Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
tags: smut, porn with (little) plot, implied brim x reader lol, praise, public(ish) sex, pinv, etc... size kink a lil, he talks about killing people while they have sex but it's less weird than it sounds i swear! canon typical violence, reader is afab and referred to as a girl
an: wow first mh fic kinda nervous... i need dat big old(er) man bad:) and his stalker friend oh heavens:)) #rushed a lil but i'm not that sorry this is self indulgent as Hell. brian tim southern men truthers as a southern gyall myself i believe in this and its my own truth
Tim’s truck wasn’t built for roadtrips.
The long bench seat in the front was old, leather cracking like spiderwebs across the sun bleached surface. The windshield had a long crack running across the front, and sometimes, when life was testing him, the whole thing stuttered to a stop, engine coughing and hurling like it’d drank too much the night before.
Regardless, the thing was chugging along.
He’d been driving for hours, a trip to the city for supplies had stalled the two of you for a few days, him following you around as you sipped on overpriced coffees and ducked into expansive antique stores just to wander through the aisles and say things like “that would be perfect in our living room,” and “do we need an oil lamp?”. He’d simply let you lean into him and play along with your whims, nodding and shaking his head when appropriate.
Currently, you were curled up, his tan jacket acting as a pseudo-blanket as he drove, Tim’s hand curled around your thigh. The broken AC still huffed every now and then, but left you both in what could be compared to a brisk refrigerator. Winter was fast approaching.
“Mm,” You huffed, drearily, turning your face into his arm sleepily. “How close are we?”
“‘Bout an hour and a half, baby.” Tim adjusted his grip, allowing the slow cling of you around his bicep, pressing his lips to the top of your head.
You hummed, nose buried against the flannel over his arm, hugging it to your cheek like a pillow and closing your eyes again to the low rumble of music and the gravel beneath you.
A low rumble of thunder in the distance. A crackle of lightning. The soft sounds of your breathing as you drifted into rest. The atmosphere was quiet, calm.
Then, a sputter from the engine. A wheeze. A bump of a pothole in the road, the radio plinking as something jerks loose.
“Fuck,” He cursed, wheel shaking under his hands as the truck jolts to a stop, a pothole sending you off the road.
“What happened?” You blink blearily as you sit up.
“I don't know.” He answered, a gruff, irritation permeating the space.
You shuffled towards the passenger side as Tim shoved the door open into the pouring rain, grimacing as he slammed it shut and cracked open the hood. You couldn't particularly see him, and even if you could, you doubt there was anything you could do to help. Fingers fidgeting, nail biting into the cuticles of another finger, you bit along your ruined nails until the car door wretched open again, and Tim shoved his way into the driver’s seat, dripping wet and frowning deeply.
“Engine’s shot.” He said after a moment of silence. “Can't move. I texted Brian, but he ain’t gonna be here for another fuckin’ hour.”
“Shoot,” You matched his frown, hand going to offer him the warm jacket, but he shook his head, pushing the hair back from his face. “Tim, you’re probably freezing. It's only going to get colder.”
He just shook his head, hand tapping erratically against the wheel, a sign he needed a cigarette… or another stress reliever.
The hub of the cab surely isn’t built for this, the bench whining beneath the two of you as you swing your leg over Tim’s lap, settling atop him and pulling his jacket around you both as much as you could.
“Sweetie, the fuck ‘r’you doin’?” He groans, but his hands settle on your hips anyways, holding you close even though his tone suggests otherwise. Your hands thread through his damp hair at the base of his skull, a toothy smile playing about your month.
“Keeping you warm.” You shrug, still smiling as you press your lips to the hinge of his jaw, then to the swell of his cheek, then the bridge of his nose. “‘S chilly.”
“Honey, I’m soaked through.” One of his hands trails up to catch your face in a big palm, thumb catching the apple of your cheek.
“Mhm, ‘s’why I’m warming you up.” You push at the wet flannel around his shoulders, and Tim lets it plop onto the leather seat with a schlap. He’s left in a white shirt, damp enough that you can see the dark spattering of hair across his chest, down his stomach and towards his hipline.
“Yeah?” His expression twists with recognition at your advances, a slow smirk playing across his mouth now. “Gonna keep me all nice ‘n warm? How’re you gonna do that, my girl?”
His tone makes a blush spread down your neck, heat blossoming across your cheeks and smile turning shy.
“Oh, I don’t know…” You laugh, leaning back onto his thighs, but Tim’s grip on your waist doesn’t let you get far.
“Well, look at that,” He starts, mouth pressing to the line of your jaw now, the corner of your mouth, the dip of your nose into your cheek. “My girl gettin’ all shy now. Speak up, let me hear you.”
Mouth closing around the spot of skin behind your ear, Tim bites at you softly. You arch into the pressure of it, a soft sigh coming out much louder than intended in the small space.
“Oh, there she is.” He says, hips pushing into yours with the noise, coaxing another one out of you, and then another one.
With the third, you tug the hair between your fingers, bringing him to kiss you. He obliges, of course he does, Tim lets you pull his mouth to yours, lets you writhe against his lap, would let you take parts of his soul and tie them to yours if you asked, would let you devour his heart whole.
