#Residential window protection

[doubleglazingvic]

5 Reasons Why Security Screens for Windows by Double Glazing Melbourne Are Essential for Your Home

In today's world, ensuring the safety and security of your home is paramount. One effective way to achieve this is by installing security screens for windows. When it comes to reliability and quality, Double Glazing Melbourne stands out as a trusted provider. Here are five compelling reasons why investing in security screens from Double Glazing Melbourne is crucial for your home:

Enhanced Protection: Security screens act as a robust barrier against intruders, deterring potential break-ins and burglaries. Double Glazing Melbourne's screens are built with high-quality materials and cutting-edge technology, providing an extra layer of security for your windows.

Durable Construction: Double Glazing Melbourne's security screens are designed to withstand harsh weather conditions and resist tampering. Crafted from sturdy materials such as reinforced steel or aluminum, these screens offer long-lasting durability without compromising on aesthetics.

Improved Safety: Apart from keeping intruders out, security screens also play a crucial role in safeguarding your family against accidents. They prevent children or pets from accidentally falling out of windows while still allowing fresh air and natural light to enter your home.

Enhanced Privacy: With Double Glazing Melbourne's security screens, you can enjoy peace of mind knowing that your privacy is protected. These screens are designed to shield your interiors from prying eyes without obstructing your view of the outside world.

Energy Efficiency: In addition to security and safety benefits, Double Glazing Melbourne's security screens also contribute to energy efficiency. By providing an extra barrier against heat transfer, these screens help regulate indoor temperatures, leading to reduced energy consumption and lower utility bills.

Investing in security screens for windows by Double Glazing Melbourne is a smart decision that offers a wide range of benefits for your home. From enhanced protection and durability to improved safety and energy efficiency, these screens provide comprehensive solutions to meet your security needs.

For More Information

Website : https://doubleglazingmelbourne.com/fly-security-screens/

Email ID : sales@doubleglazingmelbourne.com

Phone Number : 03 9002 0137

[jackhalljrs]

Screen rooms by Jack Hall Jr’s Professional Fortified Installation Tampa, FL & Throughout the Bay Area 813-754-7930 Ask for Jack

Why pick jack?

1.Screen Rooms provide energy efficiency,long-lasting home solutions Tampa,FL (Hillsborough,Pasco,Pinellas).

2.Screen Rooms create needed space and can add more value to your Tampa,Florida home.

3.Screen Rooms by Jack Hall Jr’ protect your family from mosquito’s and other annoying pests.

Remodeling your family home,energy efficient windows and doors, a new space for a sunroom, a new Pool Enclosure or interior remodeling, many renovation projects inside or out. Jack Hall Jr’s is the best contractor for your remodeling job. Jack Hall Jr’s Construction a Remodeling Contractor Tampa FL, can help make your vision a reality. A certified state licensed residential contractor in Florida with 36 years A+ BBB, Accredited Top contractor.

Jack Hall Jr’s Aluminum, servicing Tampa, Tampa Bay & Central FL, offers pool enclosures, screen rooms, vinyl siding, metal roofs, & patio windows,Custom Pool enclosures,Screen room and Lanai’s.

Jack Hall Jr’s provides the highest quality vinyl replacement windows in Florida. Jack Hall Jr’s also maintains the best customer satisfaction after the sale. Jack Hall Jr’s installs the best Impact Windows and Doors installs impact windows and doors in Florida. Our professional installers replace your existing windows with very little mess or bother.

Improving energy efficiency with new replacement windows and doors can reduce the cost of your already expensive electric costs but it also protects your home in high wind conditions like Hurricanes and Tornado’s and will lower your homeowners insurance costs.

Your go-to Florida contractor for replacement windows and doors, impact windows, professional installation in Central and  West Florida.

We recommend the “King” line of vinyl  Impact replacement windows with all the latest technology but with a down to earth price. We sell, Furnish and install only the best because our family has been trusted with Florida homeowners over 42 years.

HIRING QUALIFIED INSTALLERS

Call for a Free Estimate 813-754-7930

Check us out on:

Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/remodeling-contractor-florida-jack-hall-jrs-jack-hall?published=t

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jackhalljrs

Craigslist: http://lakeland.craigslist.org/hss/5428365883.html

Google: https://plus.google.com/u/0/b/114537062565350422548/114537062565350422548/posts

Contact Jack Tampa, FL & Throughout the Bay Area: 813-754-7930

Se Habla Espanol

[tintmonstersnorcoca]

Tint Monsters Norco

Since 1998 Tint Monsters has provided quality services to clients by providing them with the professional care they deserve. car window tint auto tinting vehicle tint "Our quality promise is to provide a stress-free experience to both new and returning customers. We ensure your peace of mind by providing lifetime warranties on all our window tint installations. Our dedication to customer service is our main priority.

Contact Us-

Tint Monsters Norco

Address- 996 Mountain ave, Norco, CA, USA 92860

Phone- +1 951-430-3553

Business Email- addytint@tintmonstersnorco.com

Website- https://tintmonstersnorco.com

Business Hours- Mon-Sat: 9am - 5pm | Sun: 9am - 2pm

Payment- Cash, credit card, master card, visa, Apple Pay

Year Est- 2012

Owner- Adriana Finley

Find Us On-

Facebook-         https://www.facebook.com/tintmonsters5

Instagram-        https://www.instagram.com/tint_monsters_norco

Pinterest-          https://www.pinterest.com/tintmonstersnorco1/

YouTube-           https://www.youtube.com/@tintmonstersnorco7797

TikTok-              https://www.tiktok.com/@tintmonstersnorco1

[kotinting]

KO TINTING - Heat Rejection Marietta

KO Tinting in Marietta specializes in advanced Heat Rejection solutions, ensuring your spaces stay cool and comfortable. Our expert technicians utilize cutting-edge window films to reduce heat transfer, providing effective temperature control for residential and commercial environments. Experience energy efficiency and improved comfort with KO Tinting's precision installations. Elevate your surroundings while beating the heat in Marietta with our exceptional Heat Rejection services.

[cpooldigital]

Solar and Safety: Your Premier Choice for Sun Control and Tinting Window Films in UAE/Dubai

At Solar and Safety, we take pride in being the leading name in providing top-quality window film solutions for a wide range of needs in the UAE and Dubai. With a commitment to excellence, we offer an array of automotive, architectural, and marine services that cater to both aesthetics and safety.

Automotive Services:

Automotive Window Films: Our automotive window films are designed to enhance your driving experience by providing superior sun control, privacy, and style. They also offer protection against harmful UV rays, keeping you and your passengers safe and comfortable.

Car Detailing: We understand the importance of maintaining the appearance of your vehicle. Our car detailing services ensure your car looks its best, inside and out.

Nano Ceramic Coating: Protect your vehicle's paint with our nano ceramic coating, providing a durable and long-lasting shield against environmental factors and wear and tear.

Paint Protection Film: Safeguard your car's paint from chips, scratches, and debris with our high-quality paint protection films.

Marine Window Films:

Our marine window films offer sun control, privacy, and safety for your marine vessel. Enjoy your time on the water with enhanced comfort and protection from the sun's harsh rays.

Architectural Services:

Safety and Security Films: Ensure the safety and security of your property with our specialized films designed to strengthen glass and deter intruders.

Residential Window Films: Enhance the aesthetics and energy efficiency of your home with our residential window films. They provide privacy, reduce glare, and lower energy costs.

Commercial Window Films: Improve the comfort and energy efficiency of your commercial space with our commercial window films, which also offer privacy and protection.

Smart Window Films: Experience the future of window technology with our smart window films, which can be controlled for privacy and light control at your fingertips.

Decorative Films: Add style and sophistication to your space with our decorative films, available in a range of patterns and designs.

At Solar and Safety, we are committed to delivering the highest quality window film solutions that prioritize your comfort, safety, and aesthetics. Our experienced team is dedicated to meeting your specific needs and ensuring your complete satisfaction.

Experience the difference with Solar and Safety's window films. Contact us today to explore our range of services and find the perfect solution for your automotive, architectural, and marine needs in the UAE and Dubai.

visit : https://solarandsafety.com/

[switchablesmartfilm]

Smart Glass or Switchable Smart Glass Supply in India and Overseas

[360tint]

Unlocking the Magic of Ceramic Coating: The Ultimate Protection for Your Vehicle

When it comes to safeguarding your vehicle against harsh elements and maintaining its pristine appearance, few solutions can match the remarkable benefits of ceramic coating. This innovative protective layer has been gaining popularity in Phoenix and beyond, offering car owners a superior shield against UV rays, contaminants, and environmental damage. We will explore the wonders of ceramic coating and why it has become a game-changer for automotive enthusiasts in the scorching desert city of Phoenix.

The Science Behind Ceramic Coating

Before we delve into the benefits of ceramic coating, let's understand what it is. Ceramic coating is a liquid polymer applied to the vehicle's exterior, creating a strong bond with the factory paint. The coating creates a protective layer that is hydrophobic and resistant to UV rays, oxidation, and chemical contaminants. This state-of-the-art solution provides a lasting shield for your car, ensuring it looks as good as new for years to come.

The Phoenix Connection: Battling the Elements

Living in Phoenix means regularly exposing your vehicle to extreme temperatures and intense sunlight. The relentless heat can take a toll on your car's exterior, leading to fading paint, unsightly water spots, and premature aging. The ceramic coating offers an ideal solution for Phoenix residents, as it can withstand the blistering heat and protect your vehicle's paint from UV-induced damage. The hydrophobic properties of ceramic coating repel water, making it easier to maintain a spotless appearance despite frequent dust storms.

Preserving the Pristine Look

With ceramic coating, your vehicle's paint gains an unparalleled level of protection against the elements and daily wear and tear. The smooth, glossy finish provided by the coating not only repels dirt but also enhances the car's overall appearance. Say goodbye to unsightly scratches, swirl marks, and minor blemishes – the ceramic coating acts as a sacrificial layer, absorbing the impact of minor abrasions and keeping your car's surface looking flawless.

