#its finally here!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cerise-angel · 23 days

Text

Smarty

+18 Keys x Reader

word count: 2,955

Keys is a pretty handsome guy. The kind of guy that makes anyone feel at ease just by staring at his hazel, puppy-like eyes. He has a pretty slope nose, cute freckles and small moles on his face and body, soft shiny hair and a perfect smile. Keys knows that he's pretty. He likes to act as if he's completely oblivious to his own charms, adding to the whole shy aloof tech guy persona. He knows the look girls and boys give to him, wanting to eat him up. He likes the attention, even though it still makes him flush at the neck and ears sometimes. He likes the way the girls giggle and offer him help when he has trouble with the printer at his job. He knows the flirty eyes and lingering touches girls give to him when he explains something to them, and how wildly they react and he swallows nervously. He knows the sultry tone of voice they use whenever he's alone with them in an elevator. He likes when they touch his cheeks, talking about how cute he looks with his glasses. Keys knows all of it.

He thinks is funny how you seem to act so untouched by his charming aura. He knows you're not imune to him, he noticed the slightly dazed look on your face whenever he talks to you. How you get fidgety, like a scared kitten, when he sits too close to you in meetings. And his favorite, how you cant keep eye contact, looking away and flushing every time. Keys thinks is cute, the way you avoid him, while also acting as if he's not affecting you at all. But then again, he knows he is.

It's friday, and as usual, the small office is nearly empty. Mouser has already left, with a promise of finishing his coding at home. Millie's desk is on your other side, leaving you between her and Keys. It's a little annoying sometimes, because they chat as if you weren't there, or worse, as if you were some kind of wall that they need to dodge to talk to each other. Other than that is nice. Millie is nice with you, and you consider yourselves to be friends. Keys is nicer, but the way you look at him makes clear you don't consider him your friend. He's in undefined territory, since you want him but don't want him to know it. He obviously has better things, or people, to do.

Millie looks at you smiling and waving, before plugging her notebook off, and leaves the place in quiet steps. She doesn't say anything to Keys, as she usually would, but then you realize its because he's focused on something, big headset on, eyes and nose scrunching in concern. You dont know for how long you stare at his face before he catches you, a mischievous glint to the smile he gives to you.

"What you doing?"

You shake your head before answering, feeling your armpits getting warmer with embarrassment. "Just, hm, Millie just left." Keys nods, taking the headset off, before turning his chair to you. He's still smiling, but is almost boyish now. He gets up walking to your desk, stopping just before his waist can touch your shoulders.

"No, what are you still doing here? Having any trouble?" You look at the slight messed up script on your computer screen. Sheepishly you nod, letting him invade the space between you and your desk. He works in silence, typing fast, the blue light of the screen reflecting in his glasses. You can seem to look away from him, inspecting his face and hair and hands and the lean muscles of his forearms, almost concealed by the rolled up sleeves of his grey shirt. It's almost too much, and you feel embarrassed by ogling him, staring quickly at the pen holder on your desk. If Keys notices it he doesn't show you. He does notices it, though. It takes him a lot of inner strength to not let a satisfied smile appear on his face. Instead, he keeps focused on the screen, catching glimpses of your face reflected in the mirror.

Suddenly Keys stops typing, and runs a hand to his hair. You look at the screen in awe. He smiles at you. "Done." You look up to him ready to thank him for helping you, but with the way he looks at you and the way he looks so handsome just standing in the dim lighting has the words caught up in your throat. You swallow, trying to find focus to speak, but he beats you.

"You're still having trouble aren't you?" You frown, not really understanding what he means. You want to ask him, opening your mouth to do so, but his hands cradle your face, he finds his way to stay between your thighs, and pulls your face gently up, to stare at his blown pupils eyes. You don't know to what exactly you're answering, but you nod your head yes, letting your lips part slowly, your breathing starting to get a little ragged. His hands are soft against your cheeks, a little bit of roughness on the tips of the fingers. Keys smile.

