but feel a warmth spread through you as you thought about him defending you; even if it was simply him not in the mood to witness a young woman have her dignity taken…he had done something, and that made you stare after him longer than usual.

You didn’t ask why he came back at all.

Nor why he was right by your stoop that morning.

And you never inquired as to why he never asked why you didn’t give him money.

He knew why you didn’t. Perhaps not enough to make a full admission to himself but he sensed something in you…that stupid little girl. You didn’t give him money because money was too easy to fall into sin. Gambling, drugs, whores…all for money.

You wanted your kindness to stay as it was intended to be- good.

The warmth you had felt stewed in your stomach right through to the next day; you had made your way to your favourite shops early that morning and picked up a few bags of things to cook with. Then as you went to turn to your building, you paused.

You knew that red hair a mile away, and you only needed to look a few feet to see it resting against your stoop entrance.

He-

You looked around at nothing as if someone might tell you what you were seeing.

He was sat there on your building’s steps, newspaper in hand…reading. You considered continuing walking down the street and pretending like you didn’t see him or live there, but you felt silly even considering such a thing.

He didnt look up at you, and didn’t acknowledge you as you slowly approached the steps.

“Morning.” You said gently. Your cheeks began to flush when you looked at him- attempting to retrieve your keys from your pocket without tripping. It came out almost absentmindedly, seeing as you didn’t exactly want him to know that you had been fixated on how to approach him…although you supposed you had already had blown that when you watched for him every day and chased him with food…

He didn’t say a word.

An anxious knot began to tighten in your stomach. You truly didn’t know what to do…you didn’t want to seem rude if he just hadn’t heard you. You got to the first step and glanced down at your hot coffee. You wondered if he was able to speak at all…At this point, when you figured you were mostly talking to yourself and that he likely barely listened to a word you said.

“You need this more than I do…it’s September now…getting cold.” You bent down, hoping your paper bags didn’t rip, and placed it onto the second step by his boot.

You wanted to ask him why he was on your steps; wondered if he was waiting for you; wondered if he might clasp a hand over your mouth and slit your throat the moment you walked past him. It wasn’t that you wanted to think the worst, but after years of seeing the worst in the city, you couldn’t help it. You hoped that you were wrong, for you sanity’s sake.

The man still hadn’t acknowledged you, and your arms were growing heavy. With nothing left to do, you opted to walk past him and unlocked the door; chancing a glance back at his form. Perhaps you were delusional, but you swore you saw his head turning back to its original position. Had his gaze followed you?

A glance.

It was small and secret and you were elated.

You wasted no time in running up the stairs into your apartment, and grabbing the food you had saved from the night before. You counted the seconds mentally that it took for you to descend the stairs again, hoping it wouldn’t be enough time for the man to disappear.

You nearly tripped on the last step when you saw him standing and folding the newspaper. In another attempt to regain your composure, you slowed your pace as you came to the top of the stoop. You almost handed the food to him from there, but it made you feel like someone with a saviour complex instead of just trying to be nice. The tentative step you took down to his level seemed to finally grasp his vague attention as he looked down at your feet then up to your face.

You held the food out by his gloved hand.

“I hope you’re okay, mister.” You said earnestly, holding his gaze, “It’s horrible out there.” You didn’t know what made you say that, but it had been something that weighed on your mind for months…perhaps years. A dormant thought that his picket sign had awakened.

The man took the food, and it was then that you noted a certain despondency in his eyes. Perhaps it was the way his weathered face made them stand out so much more amongst the lines of age.

He left you there again just like he always did: silently.

Just as you were about to wander back up into your home, you glanced down and stopped and smiled.

There sat the coffee cup you had handed him.

It was empty.

Perhaps he was accepting your gestures in hopes of having you eventually leave him alone, but you were only fuelled by his recipiency. It became a routine for you to keep extra food for that man. Even if you ordered take-out, you kept some for him.

You noticed, however, that not long after you made contact with the strange man, a few things started happening to you that certainly had not before. In fact, you were beginning to ponder your sleep quality as you often woke up to far less food than when you had gone to sleep. Were you sleep walking? Or simply forgetting all together how much you had eaten?

Then came the dreams. At least a few times out of the week, your dream-addled mind swirled with unclear images of someone or something visiting you at night- a shadow, a whisper, a puff of smoke in the wind. You swore you woke up with things moved, but there was no forced entry that you could find, and thus you never thought more of it than you needing more sleep.

Weeks passed as you took it upon yourself to care for this man, even though he seemed to dislike the company. You knew he found you childish, it was beyond evident in his face when he stared at you. But even still, he took what you offered him, albeit begrudgingly.

Each time you saw him, a part of your heart felt bruised. Not that you pitied him -you were certain he would resent any pity- but you could tell when a person was damaged. Be it from something personal or the world itself…it didn’t matter. You were all hurt in your own way. You wondered how long it had been since someone was kind to him; had he known much kindness at all? Had he lost everything? Did he have anything to lose in the first place?

You hoped you could provide him with a tiny little ray of hope amongst the arduous reality.

Perhaps you were too optimistic like your mother had said when you were little…but you didn’t care. Not when it helped you sleep at night and get through the days of listening to the dwindling city below you.

But then, he stopped coming.

It had been a full month and a half since he had first accepted your offering. You had gotten so used to your routine that the first morning it happened, you felt sick- like a punch to your gut. You heart had dropped to your toes and your tongue felt heavy and your ears rang. You instantly thought the worst. Of course you tried to rationalise it, telling yourself that he most likely just wanted a change in his route and would be gone for that day…or perhaps he simply got sick and didn’t go for his usual walk.

When you sat there at your window, having gone back up dejectedly, you found yourself staring into nothingness. You hadn’t realized how attached you had become to that little man.

This man who never spoke had become a friend of sorts…some kind of stanger who gave you a tiny bit of human contact that you grew dependant on. It wasn’t as if he was kind to you, in fact he was a little standoffish when it came to you…you wondered if you bothered him more than anything else…and the more you thought about it the more you realized you probably did.

That night came and went; quiet and lonely aside from those strange dreams. Your eyes prickled when you awoke- already feeling empty.

You felt so silly. So selfish. Ridiculous really.

You felt even more ridiculous when you called in sick to work even though you couldn’t afford it. You found yourself wandering the streets without the slightest idea where that man came from or what his routine was, so you picked some directions to try and set off. There was no plan, you just needed to know that the one person you actually cared about wasn’t laying dead in an alley, at the very least.

It took three hours.

Three.

Asking various vendors and urchins of the streets before you were pointed in the direction that ultimately led you to that tuft of dirty red hair. He was passing by a news stand, that simple pace carrying him as always.

“Mister!” You called before you could tell yourself this was stalking…and the fact that you had no plan whatsoever.

The only indication that he heard you was when the man’s steps faltered for a moment. A slight pause in his foot and a tightening of his shoulders.

You ran to him, and moved into his field of vision. He stared at you almost like a stranger, and that stung you more than it should have. But you did your best to remain calm and kind.

“I haven’t- you-“ you tried, but failed to catch your breath, “I thought something had happened to you…but I’m so glad to see you safe. Can I- can I buy you lunch?” You asked him.

The man stared at you hard, that line between his brows even more pronounced than usual. He was thinking.

Rorschach loathed how bare he was without his face. If he wasn’t in disguise he wouldn’t hesitate to tell you to take your pity elsewhere, anything to get you to unstick yourself from him.

When he didn’t budge, you shifted on your feet, looking around to break his intense eye contact, “I- you dont have to repay me or anything…just a bite to eat. I care about you…- more than I should probably.”

“You shouldn’t.”

You almost jumped at the voice that left him.

That was the first time he had said a word to you, and you admittedly never would have thought that that would be his voice- it was so deep and hoarse that you shivered.

Then you realised what he had said.

“I sh-…why?” You asked, scrunching your brows together.

He hated his weakness in finally speaking. You would never let go now.

“People like you don’t care about people like me, and vice versa.” His words came in a rumble, and they tore you down so easily. A stomp to your heart.

You tried to pretend like tears weren’t welling in your eyes; like you were stronger than the curt, sharp words of a man you barely knew. “And what kind of people are my people?” You pushed, though it sounded more desperate than you wanted.

His face was pure stone. “Good people.”

You swallowed. “And you’re bad?” The question was timid; any wind that had been in your sails was long gone as soon as he had opened his mouth.

“Yes.” He rasped. Rorschach didn’t have the patience to baby you, and frankly his temper was rising the more you made him speak.

“Call me naive…but you don’t seem bad to me…you look…worn down.” You shrugged. “You seem like you need a little good in your life…and I really want to help you with that-“

“No you don’t.”

He said it so quickly it was as if he had practiced it or said it before. You wondered how many times he had gotten hurt.

As you searched for any retort, he continued, and began to stalk towards you causing you to back away. “You don’t want to help with anything. What you want is to feel a little less self absorbed than you already do but in doing so you only fall further into your pathetic, egocentric existence. You think you’re being compassionate? Look again. You’re nothing but a privileged little girl looking for a new toy until she gets bored and wants another one. Look in the mirror for once and see what you really are, you wretch.”

His words rang in your ears, and you felt lightheaded. He stared you down a moment longer, then he was turning around and disappeared into the crowd before you could find a rebuttal or feel your hands. You were numb.

Your heart ached as much as your feet did, if not more.

No…certainly more. You felt nauseated.

It was as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped on you from the top of one of the skyscrapers above you. You felt cold and breathless.

You didn’t remember walking home, but you must have seeing as you were sitting on your couch, coat off and tears dry by 6 pm.

You never thought he cared that much; thought he just saw you as a free meal and you were alright with that…but hearing what he had thought of you all along made you want to double over at your stupidity.

Had he been obvious in his distain and you just hadn’t noticed? You supposed it had been you who forced him to take your food in the first place…he had tried to get away from you but never could because you were so persistent. You were selfish in your want to help, and it had angered him terribly.

And you had lied to yourself; you had told yourself that if he told you to piss off, you would just have to accept that…but here you were with him telling you just that and you couldn’t handle it.

You should have known it was only a matter of time before you pushed this stranger too far…

He was like a wild dog; he would respect you…and then he wouldn’t.

And now you felt even worse for comparing him to a dog.

You hung your head in your hands and let your tears fall. In your want to help someone you had only made an enemy, and made yourself feel more alone than ever.

But that one morning still played over and over if your mind- when he hadn’t let that gang of men get any closer to you; he could have so easily just taken the food and walked away to leave you to their mercy…but he had stood his ground.

Your head ached as you tried to rationalise everything and piece it together.

But all you could come up with was that he thought you were a horrible person…and you were starting to believe him. You supposed you were nothing more than a caterer for him and you had pushed his boundaries too much.

It was all your fault.

A week passed. Every night, you still made the extra food for him, only now you left it out on the stoop since you didn’t see him anymore; hoping he might wander by when you weren’t looking. But you felt your heart ache when it was untouched. On more than one occasion the food was taken, but you assumed it wasn’t your…friend.

Of course, you had no idea that the very man you urned for sat beside those containers almost every night for at least an hour without his face. He never touched what you left for him, and he stared at it in distain. You were young, and you were stupid. He gathered he couldn’t even call you a whore yet…hell you almost had a pretentious halo around you from being born still. He wondered how it felt to be so utterly ignorant.

Rorschach hated that he knew more about you than you thought. That he had taken up the habit of perching on your fire escape outside your window as he wrote in his journal, and you cooked or read.

What he didn’t know was why you did this. Rorschach was a master of puzzles and he loathed that he couldn’t figure your motive out, not fully at least.