His tongue runs along the seam of your lips, using the grip on your face to tilt your head and open you up more for him. You let him in, eagerly leaning into his grip and gasping when his hips jut into your clothed core, let him drag your own hips down against him with a groan against your mouth.
Tim’s hand trails over your waist, down over the swell of your ass, then below the flouncy fabric of your skirt to dig his fingers into bare skin. One palm cups the full of you, grinding you down fully onto his hardening length, the rough fabric of his jeans digging into the plush of your thighs.
“Feel that?” He asks, other hand dipping beneath the hem of your sweater and forcing an arch in your back, a slow grind bumping your clothed center into the ridge of him, a sweet sigh spilling from you. “‘st’s allllll yours, my girl. Right fuckin’ there.”
“Yeah?” You ask, a dreamy smile on your face, even as Tim’s hand under your sweater trails up, catching the underside of your breast. “‘M all yours, too, Tim.”
He smirks, fingers unhooking the band of your bra with practiced ease that might piss you off if he didn’t distract you with another kiss, teeth sinking into the plush of your lower lip and pulling.
“My fuckin’ girl, right?” Tim’s hand shoves under your bra band as his teeth continue their descent to the line of your collarbone. His hand cups the full spillage of your breast in one, pinching a little meanly at the peak, though he’s rewarded with a full, whiney breath from you as you rock against him again.
“Yes, oh, God, yes, Tim,” Your clit catches, a jolt shaking your body as you roll your hips forward. “Always your girl.”
The hand against the skin of your ass threads beneath your panties, another mean motion as he pulls against the fabric to catch in your center. Another pitiful sound comes from you, and you topple forward at the sensation, forehead pressed to his shoulder with a gasp as he forcibly grips the fabric again, the rub against your clit overwhelming.
Tim curses lowly at the sound, dropping his own head back against the seat, overwhelmed with the picture you make. Letting him touch you, letting him bite and maim and grope at you, the soft sounds you make, God, it’s fucking insane how good you are to him. His girl.
A push at your chest, the tug of your thighs back over his hips startles you as you find yourself being pushed against the door, splayed open as Tim hitches the fabric of your skirt over you, holding it to your belly as he readjusts.
“Look at all this, huh? Goddamn gorgeous, my girl.” He taps your clit with a thumb, and watches the flicker of want, the pinch of your brow.
You’re heaving, sensitive and dripping in the seat of your underwear, as he spreads your thighs wide enough to accommodate the space. He’s got one foot against the floor, knee pressing at the inside of your thigh as he takes in the picture you make, groaning at the sight of you. Skirt splayed out, wet spot prominent in your polka dot lace panties, sweater pushed over your tits and bra shoved to give him a view of a healing hickey from a few nights ago.
“Jesus, baby, yer so fuckin’ pretty.” He groans, accent deep and thick as he pushes his thumb into you, watching the fabric dampen even further as you moan, high and sweet. “This yer spot, honey?”
“Yeah,” You reiterate, blinking through your lashes down at him, flush deep on your cheeks at the unwavering attention of his dark eyes.
The almost smile he’s got playing across his mouth at the sight of you, the ever stern set of his features, the way his shirt has ridden up and shows you the thick thatch of dark hair that disappears beneath his belt.
Your own hands push under his shirt, still damp from the downpour that beats against the metal roof of the cab and he lets you push it up just a bit, just to see his brawn, lets you lean up for another kiss that you ask for without words.
Tim would let you kill him if you asked.
“Fuck me? Please?” You ask against his mouth, sweet as syrup, and he allows you this, too.
Wet jeans are hard to pull down, but you make do in the small space, pushing at the chill of his belt until it opens and pulling insistently at the waist of his jeans and his boxers until Tim gives you reprieve, and pulls himself over the hem, hard and thick, head an angry red. His size was always intimidating, thick like a beer can and plenty long.
You make a small, needy noise at the sight of him, hips rolling up almost in autopilot in an effort to find release, and he takes pity on you, notching the crotch of your underwear to the side, and then bites back a groan at the wet, pink of you, the way you whine as he drives himself forward and rubs the underside of his cock against you with one slow glide of his hips against you.
“Tiiiiiiim,” You sigh at the feeling, hands clutching at his chest, nails biting into his skin. You’re a fucking sight. He loves you so goddamn much, it’s going to bleed him from the inside out.
“Yeah, baby? You wan’ it?” He taunts, another slow movement of his hips to drag him against the heat of your being. “Tell me how much, huh? Be nice about it.”
“So much,” Your eyebrows pinch with need, and he almost gives it to you immediately, but he’s mean. He’s so mean.
He pulls away, dips his head low, and spits right on your cunt. Smiling up at you with a wolf’s maw when your breath hitches at the sight, he asks: “You can be nicer, my girl. What do you want?”
“You.” Your brow furrows again, leg hitching around his waist to draw him closer as his back straightens.
“You have me.” He kisses the side of your head, then your nose, a breath through his nose like a laugh when you huff and roll your eyes.
