Speaking of your new mob verse, I am in desperate need of a hoe worthy crumb about Curtis, please!! Tell me he’s already obsessed with us 🤭 Sorry not sorry, Frank 🤭
I will give you a teeny little info about The Enforcer Siri, because you asked soooo nicely 🤭
Curtis has earned his role in the Thrombey Family. He’s worked hard, and unlike some people *cough* Lloyd *cough* he knows how to keep his head down.
Now, I’m not gonna spoil when we next see him and Frank. But I will tell you he’s taken a very keen interest in Angel.
But everything, and I mean everything Curtis does is with a purpose. If it doesn’t work for him or the family it’s not going to happen.
So the short of it is, he’s a simple man, and he really wants to collect on Frank’s debt. By whatever means that takes…
👉🏻👈🏻 would pete’s place curtis ever make you ride his boot (after he cleans it)? and then lick it off?
uh you mean his favourite pass time? idly scratching serial numbers off a crate of guns, having you at his feet, soaked cunt bumping against the toe of his boots, pretending to be completely disinterested while you’re eye level with his cock straining against his jeans. “keep it going, baby, you’ve got three more till you’re done.” opened mouth moans and gripping at his calf while you rock your hips down. “please please i can’t—“ “yeah you can, sugar, know you got more in you.” when he’s finally coaxed enough out of you, loopy and spent, you’re shoved down, opened mouth against the leather, “get it all up, princess, not a drop left. see what a mess you’ve made? all that fuss to wet my boots like a bitch in heat.”
Pick a piece of dialogue and/or a location + a kink of your own choosing.
PROMPTS ARE CLOSED.
Once I have received four to five prompts, I will close the list & open up the list for the next character. You’re more than welcome to send in prompts for each character. If you happen to send one in after I’ve received the right amount, I will let you know if you’re prompt won’t be filled and you’ll have priority on the next one you send in!
The prompts will be gathered and written into a full chapter for each character, but you will be provided with a snippet!
I don’t really have any triggers, but I will let you know if a kink/scenario might be difficult for me to fill & you’ll be given an opportunity to change your prompt.
Pete's Place Presents: The Schedule.
𝒟𝒾𝒶𝓁𝑜𝑔𝓊𝑒:
“It’s a shame to ruin such a pretty outfit.”
“You can pretend to hate me, Sugar. It’s more fun that way.”
“Jealousy seems to be a good motivator for you.”
“You can wait.”
“Let’s see how cocky you are with your mouth stuffed full, hmm?”
“I don’t think I can do this.”
“You’re driving me insane.”
“Open wide.”
“I think you look better when you cry.”
“We’ve got all day, Sugar.”
“Let’s see how much you can take.”
“Told you that you’d be begging for it soon enough.”
“I really didn’t wanna break you… I just wanted you to listen.”
Summary: Your morning routine is interrupted by the appearance of an unknown man and his crew.
Characters: Frank Adler, Curtis Everett
Pairings: Frank Adler x reader
W/C: 2,600
Warnings: violent acts (against reader and Curtis), knives, guns, threats of violence, brief captivity, gambling addition, mentions of alcohol abuse, dark!Curtis Everett, darkish!Frank Adler, Mob AU, Minors DNI
A/N: This one I am so excited for. special thanks to @krirebr for being an absolute champ and agreeing to read this before I posted. I really appreciate all your help in this! ❤️. As always likes, reblogs and asks are always encouraged!
It was a chilly morning in the trailer, you had a blanket wrapped around your shoulders to keep the cold out. You sighed as you opened the cupboards to see them bare. Frank had been out again last night, and probably spent the grocery money on booze. It was becoming a problem.
You opened the shades to try and coax some heat into the trailer from the morning sun, although you weren't sure how much of a difference it would make. A bump alerted you to Mary waking up. You scrambled to try and find something to give her for breakfast, besides the cereal that was probably a little stale. You gave a little fist pump when you found something frozen fruit in the back of the freezer and tossed it in the blender.