Time and Cost Savings

One of the significant advantages of ceramic coating is its longevity. Unlike traditional waxing or sealants that require frequent reapplication, a well-maintained ceramic coating can last for several years. This long-lasting protection translates into substantial time and costs savings over the lifespan of your vehicle. The reduced need for harsh cleaning agents means less potential damage to your car's paint over time, leading to fewer detailing expenses.

Environmental Impact: A Greener Choice

In an era where environmental consciousness is paramount, the ceramic coating offers a greener alternative to other protective measures. Traditional waxes and sealants often contain harmful chemicals that can be washed off into the environment, posing a threat to aquatic life. Ceramic coatings are eco-friendly and do not wash off easily, reducing the environmental impact of car maintenance.

Ceramic coating Phoenix and Ppf Phoenix has revolutionized the way car owners in Phoenix protect and maintain their vehicles. With its exceptional ability to combat the relentless desert elements, preserve the pristine look of your car, and provide long-lasting protection, the ceramic coating has become a must-have for automotive enthusiasts. Embrace this cutting-edge technology to unlock the magic of ceramic coating and ensure your vehicle remains a shining gem amidst the rugged terrains and scorching sun of Phoenix.

TINT 360 625 W Deer Valley Rd #110, Phoenix, AZ 85027 480-448-0668 https://tint360az.com/

[svinayagastickers]

Window sun protection film, also known as window tinting film or window film, is a thin sheet of material that is applied to the interior or exterior surface of a window to reduce the amount of sunlight and UV rays that enter a room or vehicle. Window sun protection film can also help to reduce glare and improve privacy by making it more difficult for people to see inside a room. 

[distinctivewindowtint]

Commercial Window Tinting Residential Window Tinting Sioux Falls, SD. Window Tinting is an important investment for any commercial building. It can help regulate temperature, reduce the amount of UV & IR radiation that enters your building, which can extend the life of your furniture and keep your space looking fresh.increase privacy, protect your belongings, and increase security. If you’re interested in learning more about commercial window tinting.

[princessbrunette]

JJ would be a master at gaslighting people to get away with thing like—

'No officer I was not having sex with my girlfriend in public, I have no idea what you mean 🙄'

꧁ ୨୧ ꧂

“sex? you think we were having se— babe, you hear this guy?” he laughs, still subtly trying to do up his belt as the sheriff shines his torch through his truck window. “look, shoupe— with all due respect, i think you need’a get your mind outta the gutter. now i don’t wanna be out here airing out all my girls business but she’s a devout catholic. ya, none of that premarital stuff it’s — it’s against the rules, okay? i don’t even like sex like that— that stuff’s overrated—”

“then why was the car shaking, son? this thing was rocking back and forth so hard i thought it oughta create a pothole. are you aware this is a residential street?”

“i am— i am actually aware this is a residential street because my uncle knew a guy who lived here once. he used to cook meth outta his garage so really you’re wastin’ your time on me when you could be arresting that guy— anyway, off topic— the reason the car was rocking was because there was… a bug. on my pants…aaand, it caused some ruckus i’ll admit— you may have heard some screamin’— or other things of that… variety. but i killed the bug, so… it’s fine now. issue resolved.” he trails off, itching behind his ear.

shoupe shines his torch at you, and you look away to hide your disheveled appearance, and he turns his attention back on your boyfriend. “how’s that explain the lipstick prints all over you then, huh?”

“oh this? this isn’t lipstick— how could it be lipstick? she’s not even wearin’ any!” jj gestures to you with an obvious expression.

“yeah, not anymore, ‘cos it’s all over you.” shoupe argues.

“look, this right here is a rash, and i’m super insecure about it so i don’t really appreciate you bringin’ that up right now, shoupe.” jj forces emotion into his voice and the sheriff sighs, standing up straight from his leant over position in the window, deciding this wasn’t worth his time.

“alright, you know what— i’m gonna let it slide, kids. go…do whatever you want in the privacy of your home… and please, for the love of all things holy wear protection. this town don’t need another one of you runnin’ round for another few years. atleast let me retire first.” shoupe steps back from the truck, waving them off and jj instantly jumps to turn his keys, ready to get out of there.

“yes sir.” he resigns, before eagerly peeling the car away from the scene.

꧁ ୨୧ ꧂

[osmanthusoolong]

“The lack of heat was just one of the tenants' many complaints.

Records filed in court by the tenants show that last year, the apartment building's property managers forbade tenants from receiving parcel or food deliveries to their units, sought to evict tenants who refused to take down bird netting protecting their balconies from pigeons and banned Halloween trick-or-treating inside the building. The company also filed eviction notices against 21 tenants who had window-mounted air conditioners, saying the appliances put the building's old electrical wiring at risk of fire.

That November day, the tenants held up cardboard signs and took turns speaking from a megaphone. After about 30 minutes, they dispersed to place flyers on windshields and signposts.

"Tenants will not be pushed out of their homes," read the flyers they were posting. "Tenants… demand that [landlord] Anne DeMelo put an end to the harassment and do the repairs they have requested."

Two months later, they were all served legal papers.”

…

“Tenants in many Canadian cities can face a litany of hardships in dealing with landlords: renovictions, steep rent increases, maintenance requests that go unheeded. But now some landlords have turned to a new tactic — suing their tenants for defamation when disputes hit the boiling point.”

…

“Anoop Majithia's company, Plan A Real Estate, took over a low-rise residential building in the city's West End in the spring. Many existing tenants were on high alert owing to his reputation: Plan A was once fined $10,000 by the provincial housing ministry for violating a law 152 times, was found to have acted in bad faith in trying to evict a tenant and has faced more than one accusation of posting photos in rental ads that don't match the apartments tenants end up getting.”

I wonder, do the landlords realize that this response from tenants is in fact the peaceful negotiation that they’ve forced?

No matter, landlords are scum.

@allthecanadianpolitics

[jackhalljrs]

Storm Shutters by Jack Hall Jr’s Professional Confident Installation Lakeland, Florida, 863-667-0068 Ask for Jack

Installation Lakeland, Florida, 863-667-0068 Ask for Jack

Why pick jack?

1. Storm Shutters provide security and protect your home,while providing  long-lasting storm protection.

2. Hurricane Panels can do more for your Polk County Florida home.

3. Storm Shutters by Jack Hall Jr’s are Hurricane season ready.

Remodeling your family home,energy efficient windows and doors, a new space for a sunroom, a new Kitchen or Bathroom, many renovation projects inside or out. Jack Hall Jr’s is the best contractor for your remodeling job.

Jack Hall Jr’s Construction a Remodeling Contractor Florida, can help make your vision a reality. A state licensed residential contractor in Florida with 35 years A+ BBB, Accredited Top contractor.Jack Hall Jr’s provides the highest quality vinyl replacement windows in Bartow, Lake Wales Florida. Jack Hall Jr’s also maintains the best customer satisfaction after the sale.

Jack Hall Jr’s installs the best Impact Windows and Doors installs impact windows and doors in Florida. Our professional installers replace your existing windows with very little mess or bother.

Improving energy efficiency with new replacement windows and doors can reduce the cost of your already expensive electric costs but it also protects your home in high wind conditions like Hurricanes and Tornado’s and will lower your homeowners insurance costs.

Your go-to Florida contractor for replacement windows and doors, impact windows, professional installation in Central and South Florida.

We recommend the “King” line of vinyl Impact replacement windows with all the latest technology but with a down to earth price. We sell, Furnish and install only the best because our family has been trusted with Florida homeowners over 40 years.

HIRING QUALIFIED INSTALLERS

Check us out on:

Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/remodeling-contractor-florida-jack-hall-jrs-jack-hall?published=t

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jackhalljrs

Craigslist: http://lakeland.craigslist.org/hss/5428365883.html

Google: https://plus.google.com/u/0/b/114537062565350422548/114537062565350422548/posts

Contact Jack: Bartow, Lake Wales Florida 1-800-741-0068 Ask for Jack

Lakeland 863-667-0068

Winter Haven 863-293-5253

Tampa 813-754-7930

Se habla Espanol

www.jackhalljr.com

[luveline]

I am humbly requesting a steve zombie au where the reader gets hypothermia hehehe😌

ty for ur humble request babe ♡ steve zombie au —steve freaks when you show symptoms of hypothermia. fem!reader 2k

"Steve, I think there's something wrong." 

Steve raises his head to show he's listening, keeping his gaze on the map. You say it through shivers, sleeves pulled down over your makeshift mittens. "What's wrong, honey?"

He's noticed you aren't yourself today, and he thinks a soft tone is the least he can give you. The stupid map in his hand is tattered, creased down the middle from folding and unfolding. He thought getting to Michigan would be easy, walk in one direction and keep on, but you both need to eat and rest and the weather is too cold to go any further. He needs to find a residential, tonight. 

"I feel off. I'm tired and I…" Your mumbling drifts off. 

Steve shoves the map under his arm, "What? Tell me." 

"Cold," you say, slurred, offering your hands. "I can't feel my fingers." 

You're wearing socks over your hands, the best gloves Steve could offer. He takes them with a severe frown, unhappy when the cold of your skin permeates through. You're ice. 

"And you don't feel well?" he asks, feeling up your arm to your neck. 

Steve digs under the layers of your shirts, hoodie, coat, feeling for your pulse. It feels alarmingly slow. He'd never guess from looking at you how slow your heart is pumping. 

Steve doesn't know everything, but he knows you're not supposed to be this cold for this long. You shiver as his fingers warm your neck, a pained hum coming from the very back of your throat as he pulls you in for a hug. 

"Okay," he says, rubbing your back even though he knows it's pointless. "Don't worry. We can't stay outside anymore, huh?" 

Steve aches to have to drag you down road after road, stretches of streets littered with little protection to offer. The roadside stores here are rocked by the elements, windows smashed and ceilings caving in. You're stumbling by the time a crop of houses appear in the distance, lethargic. Steve thought it was bad that you were cold, of course, but this is a more primal fear. You're not cold, you're freezing, actively freezing. 

"You're okay," he says again, his gentlest reassurance. "Sweetheart, just a few more minutes. See that house, the big brown shutters? That's where we're going. Can you do it?" 