"Do you still need my help?" And now you get it, nodding a little too eagerly, tingling anxiety on your armpits, hands and neck. Keys chuckle at you, shaking his head a little. You feel like you're doing too much and intend to pull away, only for him to bend over and attach his lips to yours. His lips are a little chapped, tasting like coffee and melon bubble gum. He kisses you softly, letting you frustrated when he pulls away. His mouth moves to kiss your eye, your cheeks, the edge of your jaw, and your mouth again. He devours you then. The kiss is passionate, his hand running through your scalp to hold you more firmly, nested on the nape of your neck. You kiss him back urgently, letting him lick inside your mouth, sighing with want. Your hands twitch going to hold him by his shirt. Keys pull away, lingering kisses on your forehead.

"What do you want my help with?" He kisses your temple.

"With the mess between your thighs?" He kisses your nose while smiling.

"With the way you keep looking at me, like im not gonna notice those pretty eyes?" He kisses your jaw, nipping the soft skin. You gasp.

"With the way you ignore me? Hurting me?" You clutch his shirt harder, pulling him to kiss you again. He does, happy with your reaction. He kisses your mouth again, slow and lustful, earning whines from how much you want him. His hands go to your waist, for you to get up off your chair. You pull him harder, too anxious to trust your hands exploring on their own. Keys walks back until he sits down on his chair and pulls you to his lap with ease. You sit, arms tangling on his neck, before kissing him again. He dodges, and your kiss lands on his cheekbone.

"Wanna go to my place or to yours?" You think a little, too dazed by him.

"My house is 5 minutes away." He nods. "Mine is two blocks away."

You smile sheepishly, nesting yourself against his warm embrace. "Yours then." He nods too, looking at you in what seems adoration. "Atta girl."

The walk to his building is unnerving. Keys has his arm thrown lazily on your shoulders, as if this was a usual thing. Your body seems to think the same, and you hug him by the waist before you can think about it. He kisses the tip of your nose for that, a subtle new hint of adoration in his eyes. It's nice being so close to someone that you can smell their perfume, their sunscreen, the gum they're chewing, their sweat. Keys is warm, and you indulge yourself in being in his arms on a chilly evening. You could do this every day. You want to do this every day.

The building doesn't have a doorman, and Keys opens the door to you, making a silly face. He tells you his apartment is on the 8th floor, and so, you two walk to the elevator. His body is still glued to yours, hands holding hands, thighs touching thighs. The moment the elevator door closes, his lips are on yours again. It's soft, not nearly as desperate as before, but just as ardent. You pull him by his waist, locking one of legs between yours. He whines in your mouth when you touch a silver of exposed skin between his pants and t shirt. You want to hear him again. Keys slows you down, kissing you languidly and locking your hands with his. You are about to whine about it, but the elevator opens up. When he pulls back and looks at you, his eyes are a pool of molasses, warm and full of affection and yearning. He smiles while you pout at him. "Easy, tiger."

You giggle and he pulls you along the yellow lightning hallway. You feel giddy and excited, the way you felt when you had your first kiss. He looks so handsome in the dim lightning, the yellow hues only enhancing his tanned skin and caramel locks. You wanna eat him up. When he notices your not so subtle staring he laughs, giving you a quick peck on the cheeks before unlocking the door. Keys' place is quite neat, some mess of books and coffee mugs on the small table. You cant look around much, his lips are on your neck, his hands roaming between your ribcage and waist. When he touches your tits, a barely there, whisper of a touch, you gasp. He seems to like your reaction, grunting against your hair. Walking together you both reach his bedroom, where he turns you on his arms. Keys kisses you, urgently, teeth nipping lip, and suddenly you two are on the bed. You pull away, feeling too anxious now that this is actually happening.

"Keys." He's kissing your neck now, his hands under your shirt, his pelvis in synch with yours. You try again. "Keys, I wan-ah-na talk." He stops immediately, looking up to your face with blown pupils and shiny lips. You cant resist the urge to touch him, cupping his cheeks.

"I like you." He gives you a smirk, one of his hands coming up to stroke your cheek. "I can see that." He gestures to the way your legs are wrapped on his waist, locking him against you. You smile softly.

"No, like, I really like you. I don't want this to be a one time thing. I couldn't bear it." He sighs, and looks a little confused. He catches your hands, and kisses your knuckles. He cups your face then. "Honey, i've been trying to get to you for a long time. I want you for a long time. I wouldn't keep chasing you, if this was a one time thing."