Mary followed the buzzing to the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. "Where's Frank?" The poor kid loved her uncle, and he did everything he could for her, but he had been awful with money lately. You knew you needed to have a conversation with him, but were dreading the argument that would follow.
"I think he's still in bed," You gestured to the hallway, "Why don't you go brush teeth and get dressed, and I'll go wake him up so he can take you to school?"
"With all that racket, he's gonna be pissed." You heard Mary's mumble, which you were sure she meant for you to. Pursing your lips, you knew better than to react. Frank had been clear, you were not her parent.
You followed Mary's path and made a bee-line to yours and Frank's shared room. He was passed out still, the stale smell of beer and cigarette smoke hung in the air, despite him doing neither in the trailer last night. You held your breath as you nudged him awake, "Frank? Honey, you gotta get up, it's almost time to take Mary to school."
He let out a groan and buried his head under the pillow, "Ugh, already? I feel like I just fell asleep." His voice held the rasp of sleep, but also the dregs of a hangover. You massaged his shoulders gently before placing a kiss on his spine.
"I've got breakfast almost ready, want me to put some coffee on?" You murmured against his skin. He grunted a yes, and you stood to leave. "And take a shower before she smells you, its disgusting in here."
You huffed and pulled your makeshift shawl tighter around you as you made your way back to the kitchen. Mary was already sitting at the table, eating her cereal. You poured the blended fruit into a bowl and passed her a new spoon just in case.
"What is this?" Mary's nose wrinkled, you couldn't really blame her.
"We only had frozen fruit left, I'm going to the store later. Make sure you put what you want on the list before you leave, okay?" The coffee maker groaned away on the counter, and Frank finally made his appearance.
Mary's nose wrinkled again as Frank passed her, "You smell like crap." He glared at her, but ignored her in favour of coffee.
"Come on, Mary we're gonna be late." He filled a thermos with his coffee, and the two of them gathered their things to leave. Mary raced to his truck, yelling something about starting a new science experiment.
Frank wrapped his arms around you from behind. "I've got a few jobs lined up for today, I'll probably be home late." He placed a delicate kiss on the top of your head, and squeezed you once more.
You sighed as you settled into his embrace, soaking up his warmth. "I'm off today, so I'll grab some groceries and pick up Mary."
He hummed behind you, swaying you together. The quiet moment was only broken by the blaring of the horn from the truck and Mary yelling about being late. You chuckled and turned to Frank, "Don't keep her waiting, she'll kick your ass later."
Frank sighed and slipped some cash into your hand, your eyes growing wide. Before you could ask where he got the money, he gave you a long, slow kiss, that had your knees going weak. He squeezed you once more, and was out the door before you could ask anymore questions.
You stared around the now quiet and empty kitchen for a moment, deciding you could clean up the dishes later. You went to your room and stripped the bed, god booze must have been seeping from his pores. You were tempted to grab tongs to just put everything in the laundry bag. Gathering up the rest of the laundry from the bedroom, you made your way to Mary's room to gather hers, but a sound outside stopped you in your tracks.
There was a squeak of brakes that had you pausing. Frank's truck was loud, and he said he had jobs lined up. There was no way he was back already. As you made your way to the kitchen to investigate there was several loud bangs on the front door that had you jumping.
You took a moment to collect yourself before opening the door. When you did, any words of greeting left your mind immediately. Stood before you was a hard looking man. He had a shaved head and was thickly built. His cold blue eyes met yours, before peering over your shoulder subtly.
"This Frank Adler's place?" His voice was rough, like he didn't speak much. But his question had your stomach dropping. What had Frank done?
"Umm, sorry, but who are you?" You tried your best at firm, but it came out far weaker than you had intended, and you kicked yourself for that. Glancing past the man at your front door you saw a black SUV, with several other men standing around it.
"Everett." He said simply, as if that would answer all of your questions.
"Right," You said slowly, "And why are you looking for Frank?"