You said you cared.

Said you wanted to help…

Stupid.

There was no way in hell that anything you said was true. There was some kind of poison lacing your words and he had already let himself be exposed too long. No one liked Walter Kovacs, and no one liked Rorschach; they used him and worked with him…but like?

No.

A young woman liking him?

Unheard of.

Preposterous.

But that first day you had come to him on that filthy street had felt like an itch had been scratched. For months he had felt eyes on him on that particular stretch of street, but when he had finally spotted you upon your little perch, he felt what it was like to have a question answered for once. It had startled him. You had startled him. He had imagined it was an old, fat creep spying on the passers-by or a whore looking for a client…just like her…

But then there you were- this soft young woman with clean clothes and a gentle stare; you had almost fallen out of your seat, red cheeks visible even from his view point below.

Just another strange woman then.

Then…and only then when you had burst out onto the street, and run after him did he allow himself to look at you. Actually look at you.

You had looked irritatingly familiar.

There was a timidness to your eyes- a sadness that had turned to kindness. A stark contrast to the sadness in his own eyes- a sadness that had turned to venom and ice long ago.

Your voice was soft as you spoke all in a rush and apologising as you held that peace offering to him. A warm meal.

Selfless.

You were young, and selfless.

You didn’t care that he was as filthy as the street you stood on. That he hadn’t even spoken a word.

You had just wanted to help.

Stupid.

Rorschach was pleased that he had chosen to leave you there; he wasn’t one to pick up strays.

But you were stubborn. He loathed how stubborn you were. Treating him like he was a bug under your microscope.

That next time when he finally took your selfish, presumptuous offering, he considered not eating the food lest it be poisoned, but then again that wouldn’t be the worst thing he had endured in his lifetime.

He had watched you retreat back into your little home like some little, pathetic mouse.

He wasn’t young, or stupid, or naive, or innocent.

He wasn’t about let his gaze wander to some girl who would be a whore in a year or two.

At least that was what he had told himself up until night fell. Once the city was plunged into darkness and his disguise came off, Rorschach clenched his bloodied knuckles as he scaled a near-by building. Jumping from rooftop to rooftop until he came to a familiar neighbourhood. Rorschach had huffed behind his mask, and crawled down the ladder system to your window; a sick, juvenile curiosity making him feeble. Contempt flooded him.

He sat outside your window…watched you as you put yourself to sleep; tugging frustratedly at your night-dress when it bunched up under your blanket. There was an innocence to you that made his nostrils flare under his mask and his ears ring; as if an old memory was trying to resurface. It was ludicrous, of course.

Your window had opened surprisingly quietly, and he soundlessly eased himself inside. Your home was simple and comfortable despite likely having a landlord who didn’t give two shits about you. Tidy enough for a young woman. Rorschach stalked from shadow to shadow, mapping out the apartment. Then he came to your bedroom, and he paused; watched how gently you breathed as sleep took you. As if you didn’t have a care in the world, or perhaps you simply weren’t aware of the scum that lay below you.

He told himself he was just collecting information on this strange person who had extended him a disingenuous olive branch. Nothing more.

It wasn’t that there was an itch in his hands when he saw you, or a twitch in his eye when he heard your voice; that you got under his skin.

You little creature.

A little light that had turned on in his dark world.

He hated the light.

He stared at the dress that you had worn that day- draped over the back of a chair in the corner of your room. It had sat at your knee, a modest length especially given your young age. It wasn’t often that a young woman attempted to protect herself with a show of dignity. He gathered you must be hiding something…

You were odd. A sliver of grey in his black and white world.

He hated grey. It made no sense.

Then there was the routine that you forced him to partake in.

He found his steps slowing when he passed your building- not out of expectation but out of a foolishness that made him engage in the childish game you laid out.

Your presence ate away at him like a corrosive acid.

Each day he expected you to not be there. To disappoint him like everyone else.

But you never disappointed him, and he loathed it.

There was twice where he had made it past your building with no sign of you, and he had decided that the game was done and he could carry on with his existence, but then that frantic little voice of yours would make him stop. Calling after him like he was so important. Like you needed to give him your kindness as much as you assumed he needed to receive it.

Then he found himself slipping.

So stupid.

Putting off jobs or rerouting himself to pass your window. Just a glimpse- a reassurance that you were alright like double checking that you have your wallet when you leave the house.

Then it wasn’t enough. He began to sleep there on your stoop, picket sign beside him like an old friend. He didn’t care if he saw you in the mornings, but he saw the type of people who frequented the area and he wasn’t about to let a single one get past your door. He didn’t need the blood of a foolish woman on his hands as well.

The image of your bloodied, violated limp body made his stomach churn; just like it had when he found Blair Roche’s remains. And that was what scared him- or the closest thing he could feel to fear.

He held this pristine little being in his pale hand, and he knew that the longer he held it, the more likely it became that he would ruin it. Crush you in his palm just like that man had done to that little girl all those years ago…taking Walter Kovacs with him.

And he would not drag you down with him. He would not stoop to that monster’s level.

So he stopped showing you his disguise. He couldn’t have you know he was there, just like the rest of New York. He needed you to forget about him; treat him like a ghost you saw out of the corner of your eye.

When he was across the city that morning and still heard your voice behind him, he had felt his muscles tighten in distain.

Because then it wasn’t a game anymore. He was done.

But you were so insistent that you cared.

You truly cared.

You had spent god knows how long looking for him.

As soon as he had heard you, he had to steel his composure lest you attempt to lure him back into your scheme.

He hated that you had gotten him to speak, but he had watched you crumble under his words; it was alright that you were upset. He could handle that far easier than your kindness- perhaps you might even grow from a little cruelty.

Weeks passed, and he found himself returning to his usual schedule; almost appreciating the simplicity of the dullness and angst.

It was a Tuesday night when Rorschach sat on an old roof top, jotting down his visit to Daniel Dreiberg’s home- noting that he had gotten even lazier with his physique and needed to stop lying to himself about the state of the world. The odd scream and rushed fuck in an alley-way rang out below him here and there; the usual.

Dull, really. He sighed, and tucked the book inside his coat. He leaped down to the neighbouring roof, and trudged along it.

Then from down below, he swore he heard a familiar voice.

Rorschach almost rolled his eyes as he came to the edge of the roof and looked down. It was dark, but he knew your voice from a mile away- you had forced that skill upon him.

You were backing away from five men, all considerably more imposing than yourself and your warm drink. Hot chocolate to be exact. You always had at least one once a week…taking a stroll to a small coffee house-

Rorschach ground his fist into the brick to halt his unnecessary thoughts as he crouched.

He listened to the men taunt you, and saw them back you into an alley wall.

He watched, bored, waiting to see what might happen. Then the more he listened, the more he came to realize that the conversation being had sounded familiar.

“What you thought I’d be locked up forever, pumpkin? Nah they just needed some good behaviour ‘n that was enough for them to slap my ass outta there.” One of them laughed, and he neared your cowering form.

Rorschach noted just how badly you shook.

“What? You’re not happy to see me? Cmon now, don’t you have a kiss for daddy, hm?” The man sneered, successfully trapping you against the disgusting alley wall.

Rorschach began creeping down closer to hear, his eye twitching under his face when he watched the other men keep a look out and stare at you like meat on a plate.

“There you were thinking you were so smart with that speech of yours… “My boyfriend raped me and made me watch him launder all the money.”.”, he put on a horrible high pitched voice to mock you, “God you sounded pathetic. 15 fucking years…got out in 7…missed you, you know?”

Rorschach’s brain itched as he tried to recall this particular monster…it was all so-

Then it clicked.

That nagging familiarity of your face wasn’t a coincidence. He had seen you before, of course he had. He felt so stupid.

He had been outside the courthouse after you had given your heartbreaking testimony and that vile man was sentenced to 15 years for assault, murder, rape, and money laundering with attachments to drug trafficking to the homeless. Some monster with a god complex. He had seen you come down the stairs, one of your eyes still black, and head down as the onslaught of reporters and media flocked to you. You had been in the damn paper, why the hell didn’t he remember that. You were barely legal too…he remembered how his stomach had churned-

Your scream snapped him out of his memory, and he was leaping down into that alley before you could finish your cry for help. You sounded so terrified.

As Rorschach landed, a knife was held up to your lips, ready to carve your face. He felt rage fill his veins; was there no end to the putrid barbarians that staked their claim on what they saw fit?

He cleared his throat. Each head turned to him, including yours, as he stood.

As one of the most recognizable figures of New York’s underbelly, Rorschach was used to the look of fright directed at him. What he was not used to was the look of solace that washed over your tight features once your eyes locked onto his inkblot face.

Rorschach found something rewarding in your eyes.

Fuel.

The man holding your throat nodded for the man closest to Rorschach to attack first, which he did. His neck snapping echoed louder than your sobs.

The cold knife poked carelessly into your soft cheek, and you did your best to squirm away.

The next man to lunge at the vigilante smashed his bottle of beer against the brick wall, smirking as if his glass weapon would do any good. Rorschach let him get close. Then faster than a bullet he snatched the man’s weapon-laden hand and squeeze tight; the bottle breaking easily in his fist and puncturing the man’s hand like a balloon on a tack.

Two other men attempted to assault Rorschach, and each time he found such generous abundance of horror and dread in their eyes right before he gifted them each with an irreversible injury.

One after another, the men fell, until it was just Rorschach, the man holding you, and you.

He knew the dog had a name- knew he had heard it specifically- but he couldn’t bring himself to care. No doubt he would hear it over a news channel tomorrow.

The lout man held you tight, and knocked your head against the wall to stun you before turning to Rorschach. You slumped to the ground and watched as the masked vigilante took measured steps to him as if to speed up the process.

You had heard of the Watchmen before, and the countless criminals they had put away and subsequent lives they had saved…but Rorschach wasn’t what you had imagined. He didn’t tell you to save yourself or ask if you were alright. He was silent.

And somehow you found comfort in that-as if you were in the fight with him instead of a damsel in distress. You couldn’t look away, even going so far as looking for something to immobilize the brute of a man who had stolen so much from you all those years ago when you didn’t know any better.

Then once you looked up again, he was down in a heap.

You didn’t even see the altercation, but regardless there was an evident dent in the side of his bleeding head.

The filthy alley floor dug into your knees as you sat and stared. Your mind was playing catch-up with your eyes, and you felt as if the world had been eradicated from your shoulders.

You felt tears well in your eyes and a line of gratitude on your tongue.

Then the masked man turned to you and your entire world shifted when he spoke.

“Go home.” Was all he said.

But it wasn’t how he said it or what he said.

It was his voice.

You knew that voice.

You missed that voice.

You had wanted so badly to understand that voice…

Even the compact build and attitude were right.

Your lungs burned from you forgetting to breathe for a moment.

You stared up at his looming figure, eyes wide and tears long forgotten.

“It’s you…” you whispered. “You’re Rorschach.”

He let out a noise that sounded akin to a growl and a sigh. The sound send a shiver through your cold body. Then without another word, he pulled out a grappling hook like you had seen on the news, launched it, and disappeared into the smog and thick dark.

Rorschach berated himself for hours following the incident. So badly that he beat an old pimp into a coma and ripped his face off to breathe as he sat on a fire escape.

This was a nightmare.

You knew him. Knew his face and his voice.

He had slipped.

Stupid stupid stupid stupid.

There was only one thing he could think of that might rectify it, and it didn’t include you living.

He sighed.

Rorschach stood outside your door, returned to his disguise, and found that he could hear your footsteps through the thin wood. You were cleaning… doing something to distract yourself. Your hands were shaking judging by how you kept dropping things.