You snort, happy he seems to feel the same as you. "You didnt chase me." He laughs ironically, ducking in to kiss your neck. "I did, you just never noticed."

Before you could keep arguing with him, and probably ruin the mood, his mouth was on yours again, a new intention behind the kiss. You grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him even closer to you. You pull away to kiss his neck, and place his hands on tour tits. He gasps and squeezes them softly, whining when you roll your hips against his. "You're too warm. Lets take this off."

You nod eagerly helping him to pull your shirt off. His comes next, and then your jeans and his jeans. Keys kisses you again, and you remove your bra. He pulls back, sitting on his ankles to watch you almost bare before him. He licks his lips, hands going straight to your tits. He squeezes them, focused on your reactions. He kisses one nipple and then the other before fully attaching his mouth to one of them. His thumb flicks the other, and you start to get impossibly wet. Still attached to your breast, his other hand descent to tease your cunt, pressing your cotton covered clit. You moan, and Keys looks up, smiling with his mouth engulfing your breast. You're getting impatient tugging him, squirming legs while he keeps teasing you. He gives you enough to stay in the halfway between your release, but never enough. Keys adores the way you whine and begs for more.

Finally he pulls your panties down, and licks your cunt. You almost cum just from that, back arching, hands tugging his soft hair. You can feel him smile against you and that only makes you wetter. He looks at you, glasses still on.

"Take them off for me please?" You nod, shaking hands taking his glasses and placing delicately at the bedside table. He licks you again, completely focused on your cunt, licking, kissing, devouring it. Keys presses his fingers at your entrance, and you push yourself against them in a desperate attempt.

"So needy, baby." The condescending tone in his voice and the way he pushes one finger inside, then the other, has you crying, clutching tightly to his sheets. He moves them slowly, testing you. "Can you take more?"

You answer yes panting, and he kisses the skin below your belly button as a reward. He adds a third finger and slowly sets a pace, his mouth glued to your clit. He alternates between licking and kissing your cunt and biting playfully at your thighs. You want him to eat you up, and he does, allowing your pleasure to flood through your senses, leaving you with ragged breaths and shaking limbs. Keys seems satisfied when he lays his head on your stomach, his hands caressing the sides of your ribs. He smiles lazily, pure bliss in his eyes, and you smile back, reaching to pet his hair.

"Didn't know you were this skilled in girls department, Mr. Keys." He laughs, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He climbs on top of you, his cock poking close to your cunt. You feel hot all over, and in a bold move, you grab his butt. Keys gasps and feigns a shocked expression before kissing your lips.

"Wanna be inside you." He says softly, before hiding his face between your neck and shoulder. You think is adorable, how he was just between your legs making you moan desperately, and now he seems shy about wanting to have you. You pull his face gently, kissing the tip of his nose. "Then be inside me."

He wastes no time, pushing his boxers down and hurriedly lining himself with you. You feel the air leave your lungs when he sinks in you, it's a nice burning stretch. "Jesus-f-fuck Keys!"

He whimpers and his hands grip you harder. "Sorry, sorry baby. So so sgood, feels so good." Keys starts slowly, allowing your body to get used and to feel all of him. Even though it's still burning, you need more, so you snap your hips against his. He groans, fucking you harder, meeting your hips in synch. Keys brings your legs up his shoulders, allowing him to feel you deeper, to fuck you deeper. His eyes never leave yours, and the way his face scrunch up, every time he fills you entirely, is enough to leave you a whimpering mess. He's close to his release and the soft babbling of how good you feel, how perfect is your pussy, how you look so pretty underneath him has you on the brink of your orgasm too.

Keys bends a little to reach your mouth with his own, and you lose all control, engulfing his body in a warm embrace of arms and legs and kisses. He keeps kissing you, swallowing your cries and slowing down. "Where do you want me, baby?" Everywhere. You want him under your skin, between your ribs, close to your heart. "In me, please." He grunts, rolling his hips slowly, making you mewl. "So polite, so good to me, so, so pretty, such a pretty little face, such a pretty little cunt."