"I can do it," you murmur. 

"I know, but it's my turn to ask stupid questions." 

Dead trees line the street, a planter of flowers by the door turned to crisps. Steve props you against a beam of wood holding up the angled porch roof and opens the screen door. He tries the handle on the interior. It's locked, a good sign. 

He's admittedly feeling the adrenaline of your imminent demise. Furious with the world and circumstances and himself for letting this happen, Steve kicks the door down with three big kicks. The bang rings like a shot through the entire neighbourhood, he imagines, but there's no time to worry about it. 

"You have to–" little gasp, Steve's head hurts, "have to sweep the house," you say as he pulls you inside. 

If there's something in here, he has to risk it. Out of options. 

He's as softhanded as he can manage dropping you into a seemingly intact couch. The room appears untouched from whoever left it, rather plush, it's a room Steve would've liked to live in. 

He grabs your face. You meet his eyes, startled. 

"I'm going upstairs for blankets. If something happens, you yell for me as loudly as you can. You don't have to say anything, just scream. Seriously." 

"Yeah," you say breathlessly. The last street of walking and the few steps has exhausted you. 

"Don't sleep," he says severely. 

"No, I won't." 

Steve dumps his bag on the floor. He backtracks to the porch to grab yours and wedges the splintered door closed using your bag as a temporary stopper. 

You must be hypothermic, cold for days, too cold to sleep last night, and it's all Steve's fault. We can do it, he'd said, just another push. He hoped for better standing further out of Indiana. None of it will matter if you get sick. 

He spins to walk up the stairs, falls weak and rushes back into the living room to check on you. 

"Everything's okay," he says, taking your face again into his hands and kissing your forehead. It's purely selfish. 

You touch his elbow. "I know." 

Steve takes off his jacket and puts it over your lap. The house is vaguely warmer than outdoors but it's far from enough to make a difference to you. Heart in his throat, he bounds up the stairs and onto the landing, an L-shape with one bedroom straight in front and four doors on left. The smell of gore coming from the closed master bedroom explains how it could be this clean; it wasn't uncommon at the start of the apocalypse for people to lock themselves in, kill themselves and their families. He has no interest in seeing it, nor unleashing the mould spores that come with decomposition. Whatever blankets were in there are worthless now. 

He takes a left and opens the door with a slam. A teenage bedroom not unlike his own back home, a simple comforter on the bed. He grabs it and tosses it on the landing, dipping into the second room. Bathroom, nothing worth having. The third room is a utility room with a jackpot of folded sheets, towels, padded quilts, and a comforter rolled into a log. He throws everything onto the floor and forgets the fourth door, arms fit to burst with fabric as he descends back downstairs. 

"Steve?" you ask.

"Yep, yes. I'm here." He drops the blankets at your feet. "Are your clothes damp?" 

"I think… no." 

"I'd tell you to take off your jacket," he begins, shaking the biggest comforter out over you as he talks, "but I want as many layers as possible. Come here, sweetheart. Lift your back a little." He tucks you in like a pastry. "Good. Good, thank you, sweetheart." 

"You're being very nice," you mumble, your eyelashes twitching like you've dimes weighing down your eyelids. 

"I'm always nice." 

"No," you say, your head falling back into the couch cushions. It's a family couch made of soft fabrics, not the showy leather piece you'd expect in such a mammoth lodging. "You're okay, though." 

Steve piles blankets on top of you. The cold is eating at him too, his nose stiff, his hair standing on end as gooseflesh ripples over his arms. 

When you've been sufficiently sandwiched, he feels your face again. You're already warmer, his hand creeping down into your shirt to feel for your pulse. Ropey. 

"Sweetheart, I need you to try and perk up," he says, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. 

"Not feeling perky." 

"Ah, but you're always perky. You're my sun, 'cos I'm so awful," he says, panic lining his plea. "You are. I'm going to make you something hot to eat." 

"Hot air?" you ask, slinking further down into your hump of sheets. 

"I think we might be in luck." 

He speaks too soon, really. The cupboards are lackluster. The can of soup he'd been hoping to find doesn't materialise. But there's a small can of ravioli, enough salted fish to make any tom cat happy, and a jug of water beneath the sink. He looks at it and sighs in relief. You have two litres of rainwater in your bag, and that had been the rations. This is one less thing to worry about. 

Steve makes sure that there kitchen door and the patio doors in the lonely dining room are locked, taking a big cooking pot from the pantry (depressingly empty bar a bag of sugar spilled on its side and a sack of grain) and a saucepan from atop the stove. He checks the gass but he's never that lucky, resigning himself to a typical campfire when it doesn't work. 

"Steve, put it back on," you say as he comes back in, your eyes a little wider, slightly more alert. You've pulled your arms out from under the blankets, with his jacket in your hands. 

Steve has kissed you before. You haven't talked about it out loud —he'd like to think a lot has been said in hand-holding, in spooning, and in you hand carding through his hair. He's eager to kiss you again, dumping his findings to hold your wrists. "Thank you," he says, kissing you clumsily, your lips cold. "Now put your arms in. I'll pull the blankets up." 

"Can you kiss me again?" 

"I'm trying to make you some hot water." 

"I'm warm enough already. Please?" 

Steve kisses you again. This time, he closes his eyes, puts his hand against your jaw. The sound of your lips pressing to his seems loud in the quiet. 

He pulls away with a final peck. "Are you feeling warmer?" 

You blow breath up your face. "Bet so." 

Steve rolls his eyes and turns away to make a campfire in the stolen pot. He'll boil some water in the saucepan for you to hold like a risky hot water bottle, and make some warmed ravioli. It'll be sweet. And tomorrow, if you're feeling better, he'll scavenge for supplies in the neighbourhood. Tonight, he'll burn the kitchen chairs. They don't need them anymore. 

"Settle in," he says, opening his backpack for the fire starters and matches. "We'll stay for a while, okay?" 

"Yeah, okay. Sorry for the fuss." 

"Are you kidding?" He can't look at you. He'll probably cry. "It's cold. You were cold, and we didn't– I knew your coat wasn't good enough but I just thought… well, it's my fault. It is. And I– I care about you so much," —he says it in a rush, true but unused to admitting his feelings to you or anyone— "I can't do this without you. I'll take better care of you, I swear. It won't happen again." 

"You know what would really warm me up?" you ask. 

Steve turns on his heel. "Let me make you something to eat." 

"Not hungry, just cold." 

Steve tamps down a giddy smile into one more respectable. "Let me feel your pulse," he relents, lifting the heavy layer of blankets to climb inside. Its roasting, the warmest he's felt in weeks, and your arm is alive as he slides into your side. 

He puts his hand against your neck, waiting for a steady bump. 

"Am I cured?" you ask. 

Steve sighs in relief. "You're cured." 

You wrap your arms around him. Life with you and in this situation is an endless rise and fall. Something shitty happens, you scrape by, and, as a victory, he gets to hug you in the end. 

"Are you sure you're okay?" Steve asks. 

"You just said I was cured, Steve," you mumble, digging your face into his shoulder. "Just. Stay here. Keep feeling me up." 

"Not what I'm doing." 

[g1rld1ary]

come home with me ; anthony lockwood x reader

➻ hbd lockwood & co!! this was meant to be for the anniversary but as always I have greatly miscalculated the english timezone... (also totally feeling pre-valentine's excitement!!)

➻ word count: 3720

➻ synopsis: when your bus breaks down in the middle of the night, one Anthony Lockwood may just be your knight in shining armour

➻ warnings: slight mentions of drinking, clubbing & drugs, lucy making slight suggestive jokes if you squint, reader is shorter than lockwood, sharing a bed, fluff

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You sat in your bus seat, checking you still had all your cash and your fake I.D. Satisfied, your purse snapped shut, changing shape as you gripped it tightly. Although you took the bus fairly regularly, you felt much more alone tonight than you had in a while. You’d left your friends and their ‘galentines’ celebration early, not in the mood to go clubbing but not willing to ruin their vibe. Plus, you weren’t ready to celebrate a holiday all about love so soon after being dumped.

You fiddled with the bracelets on your wrist mindlessly, knowing you were still a long way from your family’s apartment. You quickly scoped out the rest of the bus. A few middle aged couples — you imagined they were returning from sweet Valentine’s Day dates and ready to be home and in bed before one. You thought it was sweet that their love was stronger than their fear of the Problem, though the iron lined buses probably helped quell their apprehensions. Your eye caught the only other young person on board, a boy around your age who was staring out the window, rapier hanging off the edge of the seat and into the aisle. An agent, clearly, though you wondered why he was alone when they usually travelled in teams.

You quickly averted your eyes, not wanting to be caught staring at anyone who could proficiently use a sword. You bounced along in the seat until the bus began to slow, jerking the passengers around aggressively. When it came to a proper halt you felt a spike of panic run through you. You were all alone in an area you didn’t know and still at least a half hour cab ride from home way past curfew. To top it all off you were in your heels and new slinky dress, prepared for the safety of a club and not the outdoor weather. You were going to die, you were sure of it.

Then the lights flickered and dimmed. Great. You were almost certain this was the end when the doors were locked too. You rolled your eyes as you watched one of the adults jiggle the door around until it could be forced open, then reluctantly followed the rest of the passengers out onto the street. Just your luck, you were in the middle of a random residential street with no overhead covers except a tiny iron bus stop fifty metres away, which you reluctantly let the older couples hide in. At least the ghost lamps were on, and your very average senses told you there weren’t many ghosts out tonight; were you the only person in London — dead or alive — who didn’t have a valentine?

You watched as the bus driver pulled open the hatch to expose the engine, tinkering around nervously to hurry and find the issue. You leant against a ghost lamp as a shaky protection and felt a few freezing rain droplets land on your bare arms. Fabulous, the night was just getting better and better. You watched the driver huff in frustration and glance around nervously, you doubted you’d be getting back on the bus anytime soon.