“No, want you,” You bite the inside of your cheek, “Want you inside.”
“Ohhh, my girl wants me inside.” The hand notching your underwear to the side twitches to himself, tapping against you with a wet plop. “Ask me real nice, sweetheart.”
“Please, Tim, can you fuck me?” You ask, hands now cradling his jaw, feeling the grind of it as he gives you a sweet kiss.
“Yeah, think I can do that, my girl.”
Tim’s cock breeches you slowly, the first press inside drawing out a high moan, and a shudder that runs along his spine as he sinks in.
“So fuckin’ tight, shit.”
The space does not give you much room to back away from the feeling, the thick split of it making you squirm, hand scrambling along the fogged window as he presses even further in.
“Don’t run from it, baby.” He stills his hips, letting you writhe a little from the sheer stretch. “Shit.” Tim grunts as you tighten, forcing himself deeper until his pelvis hits yours.
He’s so fucking deep. It’s like you can’t get enough, and you can’t get away. He’s everywhere as he slowly rocks his length in and out, hands pulling at your hips, your ass, rattling your teeth and filling you so fucking good. You’re sure you sound incoherent, throat going dry as you meet a thrust bearing your own hips down, head catching on a spot inside that has your eyes rolling back.
He bends his head down, catching the peak of your chest in his mouth and biting over the purple mark that had faded, and you almost squeal at the feeling.
“You’re so,” You don’t finish, hand threading through the hair at the back of his neck again and tugging harshly.
“I know, sweetheart, you take it so damn good.” His teeth catch the underside, biting another mark into you again.
“So deep,” You whine, mindless now as Tim buries himself as deep as he can get, then pulls his hips back harshly and drives them forward again. “Oh, my God. Feels so good.”
His hand comes to rest over your throat possessively as he sits back, leveraging the space to fuck you just that much harder. Not squeezing, not bearing down, just a heavy hand reminding you just how much control he’s got, how big he is compared to you.
“So pretty, my girl, just takin’ it. Right where you should be, huh?”
You nod, tugging him down by his hair for a sloppy kiss, his hand threading into your own.
It’s not precise, your mouth falling open in a moan or a sigh while he drives into you, car rocking with the force. It seems that reminds Tim of the setting – the rain around you, the fog of the windows. The highway just outside of your bubble, anyone able to pass by, to stop and help, to see you getting fucked by him.
“Anyone could – fuck – drive by. See you all full’a’me, see you get fucked all nice.” He drives in more violently, now, hips almost bruising in their effort to get you more fucked out, a groan rumbling his chest at the thought of anyone seeing you. “I’d hunt’m down, my girl. You know I would. Shoot their fuckin’ brains out after seein’ you like that.”
His words drop your mouth, brow pinching as you take him in, handsome face tight in pleasure, sharp jaw clenched as he watches you, feeling you tightening that much more around him.
“My girl, you like that? Shit. Shit. I’d kill ‘em all.” Tim’s hips drive faster, arm going to band over your head as he fucks you, takes over your vision, your mind, your soul.
“Fuck. I wanna…” You breathe into him, the smell of cigarette smoke and pine, chill of the air biting into your skin forgotten.
A thumb suddenly presses insistently at your clit, not moving, but pressing into the bundle of nerves, just a shift against you and you almost scream.
“You wanna?” He asks you, thumb now softly circling, dark eyes searching. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, yes, oh, holy shit, Tim, please. I want it, wan’ it so ba-,” You arch into him, back bowing severely as his thumb speeds up against you, words delving into pretty moans and hiccups.
He, himself, almost cums at the way your face opens in pleasure, how sweet you turn when you’re getting fucked, has to slow to grinds against you. Tim tells you this, something in his gut tightening when you return to meeting his thrusts with your own movements, now little jolts of your body due to the stimulation of your nerves.
“Fuck, I’m-!” You pant, open mouthed and wide eyed as you convulse, coming with a sweet moan into the cab as he ground into the tightness of you.
The tight concave of your cunt almost makes him come yet again, but he persists through it, letting you ride out the wave of your orgasm, face a myriad of pleasure that makes him proud and fucking possessive all at once.
Your body jerks, once, twice, three times as he taps wetly at your clit, still so, so mean.
Once your breathing evens out, he sticks the thumb in his mouth, groaning at the heady taste of you. Normally, he’d make you cry and come all over his mouth, but he’s been quite efficient today, fucking you hard and fast in his truck.
“You, hah, know what else I want?” A dreamy, sincere smile spreads across your face after his thrusts pick up again, chasing his own end.
“Anything, my girl, I’ll give you whatever ya want.” Tim promises, still infuriatingly composed under the circumstances.
“Wan’ you to come inside.” You blink up at him, a toothy smile aimed straight for his heart. His fucking pretty girl.
“Oh, my girl wants to feel me, huh? Wants her man to get her full.”
“Yes, please.” You clench around him, still, your own come leaking around you both, your voice trembling in the aftershocks.