You gasp, and Keys keeps fucking you slowly, steadily, focused on how you feel wrapped around him. You hold him tightly, still on your post climax haze, and he spills inside you. He collapses on top of your body, hands finding rest on your sides. His right hand fetches yours, and the lazy smile on his face when you squeeze his fingers between yours is enough to end all wars. Keys kisses your sternum, your throat, your chin and finally your lips. Is soft and languid, your legs finally resting on the mattress instead of locking his body closer to yours. He smiles between kissing, his hand now caressing your cheeks. "I quite like you, you know." You smile, so happy it almost hurt your cheeks. "I quite like you too." Keys rolls to the side, pulling you to lay beside him. A small blanket is throw over you but you're too focused on Keys' warmth and soft pine smell to notice. He kisses your mouth, nipping softly on the flesh before hugging you closely and dozing off to sleep.

#its finally here!!#hope you guys like it #sorry for the lame smut #joe keery #walter keys mckey #keys x reader #walter keys mckey x reader #keys smut #joe keery smut #joe keery x reader #steve harrington #walter keys fic #joe keery fic #cerise writings

97 notes · View notes

gambitsheart · 27 days

Text

an unnamed lawrence gordon analysis piece

summary: just a gutwrenching character analysis of lawrence gordon and his grief and guilt over the events of saw 2004. proceed with caution /lh

word count: 1.5k

content: no major warnings!! second person perspective from lawrence's perspective. enjoy!

you told yourself this was the end of this, that you were done with all this nonsense. that last time was the last time you would step out onto the balcony and into the unforgiving cold at half past midnight,

cigarette in hand, lamenting.

although, you didn’t have much of a reason to be mourning the man that you yourself had left to die,

no, you didn’t have a very good reason at all.

and it had been nearly a decade by now anyway.

at least, what you thought might’ve been a decade. you’d spent so much of your time throughout the years in this same routine that you weren’t really sure exactly how long it had been.

not that it mattered much anyway,

because the last time was never the last time,

no matter how many times you said it would be.

you are no stranger to grief or death,

and you are no stranger to this pattern

this brutal, unforgiving pattern of..

well, you weren’t really sure what to call it

all you knew, really, was the bitter taste of a cigarette you’d long since quit when you first met adam stanheight,

and the even more bitter taste of what could have been.

you weren’t entirely sure what it was about him that was so special to you.

you’d met in an old dingy bathroom in the middle of an abandoned warehouse,

shackled to old pipes, meant to kill each other,

so, what could there possibly have been about this manic, anger riddled, bitter boy you’d met in the worst of circumstances, that you just couldn’t let go of?

you find yourself asking yourself this question more often than not,

when you’re staring mindlessly out into the abyss from your balcony,

fiddling with a cigarette you’d been holding for god knows how long, but never smoked.

what was it, what was it really, about this boy you knew for a few hours,

that you just couldn’t let go of?

maybe, it was his attitude.

in your line of work, you seldom had the chance to meet someone with such a devil may care, reckless abandon attitude,

and usually it would have put you off,

but not with adam.

maybe, it was his body.

although you’d never been one for looks, you couldn’t deny that adam stanheight had been the most beautiful boy you’d ever laid eyes on.

maybe, it was his voice.

to many others, you were sure it might come off as annoying, what with his voice being what you would have otherwise described as pitchy had it not been that it was adam. yes, you were sure many people would write him off as annoying.

but not you.

no, not at all.

you’d heard many voices in and out on a daily basis for years,

some of them shrill and overbearing,

some of them monotone and boring,

some of them smooth and charming,

some of them deep and confident,

but none of them quite as sweet as adam stanheight’s.

maybe, it was his compassion.

sure, he came off as aggressive and uncaring at times,

maybe he even came off as cold and pompous a few times,

and maybe he wanted you to think he didn’t care,

maybe he had planned on killing you in that room,

but he didn’t.

no, in fact, adam stanheight hadn’t wanted to kill you at all,

even from the beginning, he was so clearly fighting a battle you knew was impossible for him to win.

you knew the circumstances, you knew his fate even before your tape had finished playing.

but still, he tried.

he comforted you the best he knew how in a situation that seemed hopeless.

maybe, just maybe,

it was none of these things.