It seems your words were all the confirmation he needed, and before you could do anything he was pushing you back into the trailer, a hand over your mouth catching the scream before it could escape your throat. You struggled against him as he used his other arm to guide you back, his foot kicking the door closed.
"Hey!" His voice was low, almost more a growl, "I'm gonna move my hand now." His eyes, which has been so cold and lifeless before, burned with an intensity that had you standing stock still. "And I'm gonna ask you some questions, you're gonna answer, and then I'm gonna leave. Understood?"
You blinked at him slowly, still clearly in shock. He loosened his grip minutely, and you nodded slowly. "Good." His slowly withdrew his hand from your mouth, not travelling far though to grip at the crook of your jaw.
"Is Frank home?" You shook your head.
"Do you know where he is?" You shook your head again, and his grip tightened on your jaw, causing you to whine.
"No. He takes odd jobs, said he had a bunch today." Tears were welling in your eyes. You fought to keep them back, your last sign of defiance to the man who was holding your life in his hands. Just over Everett's shoulder you saw the landline, wishing you were closer.
Everett grunted, his head swivelled to where your gaze was locked. "You know what, that's a great idea. Why don't we give the man a call." You shook your head and batted at his arms as he dragged you across the room to the phone. Dread pooling in your stomach, what if he killed Frank?
You must have said the words aloud because Everett chuckled behind you now. His arms wrapped around you in a sick mirror of the way Frank had held you just before he left. His breath tickled your neck as he whispered his instructions. "Give him a call, tell him to come home. I won't kill him, he won't be able to get me my money then."
Your hands shook as you reached for the phone, nearly dropping it. Everett tsk'd behind you, his grip on your waist tightened. "Shhhh, just calm down and dial the number. Tell him there's an emergency and he needs to come home. Now." He smoothed your hair, in what would be a calming gesture, but just felt more threatening.
You dialled the number quickly, the tension coming off the man behind you telling you more than his softly spoken words. After a couple rings, Franks annoyed voice came across the line. "Babe, what's up? I told you I have couple jobs lined up. Drop off with Mary took longer than normal, so I'm already running late."
Even though his tone was cross, comfort flooded through you at his voice. "I.." you gulped trying to get the words out. You felt the man behind you squeeze again in warning. "You need to come home." You could hear the tears in your voice. The panic in your breathing. You were praying Frank heard it too.
"Babe? What happened?" You heard Frank's truck roar as he pressed the accelerator.
"Please, just come home." You gave up and let yourself sob into the line.
"I'm coming, okay? Don't hang up." You could hear the panic set into Frank's voice now. "I'm not far, ten minutes."
Before you could sob out a response, Everett yanked the phone away from your ear. A shrill scream of "FRANK" left your lips before his hand was back over your mouth, dulling the sound. Something about this attack, and Frank's imminent approach had you fighting against your attacker. You bit down hard on the hand covering your mouth. Your hands scratching and hitting every inch you could reach. He grunted before finally throwing you over his shoulder, and marching towards the bedroom.
He tossed you on the bed, grabbing a pair of your panties from the laundry bag and shoving them in your mouth. He held his hand over top before securing your wrists with one Frank's belts. It was then you saw the gun on his hip, and the flash of a blade in his hand. Your movements instantly stopped, tear tracks lining your face. Everett chuckled before clapping your cheek with the hand you had bitten, his blood mixing with your tears.
"Be quiet." The words were whispered hoarsely, his nose nearly touching yours as he moved into your personal space. His minty breath ghosting over your face. "We're gonna sit here and wait for the man of the house to get home."
You shivered at the thought of this man being close to you, maintaining some kind of intimacy with you. He patted your cheek one last time and climbed on the bed behind you, scooting you back until he rested on the headboard. His one arm draped across yous stomach, while the other pulled the gun from his hip. You couldn't stop the whimper that bubbled in your throat.
"Don't worry, we're just gonna scare him a little." His lips grazed your cheek, the sharp stubble of his beard painful to your tear swollen cheek.