He knocked three times, and heard you pause at the sound. Paranoid. Frightened. You very quietly approached the door, and took a look through your peephole before falling completely silent.

You weighed your options; you could not open the door, and risk that pissing him off and breaking the door down…or you could open it and simply speed up the process of whatever it was he wanted. It took ten seconds before you pulled the door open for him.

There was no hiding how startled you were by him being there…now that you knew exactly who he was.

You were looking for something he say, he could practically hear your mind working away…up until your eyes fell on his bashed cheek and the blood drying there. You hadn’t realised he had gotten hit during the fight.

“Y-you’re hurt,” you murmured, and he nodded, not letting his eyes leave you. You sighed and stood aside, “Come in.”

He stared at you for a moment, then slowly walked past you into your home as if it was the first time he had been there. Like he didn’t know the layout and where you slept and how you folded your clothes or the hangers you used.

“Sit down.” You gestured to the couch, and offered a very small smile as if to reassure him that he was welcome there. That you weren’t holly terrified of him.

Rorschach sat, and watched you as you approached him with a cloth and small bowl of water. You sat close to him, and brought the cloth up to his cheek after wringing it out, but he caught your wrist before you could get any nearer.

He looked at you. Truly looked at you. Looked through you.

“You shouldn’t waste your tears on something so undeserving as a man.” He rumbled.

Your eyes were locked on his, and you felt as if all air was sucked out of you. You still weren’t used to that voice of his; pure gravel.

His words hung heavy in your ears, and you realized that you must have looked like an absolute mess- tears still drying on your cheeks from sobbing for your life in the alley.

He watched you take the tactless comment and he slowly released your wrist, and you gently began to clean his injury and grime on his face. There was a firm line between your brows as your worked- wiping the sharp planes of his face while trying to ignore his eyes on you, burning a hole through your skull.

His face came clean, and your bowl of water was murky and pink. This was possibly the most surreal nights you had had in a very long time. You went to get up but again, his hand caught your forearm and kept you seated. You looked from his hand to his face, staying quiet.

“Why are you helping me?” He snipped, grip tight.

You blinked, and searched his handsome face for any idea why he might doubt you aside from the fear he caused you.

You shook your head, “Why wouldnt-“

“Why?” Rorschach snarled, pulling you so close that you breathed the same air- those cold blue eyes of his harsh and intimidating.

You gasped, but refused to look away. His grip hurt, but he had saved your life and you were afraid that if you said or did the wrong thing he would disappear again. It was pathetic, you knew that, but you felt a strange bond to him.

And though he didn’t want to admit it, he felt an odd attachment to you as well.

For 45 years he had only ever seen the greed and filth that came from humanity; shaped from it, starting from the very womb he was born from. Lies and hatred, murder and rape and theft and horror beyond your imagination. For him to find your grey in amongst the rubble of humanity, it felt like good gold. He was waiting to rub away a coating of false innocence and find another piece of coal.

But there you were…coming whiter and whiter until-

Rorschach didn’t like being wrong. Being surprised. It was tedious.

But it would be a lie if he said you were anything but one of the innocents.

A good person.

Each of the deeds you had done for him had in fact come from a place of benevolence, and not deceit.

Rorschach let his grip on you lighten.

Despite your brain cautioning you of the vigilante in front of you, you simply stared back at him and ignored how strong his hold on you was.you did note that he released you slightly, the same moment his eye twitched.

“I think there’s something to that old saying of a wounded soul recognizing another wounded soul…you looked like you had some decency left in you, sir…please don’t tell me I was wrong.” Your voice was soft. Gentle. But no less direct than his. You were kind, not weak, and you were hoping against hope that he wasn’t like America’s favourite hero, the Comedian when it came to women; a line of them out his door begging for his sexual attention and him using them then tossing them aside as he pleased.

“Or maybe I’m just stupid.” You shrugged and looked away, afraid he might confirm your statement. You wouldn’t put it past him to be blunt.

Rorschach almost reacted to your use of that word. For so long he had labeled you as such, and while you might very well still be…he was sceptical to assume anything of you. He continued to stare, his sharp eyes cutting into you like you were a cloud of vapour. He relaxed his grip on you again, and stared at where he had held your arm- red finger marks forming on your clean skin. You must have washed yourself as soon as you had gotten home…scrubbed yourself clean from those vermin.

Good.

“I have…I have some dinner I was going to-um…well bring down for you…if you want it.” You began to shift uncomfortably under his gaze when he looked back at you. You swore he stared more than he spoke.

He nodded after a moment, and you smiled a little.

An incandescent sight.

“Okay.” You whispered, finally getting up. It was surreal.

Rorschach watched you go, noting that a pleasant scent followed after you.

Why did he notice that?

You walked to your little kitchen, and placed the dirty cloth and water in the sink before going to grab the pot of warm soup. You filled a bowl for him, and turned around to grab a spoon when you froze and jumped back, spilling some soup.

You hadn’t even heard him walk up behind you, didn’t even feel him even though he was a mere breath away.

“What are you…?” You murmured.

He watched you startle, and looked for any last ill intent or motive; any snark comment or any price you might want to put on your kindness…but nothing came.

It never did.

His breath was on your face, and you could only stare at him. There was a tragedy to him, hidden under the dirt, and he was impossible to read. He might have been plotting your gruesome death and you would have no idea.

Rorschach focused on you.

Fixated.

So innocent…white and pristine amongst the blood, filth and rot of his world. He hated it. Hated how you were allowed to be like that; a poster child for something that didn’t exist freely.

He sighed, pursing his mouth.

You had chosen this; you had decided to care for him. You had lead him down this path.

You had given yourself to him.

You looked away for a moment, and gingerly placed the bowl down before you spilled it. Then before you could think of anything to say with this dangerous man who was a hair away from you, you felt the skin of his lips catch yours when you turned back.

You wouldn’t call it a kiss- it was more of a hook or bait. A test. But when he did it again…that was a kiss; tentative and slight as it was. He heard your breath catch , and could feel the heat from your cheeks as they warmed and flushed.

You blushed.

Whores didn’t blush.

He kissed you again, with a little more force, and your hands came up slowly to his chest, resting there like you hadn’t decided if you wanted to draw him closer or push him away.

He might have been one of the most infamous men in New York…if not America, but he was flesh and blood underneath that mask. He was warm, and sturdy.

Rorschach was far from weak, but when he felt your soft lips brush back against his, he felt something deep inside him snap.

A low growl rumbled in his chest and he unclenched his fists; bringing his calloused hands up to grab the back of your head and your jaw to draw you closer as he backed you hard against the counter.

It was messy and Rorschach held you possesively as you gave into him. Your teeth clanked together, and your rhythm was fueled with need as he nipped and bullied his tongue into your eager mouth. He gripped your hair so tight it hurt your roots but you didn’t dare tell him to stop.

He only removed his hands from you to shuck off his jacket and gloves, mouth still sealed over yours, and then they were back on you. Grabbing at your flesh, drawing you closer; chest flush against yours.

You shakily forced your hands between and the two of you and began unbuttoning his shirt- the older man hummed in regards to your tremor.

You nervously loosened his tie and let your hands wander over the skin of his collar and chest. You hadn’t expected him to be so strong, but knowing who he was, it only made sense. Before you could get any further he weaved his fingers into your hair and pulled your head away from him.

Rorschach held you there for a moment, soaking in how you stilled so obediently; staring at you as his free hand began to gather the hem of your little night dress. He huffed, and gave your roots a quick squeeze, and the message was clear: “Stay.”

Then once he was satisfied with your cooperation, he brought his other hand down to the other side of your nightie and brought the garment up and over your head with ease. He let it fall to the ground, and you followed its descent; unable to look at the older man now that you were left in your panties while he was still almost fully clothed.

He placed two fingers under your chin to force you to look at him; you felt your blush deepen when you saw how blown his pupils were. He looked determined, and feral- deep breaths making his chest heave.

Before you could say a word, Rorschach scooped you into his arms and didn’t even pretend to not know where your bedroom was. A gasp escaped you, and your wrapped your arms around his shoulders. He carried you with little effort, and had you plopped down on your mattress in seconds. The older man crawled over you before you could even sit up; lips on yours, kissing you so hard your mouth grew tender. He only paused to pull back and kick off his trousers.

Then he was everywhere.

Rough hands grabbing at your soft skin; low rumbles and hums in his chest that vibrated against you and made you need him even more. He kissed and bit at you- marking you as his. You held onto his strong shoulders, whimpering and moaning quietly as he made you forget your own name and only know his.

Rorschach bit into your neck, and rocked firmly against you. You could feel him scorching and pulsing against your core, rubbing hard against you to create friction that had you forgetting to breathe.

“P-please” you whispered, raising your hips up to meet his.

The man stopped, and you immediately regretted saying anything. He pulled away to stare down at you. You thought you had done something wrong until he spoke.

“Say that again.” He murmured, his nose brushing yours.

Your quick beating heart was so clear for him to see, along with your nearly black eyes; the throbbing vein in your neck and pulse in your chest.

“Please…” you said again, lips red and swollen.

He sucked in a breath. Having your warm, soft skin against his bare chest was the first human contact he had felt in decades. It made him feel…human. He was fighting to maintain his practiced composure, but he could feel it slipping through his fingers with that one word.

“Again.” He rasped against your lips, throat tight; invading every inch of your space. He knew he shouldn’t ask it if you, but be needed this. He needed you to say it again.

You swallowed.

“…please.” Came your timid, needy voice. Your hands started to fidget as he refused to look away, barely blinking as he took you in. Drank your generous vulnerability.

Rorschach hummed low in his chest.

“You’re mine.” He growled simply, the skin of his lips catching yours as he spoke.

Your mind was gone already, sitting that bowl of cold soup on the counter.

You could only nod.

He sighed through his nose, and then it was as if the last part of his restraint broke. Rorschach locked his lips onto yours, and you parted yours to gasp as his hand came to your hip- squeezing and stroking your skin. His tongue moved against yours and you let out a surprised moan that he swallowed greedily. Then just as quickly, he ripped himself away from you, and you watched his veiny hands as they pulled himself from his boxers; painfully hard and leaking precum. You’d be lying in you said you hadn’t thought highly inappropriate things about the man- something about his simplicity and your need to please him. He lowered himself over you, resting his weight onto you as he bit at your lips.

Low hums would rumble through him and you couldn’t help but think he was purring. He perched onto his forearms, and shifted closer; you gasped when you felt the tip of his cock against your entrance, and choked out a cry when it entered you without warning.

There was no sweetness. It was blunt, and clear as day.

Rorschach rested his head into your neck as he hunkered over you and pushed forward, then drew back; fucking himself into you. You were no virgin, but you might as well have been. It only took two brutal thrusts before his hips were flush with yours and you were clinging to him pathetically.

You whimpered in his ear at the stretch of him so deep inside you. You couldn’t help but squirm slightly in an attempt to get used to him. Rorschach brought a hand to rest at the nape of your neck to keep you still as he drew out of you again then snapped back into you, making your body bounce under him. It was as if he was testing you…or perhaps testing himself.

Then you felt a puff of his hot breath as he quickened his pace, taking full advantage of how soaked you were for him. You could feel him throb inside you, and you suddenly remembered that he was only a man…a much older man who was rutting inside you like he owned you. The thought alone had you moan into his shoulder as his fat tip dragged against your insides and bruised your cervix. You rolled your hips with him, gasping at how hard he gripped your hip and neck.

He was possessive and harsh in his need for you. Like a man who had been starved and you were his first meal.