Tim fucks into you, bullying your pussy, mean and fast. You’re there for him to get off, now, tight and hot and wet, all for him. It drives him fucking crazy that you let him do this, you let him fuck you, kiss you, come back every night to you even with all the blood on his hands, the sick, twisted part of him that wants to lock you up and never let you go welcomed by you.
“Shit, baby, gonna get you fuckin’ drippin’ with me.” He’s so close, “You ain’t gonna be able to move without me spillin’ out, stainin’ my fucking seats, markin’ you. Goddamn, cunt so fuckin’ pretty, my girl.”
It’s quick after that. He comes deep into you with your lips at his ear, sweet words to coax him, hands clutched at his back, hips thrusting as he rides out into overstimulation.
You lay there, both in varying states of undress as the storm. In one movement, Tim rolls into a sitting position, cradling your head into the crook of his neck and stroking at the slick curls at the nape of your neck. It’s quiet for a moment, serenely quiet – green and dewy out the window, rain pattering on the steel hood of the roof. Tim pops his door open just the slightest bit, shifting the two of you down the bench while he fishes in the jacket thrown over the back of the seat. The lighter you’d given him for your first anniversary flickers to life, and the end of a cigarette burns orange.
After a moment of quiet, a knock sounds at the still-fogged window, and you jolt, neck snapping to watch the door pop open. Tim just inhales, blowing smoke at the figure standing in the frame of the cab.
“Woah,” Brian smiles, dimples deep in his cheeks as he leans casually against the door like Tim isn’t still balls deep inside of you. “Looks like ya got real busy, pretty lady.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Bri!” You yelp, pulling your sweater down over your chest.
“Don’t fuckin’ look at her like that,” Tim rolls his eyes, jaw tight as he takes a long pull before handing the cigarette to Brian. He takes an even longer pull than his partner, eyes roving over both of you.
“Not lookin’ at ‘er like anythin’, man.” The blond chuckles, handing back the stub, but Tim just flicks it past them both. “Maybe I’m lookin’ at you, dick out’n everythin’.”
“Got the car?”
“Mhm. I’ll even let you drive it.” Brian throws the keys over your head, and Tim catches them easily. “Ya made a mess I gotta clean up.
“Isn’that right, missus?” Brian’s eyes gleam in the low lighting, and your thighs tighten, instinctually.
˖ ࣪⭑ in which you and tim happen to work at the same warehouse.
˖ ࣪⭑ alternative title: viv has a bad case of brainworms and they're all this one pic of tim in some kinda tractor i think. it's at the end. also go check out this post if u want a similar concept teehee
˚. ᵎᵎ this contains mention of smoking and alcohol, some swearing too. pretty light idk
˖ ࣪⭑ohhh tim... my sweet prince. i wish nothing but the best for you. even if you live in torture city
PRETTY LOOKING ROAD, I TRY TO HOLD THE RISING FLOODS THAT FILL MY SKIN
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Cw: implied stalking (Tim), Reader jokes about being murdered (Brian), Toby gets hit by a car. (Tobys chapter), Reader has no name or description but they are given a job.
A/n: As usual I proofread best I could, but as I say with every fic posted, I miss things every so often. (More at the bottom)
Masky
The night shifts were always quiet, you could easily place every single patron into three categories, Truckers, Travelers, and Teenagers under the influence.
Most people wouldn’t have bothered to stop despite the unassuming name of the little pancake, the chipping paint and worn down sign add to the eerie feeling.
Despite this, a new regular had finally made his way into the diner, he wasn't remarkable by any means, brown hair, side burns, and the usual red flannel. And yet, he didn't seem to fit any of your usual categories.
He was a welcomed mystery to your nights. The other waitstaff had taken to calling him sideburns. He was well liked, he never tried to make conversation, he ordered his coffee and left a generous tip.
“Hi, welcome to the little pancake.” you try to put on a little smile, keeping a customer service voice your boss had drilled into you for so long. “what can i get you today,”
He looks up at you, there is something striking about his eyes, they're just so hollow.
“Black coffee, please.” His voice is thick, slightly accented, he scans the room as he talks to you.
“Coming right up sir!” You move to get the coffee, pouring it into his mug, “are you ready to order?”
“No, the coffee will be just fine, and check when you have a second.”
“Not a problem sir.”
He sits there drinking the coffee for about an hour, you glance at him, avoiding outright staring but just observing.
He leaves a forty dollar tip on his bill. Heading out the door as soon as his cup is finished.
The rest of your shift is a carbon copy of the usual with different faces pasted on customers.
But walking to your car in the rising sun, you're almost certain someone is watching you.
Hoodie
Every single person in your life has been begging you get get a new car, and to be fair it was absolutely needed, your car was about fourteen at this point and to put it delicately, was very well loved
You knew going on a night drive would be a bad idea, the service down the backroads was spotty at best, and your car had finally given up on you about two hours out from your home.
It was nearly midnight and you were fairly certain no rescue was going to come before 3am.
Until a black van pulled up beside you.
While your instincts screamed for you to lock your doors, this could be your only chance at rescue.
You roll down your window as the man from the car approaches, blonde hair and a charming smile,
“You okay there?” His voice is incredibly soothing, concerned with painting his features.