The two of you sat in silence waiting for Frank. Everett making sure to keep the gun in your sight line at all times. As each moment dragged on you felt your anxiety build until you felt like you were ready to burst. Just as you felt a new wave of tears building, you heard the road of Frank's truck and it skid to a stop outside the trailer.
You heard him yelling your name as the front door slammed open. You sucked in a breath and heard the man behind you shush. Despite his warning a sob ripped through you, which had Frank running to the room. Everett raised the gun to point directly at Frank's chest, and you sobbed harder. A warning squeeze around your middle had you quieting down.
Frank's hands immediately shot up, "Everett. What- she's got nothing to do with this." Frank was looking past you to the man behind you. You felt him shrug casually, his thumb stroking the exposed skin between your shirt and your sweatpants. "I told you, I'll have the money soon. With interest."
You blanched at Frank's words. The cash he had slipped you this morning, it was still in your pants pocket.
Everett hummed, "That's why you took another loan last night?" Your vision swam with anger now. How could he have not told you. You could have gotten a second job, picked up more shifts, anything would have been better than this. "You're lucky, it was one of the new kids working. But I think you knew that."
He abruptly swung the gun under your chin, and your sob echoed around the trailer. "Here's what's gonna happen." His face was pressed close to yours again and you squeezed your eyes shut, "I'll be back tomorrow, and you're gonna pay me $500."
Frank stuttered out excuses across the room. Everett stood from behind you, and you watched as he crossed the room to Frank. "$500." He tapped the barrel of the gun against Franks chin and glanced back at you.
Everett stalked toward the front door, leaving you and Frank staring at each other from across the room. Once the door slammed close, he was dashing to you. He undid the belt around your wrists, and gingerly pulled the underwear from your mouth. You sobbed as everything that had happened hit you. He pulled you into his lap and you buried your face in his neck.
Frank whispered to you, his tone soft and soothing. It felt like hours before you could calm yourself down enough to let him go. He left the room for only a few moments and returned with a washcloth and a glass of water. He cleaned the tears and blood from your swollen cheeks.
You gripped the front of his shirt, your eyes pleading. "Frank, you need to tell me the truth." He hung his head unable to meet your eyes. "How much?"
You whispered the words, but with the silence in the room, you knew he heard you. "Five grand."
You sucked in a breath. A few extra shifts would never cover that. "Okay." You stood and grabbed a towel from the laundry bag. "Mary can't know about this. I'll take her out tomorrow, and you call me once he's gone."
You turned to Frank, his soulful eyes pleading with you. "I don't want to be around that man ever again."
"I'm so sorry babe." He held a hand out to you as he stood and you fell into his arms. Your own falling to his waist.
"You tell me when it's bad Frank. Or this doesn't work." You whispered the words as you laid your head on his shoulder. "We'll find a way to get the money, and then we'll leave."
Frank nodded above you, his arms wound tightly around you. You pulled out the bills he had handed you this morning, and peeled out just enough for groceries and handed him the rest back. "You go, work on your jobs. I'm gonna go hang out with Roberta until you get home."
He pulled you back, his hands on your shoulders, crouching slightly to get on your level. "Are you sure?"
You could see the sincerity in his eyes. The worry, the shame, the guilt, they were all there. You cupped his cheek and stroked his beard with your thumb. "We need the money."
Warnings: this fic contains arranged marriage and suggestions of dubcon and noncon, as well as adultery. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
18+ only, explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
You voted, I wrote it. This is June 9th’s fic!
Curtis Everett + “You really thought you could leave me?”
I welcome and appreciate all feedback. This means replies, reblogs, and asks. I do prefer if you can reblog and share my work along with your thoughts. <3
Please check my pinned post for more information on my blog, stories, and asks!
Do one kind thing for yourself today and take care.💖
Callouses graze along your throat as teeth sink into the muscle along your shoulder. You whimper as another hand tickles along your hip and grips tightly. Curtis growls into your hair and snaps his teeth.
You shiver and clasp his wrist as he squeezes your neck. He inhales your scent and nuzzles your ear, teething the tender brim. You close your eyes as your muscles knot.
