#and then he gets a look in his eye and goes quiet

[sunflowersteves]

um so getting fucked by logan in public place...i mean getting fucked by logan-

(please know the way i'm salivating over this man is downright sinful.)

author's note || babes,,, i feel u. this man is in my dreams 24/7. i lov u for requesting this <3

summary || basically, you defend Logan and he quite literally goes feral.

warnings || fluff, some angst, anti-mutant rhetoric, SMUT [minors dni], P in V sex, praise kink, public-sex, desperation

Logan was used to being alone. It was second nature for him to blend into a crowd and survey the bustling fullness of the night. Usually, he hightailed to the back of the bar, his eyes studying carefully while he nursed the beer in his hand. 

When Logan met you, though, some things changed a bit. Instead of being at the back of the bar, he usually sat right next to you. While he wasn’t much for PDA and often abstained from it, he still let the hardness of his thigh rest against yours. It was such a simple touch, but you knew how much Logan needed to breathe in your presence. It soothed him. 

Tonight was like any other Friday night. You both wanted to go to the bar for a little bit of fun before another mission killed the atmosphere. Logan usually has a beer in his hand and his other subtly resting against your back. His eyes would bore into yours as he watched you talk about your day. It was always something he looked forward to. The ways that your eyes would sparkle underneath the illuminating bar lights. 

The bar was packed tonight, though. Bodies were practically on top of one another—playing pool, dancing to the stereo, or attempting to chat up someone to take home. Your idea to go to the bar had not just been your own. You could hear Logan’s heartbeat race as someone kept bumping into him—despite the very menacing aura rolling off of him. 

So, in response, you were currently nursing a whiskey all by your lonesome. It wasn’t that you were lonesome, it was much of the opposite. Logan had stepped out of the bar for a quick smoke, wanting to calm the nerves that pricked his skin. Logan needed a breather. He never wanted to leave you by yourself—although he knew you were completely fine. He just didn’t want to. You smiled at him with one of those breathtaking ones that caught his breath. 

“Go. I’ll still be here.” You whispered. God, he loved you. It was so evident, yet the years of having a broken heart shattered his ideas of loving someone again. The pain was etched across his chest, back, organs—everything. Add the number of people surrounding him, caging him in had reached an overwhelming capacity. So, he stepped out toward the back and dragged his cigar across his lips. He let the nicotine softly quiet the aches in his chest. 

You sipped the bitter taste of Jim Beam, your body almost shuddering at the hot feeling of liquor going down your throat. You felt the buzz already—not having much of anything to eat despite Logan asking if you had eaten. He handed you a granola bar in the car. He already knew the answer to his question. During a heated discussion with Scott, you had completely forgotten to eat some lunch. 

Logan was as caring as always—rubbing a hand across your wrist to ask if you had anything to eat today. However, your thoughts of him were screeched to a halt from a presence coming straight toward you. 

“Where’d the big guy go?”

Your eyebrow quirks up at the sensation of a tall silhouette behind you. You didn’t respond, though. You and Logan were used to the comments—usually, fans wanting pictures with the well-known X-men. Those you didn’t mind. Men like these, though? The ones that taunt you for your differences, the ones that make your skin itch.

“C’mon. That mutant scum isn’t here anymore. No need to act so tough.” 

You huffed out of your nose in disgust. There was a sizzle underneath your chest that made you want to scream in anger. You held your ground, though, knowing that it wouldn’t help very much. You knew men like these. Any use of your powers could end up with a call to the police and another article about how “violent” mutants are.

Although, not budging made the stranger even more pissed than he was. “You’re too pretty to be with a beast like him. Didn’t you hear, anyway?” This man just wouldn’t stop fucking talking. “The Wolverine hurts anything he touches. He’s a fuck up. A low life. A fucking animal—” 

Now that comment is what made you turn your head. You had heard enough before you slammed your glass on the bar counter. The man beside you jumped in surprise. A scowl on your lips, nostrils flared. “What the fuck did you just say?” 

Logan’s eyebrows twitched as he heard the snarl in your voice. He burnt out the cigar on his skin—slightly wincing at the sizzle of his skin. Worry surged through his chest at the mere idea of your discomfort. A primal need to protect the thing he loves was fogging his brain. The leather of his jacket was straining against the bulge of his muscles as he sauntered back through the bar. His shoulders were taunted back, surveying the bar as everyone’s head turned to you and some guy. 

His eyes widened at the sight before him. You had bunched the collar of the man, lifting him off the floor. Your eyes were wild with anger, your teeth clenched tightly as you spoke to the stranger. “If you ever talk about the Wolverine like that again, I’m going to cut off your head and feed it to your fucking wife—” The boom of your voice echoed through the bar. It was so silent that a pin could drop. 