“Uh, yeah, my car just broke down, I tried calling for help but services out here is shit, and I’m too far from home to walk back.”
“You mind if I take a look, I’m sorta a mechanic by trade.”
“You're not also an axe murder are you?”
You don't even know where the question comes from, it slips from your lips before you can even think to censor yourself.
He blinks in surprise before busting out into laughter, and god is his laugh infectious, you giggle along with him without even thinking “No sugar, nothing like that.” Now if any other man had tried to call you sugar, you would have probably shut the car door in his face, but the way he says it is so warm, you'll let it slide.
“I suppose you wouldn't tell me if you were.”
“Nah, that's the first thing they teach you in murder school, don't prewarn the victims.”
He moves to the truck, popping your hood holding a flashlight, you vaguely see another man through the tinted windows of the car, he occasionally sticks his hand out of the window to hand your mysterious mechanic a tool, but he doesn't seem all that interested in you.
Eventually the man says, “Brian were gonna be late.” Another southern accent, he seems antsy, you can see the curl of cigarette smoke pouring from the window.
“You rushin me isnt gonna make it faster.” he bites back, there's an edge to his tone, as he finally closes the hood of your car. “You should be all good sugar, mind starting the engine for me?”
You do, and surprisingly your car roars to life, it seems to startle him, he drops the wrench he had been using and he ducks down to pick it up.
“Thanks for the help.”
“Not a problem, get home safe now.” He turns back to his truck, disappearing into the night
Toby.
When he peeled himself from the street you were convinced you had seen the start of the zombie apocalypse.
The car that had hit him, a brunette you’d seen walk your streets a few times, quickly sped away, as you yelled for them to stop, running over to where the man lay.
He groaned as he got up, seemingly more annoyed than anything else, his arm lay at a dizzying angle, the bone showing itself.
“Holy shit are you okay?” You ask, moving to examine him, “I’m a nurse and I'm registered in first aid. Do you mind if I examine you?” You're slowly helping him to his feet as he nods, you bring him to the sidewalk, he walks well for someone who just got hit, he doesn't even seem to notice he's bleeding.
He's shaking though, eyes dilated, skin freezing
“Hey, hey it's alright, you mind telling me your name.”
“Toby.” he finally mutters out, it comes with a sickening crack of his neck, a Tic disorder clearly.
“Arlight Toby, does it hurt anywhere in particular.”
He shakes his head, you suppose the shock is suppressing it, adrenaline is one hell of a drug. You examine him, he clearly needs a hospital, just to set the bones right, check for a concussion
“Do you want me to call you an ambul-”
“No. No I can't, I'm fine,”
“Sir, Toby, your bleeding, have a broken wrist, and its common to have head trauma. I need to take you somewhere. Is there someone I can call.” He's clearly not in any sort of immediate life threatening danger, and the mere mention of the hospital causes him to twitch, becoming increasingly erratic.
“Just, yeah, let me.” he flips open an old looking flip phone with his less injured hand. Dialing a number you can't quite see. You hold out your hand, and a gruff man answers the phone.
“What Rodger’s, you're already late so this better both be some bullshit.”
“Uh, hi I'm Y/n are you Toby's friend?”
The voice pauses and then sighs out a “Yes.”
“He’s uh, been hit by a car.”
“Your fucking kidding me.” he sighs hard. anger brewing under his skin
“He’s coherent and seems fine but he’s refusing to go to the hospital.”
“Of course he is. What's your address, we can come get him, we have a medic he sees regularly.”
You reluctantly give him your address, keeping an eye on the man in front of you. “how long will that take?”
“About twenty minutes, keep him awake. I'm sure you know the drill.” The man on the other line says.
You go to say something else, but the click on the other line tells you he's hung up.
A beat up pickup truck finds you twenty minutes later, and a man hauls Toby into the truck, giving you a nod of thanks leaving you covered in Toby’s blood.
A/N: Feel free to leave comments! my asks and requests are open! Serious apologies for the delay but i hit a bit of a roadbump lately in writing!
𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔦𝔰 ; You and Tim Wright are in his busted-up car after almost failing a mission, you feel tension in your shoulders-you feel tension in the car as he drives. Who knows if you can handle the silence, or interrupt it?
𝔠𝔴; making out , grinding , NO SEX, slightly implied threesome , reader is gender-neutral-but masculine in mind , no specific dom or sub in mind , reader is rough with what they can get.
𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔢𝔯 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢, 𝔰𝔢𝔵𝔶 !
The leather seat isn’t what you’d call comfy against your back, but then again you weren’t exactly meant to feel any type of solace in this job. Even when it was your partner's vehicle, you couldn’t beg for riches when you couldn’t even afford meals half the time-and neither could he. Even looking as humane as ever, it was always clear the group of yours wasn’t exactly alive. You may look the part of animated flesh, evergrowing hair and flickering eyes. But those eyes came with years of exertion, and that hair could use a few flicks of a comb you didn’t have time to pack, and that skin was cold-but not yet dry. Lord, you could kill for a hot shower right now, just some dollar store body wash and lotion. That’s all you could ask for.