You slid down the ghost lamp until you were sitting on the damp ground, past trying to impress anyone at that point. You telepathically tried to send your friends a message that you were going to be found probably ghost touched or hypothermic in the morning. You breathed a sarcastic laugh to try and convince yourself it was a joke, but you could feel the panic rising in the back of your throat. At sixteen you were not equipped to be stuck on the side of the road well into the night, past curfew and pathetically unarmed. You could feel someone’s stare and couldn’t tell whether it was at your sad excuse of a dress or at your position on the ground, but you were past caring, not even trying to shield yourself.

“Sorry, everyone, but I can’t fix this. Your best bet now is getting a cab and getting inside as soon as you can,” The bus driver explained apologetically, and some of the couples groaned, eyeing out the street for a taxi. You were past the point of feeling phased, tilting your head up to face the sky and embracing the storm on your face, not even thinking about the mascara tracks being run. When you reopened your eyes there were only a few people left; the driver, one couple, the teenager and you. You stood reluctantly, trying to think of a way to get yourself home.

You cracked open your wallet sullenly, expecting exactly was in there. A few dollars; enough for a few drinks but not nearly enough for a taxi to where you were going. You sighed, feeling defeat creep upon you as you tried to come up with any other method of getting home. You could return to the club — if you survived the walk — but even then your friends would be either too drunk or too high to be of any assistance. A huge crack of thunder drew you from your thoughts, a lightning storm was definitely brewing. Amazing.

You sighed, stress manifesting as the hot tears beginning to stream down your face. You felt utterly hopeless. You had nowhere to go and no way of contacting anyone, you couldn’t even use a payphone to call your parents as you’d promised you’d stay in while they were away for the weekend.

“Why tonight?” You asked the sky, more to express your irritation than to search for an answer. You could hear the agent escorting the couple down the street to a cab, easily soothing their fears with overconfident assurances. You knew he’d returned only by the occasional drag of iron against cement accompanying his footprints, presumably his rapier. Unknown to you he watched you as he approached, taking in your dishevelled state. You were pretty, undeniably, but the mascara smudged from rain and tears and your hair stuck to your face and shoulders made you look like you might’ve seen better days. He sucked in a breath and approached you.

“Hi,” He said, “I’m Lockwood.”

“Y/n.” You turned to him, hoping he’d realise you had no interest in talking.

“I know this sounds really creepy, but will you please come home with me? Promise I’m not trying to murder you, but this storm’s not getting any better and I can’t leave you to the ghosts in good conscience. My house is only a few blocks away; I live with another boy and a girl, both my age so we wouldn’t be alone. You can take all the precautions you like — keys between the fingers, walk on the other side of the street if you want,” He rambled and you sized him up. A lanky boy with a sword or the ghosts? You figured you had a better chance against him if it came to it.

“Ok.” You nodded, trying to smoothly push yourself off the pavement and appear well put together in front of the strange boy.

Lockwood led the way, holding the umbrella over his head. You followed a few feet away, cautious to be out of reach, just in case he did want to hurt you. Though you were jealous of his prior planning for the rain.

“Here, take my coat. You must be freezing.” He held it out to you and you gladly accepted, spaghetti straps doing nothing to fend off the cold. The coat was warm and enveloped you entirely, sitting below the hem of your dress. “So, are you in school?” He tried to break the silence.

“Yeah, for history. You?” You cringed as you realised the redundancy of your statement — his being an agent of some sort was more than obvious and only emphasised by the rapier he held out in front of him. He answered kindly anyway.

“I never did much school, I’ve been an agent as soon as I was allowed.”

“That’s cool, you in a big agency?” You asked, and Lockwood beamed with pride.

“Not exactly — not yet. I run my own agency, soon to be the best in Britain. Lockwood and Co, you might have seen us in the papers?” You raised your eyebrows.

“Your own agency, huh? That’s big stuff. Wish I could say I’d heard of you, but I avoid the papers when I can, it just depresses me. You might have to be just Lockwood tonight if that’s alright,” You joked and Lockwood laughed out loud, giving you a glimpse of an illuminating smile.

“Just Lockwood is perfect,” He answered, and the conversation quickly moved on, the two of you quickly losing the awkward silences.

“I got caught up in my research — a first, believe me. If I’d known about the bus and the weather I would have just caught a cab, or bailed earlier which is far more likely.”

“Tell me about it. My friends are out clubbing and I’m here walking in the rain with a stranger — uh, no offence.”

“None taken,” He assured you, “Wait, how old are you?” He didn’t think you looked old enough to get into a club, although the smudged makeup may have had something to do with it.

“Sixteen…” You trailed off, suddenly afraid he would judge you for your bad habits.

“So you’ve got a fake ID?” He raised an eyebrow at your nod. “Lucky. I tried to get one once but my associate George yelled at me for forty minutes straight, I never tried again.” You giggled at his explanation, the image making Lockwood seem younger, less intimidating than he’d initially been.

You moved closer as you walked, eventually ending up under the umbrella and feeling much warmer without the violent rain. As you talked more you noticed Lockwood was quite attractive, in an odd sort of way. Despite his old fashioned attire (you didn’t think agents typically wore shirt and ties), he had the loveliest smile and soft looking hair, though some of it was plastered on his pale forehead, unable to escape the rain entirely. What stood out most though, were his cheekbones. They were impossibly defined and quite dreamy, if you were being honest.

You talked about all sorts of unexceptional things, and you had the impression that Lockwood was doing his best to entertain you and distract you from your previous mood. It was working though, so you had no complaints.

“I’ve got a bit of sensitivity — very average — but I’m not going to waste my adolescence being stuck in the nightwatch ‘cause I can’t make it to really being an agent,” You laughed softly, “So I figured if I studied history I could be of more use, learn more about the Problem and all that.”

“You’d get along famously with my friend George, he’s obsessed with trying to figure out the Problem. For me it’s about the action, knowing that I’m actually putting all these ghosts to rest and having a meaningful impact on people’s lives.” You watched him circle his sword in the air, keeping the few Type Ones around further than they’d been lurking.

“Is that why you started your own agency?”

The walk seemed much shorter once the two of you started talking, and soon you’d arrived at Lockwood’s house, 35 Portland Row. The outside was unassuming, but beautiful in the classic English way. You caught a glance of the Lockwood & Co sign and couldn’t help but smile; you could feel the love and passion Lockwood had for the company from the small discussion you’d had about it. As Lockwood pushed open the front door a woman was just heading up the staircase in the hall, but turned at the noise.

“Jesus, Lockwood, what time do you call this? I was getting worried! Who’s this?” She looked at you, and you couldn’t help but feel self conscious under the beautiful girl’s stare. You thought she looked a bit teasing, and realised what conclusions she’d drawn. Embarrassing, but understandable.

“Luce, this is y/n. Y/n, Lucy, my associate. She’s staying with us tonight; our bus broke down and getting her home at this time is practically impossible.” Lucy nodded, but the amused twinkle in her eye didn’t dull.

“It’s nice to meet you then. I’d offer for you to bunk in with me, but I’ve got a nasty flu coming on and I doubt you’d want me anywhere near you.” She gestured down to the thick blanket wrapped around her shoulders and the steaming tea in her hand. You smiled to absolve her of responsibility and she waddled back up the stairs and into the dark.

Lockwood, in turn, led you up to the first landing and into his bedroom. He rifled through a chest of drawers as you tried not to snoop, eyes instead catching on the alluring movement of his fingers. He eventually handed you a t-shirt and some tracksuit pants.

“They might be a bit big, but they’ll do for the night,” He sounded embarrassed and you smiled in thanks. “The shower’s just down the hall, second door. You can go clean up.” You thanked him again before heading for a much needed shower.

You stood under the hot water, more than mindful not to take too long. You were so caught up in being grateful to be alive and not ghost touched or stranded in the middle of London that the weirdness of the situation hadn’t fully caught up to you until now. Once dried you put on the clothes Lockwood had given you and laughed slightly at your reflection. Despite your figure the clothes still unexpectedly swallowed you. It made sense since Lockwood was so tall, but you found it funny nonetheless.

You returned to find Lockwood sitting on the edge of his bed and stood in front of him awkwardly, unsure of how to proceed.

“So, um, I’m not a great sleeper so I think I’ll go read in the library for a bit and probably stay there. You can take the bed.” His previous easy confidence was gone, and Lockwood suddenly looked his age again, innocent and awkward.

“Are you sure? I can take a couch or something, I don’t want to intrude.” Lockwood assured you that he wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon anyway, and he was sure you needed the bed much more than he would. You bade him goodnight shyly, and thanked him for the millionth time before climbing into his bed, ashamed to admit how much you liked the pillow that smelt like him.

However, once it was just you in the dark, all your previous exhaustion had dissolved and you were wide awake, too on edge to sleep. You were in a strangers house on the other side of the city in the middle of the night, you very well may not live to see another day. Logically you knew you were being dramatic, Lockwood and Lucy both seemed lovely and genuine, but then again, so did Ted Bundy.

You felt like you’d been lying in bed for hours when the door creaked open and you inadvertently made eye contact with Lockwood creeping in, looking admittedly adorably soft in his worn pyjamas.

“Sorry,” He said, “I needed an extra blanket. Can’t sleep?” You used the light from the hall to glance at the clock, almost two o’clock. You shook your head softly, feeling almost guilty when he’d given up his bed for you. Lockwood stood in the doorway for a moment, seemingly hesitant about something. “Do you, um, do you want me to read to you for a bit? It always worked for me when I was younger.” He sounded sheepish but you thought he was the sweetest person on earth at that moment. You agreed quickly, and he slotted himself in on the other side of the bed.

You huddled in to face him and Lockwood cleared his throat softly. He had continued on from where he’d evidently left off in the library so the plot was a mystery to you, but his soothing voice worked wonders in calming your thoughts, weary eyes closing quickly to send you into a cozy sleep. Lockwood, unbeknownst to you, fell asleep uncharacteristically fast after you, novel left upside down on the nightstand. Despite his usual aversion to sleep, having a warm body and small snores next to him strangely made him want to start getting eight hours a night.