Fear courses coldly beneath the tide of heat flowing from your core. His hand slips down your pelvis and toys with the curly hair there. You tense even tighter as he inches closer and closer to his need.
His roughened fingers dip between your folds and you gasp past the vice of his other hand. He rubs you, lightly at first, then presses firmly and drags across your clit. You whine and bite down.
“Shhh,” he hushes you as his naked torso grazes your back.
He plays with you, deliberate and determined. He swirls and twirls his fingers, changing his motion each time you make a noise or twitch. Your insides clench over and over as you fight the rising pressure deep inside.
You squeeze his forearm and bite your tongue as you drone. Your body shakes and spasms as your voice flows out of you with the tension, the release trembling in your thighs. You gulp and gasp as your orgasm storms through you.
He doesn’t stop. Not even as you beg. His fingers are so certain, so adept, that it isn’t long before you're cumming again, thighs pressing against his large hand.
His fingers glide back and he delves inside you. One finger, into its limit, then out. A second, down to the knuckles, several thrusts of his hand as you whimper. Then a third, forced past the tight resistance until you wail.
He hushes you again, sniffing the back of your neck, his nose tickling you. He extends his tongue and licks the drop of sweat as it trickles down your nape. You roll your head over his locked hand and let it hang forward.
He slides his fingers out of you and smears the wetness up your cunt and pelvis. He snarls and shifts behind you. He pushes his fingers between your folds again and spreads them. You twitch as he angles you up.
His tip flicks down your cunt and he catches himself in the crooked of two fingers. He guides his dick to your entrance and wiggles, teasing you as he growls. He pushes his tip into you with his fingers as you groan.
He holds himself there, just inside you, as you squirm. He pushes his nose into your hair as he slowly enters you. You tighten around him and writhe. He stills you with a squeeze on your throat and rubs your clit.
You heave and dangle from his embrace as he bottoms out. You squeal as your insides tremble. Your arms fall straight and you clutch at the barren mattress. He rears back, slipping out inch by inch, then thrusts back in with a single sharp thrust.
You wail and slap the sides of his thighs. “Please, ow–”
He shushes you a third time. He picks up his pace with each delve inside of you until he’s in full rut. The friction and impact of your flesh echoes through and around you. You hang weakly as he fucks you without relent.
He falls on you with his full weight as his voice rumbles in his chest. His head hangs down next to yours and a roar breaks free like thunder. His hips pump relentlessly as he shakes the creaky metal frame.
He cums as he smothers his voice in the crook of your neck. You can feel it inside, spilling out around him as he keeps thrusting through his climax. When he finally stops, the world seems to as well. He pants heavily beside your ear as his weight crushes you.
You don’t move. Not even as he slides out of you. He kneels over you and plays with the cum leaking out of you. He pushes it back in with a hum, spreading his fingers wide as he stretches you, then pulls out gruffly.
He shoves off and the bed lurches. His footsteps slap away. You bury your face in the bed as your heartbeat steadies. You wait.
He doesn’t return. Slowly, you roll over. It takes some time to find the strength to sit up. You look down at the gush that spills out between your legs. You quiver.
A hand claps down on your shoulder and pushes you to your back. Curtis is behind you, snarling down as his dick bobs above your head. He bares his teeth.
“You really thought you could leave me?” He grits.
“No, I was–”
“You don’t move unless I move you.” He smacks your cheek lightly. “That’s a warning.”
Warnings: non/dubcon, power imbalance, age difference, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Character: Knight!Curtis Everett (Medieval AU)
Summary: your duties change with the interest of the castle’s lord. (older reader)
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️
The day after Lord Everett’s return,you wake with a sear across your chest and neck, a little on your arms. Your night shift stings your flesh, adding to the heat singeing deep into your nerves. You shake as you dress, the layers boiling your mottled skin.
You resume your duties in the kitchen. You scrub the floors on your knees. The hard stone does little to help the aches that are felt more each day. The steam of the water you use to clean makes you throb.