You weren’t even at your worst, your skin wasn’t ashy, only scraped with the signs of the struggle you had to endure when the mission went south. Only a bit of mud on your clothes and cheek from tackling an escapee, as he grabbed at any skin he could see. This was only a sign of a usual mission, thankfully, you could miss out on the lecture from your Boss with this one. If it was any worse, you think you’d simply blow your head off with the weapon you were currently cleaning in the backseat. It was only a successful mission because of the end result, the targets were completely ridden of existence. No evidence was left that they even knew anything of you and him. But..something else was wrong, it wasn’t just the normal adrenaline you felt after-this wasn’t emotional, this was physical.
Somehow, the revolver felt heavier than before as you wiped it down. Your hands moved slower, for once in your life you felt an ache in your fingers each time they curled around the weapon to properly clean it. They twitched at each guide and trembled with each motion, you couldn’t even focus on the dirt on it-your eyes just kept at your hands. Your skin was dry, small traces of blood reminding you of how this wasn’t normal. It wasn’t..like this. Your whole body felt twice its weight, and before you know it, your eyes finally blink. They stung just a bit at the action, for you hadn’t blinked in a bit. And your head twitched up, your eyes meeting the rearview mirror-the reflection filled with tired eyes that weren’t yours.
They stayed straight ahead, only half opened to make sure nothing was blocking the road. It seemed like if he could trust the outside, he would definitely drive blind-resting his eyes as his hand was on the wheel. But the roads were never the same no matter how many times you drove on it, something always had to change, so that was out of the question. Beside the back of his head were your feet, ankles rested on the front seat. The front seat was rather a bench than just two seats, so that part was a bit more comfortable than the rest of the car. You shift, switching which ankle was crossed over the other. The motion finally made his eyes shift from the road, to your shoes, just for a moment. He turned his head just a bit, just enough to where you could see the curve of his nose.
“Get your feet out my face,” He huffed, “I’m already doing a service letting you rest them there. Don’t be greedy.” That voice of his, your body was still heavy, but the weight felt a little more easy to carry when he interrupted the silence. And you felt your lips curve up, just a little in instinct. “I’m doing a service cleaning your revolver,” you spoke, voice laced with a bit of tease, but a bit dry of it. You wave the revolver slightly, it clicks at the small movement. “Just focus on the road, Mr. Wright.” A hum left your lips before your eyes went back to the weapon, the cloth you held in your other hand went to it. Now cleaning with more attention, you didn’t even take in that he didn’t respond, not even a scoff or low hum of annoyance.
Tim kept his eyes on that rearview mirror, he saw how slowly those eyes of yours stayed on the revolver, but your mind went elsewhere. And how you cleaned slowly, seemingly caring about the dirt on the gun more than the mud on your face. His hands pressed into the wheel a bit more, fingers curling a bit more intensely around it. His mask laid on the right side of the dashboard, it was scuffed, but clean overall-haven cleaned it before. This was one of the times his mask actually had a mark, reminding him how you two barely made it. He hated to struggle, to not instantly get what he needed to get. He was angry he almost fucked up the mission, and he felt irrated each time he remembered the last seconds you two had before the mission was completed.
You, tackling one of the accomplices as they ran off the porch. You slapped their hands away each time they had tried to claw at your face, that adrenaline filled both of your bodies. He didn’t even get to see how they overpowered you in the last moments, having to deal with his own part of the mission. The only thing he remembered is seeing how your eyes widened when you realized you were losing control of the situation. How it almost looked like..you were staring death right in the eye, and it almost scared you. Immediately he had raised his revolver, he almost fired carelessly-anything to get the person off you and save you somehow. But he remembered how his fingers felt light-not even heavy. They felt like they didn’t even exist, they couldn’t move-his hands couldn’t move to angle himself any way. He knew it wouldn’t matter either way, if he shot the person, it’d pass through them and into you.
Would he chance himself like this though? He never thought of an answer, even now in the slight safety of his car. He didn’t really have to think of one in the moment, because it got taken care of; all by a red dot. And then in the next second, the accomplice fell, blood leaving his head and seeping into the mud below. As you sat up, eyes filled with confusion before they met his, the red dot flickered, angled on your cheek-once, then twice. Only then did the both of you realized who was assisting in your mission-Brian. You could never tell where he was and when he got there, but he was always somewhere, Tim just thought it was good he was there. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t know what would’ve happened, what he’d do.
He shifted, moving one hand off the wheel before turning himself slightly to you. His hand brushed your ankle, sliding it off the backrest. “Come up here, and clean your face.” He said plainly, eyes flickering back to the road before brushing some of the pages on the passenger seat to the footwell. Your eyes flickered back to him, his head was now facing forward, focused on the road. You only frowned at his expectation of you to just follow his command, you tilted your head to the side. “I’ll wash when we get home.” You answered, now he scoffed at your words, you didn’t know if it was because of you calling that house a ‘home’ or rather your refusal. It didn't matter either way. “Don’t make me stop this car.” Tim said, “Get your ass up here.”