And he would devour you.

You felt his pace pick up and his thrusts turned harder and sloppier. He locked his arms around your shoulders to keep you still as he bruised your pelvis. Your back arched and hips met his in a need to feel every inch of him. You hooked your legs behind him to bring him closer. You could feel him huff into your neck, a rumble in his chest.

“I-inside me- please…” you managed to croak out, though you doubted he would listen to any request that he didn’t like at that point. He was going to make you his in every sense, and that meant filling you with his cum.

Rorschach growled deep into your shoulder and bit into your flesh. You felt him pulse inside you, then a warmth spread inside your navel as he emptied his cum into you. It had a comfort to it that made you cling to him, nuzzling your face into his strong shoulder. Ragged breaths were in your ear as he hammered into you a few more times like he was proving a point. Making sure you knew that you were his now…his secret.

You panted with him, and clenched reflexively as he began to pull out. You already missed the warmth he brought you. His shoulders were visibly more relaxed as he moved to lay beside you, and you slowly grasped his jaw and brushed your lips against his, which he returned ever harder. You pulled away, and you liked that he hummed when you did.

The man beside you leaned up onto his arm to stare down at you thoughtfully. As if he was trying to read something on you. Your skin flushed with warmth under his scrutiny, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to tell him that you didn’t cum.

When you moved your hand down between your legs where his cum now leaked from you, you twitched. Every inch of your skin was hypersensitive and when you touched your clit you almost flinched at the contact. All of which instantly drew the attention of the man beside you. He stared at you intently- a deep line between his red brows.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

His scrutiny was jarring, though you noticed it wasn’t judgemental…it was studious. Curious. You looked away from him, and felt very naked under his gaze, afraid he might ridicule you for something like that. It wouldn’t be the first time you had gone to take care of yourself and a man had almost laughed in your face.

“I’m…I didn’t um…” you tried, but he watched you so closely, and felt as if he was studying you.

He was.

Then he understood. His eyes widened ever so slightly.

“Oh…” he rasped, looking down where your hand had been. You bit your thumb nail as you waited to see what he would do or say. You liked this man more than you would care to admit, but you knew men could be selfish…and uncaring…and mean. Hell, you had never had anyone make you cum besides yourself, and your expectations were not-

Your thoughts were halted when you felt the warmth of his calloused hand on yours. You watched as he very simply took your hand from your mouth, and returned it to between your thighs, and looked back at you expectantly. At first it felt like a slap in the face, as if he was telling you to take care of yourself…but with how intensely he was gazing at you, you realised he was examining your every move. You moved your fingers and he regarded them carefully. Like it mattered greatly to him.

The older man committed everything to memory; when you petted, when you were gentle, when you moaned, when you pressed harder, when you stroked, when you arched your back, when your hand started to shake, when your brows pitched up, when you slipped your fingers inside yourself.

You found yourself unable to look away from him even as your eyes drooped and your mouth dropped open in a permanent sigh. Your breaths were coming in little gasps, and you didn’t even notice he was just as effected as you- his chest heaving as he took deep, controlled breaths.

You slowly pumped your fingers inside yourself, stroking your g-spot; then gasped out a soft whine at the contact on your sensitive flesh, at which point Rorschach deemed to be enough watching for his liking. He snatched your little hand and replaced it with his own far larger and rougher hand.

You gasped when he touched you so accurately…but this time you gasped for him.

He leaned over you, his lips just a breath away as if to breathe in your whines and pleas. Watching what he did to you.

His thumb drew small, feathery circles around your clit; alternating between direct but tentative touch, and agonizingly slow strokes that didn’t quite touch it. You began to pant, and your hands found his strong shoulders- hanging on like a lifeline. The older man hummed, and looked away from you for a moment to watch what he was doing, how slick his hand had become as a result. Once he had your hips rolling up into his palm, he eased a finger inside you, although his was noticeably longer and thicker than yours.

You gasped at the sensation.

“I-if you- ah! Can you move l-like this?” You showed him how to curl his finger inside you and he instantly followed your instruction, and even added a second finger; you cried pathetically as you surrendered to his mercy.

He stroked your inner walls for a new moments until he found what he was looking for. Once he made contact with that hypersensitive patch inside you, you let out a gasped moan that you tried to cover with your hand, but Rorschach was having none of that. His free hand that had cradled your head smacked your hand away and didn’t even pause his ministrations. This was just as much for him as it was for you. He wanted to know everything he did to you.

You whined softly against his mouth.

The movement of your hips began to be more deliberate as your body chased its craving. As if catching onto what you needed, he focused on that spot inside of you, and you let a series of moans slip from your mouth. Your pelvis bucked up into his touch, and you could have sworn that amongst the focused breathing and studious stare, you saw that man smirk.

Smirk.

He huffed out a ragged sound that must have been a laugh.

He continued to watch you, and you found yourself lost in the feeling of him and the sight of his eyes staring down at you like you were the most important thing at that moment.

Like there was nothing he would rather be staring at.

It took only a few more moments of his careful ministrations before you were falling apart in his arms. Your back arched up off the bed as you gripped his fingers like a vice inside you, and he continued his strokes, though he slowed them considerably.

The steady drag of his fingers inside you set your veins on fire. There was a mess of your and his cum between your thighs,and he used the saturated slickness to lazily finger you; carrying you through your high.

As you eyes refocused and unglazed, you stared back at him, and caught his lips with yours. He eagerly returned your needy kiss, and very gently removed his hand from your cunt.

You lacked proper judgement and acted purely on what you wanted; with his hand resting on your penvis, soaked and sticky, you took his wrist in your hand. You didn’t want to know how much blood had been shed because of those hands, not in that moment to be specific, but what you did know was that he had you wrapped around those fingers tight. You lifted them to your lips licked the slickness off of them, cleaning him. You flicked your eyes up to his, and we’re startled be how close he had moved. He hummed low in his chest when your tongue slowly lapped at them to clean him.

He drew his hand away from you, kissed you; holding you jaw surprisingly gently as if you didn’t have the shape of his hands bruising your hips or an ache deep inside you.

Your head felt light and disconnected.

Rorschach pulled away after a moment, and propped his head onto his hand to watch you. He gingerly traced your face shape with his finger, as if mapping and memorizing you. Touching your eyebrows, the ridge of your nose, your cheekbones.

He was lost in his own little world.

“I like the way you sound when you cum.” He said so a-matter-of-fact.

Your cheeks went rosy and warm. You didn’t know if you should thank him, so you grinned sweetly.

There was something in him that made it compelling to watch him. Something drawing you in as he stared back with such fixation. You didn’t know how to look away.

Not until your eyelids drooped and exhaustion took you. You didn’t know when you fell asleep, but you did know that when you awoke, your blanket was laid over you, your hair was out of your face, and you had a pair of crystal blue eyes staring back at you. Rorschach looked to have not moved an inch since you had fallen asleep. His head still propped in his hand, watching.

“Did you sleep?” You asked, rolling closer to him; your head and body consumed by your pillows and blankets.

He shook his head.

“You do you ever sleep?” You flicked your eyes across his face.

And he shook his head again.

You placed your hand on his cheek. His face didn’t soften- it never did, you noted. But regardless, his attention was on you entirely; you stared at him like he did you, then smiled gently at him.

“Thank you for trusting me.” You whispered, and he clearly hadn’t expected such a thing.

Again, he didn’t move from his place, but you noted the twitch in his brow, and small smirk that sat in the corner of his mouth. Perhaps he thought you foolish, but you didn’t care.

You pressed a kiss to his lips, and pulled away quickly even when he chased you. A displeased huff escaped him, but you eased it away when you gently hitched your leg over him. He grabbed your waist as if anticipating something volatile, but when you leaned over him, your chest against his, he seemed to pause mentally. You nestled your hips against his, your thighs on either side. With nothing between you, the feeling of his hardening cock against your lips was evident. The older man’s warmth radiated into you. You felt his fingers start to dig into your hips where he gripped you, squeezing the flesh as if he was about to lift you off. But then, you rolled your hips against him, sliding along his shaft easily given how slick you were already. He stopped all trains of thought he had for a moment when the sensation registered in his nerve-endings.

His gaze continued to make you self-conscious, but you wouldn’t shy away from him now.

You repeated the motion again, and felt him twitch and harden under you; you gasped when his hands held you firmer. You enjoyed the feeling of his cock under you, and your eyes began to glaze over when you felt the swollen tip catch your entrance, slipping inside you without warning. The soreness you felt from the night before didn’t stop you though. You watched him carefully, and while his stare was intense and focused, there was no unease or resistance.

Your cheeks flushed and you couldn’t help but stutter, “I-is this okay?” To the nearly silent man.

Again, he didn’t say a word. Instead, he gripped your hips tighter and bucked more of him into you.

You took that as a yes.

Encouraged by his action, you rolled your hips on him a few more times to get more of him inside you; a whimper and a gasp escaped you as he filled you so completely- the stretch painful but addictive. Your slower pace appeared to bother him and he ground you down onto him to get his cock fully inside you. The force made you breathe out another gasp; your hands found their place on his muscled chest to steady yourself.

With you both satisfied with being locked together, you slowly bucked your hips, drawing him in and out of you. You felt his grip grow more possessive, almost pawing at you as he held you.

You started slow, and deliberate; angling your hips to have his cock drag against your g-spot. At the first contact, your tempo stuttered, and your choked on a moan. He seemed to find your pleasure amusing as he hummed and began to meet your thrusts. He seemed to understand what to feel for after a moment when he stroked that sensitive patch, and you noted that he was very particular about hitting it.

Then you started to notice just how much pleasure he was receiving when his lips parted and the tendons in his neck began tighten.

Each time you came down on his shaft, you felt him reciprocate the movement- grinding up into you. It was as if he knew exactly what to feel for that made your toes curl.

You could barely hold a thought in your head as you felt fire brew in your veins and a tightness in your pelvic muscles.

You tilted your head back, and your arms that were braced on his chest buckled; bringing you closer to him. Your head fell back down and your eyes locked onto his- pupils blown. There was a new intensity to his face, a determination.

Then, as if he had had enough of you in charge, the man suddenly gripped you waist and flipped you onto your back. He crawled over you, and slipped his cock back inside you, earning him a whine and gasp from your sweet throat. He found a rhythm identical to the one you had set atop him, and your lips parted when you felt him angle his hips to target that spot inside you; the intense drag of his cock hitting it each time. He rendered you speechless in seconds.

After mewling and huffing out breaths, you finally managed to find a couple words.

“H-harder…” you forced out, “Ple-ase.” You pleaded.

It seemed he was intent to oblige. The gradual roll of his pelvis escalated into a harsher snap of his hips that had him watching you with rapt interest when you cried out.

Out of habit from your past, your hand flew to your mouth just like it had the night before, but just like then, he grabbed your wrist and pinned it beside your head without a moments thought. You felt scrutinized and your cheeks began to heat up so much you felt the warmth spread down your neck.

He wanted to know exactly what he did to you.

And that thought alone forced your body to clench and melt for him simultaneously.

With his careful ministrations, your orgasm grew quickly- an overwhelming amount of pleasure spawning inside you that you hadn’t felt before. Just as you had asked, he kept his pace steady and firm. His desire to know how to play you as he liked made your brain go dizzy with need, and you were intent to follow his wishes. While it made you flush even more to tell him what you needed, you swallowed your pride and forced another pathetic whimper from you. “Slower…please.” You breathed.

At your request, he leaned down over you more, his chest almost flush with yours. He kept your one hand pinned while he used his other hand to pull your thigh up and pushed your knee to your chest.