You could handle comment after comment thrown at you. That, you knew quite well. However, you knew how Logan actually felt about the comments. They called him an animal. A beast. They forced him into something he was always scared of. Himself. You knew him differently. He was Logan. He would make you a cup of coffee every morning, adding a sprinkle extra of cinnamon that he knew you loved. He left fuzzy blankets in his room after the first time you spent the night with him. You commented how itchy his sheets were and ever since, he silently wraps you up in one with an arm attached to your waist. He would place a protective arm in front of you during missions—always assessing the danger to make sure that you would never get hurt. He was so much more than anything they portrayed him as. He was human and everyone—including the team—sometimes forgets that. 

“Darlin’—” You felt your shoulder visibly relax as his large hand enveloped your soft skin. “They’re not worth it.” 

Your heart was beating fast against your ears. You did everything in your power to not throw the man across the room. Your teeth snarled at him—the guy visibly winces, expecting the worst. You slowly lowered him to the ground and let go of his collar. 

“Fucking mutants.” He spits before backing up as far away from the two of you as possible. You turn to move again and the guy gets startled and jumps in fear. Logan squeezes your shoulder to try and ground you once again.

He sees you visibly relax, some regret etched into your features. He knew that you didn’t want to cause a scene but you couldn’t help it. He knew that feeling quite well—when it came to you, he was the same. 

“Let's go home.” 

Logan was silent as the two of you walked out of the bar. You cringed at the pure stillness of the night. You didn’t mean to do more than you should have. It was just an instinct, especially as the vexation flowed through your veins. 

You stop in your tracks for a moment. You opened your mouth to say something which prompted his steps to a halt, as well. “Logan, I’m—” He never let you finish. He grabs your shoulders and shoves you against the brick wall of the bar. You let out a gasp, but it’s quickly swallowed by his mouth on yours. 

His heart is beating fast, echoing against his ears. For once in his life, someone had protected him. Someone had stood up and defended him. Sure, Charles has done that many times, but not from an act of pure love. Charles believed in him. You loved him. 

He has this feeling in his chest. He wantonly has an itch to devour you. He wants to lick the sides of your body and ravish in the pure essence of you. He’d never had this feeling before—this animalistic, pure affection was pounding against his chest. 

“You just couldn’t help it, huh, princess?” He grunted against your ear. His hands caged you in, one resting beside your head and the other deliciously attached to your hip. His teeth nipped at the skin below your ear. “You just wanted to defend your old man, hmm?” He hummed. 

The hand on your hip lowered to your thigh and squeezed the plush flesh. You were wearing a pretty dress tonight, one that you knew he would rip off later. You just weren’t expecting it now. “I just—” He breathed in the smell of your shampoo and it sent a shiver down your spine. “I couldn’t let him talk about you like that, Lo.” 

You let out a whine as he growled against your ear. He was insatiable—unhinged. Something was brewing beneath his stomach that he had never felt before. “Oh, pretty girl. You wanted to protect me?” His lips were at the shell of his ear. You nodded. You almost felt shy now, a direct contrast from earlier. 

Your leg moved to wrap around his own, curling right around his hip. He smirked at the sparkle in your eyes. “Yeah, I know, baby. God, you’re just so fucking good to me.” You were both losing your patience from the pliant kissing and stumbling of limbs. You both were desperate and wanting of one another. 

His lips lowered down your neck. The hand that was caged against the side of your head was now pressed up against your breast. You whined, “They can’t—” You gasped as he squeezed the plush flesh. “They can’t say those things. Made me—” He smiles, lips curling into a little smirk. He moves his arm down to your aching cunt. “Made me see red, Lo.” 

Your hips buck into his hand, the wall scratching against your shoulders as you’re shoved more into the brick. “Yeah? Wanted to hurt him, baby?”

He groaned into your ear at the thought of blood covering your hands from destroying the man trying to insult him. It only fueled more of his fire. He couldn’t take it anymore—mouth still sticking to yours in a gruesome dance across your lips. The saliva spread to his beard, messy and filthy. 

“Wanted—ah—wanted to see him pay.” His hand fully dipped between your panties, bunching up your dress as he lifted you up against the wall. It happened swiftly, yet your mind burned with want and need.

“Fuck. You’re so wet.” He teased your slick entrance, making your legs instinctively pull him closer. “Logan, please.” 

He could smell the way you were leaking for him, spreading the slick around with his fingers. He let out a growl and swiftly unbuckled his belt. He couldn’t wait any longer and neither could you. 

“Can’t wait to fill you. Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy.” He moves your panties with his thumb and swiftly glides in his wide girth. You moan in unison, but you swallow his own and yours with a long kiss on his lips. Your tongues swirl together and you could’ve sworn he pulled you even further. You could feel every inch of him inside of you. He moaned at the stretch of your cunt wrapped around him. “Feel so good, pretty girl. Gonna—fuck—gonna make you mine.”