How careless of you. You can only blame yourself for the calamity. After you mopped up the mess and brought a new basin, you left the lord to his peace.
As you get up to your feet with the brush and bucket, you stagger and splash the dirty water around with you. Mallory barrels past you as she covers her mouth and groans. Her eyes bulge in panic and she gags. She folds and vomits through her splayed fingers.
You set down your handful and go to rub her back. You’ll have to redo the floor. She shudders and moans as she clutches her stomach with one hand, her other dripping in sick.
“Mallory, have you an ague?” You ask as you sooth her with your palm on her shoulder.
“I must,” she groans. “I’ve felt terribly these last days. I told Griselda but she only accused me of being idle.”
“Poor girl. You go, clean yourself up and have some warm milk,” you coddle her. “I will clear the mess and… have you anything needs done?”
“Urgh. The Lord, he’s due his– his—” She gulps and clamps her lips shut. “Plate. Only the thought of food has me so…” She shakes her head and gurgles.
“Go. I will have it done.” You assure her.
She stumbles away, droning in agony. You huff and get back to your knees. You wipe up the chunks of her morning porridge with the cloth in your belt and do you best to sop up the stink of her stomach.
After you empty the bucket, you go to the kitchens. Griselda is there, sweating by the stove.
“Mallory is sick. She cannot bring Lord Everett’s meal.” You inform her.
“Then you shall.” She demands.
You blanch. “Griselda, I must tend to the front hall–”
“You must bring his food, then you may do all that.” She interjects. “I am not of the mind to climb those stairs today.”
“Yes, Griselda.” You relent.
“That Mallory. Her youth keeps her lackadaisical.” She huffs and loads up a plate with a thick hunk of bread, cheese, and strips of pork. She sets it on a tray with a small jug of ale alongside a stein. “Off you are. I foresee a visit to the village for better help.”
You take the tray and leave her. She is in one of her moods. The absence of her husband suggests he was into the casks himself. You set off on your task, hoping it will be quick.
You ascend the stairs carefully. You follow the corridor to the lord’s chamber and pause to knock. You wait. He does not answer. You try again. Still, it is silent.
He must be busy. You balance the meal carefully and let yourself in. You bring it to the round table and set it down firmly. You will find the groom and send him to fetch his master.
You turn, eager to be off to the front hall, only to find a figure waiting. Lord Everett stands in the doorway. You flinch and back away. Your hand goes to your neck.
“My lord,” you lower your chin. “I’ve only brought your food.”
He grumbles and steps inside. “Very well.”
“I wouldn’t seek to be in your way,” you keep your head down.
He doesn’t say anything. You move toward the door. He doesn’t move. You cannot get around him.
“My lord,” you murmur.
He inhales and lets it out slowly. “Look up.”
“My lord.” You gulp and obey.
“At the ceiling,” he commands.
You tilt your head back. The air tickles the heat beneath your burnt flesh. He sighs.
“You’ve blisters.” He says.
You put your head straight and touch above your collar. “My lord, it is not very bad.”
“I did not ask.” He insists.
“Apologies, my lord. I presume,” you avert your eyes sheepishly.
“You need salve. A poultice perhaps.”
You don’t know what to say. He reaches for you and you wince. He curls his fingers.
“Stay.” He points to a chair. “Sit.”
“My lord.”
You shuffle over to the chair and sit. You teeter on the edge, unnerved by his terse demands. He goes to the tall chest of drawers. He retrieves something from the top and approaches.
He sets a jar on the table near to you. He approaches and stands before you. You slump as he leans over you and reaches down your back. He loosens your laces. You bring your hands up to clutch the slack wool.
“My lord.” You quaver.
He doesn’t say a word. He pulls at the loose neck of your gown. You let your arms fall and it does too. He unties the front of your shift and pushes it wide, exposing the top of your bosom and the welts and blisters all across your skin.
“You would make it worse wearing so much.” He grabs the jar and peels off the canvas cover.