Lucy was assigned to wake Lockwood for breakfast the next morning upon George’s request, and silently sent a prayer before pushing open his door, wary of what she might find. To her surprise (and personal relief) you two were in bed together, but not in the way that she’d dreaded walking in on. You were both totally clothed, your head resting on Lockwood’s chest, his arm around your waist, effectively keeping you burritoed in the blanket. Lockwood’s eyes snapped open, a habit he’d never detested more, and groaned at Lucy’s good humoured snicker when they locked eyes. She shut the door behind her quickly, leaving Lockwood to deal with things on his own.

You woke not long after, feeling Lockwood stirring next to you and his breathing start to become irregular.

“Morning,” He slurred, still half asleep and wanting nothing more than to pay off his sleep debt with you keeping him safely in bed.

“Good morning.” You smiled sweetly, already in a good mood. You bent to collect your clothes off the floor, eyeing your dress with mild disgust — it would be quite the walk of shame home.

“Keep the clothes.” Lockwood gestures casually to your outfit and you shook your head vehemently.

“I can’t, they’re yours!” You protested but he seemed not to care at all.

“I don’t need them, just have them. They look good.” You flushed and dropped the fight, words lost in the vacuum of your brain. You busied yourself with rolling the cuffs a few times so it wasn’t quite as obvious they weren’t yours.

Lockwood led you down to the kitchen, asking you about your plans for the day. You were met with Lucy and one other boy in the kitchen, Lucy sitting at the table already tucking into her meal while the boy was standing by the stove.

“I mean, come on Lockwood, you couldn’t have given me any warning we had a fourth for breakfast? Bloody good thing we had enough eggs or it would’ve been you going hungry!” The boy muttered to himself, apparently unaware of your entry. You locked eyes with Lucy who was holding back her laugh and Lockwood coughed uncomfortably.

“Morning, Georgie,” He smiled an amused grin, practically blinding you in the early morning. George froze as he realised he’d been caught, then doubled down his mood with a glare in Lockwood’s direction but it simply bounced off the charm he oozed and you smiled. You introduced yourself quickly and explained the situation, not wanting to uphold the tension in the room. George wasn’t exactly as warm as Lucy, but then you got the impression that it wasn’t in his nature to be.

Lockwood and Lucy upheld forced small talk as you became nervous in the new environment and George simply had no desire to talk, at least, until Lockwood had the bright idea to get the ball rolling.

“So Georgie, y/n actually studies the Problem. Like, academically.” It was like a switch had flipped and suddenly George had so much to say you were overwhelmed with it all. You tried to explain your research area as best you could while trying to politely ask questions about his own knowledge and make a good impression. Lockwood must have sensed your anxiety as he put a hand on your thigh and gave it a reassuring squeeze under the table, chuckling softly into his eggs.

Your meal passed quickly after that, and you felt strangely at home in the cozy kitchen, amongst three people who were total strangers only hours before. Yet, it had to come to an end at some point, and it was soon time for you to go.

You collected your things, profusely thanking each of them for not only saving you (Lockwood), but also for the ridiculously delicious breakfast (George).

“You really saved my life,” You said, as Lockwood disregarded yet another thanks.

“It’s nothing, you would have done the same. You, uh, you should come around again sometime.” You beamed, nodding quickly.

“Yeah, I have about a thousand more questions for you — not an exaggeration,” George said, and you easily agreed to share more of your research with him.

“Plus, we like seeing Lockwood blush,” Lucy added cheekily, and then it was your turn to blush, forcing your eyes down to the floor as both George and Lucy laughed at the pair of you, mirror images in your embarrassment.

Although it may have looked like you were making a post-Valentine’s Day walk of shame, you were gleeful. You hadn’t at all imagined your night would turn out as it had, but you’d made new friends — and maybe the start of something more, and managed to avoid being ghost touched which you always counted as a win. You ignored the judgemental looks you received in slept in joggers and club ready heels, and delighted in getting home before your parents arrived back and noticed you were missing.

You locked the door to your apartment behind you and dialled the number Lucy had made you promise to call when you were safe and sound, hanging up with plans for dinner at Portland Row the following week.

You flopped back on your bed and grinned. You were sure you’d see more of Lockwood & Co in the future.

[eruden-writes]

Intentions - Part 3 (alien x human)

Summary: In the future, humans are nearly universal surrogates and Earth has taken to profiting off the ability. However, while humans can intermix with aliens, it doesn’t mean it’s without complications.

When Taliyra signed up to be a Companion to an alien, she had expectations. Mainly a lot of sex in an attempt to conceive an alien baby. What she didn’t expect was her counterpart to be so distant and - for lack of a better term - relatively hands off. For all intents and purposes, Khravel seems completely disinterested in her and will not hold a discussion to explain why.

After four months of this behavior, she’s had enough. Confronting Khravel, she gives him an ultimatum: either he sits down and talks with her about what the problem is or she’s going back to Proxypanion and requesting a transfer.

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First - Previous - Next

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Taking another deep breath, Khravel pushed off from the wall and made his way back to his quarters. He tried to turn his mind toward his work; political machinations, moving finances, potential hiccups in the day-to-day life of the planet. A nagging itch still prickled beneath his fore-thoughts, faint memories of Taliyra’s gasps and movements, the brief feel of her against him, her pleading. His partially sated need sparked through him, already wanting more, but he silenced it.

He was determined not to hurt Taliyra, or anyone, the way he had hurt Avry. And that was the end of it.

—

“Miss Deyva, what a surprise! What brings you to the office wing?” The Tivikonian receptionist roused Taliyra from her mental psyche-up as she approached Khravel’s office. She paused right in front of the reception desk, blinking as she looked to Mx. E’verra.

Unlike the homier styles of the residential wing, the business wing served explicitly functionality. Tall windows lined many of the walls, overlooking the surrounding city and beyond. Constant reminders of what everyone within those walls were working to protect. Screens interspersed on the walls, rotating information including project timelines, schedules, upcoming public events, and accolades for particular employees.

Taliyra had barely realized she had gotten so close – to the point where she had to be buzzed in by the receptionist – since she was going over her script to Khravel.

Focusing on E’verra, she realized they smiled at her in a tense and confused sort of way. Right, she couldn’t just waltz into his workspace. He could be taking a video call or overlooking confidential documentation. The receptionist was sweet and well-mannered, in Taliyra’s experience, though prone to anxiety and stress. Their four hands fidgeted as they stared at her, projecting their numerous worries through actions.

“I’m sorry, I was deep in thought,” Taliyra sighed and shook her head, rubbing her temple. That morning, she had already spent time journey to and discussing options with a case manager at the ProxyPanion office on Tivik. Her mind still sloshed with the details and new questions that the meeting had presented. One thing had not changed. “I need to meet with Khravel.”

“Oh! Delegate Iedro has a meeting in about forty-five minutes, but I’m sure he can squeeze you in before then.” Something in Mx. E’verra loosened and, though their expression waffled between surprised interest to uncertainty, it did settle into something akin to decisiveness. Scurrying back to their desk, they hit a button. The doorway in front of Taliyra buzzed, before humming open. “Go ahead. Three doors down and to the right.”

With a grateful smile to Mx. E’verra, Taliyra strode through the doorway and down the hall. She hadn’t expected it to be difficult to gain access to the more restricted areas. The knowledge she was Khravel’s Companion was well-known and their arrangement gave them much leeway. Which was likely why so many emotions had fluttered over E’verra’s face before letting her through.

It wasn’t long before she found Khravel’s door, his name displayed on the inlaid screen. Beneath his name, the words ‘available’ flickered in various languages. Taliyra hit the touchpad by his door, requesting entry. She held her breath for a second, before another buzz answered and the door slid open.

As Taliyra stepped over the threshold, she eyed his office. It was a large room with a high ceiling and dangling lights. His desk sat at the far end, right in front of a huge shelf inlaid into the wall. Knickknacks, memorabilia, moving photographs, and more filled the shelves. But it was all organized clutter. The whole place was clean, save for his desk where multiple tablets were strewn, along with a huge-to-humans coffee cup. And it infuriatingly smelled like him. She hadn’t quite nailed down the aroma, but it reminded her of coffee and something rich, deep, heady.

Khravel himself sat at ease, his body leaning toward the right where an elbow braced his wait on the chair arm. His other right hand pressed to the side of his face as his upper-left held the tablet and lower-left tapped a rhythm on the other armchair. He was angled in such a way, she could see his long legs were crossed one over the other.

He didn’t even look up from whatever he was reviewing. “Yes?”

Squeezing her hands tighter together, Taliyra willed her voice to remain steady. “I need to talk to you.”

He was not expecting her, of all people. Khravel’s reaction was automatic. His body stilled in such a way, it was as if he was instantly paralyzed from her very words. After a breath, his eyes angled toward her though the rest of him did not move. “What?”

“I need to talk to you,” Taliyra repeated, her hands still folded in front of her. Straightening her back and rooting her stance, his reaction only solidified her resolve.

“It couldn’t wait until later?” He still didn’t move, though he did set his tablet aside. His brain was having a difficult time processing this turn of events. Taliyra was here. This was not her quarters. This was his office. He had a job to do, but she was here. And that stirred something sharp and hot deep within his loins.

Fuck, he had played himself, hadn’t he? He’d conditioned his body to rouse whenever she was around and now that’s how it reacted in her very presence. Even in his office.

“No, it cannot wait,” she bit out the words, though her tone remained professional.

Khravel’s jaw worked back and forth as he and Taliyra locked gazes. He could just send her away, tell her not to bother him during his work time. It would have been that simple. But she set her jaw and leered at him with such determined fire, it was hard not to crumple beneath the look. Heaving a sigh, he grudgingly waved a hand toward the empty chair across from his desk. “What is it?”

Taliyra remained standing, hands still folded in front of her. “I spoke with the local ProxyPanion office, requesting a re-assignment.”

His eyes widened a sliver, but he didn’t say anything. He knew she had gone to the office, simply due to the security detail he had following her whenever she went out, but he’d assumed it was a typical check-in. However, unlike her casual wear or even the nightly gauzy dress, she currently sported a three-piece navy blue dress suit, with deep blue blazer, vest, and skirt coupled with a white button-up. Whatever she had discussed with ProxyPanion representatives, it was not some idling updates.