The change had your eyes rolling back, and you heard him hum; vibrations from his chest buzzing into yours making your fingertips tingle.

It took all of ten seconds before your thighs shook and you desperately rolled your hips up to meet his. He watched as your brows pitched up and your swollen lips parted. Your face flushed in ecstasy.

Rorschach could feel you tense around his cock, and smirked to himself when he felt a rush the of your cum soaking him inside you. You nearly sobbed. Eyes glassy and back arching as you came.

The older man slowed his pace, until eventually stopping all together, but only for a moment. He leaned his nose down into the crook of your neck, and inhaled softly. His grip still possessive; it made you shiver.

Then, just as you settled, he snapped his hips once, forcing his cock back into your tightened heat and he pulled away from your neck to stare you down- nose bumping against yours. You cried out from the impact and looked up at him. He had your attention now. And he began to fuck into you steadily again, but growing in need.

His message was clear.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

And he certainly was not.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Compilation of Sukuna True Form in the Manga because in this profile we love that crazy man

Yes, I skipped the image where he is with Yorozu for personal reasons.

People call it ugly, to me it's fucking beautiful.

Dead end street

Keegan x female!reader (call sign ‘Turk’ used)

Warnings - smut, 18+ only, fingering, dirty talk, p in v sex, outdoor fucking

Word count - 4k

Tag list - @mykneeshurt @luminousbeings-crudematter

It’s cold out. Frigid and sharp as it nips at you, like cruel gnashing teeth as it stings the ends of your fingers and the tips of your ears. Your neck gaiter saves your face from the burn of the chilly breeze, even through the fabric, your breath plumes and carries before your eyes like a storm cloud.

Night watch was yours tonight, how lucky, barely a few hours in and you already ache, the below freezing temperature screaming at you to take shelter inside, to curl into your sleeping bag and savour what warmth your body can muster.

That’s what the enemy is counting on, you reminded yourself.

The rooftop provides a good visual. Wide expanse of the concrete streets below naked to your eye, every entry point within reach of your rifle, cocked - poised and ready.

Your team sleeps inside. Only a storey below. Slumbering under the guise of an old sugar beet factory, reality warped with the true military intentions, here in the belly of Russia - with an authority to execute given the opportunity.

You lean back, cracking your neck, the brittle cold settling into your bones. You’re kneeling down, knee pads slipping on the ice that lays in a paper-thin sheet across the concrete, frost catching in the material of your trousers as it scrapes up against them.

From your vantage point, you can see clearly, it’s dead as a doornail, the only sound is the whispering of the breeze as it catches in your jacket.

‘She jumps in headfirst, only thinks after the fact, sarg. Somethin’ only a Turk would do’.

You inhale sharply, ice cold air filling your lungs as you hold it in, letting it go in a fog of vapour that crests over your face. It wasn’t the cold or the solitude that you hated most about taking the nightshift, it was the silence that allowed your mind to run free. When you’re dodging stray bullets out in the field or jumping headfirst and blind out of a plane; there’s little room for thought, a lack of space to consider anything beyond instinct, that was what you thrived upon. You hated the lull in between, the pulling drag of silence that stifled the hours, letting your head dictate the fixation of doubt and second guessing.

For the first time in hours; you creak to a stand, knees locking and popping as you do. The stretch of your muscles twinge, bunched up and taught from the position you’d remained in for hours on end. You keep your eyes trained forward, irises darting through the narrow streets as you step back a few paces, rolling out the tension from your shoulders.

It’s when the sound registers in your ears that you realise it’s already too late, crunching ice, fractured under boots that aren’t your own. You’re quick, but not quick enough, body only able to swivel an inch before heat is at your back, pressing into you. It’s not hot- it’s burning, searing you like coals as your mouth is smothered by a gloved palm, another firm arm bracketed over the entirety of your torso as it keeps your biceps pressed tight against your body.

‘Spitfire that one, mate, more disciplinary actions on her file than I’ve had hot dinners’.

All you can do is thrash and jerk, make it awkward for them to keep a firm hold; your hands snatch for the wrist of their hand that covers your mouth, clawing at it. You had every incentive to sink your teeth into their digits, bite their fingers clean off if needed; but it isn’t, because the low resounding laugh that drifts into your ears is one you know well. Too well.

It makes you still, his hold on you slackening to the point you’re able to lodge the point of your elbow into his stomach, he catches the movement half way, softening the blow as he snatches your arm and tugs you roughly toward him. “Careful kid, shit like that’ll come back to bite you in the ass” he’s endearing, even behind the mask, his smirk is palpable - you can nearly taste it.

Your feigned grimace is hidden behind your gaiter, the knit in your brow is enough to convey your annoyance to him, “counting on it, Russ” you spit, tugging your arm from his grip.

You create some space, stepping away to hook a finger into your gaiter and pull it to your chin so you can breathe, chest coiling with something you know is never good, and it only comes knocking when Keegan Russ is within arms reach.

He laughs again, it whistles through his nose, muffled by the balaclava. His boots hit the concrete in languid steps, slow and methodical as he closes the space again. It’s as if the cold around you dissipated, now you’re burning up, skin searing as the hair prickles at the base of your neck.

A warning.

‘You’re a sergeant, Russ’ your tone is flat, his head tilts against the pillow, ‘your point, Turk?’ He presses his lips against the shell of your ear, wisps of your hair fanning from his breath, it stirs something in your gut.

You’re standing at the edge of the rooftop, lipped edge of concrete that stands at your hip keeping you from the street below, partially hidden in the pitch-black midnight. Your arms are limp at your sides, fists balled as your mind thrums into overdrive, more rambling thoughts skipping through like a playback. There isn’t enough time until he’s there again, standing to your immediate right, barely a hairsbreadth away, eyes following your gaze as you stare at nothing below.

He’s something different. Keegan doesn’t regard you in the same way the rest of them do, doesn’t frown down at the history in your files or listen to the whispers thrown around about you from table to table in the base canteen. Frankly, he doesn’t give a shit, unless you’re jeopardising his mission or his team, it doesn’t matter. He sees you as the soldier; the sniper with a critical aim and master precision, the one who passed her probation period with flying colours and a handful of new records to boot. He didn’t acknowledge the red ink that stained your paperwork, the warnings, the past haunting you like a phantom as it loomed. Russ saw you for what you were, an asset, a valued soldier that did more good than harm.

You don’t flinch when his fingers trace the back of your neck, index finger looping into the chain of your tag as he twines and untwines it around his digit, a little ritual of sorts for him. “I can hear you thinking” the softness of his voice cracks the peaceful silence, his breath fanning across the air in front of your eyes, drifting on the breeze. You half dare to wonder if that softness is reserved only for you.

He continues to fiddle with the chain around your neck as you move to lean forward, palms flattening against the wet stone as you bow your head between your arms, a choked groan striking from your chest.

“I hate taking watch” you admit, swerving the topic that was really sitting on your tongue, he hums in acknowledgment.

“I know, that’s why I make you do it” his tone doesn’t shift, almost a seriousness to it as it draws a faint laugh from your chest. You shake your head, “you’re a bastard” he can’t see it, but you’re smiling to yourself, albeit faintly. That makes him huff something that holds semblance to a laugh, “I know, Turk”.

‘What the fuck does it even mean anyway?’ You gag after you knock back your drink, salt from the glass rim of your tequila shot crusted on the top of your lip, Russ is sat beside you and he’s quick to run his thumb over the salt before he sucks his thumb into his mouth, it makes you gape at him. ‘What does what mean?’ He’s humouring you, as sober as he was when he walked in, he’s driving the truck back to base after the team has had their fill of a few rounds of pool, stale peanuts and pissy beer. You’re frowning as you twirl the glass between your fingers, ‘the nickname’ your expression looks sour, he likes to think it’s from the tequila, ‘you don’t like it?’ He asks, genuine, it makes you side eye him. ‘I might like it if I know what it means’ you bite at him and it makes him smile, because that’s exactly what it means. He mulls over the words, thinking of how best to word it for you, ‘a Turk is someone who is stubborn, someone who’s hard to deal with’ Russ is regarding you fully now, eyes searching your expression as the understanding slots into place. He’s not sure what he sees, he can’t tell if you’re relieved or hurt, he’ll be sure to avoid telling you what you could have been stuck with if not for your Captain’s interference. Your lip juts and you continue to fiddle with the glass in your palm, he nudges you with his elbow, ‘it’s what they call their prize fighters in Ireland’ that alone catches your attention, you can hear it now, the drawl of your old Captain’s Donegal accent wrapping around the name. It puts your mind at ease.

You lift your chin from where it’s lowered between your arms, daring to let your eyes cross over to his, that striking shade of cerulean blue taking root deep down in the marrow of your bones as you lock gazes. Neither of you look away. “Why aren’t you asleep?” You ask, a thought rearing in your head that skates along the line of wondering why he wouldn’t take watch if he was going to stay awake anyway. Russ cocks his head, “couldn’t” the word is clipped, “too much on my mind” his gaze flits down your body, raking down and back up, you nod your head.

Then, the cold is long gone, replaced with the warmth of Keegan’s breath as it fogs over your neck, teeth worrying a bruise into your throat as his palms clamp over the tops of your thighs. Holding you impossibly close.

He’s perched you on the ledge and he’s snug between your knees, mask pulled up over his nose to press into your skin as he grinds his hips into the juncture of your thighs where he knows the sweetest part of you is, perhaps the only sweet part of you.

You’ve pushed your fingers up past the hem at the back of his mask, nails raking through his undercut there, knowing it makes him shiver. It earns you a harsh welt that’s sucked into your neck, soft-sore skin soothed by his tongue as he admires his work. You tug the back of his mask so he’s forced to meet your eye, his lips are parted, ragged breaths pluming in the air as they mix with your own, clouds of ecstasy.

“I hope you’re keeping your eye on the street” it’s all molasses on your tongue, thick and rich as you drip it onto his tongue, curling your own against his teeth till he’s choking back a moan in his chest. “It’s not my watch” it’s practically a growl that brims from his throat, catching in yours as he draws your bottom lip between his teeth.

The urge to rip into him is there, on the tip of your tongue, begging to chastise him, call him a hypocrite for all of the times he told you how distracting you are. Those hadn’t been while on watch, while lives are on the line, the risk of blowing your cover looming and completely possible. Yet, right now, you can’t bring yourself to break away; can’t think of anything other then him and the way he feels against you. There’s nothing else, nothing more that matters, as selfish as that is - he seemed to feel the same.

Keegan cants his hips into you, his pent up arousal more the evident as his cock bulges beneath the fabric. You’re reeling, losing yourself, one hand fisting the jacket covering his shoulder while the other grips the back of his neck, not allowing him to break his lips from yours. “We’ll have to be quick” he whispers it, ghosting your lips, a secret held between your bodies. You smile slyly against his mouth, “shouldn’t be an issue for you” it’s a quip that earns a rough myriad of teeth marks sunk into your jaw, the gesture makes you tip your head back with a strangled moan. He lets the skin go with a wet pop, “I see why that mouth gets you in so much trouble” his chest is heaving, breathing ragged as he tries to focus his eyes on you, pupils blown wide with lust.

The sergeant is right, you’re not one to bite your tongue, never have been; but he didn’t seem to mind half the time. You sit up straighter, grinding friction against his crotch as you shift - making him hiss through his teeth, you loop both your arms around the back of his neck till your fingers are interlocked. Keeping him as close as is physically possible. “I thought you liked my mouth” your tone is sweet and false, a coy smile slanting your mouth, it makes him cock his head at you with a pointed glare. He huffs again, “I like it when it’s stuffed full of my cock, sweetheart” there’s little to no playfulness in his tone, a serious admittance as he watches the way you screw your eyes shut - a steady roll of arousal seeping through your core. Any patience you held was long gone, thrown away on the cold breeze, no longer able to maintain the teasing. “Fuck me already” you gasp.