Your head hits the back of the wall and you start to feel fuzzy in the head. “Lo–” You whine. “Love you.” You whisper into the night air. Something hits Logan in the chest and he can’t help but snap his hips into you even further. 

It makes you see stars, but all Logan can think about is how much he loves you. His chest was burning with something different—something more primal than he had ever felt. It made him want to drool, place his head against you, and live there forever. 

“Love you too, baby.” He grunts. He wanted to do this properly—to be a gentleman. He wanted to take you out to dinner, make sweet love to you, and then tell you those three little words. It completely went out the window when you defended him—when you stood up for him like no one else has. You completely had his back and he couldn’t help but let the happiness burst through his veins. “Love you so fucking much. You know that, baby?”

He makes you turn your head towards him to look him in the eye. You nod immediately, but that isn’t enough for Logan. “Need to hear you, baby. Say it.”

“You love me. I know you love me.” He groans and pumps his cock straight onto your cervix. It makes you squeal at the sensation and he feels the slick run down to his balls. The cold night air made goosebumps on your skin, though, your mind not even noticing. 

“Fuck, I love the way you sound. Don’t be shy, baby.” You fully moan, more than likely the sound echoing across the bar parking lot. “That’s it.” You both were beginning to feel dizzy with love and lust. He couldn’t stop staring into your eyes. He was too immersed in them and he never wanted to look away from them again. 

“Fuck, Logan!” 

“Let go, baby. Let me feel you.” The coil finally snapped as you unleashed the precipice of your orgasm. Your body shuttered against him, all while he was singing praises in your ear. You clench around him so hard that in one thrust, he’s filling you up to the brim. He slowly pumps his salty cum into you, your body convulsing with pure ecstasy. 

You start to giggle in his arms about the whole night. Logan couldn’t help but smile too. You were just too contagious. 

“Let’s go home, Lo.”

He couldn’t help but smile brightly at the thought. He couldn’t suppress the pure joy like he normally could.

“Yeah, okay.” He whispers.

You were home to him. 

He never had to do anything alone anymore. He certainly didn’t have to deal with the demons attached to his hurt heart.

He finally had you.

[mywritersmind]

A TYPE OF LOVE - LN4

summary : Childhood friends to a grown unknown. After Lando’s win in Singapore <3

listen up : i’m a hopeless romantic. short but sweet!!

word count : 377

⋆｡‧˚⋆

His head is on my lap, laughing with the firelight that’s making his skin glow. His eyes are reflecting the fire, making them green and gold. His curls are brushing my leg and falling into his face.

The Singapore air does him too well. Lando looks up at me, I push my hair out of my face so I can see him. He smiles softly, his eyes examining my features as if I'm a piece of art.

He does that a lot recently, acts like I'm something special.

Our friends say goodnight, congratulating Lando before going to their rooms with their loves.

I think about how Lando and I have different rooms but he’s sleeping in my bed every night. We just talk, I wake up in his arms but slip out before he can notice.

Lando sits up and I immediately miss the warmth he provided. He looks at me softly, “Thanks for being here.”

I smile, “Of course. I’m really proud of you.” His eyes change a bit just then, looking almost sad.

“You know… fifteen year old Lando wouldn’t believe this.” He laughs quietly, the fire cracking in the background. I tilt my head, silently urging him to continue, “He would think it’s ridiculous that I still have a schoolboy crush on you.”

His words make me feel sick, “A schoolboy crush?”

“Well…” Lando glances around, “More like a type of love.” He’s closer now. When did he get so close?

My eyes meet his and this time I can’t look away. “I would say something cute but fifteen year old Y/n fucking hated you.” He laughs, his head leaning down against my shoulder.

I move my hand to his neck, he looks up for the final time, close enough I can hear his breathing and feel his quickened pulse against my fingers.

His voice is scratchy and quiet, “How about current Y/n? What does she think of me?” He’s my best friend. He’s the love of my life, I think.

I lift his head so he’s looking into my eyes, leaning in closer, I brush my lips against his. His hand goes to my side, like he doesn’t want to ever let me go.

[fartcloudfartcloud]

Simon Riley x Maid!Reader

based on this text post

Summary: Simon has a house cleaner come clean once a month. What happens when she goes on vacation, and you're her replacement?

warnings: sfw but theres tension 😋, will make an nsfw part two if you guys want it :), Simon being big and scary and offputting per usual, lots of internal dialogue

a/n: loved this concept, and since I actually worked a door to door cleaning job I thought this fit so well and needed to write it. hope u enjoy :)

You took a deep breath.

These were the steps you were to take in this job. You had no reason to feel unsafe or in danger of any sort. Yet, the thought of walking up and knocking on this door had your heart in your stomach.

Simon Riley Is what the work order had listed as the clients name. Ex Military. Large German Shepard named Riley. Liked his wooden floors cleaned with vinegar instead of the regular cleaning solution. Nothing too out of the ordinary.