His voice was heavier, rough when he commanded you, your hands paused. Your frown deepened before you rolled your eyes. You lean into the back of the front bench, bending your body so you can move to the front. You didn’t notice Tim’s eyes flickering to you when he saw you in the corner of his eye. Flickering from the road, to your face, the road, and then the curve of your back as you bend into the front seat. His eyes lingered just a little too long when your shirt scrunched up slightly as you crawled. When you’re sitting in the passenger seat, you see how dark the road is, even with the car lights. A small reminder of how long this mission took, now that bath seemed far more tantalizing than before. As you rested the revolver on the dashboard, right alongside his mask-Tim gestured to the glove box, “Get some water, and put some on the cloth.”
This time you don’t argue, following his instructions and opening the glovebox. A few bottles are in there, some filled all the way, others half full, others empty. Folding the cloth to use its clean side, you open the bottle with your teeth-to Tim’s sour expression. Pressing the rim against the cloth, before resting the bottle between your legs. You pull down the sun visor, eyes on yourself as you clean your face. You looked worse than you thought, but at least you were fixing up something. You took your time dragging the cloth against your cheeks, until it was as clean as it could be. After a bit, you’re putting the sun visor back up, and putting things back where you found them. “How long until we’re back?” You asked as you stuffed the bottle into the glovebox, Tim only sighed softly. “Less than an hour.” He replied, earning a hum from you.
“Feels like forever,” You mutter, leaning your back against the seat, you notice how the front seats seem a little more intact than the back-it's nice to rest on it. For once, Tim grinned, “Well, you’ll be home sooner than you know.” He slid the wheel to the left with his palm, eyes looking out the window. “Then you can be out my hair.” Now that made you match his smile, you squinted your eyes at him even though he wasn’t looking. You raised a hand, ruffling his hair to his dismay. “The hair that needs a deep clean.” You replied, watching his face scrunch up at your touch. You pulled away before he could slap your arm away from him, he scoffed, a hand running through his black hair to rid of any strands blocking his vision.
His eyes flicker to you, longer this time. “Don’t be a cunt.” He mutters, his tone lighter as if he wasn’t too upset about your playing. You smiled back, “Why? You know so many, I thought you’d love those already.”. Tim could only roll his eyes, each response seemed to make him more focused on you. You couldn’t tell if you liked it a little, or was completely smitten with that fact. “I can only tolerate so many,” He said, his fingers twitching, just for a second, “for only so long.” Now that tone reeked of something else, now your body felt softer against the leather seats. You tilt your head to the side, curiosity, maybe something more filling your tongue. “Well, how long until your patience has run out with me?”
The car seemed to drive slower than before, but Tim didn’t comment on his foot becoming lighter on the pedal. “Entirely diminutive.”
His hand finally left the wheel, and brushed your cheek. The slowness of his body, how causally he moved made you tense. But this time, it wasn’t out of shock, or tiredness, it was almost like if you didn’t freeze up-you would’ve given him the reaction he wanted. Tim didn’t fret at your lack of reaction, in fact-his smile widened before his thumb pressed lightly against your cheek. He slid it across slowly, you felt dry mud crack, falling into the mist of the seats. “I think,” He whispered, “You’re getting into more than you can handle.” You now only noticed the car was at a full stop, on the side of the road-completely in the dark. At this moment, it was just you and him in the front seat, at least you think so. Tim took your silence, he consumed it like it was the only food he could swallow. And cracked his head to the side.
“If you don’t want anything else, we’ll be back in forty.” He went to retract his hand, but that's when you moved. Your hands moved faster than what the both of you could see, and your palms laid along his sideburns. It was an awkward hold, yet you didn’t notice before your lips met his. He didn’t flinch at your roughness-he embraced it. His focus was now all on you, the taste of your chapped lips, and the taste of your dry mouth. His hand’s curled along the sides of your ribcage, guiding you closer to himself, so selfishly. You didn’t mold together like a puzzle, but he forced you to become one, even if one press against the other meant another gap elsewhere. Tim was rough, and you liked it.
Your hands left his face, arms extending to wrap around his neck. Pads of your fingers dug deep into his back, rather than your nails. Still cautious even when you could feel each one of his teeth between the barriers of your lips. Only the brushing, pressing and pushing of skin was between the two of you, no spit was shared, and no sweat was mixing-atleast not yet. You could smell the restaurant brewing in the car, you almost wanted to pull away. Maybe if you did, the two of you could forget this-and you’d be home in less than an hour. But you didn’t, and neither would he.
His hands squeeze at your ribcage, before they slid down your shirt, down to your jeans. Fingers diving deep into the warmth of your back pocket, he squeezed. It didn’t matter if you fit in his grasp or not, he’d make it shape around his fingers somehow. Even if that meant curling his fingers as much as they could just to get any type of grip. It also worked as a way to get your hips against his-and your ass on his lap. The space between the two of you and the stirring wheel wasn’t much, barely enough when it was only him behind the wheel, but he kept you close to cause no pressure to the beeper. He groaned when your fingers went into his hair, unlike before, it was a rough hold to make sure he didn’t leave. Not like he would want to anyway.