It’s as if he takes it as an order, dutiful soldier he is, tugging you from the wall and spinning you till your spine is flush with his chest. Pressing a huge palm between your shoulder blades till you’re forced to bow forwards, elbows braced on the slick concrete ledge in front of you. He chuckles something low in his chest, prideful, “knew there was an obedient streak in you somewhere” Russ is close again, rutting into you smoothly as his fingers curl into the hair at the nape of your neck, sharply pulling till you crane your neck to meet his eye.

He’s dowsed in moonlight, framed by it, the violet-indigo hues of it bleaching his skin, the only light you can catch is the fire behind the silvery-blue of his eyes. Burning.

Something slots out of place in your head, teeth exposed as you smirk, you’re delusional already. “Pot calling the kettle black” it’s husked from your mouth, plucked from your lungs as you struggle to stay rooted in place. His smirk replaces yours as he crowds forward, crushing you against the brick, “be sure to keep it quiet, sweetheart, don’t want you waking the boys up” his hand is looped around your hip as he speaks, tugging harshly at your belt until it falls agape at each side. Your zip is ripped down next, then you feel the sting of the cold as it caresses the newly exposed skin of your ass and thighs, trousers and underwear pulled to your knees as Russ uses one of his boots to kick your feet further apart.

Any smart remarks you were thinking of voicing are gone, dead on the wind, thrown over the ledge you’re so tightly pressed against. You can do little more than bite your tongue, fingernails scraping over wet stone as you feel him shift behind you, the sound of his belt clanking ripping through you like shrapnel. You were shaking. Shivering in anticipation, not from the cold, waiting for him to touch you again.

It’s when he presses two warm-gloveless fingers through your folds that your silence is broken, a strangled whine spilling past your lips, the sound of your arousal slick on his fingers as he curls them into your pussy. “Fuck-“ you’re gasping, pushing your hips back into his hand, wanting him to get on with it, needing him inside of you yesterday.

“So fuckin’ wet for me doll, look at you” his voice is pitched low, tone smouldering you.

You hate what he can draw from you so easily. You’re stone-faced, hard to read and even harder to reach; but Keegan, he has a competent ability to flay you open, split you till there’s nothing more to hide, an open book for him to so easily flip through the pages. He’d evidently ripped a few out, stuffed them in his pocket to study later, that was the only explanation for how well he gaged you and your reactions.

Russ always reads you so well; doesn’t waste time because he knows neither of you have enough of it. You’re limited. He’s still a sergeant, still heading this assignment, he won’t jeopardise it for the sake of getting his cock wet; but he’ll indulge you both for now.

He takes himself in his fist, jerking a few times before he’s pressing the swollen-leaking head through the searing heat of your cunt, catching your juices over the length of himself before he’s smearing it around crudely. You jerk, “shit- Russ please” it’s strangled, punched out of your lungs when he gives you no warning, sinking himself all the way into you. Pressing home.

He groans and you whine, practically cry as he starts to fuck into you with abandon, deliberate thrusts crushing your ribs into the sharp edge of the concrete. His cock is too much - too soon, he’s stretching you open, ripping you at the seams. The heavy width of him pressing at your walls, velvet of his skin smooth and hot inside of you.

It’s rough and tender intertwined. While his hips bruise you, his hands hold you still, almost as if you’re something sentimental, crooked in his palm like an inherited keepsake.

The sounds that crest from the depths of his chest only serve to drive you further past the point of return, he’s grunting as his hips piston in and out of you, pussy sucking him like a vice, enveloping his cock so perfectly as if he was moulded to you, cut from the same cloth. He leans close, whispers in your ear, “keep your eyes on the prize, sweetheart. You’ve still got a job to do” his teeth sink into the shell of your ear and you tip your head back as his mouth skates from your ear to your cheek, wet lips kissing your skin. You try your best to meet his thrusts, to press your hips back into him, seeking more of him, never getting enough of the way he drives his cock so deliciously inside of you.

He continues to fuck you good, so good your eyes are rolling like marbles to the back of your skull, you sound so wet and desperate as his skin meets yours, the clap of your flesh meeting his resounding out into the night air around you. Russ is sly when he slips an arm around your waist, fingers skating up your thigh until he presses them between your legs, rubbing friction over your clit till you have to bite your tongue to silence the noises that threaten to break from your chest.

You tighten around him, cunt fluttering as your orgasm begins to loom, spotting your vision at the seams. “F-fuck - fucking hell” you sigh, wanting to press your pelvis forward into the delightful swirl of his talented fingers on your clit but not wanting to let up even an inch of his cock from where he fucks it into you. He preens, moaning into the base of your neck when his teeth worry another bruise there, “you feel so fucking good” he grunts as he knocks a particularly brutal thrust into you, your ass slapping against his pelvis in a way that has him near enough drooling, desperate to sink his teeth into your flesh.

It’s rising, crests and rolls like a tidal wave- no, a fucking tsunami. Knocking you off your feet, washing away anything but him, only Keegan remains rooted and unmoving. Despite the force in which your orgasm hits you, lighting a fire down your spine like a paraffin spill, he keeps fucking you through it. Brutal and painful. It’s overstimulating, sending your limbs heavy like rubber as he frees up a hand to wrap around the base of your throat, forcing it up till the back of your head rests against his shoulder. His breath fans your ear, broken moans drilling into you in the same ferocity his cock does, spilling down your ear canal till they send your brain to mush. “Thaaaat’s it - gorgeous” he shudders, “fuck” his hips never let up, his other hand snatches you back so you’re upright, scooping up both your wrists till he’s got them pinned to the small of your back. With the force he fucks you with, you’re having to raise yourself onto the tips of your toes, it’s too much and still not enough.

Tears slip freely over your cheeks now, your mouth agape with the need for more air, he’s fucking the oxygen right out of you. “Keegan- please” you whine, “fuck-“ it’s a cry that’s hoarse and brittle, broken as it manages to rattle from your throat. Molten heat washes through you, wringing you out, nothing more left to give but the way your cunt flutters and tightens around him still. He slows, thrusts beginning to lose rhythm as his hips stutter, “shit” the curse slips between gritted teeth, hissing out, and then he’s cumming in you. It’s sticky-hot, painting across your insides with a fever that sends your stomach into knots. You shouldn’t admit it, but it’s a feeling you never tire of.

His hold on you doesn’t give, only tightens, hoarse grunts muffled in your hair as your pussy milks him for all he’s worth, for all he can manage. Your chests are heaving in unison, the same unison in which your breaths mingle and carry away before your eyes, fleeting toward the star-hung sky.

You lean back into him, bones turned to jelly under your skin, unable to comprehend moving just yet. He doesn’t move either, doesn’t even pull out of you for fear his cum will slip out too, he’d have to fuck it back into you with his fingers, letting you clean off his digits with your tongue afterwards. If the situation were different he might have done, but for now, he’d enjoy this.

His nose nudges your cheek, his head pressed to the side of yours as you look at the sky, drinking in the moon and the stars. This is where the tenderness stemmed, in the afterglow, as the adrenaline and lust dissipates, all that is left is the sergeant and his soldier. His little Turk.

Air heaves through his nose and you try to turn your head, only your eyes are able to flit across his face. “Something funny, sergeant?” Your tone is softer then it had been before, tensions and worries washed away, mind still too hazed to think about much else but the way his cock stirs again inside of your cunt as he presses forward.

“Just thinking of how I’ll enjoy watching you work tomorrow knowing my cum is stained between your thighs”.

Hannibal’s just: 👁👄👁

In this House we stan Gundam Tanaka

cw. suggestive, gn!reader, size kink, strength kink, manhandling, choking out ghost with your thighs, soap and price make a quick appearance *not proofread, just pure horny

[I think ghost really set off my strength kink and feral need to be manhandled-] ao3 link !!

reblogs and comments are appreciated <33

testing your limits by practically wrestling with ghost. just a lot of pushing and shoving. giving him snarky remarks each time he catches your hand before you can regain any morsel of control. simon smugly smirks under his balaclava, beckoning you forward. with his hands clasped behind him, he straightened his back, standing to his full height.

he should be scary, standing at a staggering 6'4 but the way he just towers over you has nothing but butterflies erupting in your stomach. he tilts his head slightly, his eyes glazing over with hidden burning emotions. you adjust your gloves, trying to contain yourself for just a bit longer. with a new idea in your head, you slump forward. your eyes flutter closed as you feel ghosts arms wrap around you.

you let yourself fall into him, ignoring his soft calls of your name. you can feel him lean back, about to crouch down to carry you. you quickly hook your leg behind his and shove against his chest. you straddle his stomach, pinning his hands to the floor. he let's out a grunt, a hint of amusement swimming in his eyes. he made no move to take control from you, letting you enjoy yourself as you press against his wrists.

"I'm impressed, little one." he let out a short chuckle. he deemed you've had enough fun and pushed up against you, knocking you off balance for just enough to pin you against the training mats. he wrestled with your legs, and finally was able to grab your wrists in the middle of it. your wrists are now pinned to the mat, with his hips pressing against your ass. "you actually tried that time, huh?"

a glared back at him, trying to wriggle your wrists out of his hand. with your legs on either side of him, you pushed down against his hips, eliciting a groan from him. with the quick distraction, you planted your feet flat against the floor. pushing off as much as your folded position would allow, you straighten your arms, making ghost dip down. you wrangle your legs up, placing your thighs on his shoulders.

he looks slightly shocked, trying to lift himself up before you crossed your legs behind his head. the heel of your boots dig into his back, the muscles tensing and shifting under his black tee. "it wasn't over yet, riley." your tone is cocky, pressing your heel into his spine harder to keep him pinned between your legs. simon stopped resisting the fight, letting you have your fun.

"yknow this position seems oddly familiar..." his voice trailed off as his breath fanned over your clothed thigh. you stared at him in disbelief, pressing your tongue to your cheek while you tense your thighs against him. as you pressed his head into your thigh, his hips are pressed against your back.

"now what is this, L.t?" both of your heads snapped to the source of the voice, blinking dumbly as soaps eyes flickered between the two of you. price walked in after hearing soap, raising a questioning brow at the current position ghost was in. "having fun there, ghost?"

though as you tried to free your wrists, ghost only pressed down harder against them. the hand propping him up moved down to still your wiggling hips. "a blast, captain." he peered down at you, watching as you look anywhere but at him. "you've got me in a headlock with your thighs and you still can't keep eye content with me?" You huffed, loosening your hold around his head.

"we can always continue this privately if you want..."

♡ — ♡ — ♡ — ♡ — ♡ — ♡ — ♡ — ♡ — ♡

Domestic Smut Headcanons with Simon

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, domestic fluff, kitchen sex, cockwarming, table sex, gentle sex turns into rough sex, clit sucking, cum eating, morning sex, service top Simon

A/N: I haven't played much COD but Simon has me in a chokehold. Comments and reblogs are always appreciated, it lets me know you want more!