Except for the entry instructions. The small box on the piece of paper that would normally hold a few finely printed words, things such as "Homeowner will be not be home, key is under welcome mat"

or "Homeowner will be home and located in office on second floor, door will be unlocked"

had big, bold font to start. Your manager had to go in and manually change that detail, and knowing her, that must mean this is serious.

The box reads-

"DO NOT ATTEMPT TO OPEN DOOR. HOMEOWNER IS EX MILITARY AND EXTREMELY STRICT. RING FRONT DOORBELL ONCE AND WAIT."

Yeah. Very normal and not at all gut-wrenching.

You keep taking deep breaths as you go through your routine. Read the work order thoroughly once more, try not to shit yourself, go and grab your equipment, and follow the instructions.

Easy. Just follow the routine.

Your equipment is as big and clunky as usual. With a vacuum on your back, a bucket full of microfiber towels, a backpack full of chemicals, and knee pads on both knees, you knew for sure you were a sight for sore eyes.

You're not quiet as you walk either, each step making every plastic piece of your puzzle clunk and scrape in a cacophony of reminders of why you were here. You thunk and bang your way up the front porch, eyes everywhere but the front door, still taking deep breaths as you try to just focus on your surroundings, taking note of the nice front garden and walkway as you pass.

You finally settle on the front porch, your arms dropping the bucket and preparing yourself for the big push to start this job.

One ring, you remind yourself. Then wait. Deep breath.

You look up to find the door bell, hand pulling up in a search for the button when you see him.

He must have heard you, you decide as he stands behind the screen door with his arms crossed.

Simon Riley is massive, standing what feels like a clean foot taller than you, big muscled arms bulging from his tight t-shirt. They're as big as your head, his thighs probably twice so. His face was pulled down in a heated gaze, though the bottom half of his face was covered by a black mask. He was scary as he stood there, his aura menacing and doing nothing to sooth your nerves.

Yeah, ex Military makes sense, Jesus christ.

"Ya pissed of my dog, allat noise." You jump, the deep british voice startling you as he begins chastising you. His face frowns down it you, his eyes angry. You're speachless, "Well? Talk."

You stammer as you realize you were just sitting and staring in awe, mind suddenly back on track and then derailing again as you have no idea what to say.

The routine, Jesus christ the routine what's the next step. You scramble for your binder, pulling it open to his work order page and looking up at him as you muster up the courage to speak.

"Um, are you, uh, Simon Riley, sir?" You ask, stuttering and staggering between every word.

He reaches foreword and opens the screen door, getting a good look at you first before he can respond.

"Hm. You the cleaning lady?" He questions, the hand not holding the door open now stuffed in the pocket of his pants.

"Mhm, yeah, im- uh. I'm from Housekeeping Heros, you have an appointment for, um-" you start rustling through more pages of the binder, desperate to find the information, needing to prove to yourself more then him you were in the right place.

"I know i 've an appointment," He holds out his hand and halts your movements. You relax, all the horrible conclusions you were drawing coming to an end. Though, as per usual, they were quickly replaced with new ones, his voice still short and snippy with you.

Deep breaths, girl, we can do this.

He points to your small pile of equipment. "Ya need 'elp?"

You shake your head no, suprised he'd offered. Though he just responds with a head shake, motioning to give it here with his hands. And you do, you don't even second guess it, handing him your bucket and backpack without a second word, something in you submitting to him without a care in the world.

He turns around and walks everything into the kitchen where he gently rests it on the table, softer then you were expecting. You follow him in, feeling like a stray with your legs tucked between your legs as you fet settled. He looks at you expectantly.

Not sure what he's looking for, you start explaining the cleaning process, using your binder as a reference and pointing to each section. He stands behind you, arms crossed again and chin tucked down as he nods along with your words.

He points to the vacuum on your back, "Not round Riley, ya 'ear me?" He scolds. You take note of the large German Shepard snorring lightly on the couch.

"And none o' this shite," He kicks at your knee pads, pointing to a mop he had in the corner. Thank God, cleaning on your knees always sucked, and why your bullshit company made you do it anyways was a marvel.

"Oh, thank you!" You chirped up. He seemed to scowl further when your voice pitched up, so you slink back in on yourself. Understood, point taken, sir.

You still were not feeling great, the pit in your stomach unrelenting as you organize your stuff.

He looms close by. You figured he would, not doubting the "extremely strict" next to "ex military" on your work order at all.

You start with the first step of your process, filling the bucket up in the sink and soaking your towels in the cleaning solution.

"Where's yer boss?" He grumbles from behind you, making you jump.

"Um, Nancy?" Bucket now full, you throw the towels into the warm water with a dash of solution.

"Eh, whatever her name is," He grumbles. How polite.

"Haha, um." You giggle akwardly, "she's with family right now, I think," you stutter, trying to speak loud enough that he could hear you clearly.