For the life of him, he couldn’t not imagine how it’d feel to pop the buttons off her vest and blouse, hike her skirt high as he bent her over a desk. Like his body, Khravel clamped down on those thoughts, refusing to let them get further.

“They’ve filed my complaint and said to give them an update in two months. If nothing changes, if I have the same complaints, then they will be reassigning me elsewhere.” She barreled on as guilt pinged through her, watching Khravel’s reaction. Too fucking bad, another part of her thought. He brought this on himself. Which turned her thoughts, and words, toward a curious path. “However, this is the second time a Companion has been reassigned under you which is not a good look for Tivik. According to the representative I spoke to.”

He’d never told her about Avry. He’d assumed Taliyra was simply told. It would make sense to prepare a Companion before shipping them off to an alien planet, right? Judging from her suspicious look, that was not the case. The fact she was his second Companion, and he was one of the few to spearhead Companion industry on Tivik, made his failure with Avry burn all the hotter.

If he lost Taliyra, he would still have a third chance, but after that… well, he’d have to reapply for consideration. Since he was a higher-up, him losing the permission to have a Companion could paint the whole planet poorly. All current Companions on the planet could be revoked. It had happened to other planets, after all. Khravel held himself still again, his mind battling carnal reactions while trying to figure out the best conclusion to this interaction.

“This leads me to believe you are particularly terrible at sex and need lessons or something else is going on here.” Taliyra narrowed her eyes, frustrated at his lack of reaction. Shaking her head, knowing her own anger got the best of her with her earlier words, she sighed, “Either way, we have two months to fix this.”

“What exactly are your complaints?” His fingers returned to tapping, although it was a heavier agitated drum this time. He couldn’t help but stare at her in that dress suit, see himself unbuttoning the vest or hiking that skirt up. An unhelpful path of thought. It wasn’t going to aid him. He tried to shove it aside, only to be met with more intense images of popping the buttons from her blouse and bending her over his very desk.

“The sex is unenjoyable and you refuse to communicate with me.” The heat was rising in the room and she couldn’t be bothered to soften her accusations. The steady way he watched her aggravated her, while simultaneously making her lower tummy tighten. Instead, she raised her wrist and typed in a communique to Khravel on her tech gauntlet. Sending over the data the ProxyPanion office has given her, she asserted, “Research on the efficacy of surrogates between Terran and non-Terrans tend to highlight how enjoyable relations tend to beget better results.”

Khravel’s own wrist tech pinged in response, receiving the data she had sent. However, he didn’t even look at it. He just steadily stared at her, his jaw tight. Bruised ego and guilt threaded through his thoughts, but his words took on a harsher edge as he asked, “Do you believe barging into my office, during my workday, to accuse me of being bad at sex was your best option?”

---

Next

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[daddyhausen]

commission 3/4 for @coleskingdom

｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ 「 THIS NIGHT BELONGS TO US 」 ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡

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「 MASTERLISTS 」 | 「 AEW MASTERLIST 」 | 「 WILL OSPERAY MASTERLIST 」

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「 SUMMARY 」 — when threats of violence against your girls hightens, you have no choice but to recruit will and his gang for protection

「 WARNINGS 」 — 18+, [ MINORS DNI ], mentions of sexual violence, mentions of injury, alchohol, gangs, daddy kink, submissive x dominant, dom!will, sub!reader, praise, hair pulling, dirty talking, rough sex, penetrative sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, blowjobs, oral sex [ male recieving ] male + female orgasms, groping, vaginal creampie, internal cumshot

「 WORD COUNT 」 — 5.6k

「 PAIRING 」 — fem!reader x will ospreay

「 GENRE 」 — smut

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his tired eyes roamed the bustling london streets, still so full during the midnight hours, drunks getting their fill of cheap irish whiskey, slumped against desolate brick and rusted metal of a war torn city, steam and smoke billowing around their almost lifeless bodies from the factories and mills of the surrounding streets. whores nestled in alleyways, presenting themselves on street corners, naked, flaunting their bodies for him and his men, hoping they’d throw a couple of pounds their way for a good night’s fun. one whore in particular almost threw herself atop of his larger lackey, davis, running a manicured finger down the opening of his shirt, tracing shapes into the dirty blond almost light brunette tufts chest hair, beckoning him to bed her. he refuted by grabbing the back of her head, his large palm caressing the blonde, boyish bob of her scalp as he pulled her in for a sloppy, half-drunken kiss before stumbling to catch up to his other members.

the piss coloured lighting from residentials, reflecting a murky green in will’s natural gunmetal blues, would flicker off in haste. the silhouettes of mothers frantically rushing to put their children to bed, husband’s standing idle at the window, just barely peeking behind the sheer curtains, eying him down with a weary glare. after the war, one thing remained certain, he was still the most feared man this side of the thames. eyes would watch him cautiously, fearful and uncertain of his next move, a simple glance from him would send children scurrying back to their mother’s arms, and grown men to divert their attention to their shoes.

will straighten his cap, shielding his eyes from any onlookers, tightening his coat around the toned build of his figure, more for anonymity rather than comfort. the moon casted a heavy shadow upon him and his lackeys, them looking more like apparitions of evil over human beings. davis and kyle trailing behind in a joyous saunter, in a conversation amongst themselves. will remained silent, taking in the dull drone of the london cityscape he’d oddly missed so much while away. it was no serine french countryside, lined with vineyards and lush greenery he’d see in glimpses between fighting in bloodsoaked trenches. but there was comfort to it. it was home. the war changed will something fierce, he’s always been one so stoic, calloused, outright ruthless, but the things he’d seen, men torn limb from limb, their bodies blown from the trenches in chunks of meat and blood spray, bone and viscera. painful cries parted their lips, agonised screams ripped their vocal chords. grown men, respected soldiers desperately clinging to overworked nurses, cowering into these women, calling out to them as if they were their own mothers. he could still hear said screams at night, the pounding against the walls, although just in his mind sounded startlingly realistic, keeping him awake more nights than not.

he fiddled with the switchblade buried deep in his coat pocket, the metal cold against his calloused fingertips, hushing davis and kyle behind him as the velvety red lighting of the drunken angel’s tavern came into view. the exterior nestled in a side street, behind faded red brick and rotted tumbler slabs. it was a quaint little hotel will would frequent before the war, even less now since his business ventures forced him out of the city for months at a time.

“you think skye’s working tonight?” kyle, the youngest of their trio beamed at the recipient of his affections. blue eyes glimmering with hope, the act earning him a small shove from davis. the hotel was known to offer more…intimate services let’s just say.

“god kid, you're still head over heels for that girl?” davis quipped, a hearty chuckle leaving his lips. “you know she’s a whore right?”

“she loves me, she said so.” kyle frowned, annoyed at the mocking tone leaving the lips of his comrade, burying his slender figure into the warm cotton of his overcoat, as if to shield himself from the embarrassment, cheeks flushed red despite the meek august breeze.

will paused, coming to a halt in front of the hotel. a thunderous thud at his feet, a drunkard lay at half unconscious, blood and spit spraying onto the tips of will’s freshly polished oxfords. the red leaving an almost indelible stain against the shiny black, he’d surely have to get them re-done now. will peered up through sunken eyes, fixating on you, the madame of this refined establishment, wiping the dirt and grime from your hands, evidently being the one to knock the poor drunk on his ass.

“go home to your wife, john”. you spoke with a sombre yet annoyed tone in your voice, wiping the ruby red lipstick that had smeared down your chin. john, the aforementioned drunk, tugged at will’s dress pants in a feeble attempt to pull himself up, a bruised eyes and bloody nose, still oozing with fresh crimson met will’s gaze, putting two and two together to conclude the situation. john hobbled to his feet, eyes widening upon being face to face with london’s most feared, scurried away with a terrified gasp, nursing the possible broken nose you’d given him.

you flattened the skirt of your dress, assessing yourself in hopes that you were still modestly presentable for such revered gests. pearls still knotted in a matted mess around your neck, your hair in shambles as you tried to tidy yourself. you gave a soft, relieved sigh upon noticing the trio.

“ah, you boys are back! come in, come in!” you spoke in a rather chipper tone despite the rather odd circumstances that predecessor it. kyle and davis were quick to scoot by, offering a subtle nod in greeting each. will was quick, in your attempt to turn around, he grabbed your wrist tightly, his entire palm encapsulating the bone.

“and here i was thinking you’d retired from that line of work”, he spoke in hushed whispers, eyes flickering about the entryway for any suspicious stares. “i don’t think daddy up there would be too pleased knowing his daughter is still whoring herself out, and in his pub no less”

will pointed to the heavens with a smirk. the line of work he was suggesting left you offended, retorting with a scoff.

“says the one who’d require my services every sunday?’ the sarcastic quip on your part made will release his grip on your wrist.

“and besides, i have put that work behind me”. you cleared your throat. “although old johnny out there didn’t seem to take the hint”

“you want me to deal with him?” will’s voice still spoke softly, the whispers evidently close to your ear

“no. don’t worry, he's harmless. now come in, why don’t you. tell me how bermingham was”

your pre-established relationship with will was…complicated to say the least. always being present in each other’s lives, sexually for the most part, despite mutual romantic feelings, none were allowed to pan out quite so. him being groomed for military service, along with the strong underworld connections that had a choke of his family. as for yourself. you were a whore, as was your late mother before you. will would often visit the establishment you were working at during the late hours, engaging in moments of passion that would rival the most romantic of novels or the daringest of plays.

will followed you inside cautiously, eyes peering around the drunken angel’s dimly lit interior, in case another drunkard was to start something. he was instantly greeted with a swell of lively jazz and swing, brass and woodwind blaring, the joyful shrills of your girls and patrons alike. it was quite deafening for will to say the least, he had not heard such a ruckus since he got back from bermingham, even more so from france. he took note of your working girls, sitting atop men twice their age, who’s grubby hands groped and prodded their feminine flesh. their hungry eyes leering with ravenous intent, one akin to a predator hunting their prey, luring them into their inevitable demise. the entire interior bathed in the same velvety red that bled through the sheer cashmere curtains to the bleak london side streets, making the occupants inside look bloodsoaked by comparison. it was a rather lively sight, bodies squished against bodies, the scent of malt whisky and freshly cut tobacco from the most expensive cigars you could afford, for his standards at least they were still rather cheap. the stench caught in his throat, smoke watered his eyes as a puff was blown unintentionally in his direction. he figured he’d become just another body within the crowd if it weren't for your guiding hand leading him towards the bar.