no, not quite.

maybe, just maybe,

none of this had mattered at all,

not in that moment,

not until after you had left that bathroom and he was long gone.

maybe, just maybe,

it was the way he had felt in your hands.

it was a brief moment,

a fleeting moment,

yet, one that would never flee your mind,

no matter how many times you tried,

and trust me,

you’ve tried.

tried to forget the stinging feeling of his nails digging into your skin, begging to hold on, just for a little while longer.

tried to forget the mindless motion of your thumb brushing over what would have otherwise been his perfectly soft skin had it not been for those circumstances.

tried to forget the lack of distance between the both of you.

tried to forget the feeling of his laboured breath against your cheek.

tried to forget the burning hot tears rolling down his cheeks and onto your own hand.

tried to forget just how perfect he had felt, even in the most dire situation.

tried to forget, that no matter how much you wished him back,

no matter how much you hated yourself for leaving him in that god awful bathroom,

no matter how many nights you spent sobbing your life away, cigarette in hand,

begging him to come back,

that adam stanheight was not coming back.

you would never feel the perfect warmth of his skin on yours again,

you would never see those perfectly desperate eyes staring deep into yours again,

you would never know what it was like to truly touch adam stanheight,

to love him,

to give him the life he deserved,

to tell him that he was enough.

you would never know who adam stanheight was, not really.

hell, you only knew his last name from your mentor’s notes.

you didn’t even know how old he was when he died.

you didn’t know his favourite colour,

or his favourite bands,

or how he liked his coffee in the morning,

or if he even liked coffee.

you didn’t know if he preferred cats or dogs,

or if he was allergic,

you didn’t know his favourite food,

or what position he slept in at night.

you didn’t know what exactly it was he did for work,

or what his dream job had been.

you didn’t know his parents names,

or if he had siblings,

if they fought like typical siblings.

you didn’t know if he’d ever planned on having kids,

or what his plans were for the future,

if he might have any friends,

or a pet,

or a hobby he really enjoyed.

the more you thought of it,

you didn’t know jackshit about adam stanheight, not really.

but what you did know, you’d fallen so deeply in love with.

you knew his name was adam.

you knew he was around 5 feet 8 inches in height.

you knew he had striking green eyes and tousled brown hair.

you knew he fidgeted when he was nervous, specifically his fingers.

you knew he wanted to fix his relationship with his parents.

you knew he had a recent ex girlfriend, that she'd broken up with him.

you knew he watched a lot of movies, mostly sci-fi or action based on his reaction to waking up with no idea where he was.

you knew he was a photographer.

you knew he didn’t make great money.

you know that he did what he did just to live.

you know that he deserved to live.

you know that those were the screams of a man that wanted to live.

you know that he won.

you know that he was too young to die.

you know that it should have been you left in that room.

you know that you broke your promise.

you know that you were one of the last people to see him alive.

you know that he fell off the face of the earth without a trace.

you know that adam stanheight tried his best.

yes, that’s exactly what he did.

adam stanheight did his best,

and still, he died alone in that room, exactly where you’d left him.

even after all these years, you’re sure that not only did adam stanheight die of starvation and dehydration, he died of these things wondering why.

why had you left him there?

why had you promised him you’d come back if you weren’t going to keep it?

why had you given him a space in which he felt okay to be himself, for once in his absolutely pathetic life, only to rip it away, just like that?

to be entirely honest, you didn’t even have the answer to these questions, no matter how many nights they kept you awake, carving themselves into the back of your brain.

you weren’t entirely sure you wanted the answers anyway.

you’d given enough time to these thoughts,

lord knows you have.

one in particular, though, keeps the gears in that wretched brain of yours turning, even more so than they already do.

the sickening thought that you, dr. lawrence gordon, are the reason adam stanheight is dead.

you are the reason that he never got to live his life,

that you were both deprived of a safe place within each other,

that it is nobody’s fault but your own, and you have absolutely nobody else to blame but yourself.

#ITS FINALLY HERE!!#GOOD LUCK #saw #saw franchise #saw writing #saw 2004 #adam faulkner stanheight #lawrence gordon #chainshipping #writing #gambit writing

32 notes · View notes