He just hmphs in response. As your towels soak in the water, you reach for your extendable feather duster and start wiping the top corners of the room.

"Whats yer name?" He grumbles. It shocks you when he says it. He couldn't seem to care less about the other workers name, but he was interested in yours?

You told him, quiet, "sir," peeping out after. He just hmms again, leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed as he watched you work.

It was nerve-wracking, having him over your shoulder. He hadn't said anything yet, but it felt like you could feel the complaints waiting to come. You just kept up the deep breathing, taking the clothes out of the water and dispersing them on the countertops throughout the house.

He had a very large home, no mcmansion that took up half the street, but a pretty place tucked in a nice down town area. Honestly, if the home and neighborhood wasn't so gorgeous, you probably would've turned around and told your supervisor to give the damn house to someone else.

But thankfully, or not, Simon seemed to harbor a certain comfort for his homes presentation. The indoors of his home reflected it as well, the house put together like it was being staged, every inch perfectly in place.

Maybe that's why it's not so surprising when the first complaint does manage to leave his lips in the form of a hiss as you go to open a cabinet door.

"Oi, what do you think yer doing?" He hisses, rushing over to grab your wrist and pull it from the knob. You gasp as he's suddenly in your space and touching you, flinching as he does.

"Um, I just gotta m-make sure the insides don't need to be wiped down, sir," your muscles shake as you speak— him actually coming over and grabbing had you a little shook up.

He waved his hand infront of your face, dismissing whatever you have to say, "None of that. Don't need'a open nothing that ain't yours." you just nod, taking your first breath once he's finally out of your space.

That would've been a very good thing to include in the work order, Nancy.

Well, at least that's a few less things to worry about cleaning, though you may have failed your task of not shitting your pants, because good lord. He's right back to his perch on the wall, observing you carefully now.

You get into your routine, floating room to room and doing each task per the work order. You slowly scrub the slight musky smoke smell that lingers throughout, instead replacing it with the smell of cinnamon and detergent.

He likes watching you work, but he knows he doesn't show it, not a flutter or twitch anywhere to be seen. He growls small, careful, watch it, leave it, keeping you on edge through every movement.

You do move much faster than your college though, much more gracefully. He notices your wandering eyes, lingering on the photos on the wall and the dates on his calender. He let's you get away with it, for now. Figured he'd picked on you enough, should probably just let you finish your work.

That is, until you approach the end of your routine. You'd been scrubbing and whipping and Simon snipping and snyding for almost an hour now, you'd made excellent time and you hope Simon knows that.

It's all you can think about, actually. Him and the way he has you doting on him, some broken part of you combined with the fear his giant stature instills has you easily folding to do whatever he says and respond to his every grunt. It has your mind a little clouded, even more so as you swing through every step of your routine with practiced care.

It was finally time for the last step of the routine, and you shivered out a breath as you unwrapped the vacuum. Simon had sank a little further away, now sitting at the kitchen table with his eyes glued to a newspaper, anxiety settling slightly without his prying eyes.

You get the cord untangled and laid out across the carpet, searching the perimeter of the room for an outlet. You couldn't see any in the open, and not wanting to risk pissing off Simon for moving furniture, you start to round the corner in your search.

Suddenly, you're against the wall, a giant hand against your sternum as the breath is knocked out of your lungs. His face is in yours, eyebrows furrowed and breath hot on your face as he spoke.

"Tha fuck ya think your doin'?" youre confused and breathless, small under him as he leers above.

"I dont- im-" "Been nothing but nice to ya since you clambered yer way up my damn porch, and I gave you one fuckin' rule." His voiced is raised at you now, chastising you in that brazen, gravely tone. "One! and what do you go and try to do?"

You're just confused, what had you done to elicit this response from him? You thought he was complacent and quiet at the table, what of his million little rules could you have broken?

That's when you see it. Her, you should say. Rylie, the big German Shepard he'd warned you to by no means vacuum around, was bundled up on the couch, inches from where you stand.

Fuck. how had you forgotten.

"Sir, i- I didn't realize, I didn't know she was there sir i-" You desperately try to make an excuse for yourself, but he's just shaking his head at you.

"Do ya think flutterin yer eyelashes a little is gonna make everything better?" He mocks you, his big blue eyes locked on you. You shake your head no, half of it to answer him, the other half just you shivering where you stand.

"No sir- I'm sorry sir I didnt- I forgot you told me and-"

He's clicking his tongue at you, a tsk tsk to put you to shame. To your suprise, each click when straight to your core, and suddenly the heat in the room is rising. Your body is flushed and your sure your face matches, if the way his eyes crinkle when he looks up at you says anything.

His hand doesn't leave your sternum, as he speaks, Inches from your face, "too good at this to be forgetting," he shakes his head, the praise a little shocking, and the soft, "too pretty," that follows it hammers the fact.