“whiskey?” you offered, setting three glasses down on the table for him and his companions. will responded with a soft nod of his head, as silent as a mouse. davis already drunk on lust, eyelids fluttered shut, soft moans escaping the australian’s burly chest as one of your girls sat perched upon his lap, scantily clad, hips grinding against his own in a flurry of intoxicated passion. kyle on the other hand sat nervously beside his leader, giving a small nod in acknowledgement upon you pouring him the finest whiskey you owned. the youngest took a hastily gulp, as if it were to help calm his nerves. his eyes scanned around, searching, flickering from the dance floor, to the staircase, back to the bar, then the staircase again.

“skye’s upstairs, love.” you remarked, having previously recognised kyle’s almost puppy-like infatuation with your best working girl. “want me to go get her for you?”

“i’ll wait” he responded meekly with a sheepish smile, taking another small sip of his drink, feeling the malty liquid mingle with his taste buds.

“kid thinks he’s gonna marry her one day. he keeps saying it,” davis heckled between sloppy kisses, his large palms groping the full hips of the woman atop his lap. kyle avoided your gaze, instead letting his eyes fall to the amber liquid, halfway finished in his glass.

“i don’t see why not. skye’s a good girl.” you responded, throwing your bar rag across your shoulder after freshly drying used glasses. “and kyle…”

kyle’s eyes perked up at the sound of his name leaving your lips.

“the infatuation is very much reciprocated”

your eyes flickered to will for a moment, faltering to his hand which stirred whatever remnants of whiskey left in his glass before downing the rest of it. turning back to kyle, his canines bared as he smiled, a sine of pure joy across his lips. the youngest in their trio had been enamoured with skye since the day she started working for you, skye herself even confided in you about her attraction to the young gangster.

“anyway boys, how was your trip?” you questioned pouring will and kyle another glass. davis was far too occupied to even touch his first glass. your question is directed at will obviously, although kyle would be the one to answer.

“it was fine…” he responded quietly before will interrupted.

“i don’t wanna talk about it.” there was an unusual malice to will’s voice that your ears were not used to hearing. then again, will has never needed to use such a tone with you.

“i see…” you hummed rather meekly, your response calm and collected, a far cry from the agitated tone of will’s voice as he skulled down the remainder of his second glass, feeling the burn of the amber liquid slide down his throat. sliding your a couple of pounds for the drinks, those of which you hastily pushed back towards him. will remained silent, avoiding your gaze, accepting the pounds back. his mere presence after said trip was enough compensation to quell your thoughts. his eyes darling across the bar, silently reading the labels as a form of distraction, more from his own mind than your incessant questions.

you placed the bar rag, previously across your shoulder into the hamper beneath the till, silently reminding yourself to send skye down to the river in the morning for the laundry rounds.

speaking of the brunette, you caught her figure atop the staircase, stuffing the few pounds into the blouse of her dress that her recent client offered for her services. her eyes slightly glossy, red and swollen, full cheeks stained with dry tears and the undeniable swell and faint discoloration of formative bruising of fingers around her throat. your heart sank into your gut, it came with the territory, you skye and the rest of the girls knew that. she made eye contact with you offering a small smile, guiding herself down the stairs with slow, calculated steps, eventually joining the small gathering of you five, now four since davis had retired to the more secluded areas for the tavern’s rear, working girl in hand.

“everything alright, darling?” you questioned, her solemn expression noted, quickly diverging to the chipper skye you’re so used to. she joined kyle, the two conjoined at the hip at this point, the blue eyed boy shot a concerned look between the two of you.

“everything is fine, ma’am” it wasn’t you sure as hell knew that.

“take the rest of the night off hun. get some rest” you handed her a small envelope with the rest of her payment for the week, tips she made from tending the bar while you were out. “kyle, would you take her home please?”

the blond nodded softly at your request while skye had left to grab her coat from the back room.

“please watch over her tonight,” kyle’s eyebrows furrowed at the second half of your request.

“tell me who it was” the soft, puppy eyes soon darkened, reminiscent of a ravenous wolf. “you better fucking tell me or else-”

“listen here. do as i ask. she’s already gone through enough tonight, i don’t need you blowing a fuse and shooting up the joint” you reprimanded the blond, for if you were to tell, he would do exactly that. will’s eyes shuffled between the pair of you, silently observing the situation. kyle huffed, pulling skye close as she returned, coat in hand. she clung to his arm, holding on for what seemed like dear life as the two left.

only yourself and will left. his pupils searching for yours, only left with you gazing at the floor through half shut lids and fluttering eyelashes. your temples burned with the beginning of a headache slowly forming, taking a bottle of rum from the shelf and pouring yourself a hefty glass, downing it just as quickly as it left the bottle as if it would soothe the ache.

“can we speak? in private?” you gasped, the burn of the rum still present in your voice, the subtle croak of anguish and pleading just noticeable for will to catch on. he gave a small nod, he’d barely said a word since arriving, in a way it worried you, then again, will was never a talkative man. he followed you back behind the bar, a small entry was off to the right leading straight to your office.

it was different than he last remembered. the walls faded from a vibrant emerald green to that of sage, floral decals of the wallpaper, scratched and peeling, reminiscent of rotting roses rather than blooming ones. paint chips flaking from the windows, sprinkled across the window seals, like the asbestos that lined the walls. the room hadn’t been furnished in a while. the same desk that had been sitting there since you opened the joint, books stacked haphazardly under one of the legs for support after it had broken the last time. paperwork scattered across it, scribbles of administrations, finance and other business necessities written in fading, dried out ink. you’d placed a small single bed in the corner of the room, most nights you don’t even return home, far too busy drowning in paperwork, in desperate need to keep your business afloat.

you sat atop the bed, head in your hands, letting out a heavy sigh. patting the space beside you on the dusty pink bed spread, offering him a seat, one of which he was far too eager to accept. the two of you sat in silence for a moment, although this one seemed like forever.

“i’m struggling here will” you confessed, clearing your throat as your eyes, teary and red, peered at to meet his cool blues. will, remained stoic, expression never changing, battle hardened and almost soulless. it was the price he had to pay for his line of work. he said nothing, simply scooting over on the bed, offering a gentle hand on your thigh and a shoulder to rest your head on.

“tell me” he spoke after some time of silence, not caring that your tears stained the white cotton of his shirt, small pools of grey forming in the fabric. you’d missed this, missed his comfort, missed his touch. the war had left him with an inability to connect emotionally, the trauma he faced, the deaths he saw, the loss of friends, brothers, blood or not, made him believe he was destined for an eternity of loneliness.

you straightened up, sniffling the remnants of your tears away.

“i need protection. for my girls.” you began, throat running dry with anguish. will had offered his men for protection previously when you first reopened your establishment, although you declined. you’ve seen and dealt with enough shit that you’d manage just fine.

“and what do i get out of it” he hummed with a disgruntled sigh, not on your part whatsoever. he was surely to run out of men to those hiring them out all the time.

“you get forty percent of my monthly earnings-”

“i don’t want your money…” will let out a hefty grunt, smoothing down the scruff of his beard.

“then what do you want?”

“just tell me when them bastards are and i’ll deal with it”

you remained quiet for a moment, wanting to seek comfort in will’s words but the stubborn bastard would not let you past the gate.

“them bullet club boys…”. you responded after a brief moment. your voice grew meek and sheltered. in will’s absence, said gang took it upon themselves to wreak havock on the majority of the whorehouses and pubs in the county, them girls were nothing more than toys for them to play with, discard when they proved no use to them anymore.

“we were like sitting ducks…and god…well, you saw skye did not?”

he did. he saw the bruising and the welts, the fear in her eyes, not just hers but the other girls too. his jaw clenched tightly, almost until the point of the maw peaked out from beneath the skin. his gaze hardening to an undeniable scowl.

“not to mention they’ve been raiding our liquor supplies, we’re losing more money than ever-”

“that’s why the fuckin’ bastard told me to come alone.”

“who?” you questioned

“jay fuckin’ white”

you’ve heard of the infamous jay white and his bullet club. how he was one of the most revered mercenaries this great country has ever come across. been putting bullets in politicians' heads since before the war, you've heard, whether they deserved it or not. will briefly mentioned him the night before he left for his aforementioned trip, although he did not confide in you with the details or his reasoning for leaving on such short notice.

“it was a fuckin’ set up. that prick must have found out about the dodgy guns we sold em…” will was muttering in nonsensical phrases to himself, so deep in thought and frustration

you pulled away from will slightly, jaw tensing in your own right.

“so you mean to tell me my girls are getting abused because of your shoddy business practices?!” your fists balled at your sides, shoving him angrily, although it barely put a dent in his stance. he just stood there and took

“it wasn’t supposed to happen this way-”

“well it did. do you know how much it hurts hearing those girls say how scared they are to come into work because they don’t know if their going to get assaulted or fucking killed?!” your voice cracked through screams.

“i know! i will fix it-”

“how? tell me how you’re going to weasel your way out of this one, will?”

the both of you stood at opposite ends, despite the cramped space of your office you'd never felt so apart. will let out a heavy sigh, the blues of his eyes dulled grey with regret. he took his seat on the bed again, just as you did to him previously.

“look …i’ll send the best men i got to protect your girls…but…” he paused, a thick gulp rising in his throat, eyes searching around in contemplation. “i can’t promise something like this won't happen again. when white wants something, he won’t stop until he has it”

“what could he possibly want here? besides a fuck and a drink?” your comment seemed jovial on the surface. but the prospect made your blood boil, your business was sinking and your girls tormented all because will couldn’t play clean. will was silent for a moment, lips pursed and brows furrowed, chewing the inside of his cheek in hope it would distract him from the regret lingering in his mind.