He made sure you were flexible for this tight space, even if it was torture to have your leg dig into his cock through his jeans. Each slight shift brought more hardness to him, and it hurt a little too well to have you like this. He groaned against your lips, “This is what you wanted, hm?” he hummed, his other hand sliding up your clothes to feel your bare skin-still freezing with so many layers. He exhaled, adjusting to lift his lips against you, so you could really feel just how deep he was into this. The indent pressed deeply against your thigh, the pressure hurt him-you could tell by the way he hissed against your lips. But he didn’t stop, he couldn’t, and neither could you. Your hips moved slowly, but you made sure they had meaning in each harsh roll. You loved how he attempted to convert his sudden gasp into groans. You could tell even in this situation, vulnerability still crept into him. You kind of enjoyed his hesitation.
But it wasn’t going to last long.
Yanking at his hair, you took in his gasp, your chance to finally have your tongue on his. Your fingers grasped at his hair as tight as you could, tilting your heads so you could taste him better. Everything felt so warm, and so disgusting between you two. It was almost maddening the way he tried to gain some control-yet followed your pushes and pulls. The only thing now was to touch where he ached most, and make it hurt. You pulled away, breathing heavily as you moved your focus from your lips, to your eyes. You stared at him, his breath just as heavy as yours, but it shuttered when your fingers ran down his chest. Your fingers came deep with every inhale he made, and bounced softly when he exhaled. His eyes stayed on yours, desperate for just one moment of eye contact. But your eyes went lower as your hand dipped, and soon his eyes traveled down to your body. The sweat rolled down your cheek, down to your neck, as he felt your hand brushed his cock.
He listened to you inhale, as if you were preparing yourself for your mixed blessing. As your fingers slowly curled, his eyes traveled to your chest-how it bloomed in the moonlight, and how one of your moles shined red in full-
Tim paused, his hand moved to squeeze your hip, not as distressed as before. It was a quiet stop because-you don’t have a mole there, and moles aren’t red. You blinked for a moment, before your eyes followed his, your chest, through the small area of where your collarbone showed. A red dot laid, perfectly still, before it flickered once, twice, the silence-the heat lays proud in the car. But for once, the two of you are surprised, only after a moment did Tim scoff. “Brian.” He muttered, looking out the car window, he squinted his eyes as if he was some predator in the look of prey-beyond the dark branches and leaves. He squeezed your hip, rolling his head back against the headrest. A hand running through his hair again, “Can’t ever let me have anything for myself.”
You stared as the scene faded before your eyes as he began to situate himself properly. But he didn’t tell you to move off him, he didn’t even twitch as if he was going to throw you off his lap. In fact, he only tilted his head to see the road before his hand rested back on the stirring wheel. This moment, his untroubled attitude, everything about him not even acting disgusted-it didn’t make you angry. It made you smile, it made you chuckle before you moved off his lap. Taking your time to make sure you didn’t cause yourself anymore strain. Tim eyed you as you hopped back into the passenger seat, but this time his hand laid on your knee. His thumb rubbed the curve of your kneecap, a mutter leaving him harshly, you couldn’t hear it.
This time, you tilted your head, “Don’t like sharing?” you joked, as the car slowly moved. “Be nice.” You leaned back against the seat, your eyes traveling down. You saw how obvious his hard-on was, even though he wasn’t so into you anymore. When your eyes moved back up to him, his frown had curved up. “Only if you look at me during it.” He whispered, just loud enough for you, only you.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Here's a Rookie version of Noodle Leon for you guys!
I guess in this AU he found the pendent in the Raccoon City Police Department when he was looking for the medallions with Claire. He took the necklace with him just in case in was needed for a puzzle or something later. (Plus is was too pretty to just leave sitting in the dusty corner like that!)
And moments later, before poor Leon knows it, he's transforming into a noodle after tucking the pendent into his pocket.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Ticcimask to draw attention to Skully comic see how I tricked you
Comic :3
I can’t afford issue 5 of MH comic to know the finale but as far as I know the “souls” inside Skully do have some autonomy, considering Jessica.
But we saw Alex being too far gone, basically. I still like to imagine he’s there somewhere
Idk if ur taking requests or anything (I'm really sorry if ur not), but could u do a continuation of ‘a joke you’re not in on” and it be angst or comfort (whatever u want) of what happens after (if that makes any sort of sense at all). Thank you so much!! 💗💗
⤷ ゛Wanna see that man yearn for forgiveness ˎˊ˗
Summary; after the events of their latest stunt, the creeps realize that if they don’t grovel for your forgiveness that you might be gone forever. .
Ratings; c for comfort + cursing .
Contains; Habit, Brian, Jeff, Tim .
Pt2 tmr; EJ, Ben, Toby, Nina .
Original post; pt1 and pt2 + {pt1 and pt2 of you not forgiving
↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺
─•───────────────────────
I ended up staying awake until 4 am to do this because i slept the whole day and my alarms never went off #jumping
yousharknotpass
prguitarman
izzy806
theartofmadeline
snowghoul
titsay
vaporwave
discoholicmusic
areudirty
ellievsbear