You breath is caught in your chest again as he leans into your ear, eyes wide and mouth clamped as he murmurs a deep.

"So how do you think I should go bout making sure you remember?"

[sturnlsstuff]

BIRTHDAY BOY | mean!chris x fem!reader

— warnings: smut, mdni, dom!chris, sub!reader, mentions of alcohol, cursing, pet names (slut, bitch, whore, ma, sweetheart, etc.), p in v, oral (m receiving), rough unprotected sex, dirty talking + more...

— summary: you're at the triplets' birthday party. you've been hanging around matt all evening, which is starting to irritate chris. he doesn't like you, but the way you're all over his brother is getting on his nerves, so he decides to put you in your place.

~~~~

ever since you entered the triplets' house, chris's eyes were only on you. he didn't want it, you were annoying. he never really liked you and you knew it but still, when you wished his brothers a happy birthday, giving them a hug and gifts, you gave chris some of your attention too, by having a small gift for him as well even though you never really interacted before. he couldn't help but be a bit surprised, muttering a quiet "thank you", and you were sure this would be the only time the two of you interacted that night. you were nick's and matt's bestfriend, not his.

once you turned around, his eyes roamed all over your body, noticing how slutty you were dressed. a short black dress that fits your body, perfectly emphasizing your curves, barely covering your ass. your long black hair falling in waves down your back. god, you were attractive, he couldn't deny it.

the party was getting more and more fun as the hours were passing. chris was having fun, there's a lot of drinking involved, but his attention still goes back to you every now and then, when he notices you in the crowd of people in his living room. he sees you with matt most of the time. it's normal, you two are friends, but today something about it doesn't sit right with him. maybe the fact that when you dance with his brother, your ass brushes against his crotch too much for his liking. or that you were practically all over matt almost leaning against him, when he spotted you two in the kitchen taking shots. something about this just kept pissing him off.

however, chris tries to distract himself with other girls, they clung to him as usual, each of them wanted to be today's chosen one that he would take to his room. yet still his mind kept going back to you and he couldn't understand why. he didn't like you. you were arrogant, always making smartass little comments with your filthy mouth, he just couldn't stand you. then why did he feel this possessive feeling fill him, when he saw you whispering something into matt's ear, both of you sitting close to each other on the couch with your hand on his thigh? it could've been nothing, matt looked totally casual, but it just annoyed chris for some reason. he wanted you to whisper things to his ear, to touch him. he wanted to be the one who would make you cry from pleasure tonight. even if he was fully aware that matt had no interest in you. he didn't really understand why he was feeling that way, but it was making him sick.

totally ignoring the blonde haired girl who was practically glued to his side, chris pushed her off of him once he spotted you sneaking out of the living room. he took one last sip of his drink, throwing the red plastic cup aside, his eyes never leaving your figure as he followed you.

he found you knocking on the bathroom door, trying to get inside and yelling that you just have to pee, but the person who occupied the bathroom had no intention of leaving, so you just sighed annoyed, deciding to wait.

chris leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, literally eye-fucking you before he decided to speak up.

"havin' troubles here?" he couldn't hold back the little smirk that appeared on his lips, when you suddenly turned around and noticed him. you were a little tipsy, he didn't miss the way you looked a little surprised that he just spoke to you, but then you just checked him out being completely unaware of this. that made chris clench his jaw a little.

"it's fine just... they don't want to leave this fucking bathroom." you sigh once again, kicking the bathroom door with the back of your shoe, but the person inside just yelled to fuck off.

that's when an idea appeared in his head. he looked you up and down, your dress being a little bit rolled up from the constant dancing, making his thoughts go wild. "there's bathroom downstairs, you can use it."

you raise your eyebrows a little bit. "yeah?"

"mhmm, i can take ya there, c'mon." his eyes lazily roam over your poorly covered body again, which doesn't go unnoticed by you. you are hesitant, but the pressure in your bladder is building and you just have to pee.

once you nod, chris's smirk widen a little as he shows you to go first. he's right behind you while you both go downstairs, his eyes shamelessly glued to your ass while you walk, his pants growing a bit tighter with every second, but he ignores it for now.

he opens the door to his room, letting you in so you do. you were never in chris's room before so you can't help your curiosity and quickly looks around. that's why it's unnoticed by you when he locks the door behind you both.

"there." he points at the another door. you nod and a moment later, you're in his bathroom finally being able to pee.

chris runs his tongue over his teeth, adjusting the backwards hat on his head as he thinks. he had no idea what and why he was doing this, but he always could blame it on the alcohol later, right? he sits down on his chair at the desk, waiting for you and when you finally leave his bathroom, he can't help but smirk a little bit. you come back to the room, adjusting your dress until your eyes spots him. he looked nice today, wearing his camo pants and a black shirt. pretty casual, but it fitted him so well. your attention always was on the bracelet he was wearing on his wrist, it was making you think of wild things you would never say out loud.