“revenge .” he simply stated. “white knows you're…a weakness of mine”

will’s hand fell to your thigh. not in a suggestive manner that you were used to with former clientele. it was gentle. protective. dare you say…attentive, loving almost. your skin tingled mildly at the sensation, having not experienced such intimate, almost romantic skin on skin contact in a long while. will’s thumb caressed the top of your knee, the calloused pad gritty and rough like sandpaper against your exposed skin.

“that’s why he targeted you…your business…” he corrected, clearing his throat. “he knew it would kill me more to see you suffer than put a bullet in my head outright”

the gruffness in his voice varied between anger and worry, wavering between his regular tone and a whisper. you felt his body inching closer, hand still present on your thigh, although tightening his grip the slightest. the butterflies that once fluttered joyously in your stomach, now seemed like moths lingering around the barely snuffed out flame of your attraction to him. it still was there…just barely.

“will…” you kept your gaze averted, feeling the blues of his eyes running hot with his stare, burning into your cheek with a concern, on edge about your next words or if you were to speak again at all.

“i want it to go back to the way it was…” he blurted out. “us, i mean…”

“will you know that's not possible-”

“how so. i still love you and i damn well know you feel the same” his voice becoming hostile momentarily but he kept himself grounded.

“you never loved me will that was just the drink and your dick talking” you interrupt feeling a pang of guilt in your stomach, adding to the moths that gnawed holes through your insides.

“and besides, even if that weren’t the case. if you truly did love me, we’re just two very different people now. you're a criminal, will and i’m the lowly barmaid who serves your drink. our lives should only be connected by transactions''

although it pained you to say it, it was the truth. will’s life was far too dangerous for you to be fully invested in now. you did not want to spend nights worrying if he was gonna come home injured, or not come home at all. sitting on his lap and tending to his wounds while he vents about all the trouble he has caused to himself. as alluring and romantic as that sounds…you just couldn’t.

“it doesn't have to be this way, love…” his hands were still firmly upon your thigh, grip tightening as his palm caressed the skin. fingertips dancing against the hem of your dress skirt. fluttering against the frill and ruffles, a dangerous act it was.

“you can’t tell me you don’t miss it” he hummed, breath barely ghosting against your earlobe. will’s breath hitched in his throat momentarily, the memories flooding back to his mind in waves. a subtle smile forms across will’s lips. you let your eyes flutter shut, trying to turn your mind off from will’s persistent words. not that it proved much effort, he was always a persistent man.

“remember?“ he lulled. “all those nights, my cock buried inside you. how you’d whimper and beg for me, knowing that i fucked you better than any of your regulars ever could?”

oh you remembered. you remembered well. there were times the both of you would stay overnight at the establishment, curled up in the sheets of your sleeping quarters, specifically used for such enjoyment, at times having to hide him behind your dresser, a mountain of discarded clothes and bedsheets, pretending you were asleep as your madame made the rounds for the night.

and will was right…by god, you did miss it. you missed him.

“will…” you mumbled alluringly, craning your head back slightly to meet his gaze. the blues of his irises dissipated behind blown out pupils, all lust filled and needy. he gave a small hum in response, his lips barely millimetres from yours, tongue jutting out to wet them slightly. heat rushed through you, arousal ebbed and flowed in your belly, teetering between genuine attraction and lustful desire. you could close the gap between your lips if you so wanted, letting will claim you like he’d done a thousand times over, but you hesitated, staring deep into those ocean blues for a moment, gauging to see if his words were turtle genuine or just the drink talking again.

“i want to go back…” you reminisced, pressing your lips to the corner of his, trailing down his jawline and neck. the action is sloppy and desperate. a low rumble persisted in will’s throat, his adam’s apple bobbing with a thick gulp, trying to stifle the arousal that swelled within him. “i want to love you…”

his breath hitched in his throat, your palm running up and down his bulge, the outline so prominent in his pants. a groan slipped past his lips, leaving his mouth agape, no matter how hard he tried to stifle them, your touch was just too magnetic for him to resist.

“please…” your whimpers lulled him further into the sinful abyss, feeling his cock stiffen against your palm, your fingers lazily unbuttoning his pants all the while maintaining the most sultry of eye contact with him.

he gave a nod, a subtle one nevertheless, a heavy sigh fell from his lips upon the brisk midnight air hitting his shaft. the thickness bulging and pulsing in your palm. oh how he missed the feeling. with dainty movements your fingertips traced around the tip, engorged and flushed red, lossy beads of precum oozing from the slit.

“god, i forgot how big you were,” you joked, stroking the base of his shaft with tight, short pumps. will gave a hearty chuckle, one that resounded in his belly, the soft gruff chortle leaving his lips.

“it’ll feel even bigger once it’s inside you, love” his words are spoken through an almost breathless whisper, accentuated by subtle groans and choked moans. you licked the slit of his tip, fleshy tongue gathering precum on the appendage, tasting him for the first time in years.

you were far eager to tease him. instead letting the tip of his cock slip past your lips, a slight popping sound as he broke though the seal. thick pulsing veins danced against your tongue as you worked him over with your mouth, taking him as deep as your throat would allow, surprised that you were still able to take such a length.

his cock made a home in the back of your throat, teasing it as you gagged at sputtered around him, corners of your lips burning, feeling as if they were going to tear from the sheer girth of his cock

“fuck-” his voice echoed with a deep, throaty rumble. eyelids fluttered shut in momentary pleasure before peering down at your still clothed form, full breasts barely covered, about to spill out from your blouse. your hands fell to them, kneading the supple mounds through the clothing, feeling your nipples perk up and harden at the contact through the fabric

“that’s it love, keep going. keep suckin’ daddy’s cock, oh fuck- just like that”

will’s roughened fingertips slid through strands of your hair, intertwining in the vine-like locks, tugging slightly up, allowing you a sliver of breathing room, barely a second for you to breathe before shoving you back down face first on his cock, until the bulge of his shaft was evident in your throat.

“you always like it rough didn’t you?” he hummed through faux malice, putting on the dominant facade he was famed for. “such a good fuckin’ whore, chokin’ on my dick like this”

his lovely, albeit domineering praise made your belly flutter with such unbridled wonder, reminiscing about the times he’s previously had his dick stuffed in the back of your throat, how he’d leave you gagging around that veiny, thick shaft of his. spit seeped from between your lips, drooling down his shaft, spit bubbles gathering at the base each time you’d bob your head, his tip violently prodding at the back of your throat.

“fuck, love…” he panted. “i know you wanna swallow my cum but i gotta fill that pretty cunt of yours”

he pulled your head up, your eyes red and glassy, spit dripping down your chin. glossy and shiny under the dull bedside lamp. will’s fingers were quick to work. not bothering to undress you fully, instead letting his hands roam up the skirt of your dress, groping the flesh beneath. he pulled you onto his lap, fingers, tugging your panties to the side, the tip of his cock prodding your walls, gathering your slick around the head, just revelling in it .

“so fuckin’ wet for me…” he hummed through clenched teeth , still overly sensitive from the work of your lips. your silence was all the more alluring for him, only breathless mutters and moans leaving your lips as you lowered yourself onto his cock. the stretch of your walls instantaneous around his size, he felt it too, how you spread so easily for him. just like you always did.

your hips instantly began to work, swirl and grind against his cock, allowing yourself to embrace him completely, the generously rough yet slow thrusts he gave sent your mind reeling with pleasure.

“god, you’re squeezin’ me, love…not gonna last if you keep this up”

your cunt clenched around his length, feeling yourself buckle under the weight of the pleasure, letting him sink into you completely. will leaned in, his lips capturing yours in feverish kisses, bodied melting into one under candlelight.

“oh fuck..” you whimper, feeling his tip poke and prod at the fleshy wall of your cervix, unable to sink down on him any further, for he would surely split you in half. With eyes half lidded and a love-drunk, stare, peering down at him through your eyelashes, fluttering in and out of a lust filled consciousness as pleasure rocked your very core.

“will…” your stomach bubbled with arousal, so close and on the brink of release. will hummed softly, his cock twitching with excitement as his name left your lips with shaky whimpers, fingertips delicately trailing down his clothed torso, feeling the outline of his pristine abdominal muscles through the fabric.

“you close, sweetheart?”

you nod, instinctively to his question.

“mhm.. can feel you clenchin’ ‘round me. so fuckin’ tight” will threw his head back, biting his bottom lip to further suppress his moans.

“fuck- you gonna be a good girl and cum ‘round this dick? make a fuckin’ mess for daddy, huh?”

words were trapped like rocks in your chest, rendering you useless and unable to speak. again, you nodded, this one more frantic than the last. arousal exploded in your veins, the clench of you around his dick was enough to bewitch him, as if that had not happened already. watery sweetness gushed down your thighs, seeping down the length of his cock, not even bothering about your now ruined sheets, you did not care, the pleasure was too euphoric.

will let out a pleasured, groan, pressing his hand to the bulge of your belly where his cock was evidently protruding from the skin, feeling your tightness grip in for dear life. pulling you closer to his broad chest, sweaty skin colliding in heated passion. he released deep inside you, making sure your tight cunt milked every last drop of his cum, not leaving until he’d emptied himself fully deep into your womb.

“shit..” he muttered, attempting to pull himself out of you, despite your bodies contorted in passion.

“no , it’s okay…” you hummed, voice hoarse from begging and pleading his name. nails soothingly leaving light trails atop his shoulders, his size still firmly buried inside of you, all wet and warm.

“you look so beautiful like this,” he murmured through a soft sigh, tucking stray strands loosely curled hair behind your ear, a thumb gingerly tracing across the indent of your cheek.

”what? naked?”

will gave a small chuckle.

“well, yes for one.” he smiled. “in my arms i mean”

your office fell into a comfortable silence, the lively ramblings and music from patrons outside were dulled through the walls as you sat quietly, will’s arms wrapped around your waist tracing inconsistent shapes into the small of your back.

”i just hope i can stay in them forever..”

”trust me love…i’ll make sure of it”

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