Since Simon is away for long periods of time he wants to please you thoroughly when he can

He loves cockwarming and sometimes wants to spend all day inside you

Not only because it feels good but also because he gets to hold you close all the time and kiss you as much as he wants

He gets to do that anyway but nothing beats feeling your naked body against his

Picks you up while still being inside you and carries you to the kitchen

First up, breakfast, and his favorite meal, you

He missed the taste of you on his tongue, the feeling of you clenching around his fingers, the sighs and moans you make while he eats you out, the way you arch into him and squeeze your thighs around his head

Lets your juices run down his chin

Now it's your turn to have a snack, no not his cock, not yet

You need to suck his fingers clean first, slowly and not touch yourself while you do it

He wants you needy for him

He wants you to spread your legs for him as he goes back between your legs to suck and lick your clit and nothing else, he wants you to ride his face and come apart on his cock as soon you he puts it in

His hands are on your hips, keeping you still while he speeds up his thrusts, eventually hammering into you with brute force, jolting you up despite his attempt to keep you still

Loves to put his face between your breasts while you're having sex, every now and then turning his head to bite at the soft flesh

He makes you come while he keeps thrusting, dragging your orgasms out for as long as possible as many times as possible

Only when you beg him to fill you up, when you can't take it anymore to go without if will he bury his cock deep inside you and let go, shooting thick jets of cum into your cunt

Always eats you out afterwards, cleans you up really well and lets you taste your combined tasted on his tongue

Loves to cuddle with you sitting in his lap

Will occasionally move his hips to hear you sigh and moan on top of him

"you're mine and only mine, understood?" ࿐ ˊˎ-

simon 'ghost' riley x reader

reminder, most of my stories are 18+ - keep in mind when reading.

note: im utterly in love with this man and down terribly for him.

simon 'ghost' riley x reader ; simon riley x reader ; simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader ; jealous!ghost x reader ; ghost x reader ; possesive!ghost x reader.

characters mentioned: simon 'ghost riley, john 'soap' mactavish, kyle 'gaz' garrick

warnings: smut, smut, smut, strong language and alcohol consumption.

THIS A 18+ BLOG, IF I SOMEHOW FIND OUT UR A MINOR INTERACTING W MY PAGE - I WILL BLOCK.

masterlist

after a long day of planning, the group agreed to out for drinks in order to let loose before wheels up in a couple of days. soap and gaz were excited as they kept saying drinks were on them and to not worry about paying.

you were in your room before the night began, trying to plan your outfit for the night. you heard a light knock on your door, "come in!" you told them.

you looked over to see ghost walking, "Simon," a smile appeared on your face.

"hey, love," he responded.

love.

you loved the nickname coming from him.

you were never the girl to care about nicknames in fact your sort of preferred to not have them in a relationship but my god does his accent make everything better.

you noticed he wasn't dressed in civvy clothes, "why aren't you dressed for tonight?" you asked him.

ghost was sitting on the edge of your bed, "I rather not go out tonight, just going to stay in with price to talk about what's upcomin'."

you rolled your eyes at him, "come on... come out with soap, gaz and I. it'll be fun." you looked at him.

"you know I prefer to stay in if I could." he responded. you walked over to ghost and sat on his lap.

"you don't wanna have fun with me?" you jokingly asked. ghosts hands slid down to rest at your hips, "I know other ways we could have fun, love." he told you.

butterflies fluttered within you, you began to slowly grind against him. a little moan escaped your lips when you began to speak, "we can have some fun right now," you lightly pushed simon down to lay on your bed, "but only if you agree to go out with me tonight."

"you really goin' to do this?" he asked you.

you nodded as you bit down on your lip whistle still moving your hips against ghosts lap. "please?" you asked nicely.

"fuckin' hell, how could I ever say no to that?" ghost grunted.

you giggled with excitement when he agreed, you began to take off your shirt to reveal your breast.

"did you plan this out?" ghost asked you as he sat up to start kissing you all over.

another thing to add to the list of things you love is that ghost practically worshipped your body. he was never the type to just dive into sex without showing you how much he loved all of you.

he wanted all of you to show how much he loves every bit.

you couldnt respond as he started kissing you and slowly moved to your neck. you loved having your neck kissed especially when he had one hand playing with one of your nipples. "fuck," you breathed out.

ghost took that as que to work his way down to your breast, his tongue working your nipple as he cupped it and began sucking. he nibbled on it slightly because he knew you loved it.

"simon..." you moaned in his ear.

"I love when you say my name like that love, do you like what I'm doing to you?" he asked cockily. of course he knew that you loved it but he also loved hearing you struggle with your words.

you nodded eagerly, "mhmm," was all you managed to get out.

ghost stopped kissing your body, "use your words, baby." he said.

you were upset that he stopped kissing you all over, "yes, I do. please, don't stop." you begged him.

a cocky, smug smile appeared on his face once you begged for me. ghost began again working his way from top to bottom, "for a second, I thought you were the one in charge tonight."

"shut up." you told him.

you wanted to be in charge but every time you easily melted under his touch.

it was rare that you were able to have full control. every once in a while ghost would encourage you to try to take the reigns for the night but you loved being worshipped by the man you love most that you just want him to do it.

ghost never complained.

he liked seeing you try to be the boss and found it cute when you would ask him to praise you instead.

“take your shirt off,” you told him. ghost did as you told to reveal his body. hes well in shape, you found his body beautiful with his scars that spread across his body. each time you traced your fingers on the scars, not to make ghost more aware of them but show him how much you loved him and them.

you began kissing each scar - his breath hitching with each kiss, getting lower to reach the top of his pants. You started unbuttoning his pants as ghost sat back and watched you.

You can see how hard he is under his briefs, “I wanna make you cum in my mouth first.”

Ghost threw his head back at your words, “first?” he asked you.

“Mhm,” you hummed, “We’ll be a little late, it’s okay.” you laughed.

you began removing his briefs and to reveal his hard cock. simon was above average in length, it wasn’t really surprising with how he was built and how he carried himself.

“Fuckin’ hell love, just suck it already.” simon pleaded. he was impatient and it amused you, instead of sucking him like he asked, you began stroking him.

simons hips bucked as your hands made contact, you looked up at him and seen him staring at you - watching every move. you flicked your tongue on the tip, the most sensitive part. “do you like when I do this?” you asked him as you began sucking him off.

“I love it, you look so beautiful taking me.” simon let out a moan as he felt the back of your throat. he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. his beautiful girl was able to take all of him and he loved the sight of it, “that’s my girl.” he praised you.

“how am I already so fuckin close already? You just started.” simon cursed at himself, “I want to feel you, love.”

you stopped yourself, “you wanna fuck me?” You teasingly asked him.

simon grabbed you and laid you down on the bed. He removed your pants, “I want all of you.” He reminded you.

a smile spread on your face at his words, his head disappeared to between your thighs. he started kissing each leg slowly as he made his way to your wet clit.

“youre so fucking wet from just sucking me off,” he told you. ghosts fingers found their way to your clit, he began rubbing it slowly.

a slightly loud moan left your lips.

“that’s a good girl,” he said, “you’re so fucking pretty when you’re under me.” simon watched you for a bit as you squirmed under his touch before his tongue eventually replaced his fingers.

“dont stop,” you moaned as you grabbed a handful of his hair, you pulled him closer so he knew to keep going.

“you taste as good as always sweetheart, you want to taste yourself?” he asked as he brought his fingers up.

you didn’t answer before you began sucking on his fingers, “that’s my pretty girl… you taste good, don’t you?”

you nodded at his words, “please make me cum.” you asked.

simon returned to rubbing your clit, “im gonna put it in, alright?” he let you know ahead of time. you’ve been with simon for a while and knew how he felt every single time but needed to prepared yourself as he was bigger than average.

simon grabbed one of your hands and rubbed his thumb softly across before letting his other hand guide the way into you.

“ah!” you lightly yelped, “fuck.”

simon stopped and looked at you, “let me know when to stop baby.” he reassured you.

“keep going, it feels good.” you told him, you loved the way you felt around him no matter if there was a slight bit of pain in the start.

he always let you know if you needed to speak up or if he was hurting you then to let him know. he had no problem taking his time with making you feel good. he was the best lover you ever had.

simon slowly slid all the way in, “you’re so fucking tight sweetheart, holy shit.” he cursed.

all you could do was moan in response as he started fucking you and rubbing your clit at the same time. this man knew you so well that it always blew your mind.

“fuck, simon. that feels-“ you tried to speak but couldn’t finish as a moan escape your mouth instead of words.

“can’t finish your words?” he asked amused.

you nodded your head no at him and focused on the pleasure he was giving you. simon began kissing you while still fucking you and rubbing your clit.

yours and simons body both glistened with sweat as you both move in sync with each other. your moans filled the room, the sound he loves most coming out of you.

“I’m so close baby, fuckin’ hell.” simon breathed into your ear. he was never the type to moan, he was more of a grunting type but a few moans were able to escape his lips once in a while.

you grabbed simons face, “cum in me,” you told him. both faces filled with sweat as he kept fucking you and looking into your eyes.

“are you sure?” he finally asked, “don’t play with me.” you continued to look at your lover in the eyes and repeated your words, “cum in me baby. I want all of you.”

You let out a loud moan as simon listened to your words, he kept looking in your eyes before finally closing them tightly as he did the final hip buck as he pumped you full of his thick cum.

you came all over his cock just as he came in you.

“christ,” simon panted. “how does it get better every time?”

you kissed Simon on the lips and both agreed to freshen to to meet with gaz and soap seeing as how you were both late.

“I’ll wait out your door,” he told you before kissing you once more. “I love you.”

you kiss him a little longer, “I love you more.” you told him.

you quickly dress up in something simple, you knew if you took too long Simon would try to use that as an excuse to stay in.

you threw on a few jewelry pieces before throwing on a leather jacket that simon gifted you awhile back. you took a quick look in the mirror and notice someone left a gift on your collarbone.

you shook your head with a smile and met with simon outside.

“do you think people will notice this?” you asked him, showing your new mark.

simon smiled, “no.” He cleared his throat. “soap keeps callin’ so let’s hurry up.”

simons hand found it’s way to the small of your back to lead you to the car. you felt your face grow slightly red at the gesture.

ghost was never the one to show pda and this one of his simple ways of showing it when you both were out. He was a total different person out in public compared to when it’s just you both in a room.

it was never a bad thing and it never bothered you because he never ever neglected you just because he preferred to keep you both private. He had little gestures to let you know he loves you when you’re with others.

it could be the small glances, your secret signal when others were around or when he would take the time to whisper something in your ear so others couldn’t hear.

ghosts hand rested on your thigh as he drove you both to where gaz and soap were last at. you noticed that the bar was quite busy as there was a line outside forming to get in.

“let me call soap,” ghost told you.

“yeah, im here but there’s a line outside. I don’t feel like waitin’ Johnny.” He told mactavish that was on the line.

“yeah,” he looked over to you, “y/n is with me.”

you could hear the already drunk Scottish yell in the phone as ghost slightly pulled it away from his ear. “hurry up or we’re leavin’.”

ghost got out of the car and opened the door for you, “thank you baby,” you stole a quick kiss from him. you noticed he started to blush at the gesture and couldn’t help but find amusement in it.

“riley’s!!!” soap joked as he yelled towards you both as you were walking up, “shut up.” you punched him softly in the stomach.

“uncalled for.” ghost to soap said as he followed.

you went over to greet gaz as you spotted him at a table filled with glasses. “Is this all mactavishs’ doing?” you asked gaz.

“of course.” he chuckled - you gave him a hug before noticing some other friends behind. you looked at Simon, “im gonna go say hi.” as you gestured towards the girls. you tugged at the hem of his sweatshirt and he nodded.