"thanks." you mutter, ready to leave his room, but his voice stops you.

"you into matt, huh?" his voice was dripping with irony, almost as if he was making fun of you. you stop in the middle of the room, turning to face him, seeing him sitting with his legs spread and his head slightly tilted to the side, a smirk playing on his lips as his eyes scan your body. it made you flustered a little bit, but you quickly composed yourself.

"what?" you frown, not really understanding his question. matt was only your bestfriend, he should know this.

"y'heard me. bein' all over my brother like a little slut. this was gonna be your birthday gift for him, huh? y'know, not only he's the birthday boy here."

your eyes widen with surprise, even if you had some little arguments with him in the past, he never talked to you so disrespectful. it made your blood boil. "excuse me?"

"oh c'mon, sweetheart, dont gimme this act now, when all night you jus' waited for the right moment to give matt some head."

he stands up walking towards you with his hands in his pockets. he wasn't thinking straight, the mix of alcohol and the need he felt for you all evening made him want to do something he had fantasized about before for a few times, but never thought he would do. at the end of the day you were annoying, he didn't like you. it didn't change the fact he found you hot.

"you're a fucking dick." you say with disbelief, turning around to leave his room when suddenly in one quick movement, he grabs your jaw, forcing you to look at him and pushes you against the door. a surprised gasp escapes you when his body presses against yours, and you can feel his hardness brushing against your thigh.

"say that again, i dare you." his voice was harsh, he was looking down at you with his blue eyes full of hatred, but with a glimpse of something else you couldn't exactly name. you swallow, adrenaline pulsing in your veins and after a moment of silence, you speak up.

"you're a dick, chris." you repeat and just after the look on his face, the regret filled up your body almost immediately.

he clicks his tongue against the inside of his cheek, looking away for a second and a low sarcastic chuckle leaves his lips. you feel your heart speeding up when he looks back at you, his eyes darken. you got a little bit scared, it was noticeable in your expression, but you also felt this familiar heat growing between your legs, making you a little confused. he was pissed off and it made him even hotter, making you go a little crazy.

"yeah? y'wanna act like a bitch? then imma treat you like one." he lets go of your jaw, moving away from you and unbuckling his belt. "on your knees."

you blink a few times, watching his movements and when you realize what he's doing, your breath quickens. "w-what?"

"i said get on your knees. unless you wanna play naughty and piss me off more." he gives you a look, unzipping his pants. he wasn't really sure if you will listen to him, or just call him a freak and want to leave. he had this feeling in his chest you will give in though, and it came true when you hesitatingly moved down, your bare knees meeting his cold floor.

a smirk appears on his lips once again when he looks down at you, pulling his pants and boxers down to his ankles. his cock splits out smacking his stomach and you look at him with wide eyes, swallowing. he was leaking with precum, definitely bigger than you would've expected and that sent vibrations straight to your core, making your panties wet. you would lie if you say you've never thought about this before, in the back of your mind there always were some dirty thoughts about chris, whenever you were hanging out with his brothers and he was there too. something about him was just making you going insane, yet you never ever admitted these thoughts to anyone, since chris also not really liked you and you didn't want to embarrass yourself.

"open up f'me." seeing you from this angle was like his deepest fantasies coming true, his dick hardening even more just by the view of you being on your knees, looking up at him with those doe eyes. your mind going blank, neither of you cared about the party upstairs as you obediently opened your mouth. "good... now stick out that tongue, baby."

you do as he says, he guides his cock on your tongue, grinning. "yeaaah, jus' like that—"

he traces your upper lip with his tip before in one sudden movement he eases himself into your mouth, not even giving you any time to adjust to his size when he starts moving his hips, his cock hitting the back of your throat. you moan, fighting your gag reflex, your eyes filling with tears.

"you wanted him to fuck you, huh? dressed so slutty for him?" chris asks, brushing your hair out of your face and gathering them into a messy ponytail. gripping it tightly, his thrusts gets more aggressive, as you close your eyes wanting to deny whatever he's saying, but not being able to. "look at you. so fuckin' pathetic. thought you'd suck my brother's dick tonight, hm?"

you take all of him, his hips picking up the pace as his grip on your hair tightens, making you whine against him. "open your pretty eyes, ma..— mhhh, fuckk...— wanna see ya lookin' at me ruining those smartass mouth of yours..."

your pussy clenches around air as soon as you open your eyes, met with his stare. one tear running down your cheek as you match chris's pace and starts moving your head, wanting to give him so much pleasure as you could. he was so rude, but yet it was turning you on more than it should.

"mmm, y'like that—? shiit... y'like being used? like the fuckin' whore you are? oh fuck—"