“My lord. I would tend it–”
“You would defy my benevolence,” he insists as he dips his fingers into the jar. “You will sit and trust in your lord.”
He spreads the salve over your skin with two fingers. You shiver as it soothes the swelter in your flesh. He uses his thumb to further apply it, gently coating your burns in the pungent concoction. His touch strays from neck to chest, and lingers just at the swell of your bosom.
He tugs out the fabric of your shift and peers down it. You lean away modestly. He lets go. His hand hovers for a moment as he rubs his fingertips together.
“You must let your skin take the air.” He advises as he wraps the jar in the canvas. “Remain as you are.”
He puts the jar away and wipes his fingers on a rag. He nears the table and sits, facing you. He pours from the jug into the stein. He calmly sips as he watches you.
Warning: noncon, stealing/crime, fear and intimidation.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Character: Curtis Everett
Summary: An act of desperation leads to a moment of retribution.
Note: this idea popped into my mind so I quickly jotted it up. No plans on a series but I could see a couple of continuations if y'all want. Let me know, pls!
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️
You got over should or shouldn't a long time ago. This isn't about morals, it's not even about greed. This is survival. You just need something, anything you can hock for a couple bucks.
Your stomach is a siren, crying out for anything. You listen to that, not your conscience. When it boils down to it, ethics are as much a commodity as a gold watch or designer purse.
Confidence is key. Not real confidence, just the appearance of. People only notice what you let them notice.
It's dark. Late. You move between the shadows of house, trailing behind the bumpers of pickups, stopping to stand on tiptoe and peek in the beds. Empty bottles won't even get you a return anymore. Fucking pricks in their suits, writing down new rules for everyone but themselves.
Just a small thing. Nothing that's too much. If they can afford them, they can afford to replace them, surely.
You stop and rub your eyes. The streetlights soften the edges. You see something further down a lot.
The long drive is full up. Three pick ups, an outdated corvette, and a couple bikes near the unlit garage with four doors. You weave between, pausing to test the handles and peek through the windows.
Huh. One's unlocked. You find greasy receipts for a burger place this end of town and coupons for more. Jesus. Fat fuck.
You keep on towards the bikes. Usually, you don't get much off of them. You might manage to twist off a mirror or couple pieces of metal to sell at the scrapper.
You check the first. Nothing. The second turns up a couple pills tucked inside the handlebar. If they're any good, you can get a decent profit. You don't touch the shit. Makes you an easy target, even if it would ease the ache in your gut.
The third bike is nice. The silver cobra painted on the matte grey tank catches a glimmer of moonlight. You feel around slowly.
There's a leather pouch right behind the seat. Someone must've been distracted. You unbuckle it, the metal clinking louder than you like, and sift around blindly.
You take out the only object inside. A folding knife. You'll be lucky to take ten from the pawnshop. They have a whole fucking bucket of knives.
A click makes you clumsy. The knife falls between your feet and you stand sttaight. Stiff. The gravel mulches behind you.
"Hands up." The grizzly voice sneers.
Fucker. You raise your hands. The man comes close and kicks the knife under the bike and you hear it skitter to the other side.
"You law?" You ask.
"Shut up." He growls.
You sigh and stay as you are. His body heat clouds around you as he pokes you with the barrel. You huff.
"Keep your hands up and turn around." He commands.
"I'm just hungry--" you say.
"Yeah? Bet those pills are real filling." He jabs the gun deeper between your shoulder blades. "Turn the fuck around."
You close your eyes and deflate. You face the man and look. He's just a black silhouette but you can tell he isn't with the force. You stare at him, bracing for something, anything.
"You know what I do with thieves?"
"I can guess," your fingers droop weakly.
"Don't you know where the fuck you are?" He steps closer and angles the barrel under your chin. The silver glow of the moon limns his long nose and lights his grey blue irises.
"Somewhere I shouldn't be."
"You're goddamn fucking right." He pushes until your jaw aches.