“i’ll be here.” as he took a seat with gaz and soap.

ghost noticed the other men looking at you. he knew you never paid attention to any of them but couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy hit him.

soap snapped him out of his thoughts when he came back with drinks, “im not drinkin’ tonight.” ghost told them.

Soap looked at him in disappointment, “sorry johnny, got y/n with me.”

The drunk Scottish rolled his eyes, “more for gaz and I.” he laughed.

ghost kept an eye on you every once in a while. He just wanted to make sure you were safe and no one attempted to touch you while you were talking with your friends.

he knew you sure as hell could take care of yourself but he wanted you to enjoy your night as you were chatting with friends. you would often catch him looking at you and give him your signal for ‘I love you’.

he would return the signal and let you get back to your conversation.

as you continued your conversations, you noticed the time, it was getting late and didn’t want to keep simon out later than what he wanted. he isn't an extrovert and you knew he was possibly running out of his social battery.

you had a few drinks and felt a bit tipsy but also felt ready to go back to base. “It was great catching up with you guys, think ima head back to base.” you told your friends.

you walked over to the table where simon, gaz, and soap still sat. soap was slurring his words worse than before and gaz was having a laugh out of it. you walked over to Simon and could tell he was ready, “Im gonna go to the bathroom then we could head back?”

“whenever you’re ready.” he said as he rubbed your thigh under the table, a simple gesture to let you know to take your time.

“you boys better call it a night too,” you laughed at gaz and soap. “it’s past your bedtime.”

you heard mactavish talk loudly as you made your way to the bathroom, “did she just mom us???” he asked.

“she did mate and she’s not wrong.” gaz told him.

you freshened up in the bathroom quickly to hopefully to try to get rid of the tipsy in you but only with slight luck of doing so. as you walked out the door you walked into a tall figure, “sorry!” You asked.

the tall man turned around with a smile on his face, “no worries.” before you could make your way around him he walked in front of you again.

“oops, sorry again…” you told him.

The man didn’t move.

you rolled your eyes at him, as you made the attempt leave again, he spoke, “hey, aren’t you y/n l/n?” he asked.

you shook your head no, “sorry, wrong person.” you quickly told him. "i'm headed out for the night so if you dont mind..." you tried to push him to the side.

"no, you're definitely her. ive seen you on base before." the man said.

a fake smile spread across your face, "well nice to meet you and goodnight." you finally made your way passed him but he grabbed you by the wrist - pulling you back towards him.

you were unreasonably close to him, your back against his chest. he reeked of alcohol.

oh god.

"let go of me," you said.

"im just trying to ge-"

before the man can continue to finish his sentence, you dug the back of your shoe into his and elbowed him in the nose when he bent down in pain.

"don't touch a woman when shes not interested." you warned him.

"you bitch!" he yelled as blood came out of his nose.

the whole bar was looking at your direction, you felt a presence behind you soon after. "the hell is goin' on here?" ghost asked.

"this prick wouldn't let me leave the door way." you told him.

you noticed ghost tense up, his hand formed a fist - you quickly turned around to make ghost bring his attention towards you. your hands rested on his face and you lowered his gaze towards you and he softened his look on you, "lets just leave." you told him.

you heard the man yell more as he was being thrown out but you were hand in hand with simon to try to quickly leave. gaz and soap were too wasted to drive themselves so they hitched a ride.

the tension in the car was suffocating.

"you guys held hands in public." soap spoke.

"shut it johnny." ghost warned.

you looked in the rear view mirror as soap threw his hands in defeat, "i was just sayin'..."

you couldn't help but smile at his silliness.

once you reached base gaz took soap immediately to the bathroom as he was on the verge of throwing up. you looked at ghost and could see he was still tense.

"come on," you took his hand and you both walked into his room.

you closed the door and turned around to meet ghosts lips once more.

"i love you," he said - "you're mine and only mine, understood?" he asked.

"are you mad?" you asked him.

ghost stopped kissing you to look at you, "im mad but not at you. im mad that people think they have the right to touch you when they're not me."

you pulled him in again for more kisses as those words left his lips, "i always feel jealous when people look at you." he spoke as he trailed down your neck - "i dont blame them but you're mine."

"im only yours, simon." you reassured him.

"does it bother you that i dont kiss you in public?" he finally asked, ghost stepped away from you and moved to the other side of the room. "im not exactly prince charming..." he trailed off.

you walked over to him, "no, because i know you love me and the little gestures we do make it even better. its like we have our language." you laughed as you hugged him from behind.

you felt his hands touch yours, "you are the love of my life, simon riley." you reminded him.

he turned to face you again, he picked you up - you wrapped your legs around him as you were finally eye level with him. "im a lucky man to have you." he said before kissing you.

he kissed you eagerly, with each kiss it was a step towards his bed.

you felt your back meet the bed as simon was still kissing you, "i want all of you again."

"i want you forever and always." you told him.

simon took off your jacket and shirt to reveal your lace bra, "is this new?" he asked as he was raising a brow.

you smiled, "just for you."

"matching?" he asked another.

"possibly, i guess you gotta reach the final destination to find out." you teased him.

simon returned to kissing you once more, taking his time as he reached to your breasts. your nipples harden as his tongue played with them over the lace.

he was teasing you.

"take it off..." you whined.

simon smiled as you did so, "was this expensive?"

"yes but i just want it off, please." you begged him.

simon pulled a pocket knife from his pants and put the blade on the center of the lace bra. your breasts spilling out of the newly cut bra. "so fuckin' perfect." he said before continuing his focus on your nipples.

you and simon have done knife play in the bedroom before but hes never used it to cut your bra off and its been a while since you've included it in the bedroom.

you felt more aroused at his actions, you tried to remove your pants along with simons but he stopped you, "are you the boss tonight?" he asked.

you didnt respond as you positioned yourself on top of simon, straddling him.

"im the boss because im desperate for you right now." you told him, an amused look spread across his face as he watched you remove the remaining of your clothing and his.

he looked at you with such awe as he watched you please yourself on him, slowly grinding against him to get your pussy more wet before beginning to ride him. his tip perfectly rubbed against your clit and you moved your hips against him.

"oh fuck," simon cursed.

you were a pretty sight to see as you threw your head back and your perfect moans filled his ears, you put some spit on the tip of his cock before slowly entering it within you.

"be careful, love." he told you, his hands rested at your hips to help you ease on him. you were unbelievably wet from teasing yourself on him and he knew that. "shit, shit, shit..." simon cursed.

you were able to finally sit perfectly on him and began riding at a steady pace.

simon had one arm resting behind his head with the other on your thigh as he just watched you please yourself on him, "you're doing so fucking good, my pretty girl." he praised.

this drove you wild as you began to quicken the pace, "dont rush it baby, im here all night for you." he reminded you. your pussy was throbbing from the pleasure you were giving yourself from simons cock, "tell me how much you love it."

all the words just evaporated from your brain to even try to explain how much you loved feeling him within you. you were fucking yourself dumb on his cock while he just watched in pleasure.

"mh- i dont ever want to stop." you managed to finally say.

"then dont stop baby, keep going until you cant." he said. his thumb found it way to your clit. you positioned yourself slightly back to let him play with it more as you continued to fuck yourself on him.

simon moved his thumb slowly and would randomly quicken the pace, he did the opposite of how you were moving. you've never experienced this amount of pleasure as you never often rode simon.

"fuck," you moaned loudly, "dont stop. im so fucking close simon!" you yelled.

simon moved positions to allow himself to finish the work of your doing to also give you a break. he didnt stop the pace you were moving at. your back pressed against the bed as simon was now towering over you.

"you did so good fuckin' yourself on me, love" he praised you, "im so proud of you." he kissed you.

the sound of your two bodies connecting filled the room, you both were so lucky that there were no other rooms near you. that luckily no one care hear you.

"am i cummin' in you?" simon asked.

you nodded eagerly as he continued to pound into you, "fuck, yes simon." you yelled. you felt him slow his pace, his thick cum spilling out of you.

there was so much of it.

"fuckin' love you" simon said as he finished.

you felt lightheaded from the high you both rode out. "i love you more."

simon grabbed a towel and some clothes for you, "let me clean you up, love."

you smiled at him as he did so, "lets get some rest?" he kissed your lips.

your eyes felt heavy, you felt him cover you up with his bed sheets before you fell asleep to leave simon smiling at you.

STAYs!! Please vote for Stray Kids on MAMA!!! It’s important please!!

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[2/2]

Stray Kids on ViVi September 2022

Full JPNーENG Translation by inniefinity

Unit Talk

Behind the Scene and MANIAC Live Report

[1/2]

StrayKids on ViVi September 2022

Full JPNーENG Translation by inniefinity

Group Interview]

Solo Interview

𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐌!𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

— in which you take a different learning approach in your relation with him. x fem!reader. sort of an experimental type of piece, might start doing a lot more of these type of people end up liking it!

minors do not interact + RBS ARE APPRECIATED !

pleasure dom!toji who would spend absolute hours with his tongue exploring you, learning each and every little thing that makes you tick.

pleasure dom!toji who would have you spread open while you lay with your back against his chest. one hand on your thigh, brushing soft circles against your skin and the other using his pointer and ring finger to spread your sopping lips, using his middle finger to rub slow, almost too soft circles against your sensitive clit.

pleasure dom!toji who would whisper sweet things into your ear. ‘look in the mirror baby.. see how pretty you are?’ how he would hum when you mewl, ‘i know.. i know! feels good huh?’ while he sides his hand down a little more, pressing the tip of his middle finger inside before pulling it back out to your clit.

pleasure dom!toji who moans himself when he sees you gush around nothing, soaking the sheets beneath you. he loves it when you lift your hips out of desperation, knowing he’s not gonna give you more until he’s satisfied.

pleasure dom!toji who notices when you take a sharp breath in, when he shallowly pushes his fingers in more, slowly.. so fucking slowly stretching you out. ‘you like that? yeah? god.. i wanna make you cum so fucking hard. you’re doing so well for me.’ how he would have already made you finish a few times, his tongue and fingers before he even thought of himself.

pleasure dom!toji who fucking loves when you whimper out his name when he feels you clenching around his fingers. ‘that’s it.. yeahhhh good fucking girl. how about another.. can you do that? i wanna make you cum again.. and again.. and again.’

and how pleasure dom!toji who would keep his promise. honestly, i wouldn’t be shocked if he cums untouched from seeing that look on your face. the one of pure bliss when you’re throwing your head back from the immense pleasure he’s giving you. <3

MYARLERT ©️2022

tagging @okhotel @paradisdementor @soaringmirror @raegalliard @rowsn @strawberryerwin @chaotic-nick @sftbunnyy @atsumeii @ilybbb @akrmn @ihadlife

ending fairy felix, 280901

CONSTANTINE 1.09: THE SAINT OF LAST RESORTS PART 2.

Jujutsu kaisen nsfw links

a/n: for some reason all of gojo’s links got deleted as soon as i tried to upload this so now I’ll just be doing a separate Gojo links + hcs post😀 lmk if you wanna be on its taglist

Nanami: link link link link link

Toji: link link link link link

Getou: link link link link

Sukuna: link link link link link

Choso: link link link link link

Mei Mei: link link link

Utahime: link link link

Okay so...we gonna talk about Bruno?

*Casually gives you screenshots of Bruno I found in Youtube*

Two days left in my country yeeee

my boi!!!!! <3

(We love and respect Bruno in this household)

Truly a man with no flaws 😌✨

Mirabel and bruno

They do be hating on Bruno.

lilydusk is just out here doing the LORDS WORK

Tora can suffocate me in those arms of his

This man is 6’3 of pure (n o n t o x i c) masculinity and I’m all here for it.