He glares at you as the shadows coil like a basilisk. He drags the gun along your cheek and presses against your temple. He hooks his finger in the top of your hoodie and tugs it away from your neck. He scoffs.
"Listen to every fucking word I say and I might let you limp out of here."
You sniff and shake your head. "What the hell am I gonna do?"
He clicks his tongue. "Turn around. Walk up to that wall. Put your palms flat." He gestures with the barrel.
You obey and march stiffly up to the front of the garage. He follows you. You stare at the obscure siding and resign yourself to whatever comes next.
"Pay for what you took and we're even."
"You think I'm out hear stealing cause I got money--“
His knuckles snap against the back of your skull.
"Point is you took what's mine. You owe me." He shifts behind you. "I didn't say nothing about money."
He kicks your heels.
"Pull your jeans down."
Your body locks up and your fingers curl to fists. You swallow dryly. You reach down.
“Ah, move slow. I’m still being nice.” He warns. “You still got all your fingers.”
You ease your motion. You don’t bother with your fly. You slip your thumbs under the denim and elastic and shove your jeans down. You stop just at the midpoint of your thighs.
A gristly hum climbs up his throat. You flinch as his hot hand spreads across one side of your ass. From that alone, you’re assured that it’s not just the darkness playing tricks. He is indeed a very formidable man.
“Stay like that. Don’t make a noise.” He drawls.
You don’t move. You dip your head forward and lock your legs. You’re terrified but you know better than to show it. Even if you’re not bawling and begging, you’re sure he knows.
He grabs your wrists and guides your arms up. He forces your hands against the side of the garage. He lets go and you stay as he put you.
You close your eyes as something clinks. His belt buckle. A thick breath chafe and his zipper cuts through the still night. You bite down until your jaw throbs.
He grabs your hips and guides your feet back, just a little. With a heavy boot, he moves your legs further apart. He squeezes and tilts your lower back. He traces his fingertips across the top of your ass.
“Be nice, still, and quiet for me.” He rasps.
He steps close, pumping himself slowly. His knuckles brush the curve of your backside. He smells the crown of your head and his hot breath puffs into your hair. His large hand frames your hip as he trails his tip beneath your as and along your thigh.
He rubs up along your cunt as he bends his knees. You clench and clamp your eyes tight. He pushes against you. His slow deliberate intrusion burns. The resistance of your body makes it worse and when he slips inside, you grunt. Just his tip has you trembling.
He brings his other hand to your hip. He grips you tight as he tilts his pelvis up, splitting you with each inch. A long groan grinds from you as you push your hands hard against the wall. You lean your head on the side as you gnash your teeth.
When you think he’s done, he jerks his hips and plunges even deeper. You cry out and he hushes you, digging his nails into your skin. You quiver and nod. You swallow down the pain.
“Good girl,” he whispers.
He stays buried in you as he drags his touch up your sides. One hand slips under your hoodie and the crumpled shirt beneath. He cups your tit as his other arm hooks around your neck. His squeeze just under your jaw and he pushes his head next to yours, his cheek against your temple.
He slides out of you until just his tip. He urges back in and you chuff out another tight breath through your nose. He rolls into you, over and over. Each thrust is long and measured. Torturous.
He turns so his nose presses your temple. His breath dampens your skin. He rams into you harder. Your feet arch so you're on your toes. He bends you until you’re crushed between him and the garage wall.
He snarls as his hand snakes down your stomach and a thick finger delves between your lips. You gasp and gulp, bracing the crook of his arm as your nerves spark. You moan and shake your head. He curls his arm until your knuckles are against your neck and you can’t breathe.
“I said be quiet.” He sneers as he snaps his hips meanly. “You wanna take from me?” He ruts up into you harshly. You keep an elbow against the wall as you clutch at his arm with both hands. “You’re gonna take all of me.”
He hammers against your ass mercilessly, flesh slapping between your stifled whimpers. Your head hangs over his thick arm as his leather coat opens around you, tickling your sides as his tempo picks up with each tilt. He growls and nips your ear.