he keeps thrusting into your mouth, his lips slightly opened as low groans escaping him, the way your mouth felt around his cock made his control slipping away. you put your hands on his hips, tongue flattening against his length, cheeks hollowed, making him curse under his breath and his hips stuttering.

"fuck— you s'good at this... can be a good girl when y'want, hm? oh— shit—" he hisses, pulling onto your hair harder. the moan that escapes you sending vibrations against him. the whole time you both kept the eye contact, he was sure you could send him over the edge just with your mouth, but he craved more. "suckin' my dick so good— mhm, fuck— but that's... enough...." one last hard thrust, before his movements stops and he pulls out of you with a pop sound. breathless, you look at him confused, saliva dripping down your chin.

"stand up." he says letting go of your hair. this time you don't have to hear it twice, immediately getting up. chris grabs your hips, making you turn around and bends you over his desk, with your chest pressed against it.

your pussy pulsing and begging for some kind of relief, as you feel chris pressing against your back and whispering into your ear. "you look so hot in this dress, ma. want me to fuck you in it?"

he was fully aware there was no need to ask, it was obvious, but he wanted to hear you say it. his hand already traveling up your inner thigh, making you shiver. you nod, wanting him to touch you so badly. "you either using your words or gettin' nothin', honey."

his tone mocking you, almost as if it was funny to him what state he had gotten you into. it was boosting his ego. he runs his middle finger over your wet panties, making you whine in response.

"so soaked and i ain't even touched you yet."

"i— i need you to..." you mutter, your cheek pressed against his desk as you feel him moving, not towering over you anymore.

"y'need me to what exactly?" he asks sarcastically, rolling your dress up to the level of your hips, your ass on full display for him now. he looks down, squeezing your butt with his hands as he smirks. you could literally feel his hard dick pressing against your inner thigh.

"fuck me." you pathetically whine, moving your hips back. a low chuckle leaving his lips, he pulls your underwear down to your knees and runs his tip over your wet folds, stealing a whimper from you.

"had no idea y'such a slut before." he spreads your legs a bit with his own, lining his cock against your dripping pussy and with one sudden movement entering you, your saliva from sucking his dick previously and his precum acting as lube. once again, not giving you any time he starts moving his hips. slowly but hard, making sure you feel him deep. "could've told me sooner... would do this to you a long time ago..."

a scream leaving you as you feel his entire length inside you, his tip brushing against your g-spot with every thrust. his fingers digging into your hips to keep you in place while he fucks you from behind more and more aggressively, low groans escaping him as he does.

"look at you... sucking my cock in s'good— mmphhh, holy fuck— so tight... so tight f'me, yeah?"

"c-chris— oh my—" you moan, gripping the edge of his desk with your hands. you feel his hand slapping your ass, the skin burning but it turns you on only more. he quickens his pace.

"mmm— that's it, ma... that's ittttt— y'like it rough, huh? such a whore, so pathetic...."

he had no intention of stopping, in fact he had a plan to make you remember this party for the rest of your life. he wanted you to come back for more. for you to become addicted. he slaps your ass again, his cock sliding in and out of your dripping entrance at an awfully fast pace, hitting your g-spot with every thrust. drops of sweat appear on his forehead as he throws his head back, his fingers pressing into your skin, leaving marks. you were fucked out of your mind, moaning loudly and squeezing your eyes as it could help. your pussy clenching around him, his hips stuttering when he feels that, it makes another growl slip out of his mouth.

"holy fuck— you keep squeezin' me so tight... fuck— keep doin' that and i— might cum—" he hisses, his pace making the desk tremble with every thrust. a loud cry of his name leaves your lips in response, once again he feels how hard you clench around him. "yeah? want me to fill ya up? fuckkkk—" his pace was relentless, your constant squeezing his dick in, sending both of you over the edge. "mhmm, c'mon, be good f'me.... cream all over my cock... i wanna... feel it—" you bite your lip but even this can't muffle your load moans, his movements getting sloppier though still hitting you deep. "y'heard me? remember who's the— fuck, birthday boy here— gimme a good gift, can you—?"

"please— my god— 's too much... c-chris, i'm—" you cry out, then another scream leaves your lips, when the knot that had been building in your lower stomach finally releases, your legs shaking. your pussy sucks him in deep, his dick twitches inside you and unable to hold back warm cum bursts from his tip, filling you up and making you squeal. followed by his groan, he rides out the high then slowly pulls out of you, looking down at your stretched hole leaking cum. both of you breathing heavily, he lets go of your hips standing back, your knees weak but you slowly lift yourself up.

he pulls his boxers and pants up, buckling his belt, his eyes never leaving you as you try to stay on your trembling legs. you blink a few times, looking over your shoulder at him, he notices how messed up your makeup is, lipstick smeared on your lips and chin, mascara streaked on the cheeks, hair all messy as well. a little smirk appearing on his lips as you held his gaze and he moves closer. his eyes fixed on yours as he leans down a little and pulls up your panties, then adjusting your short dress, pulling it down. you were out of breath, speechless, not being able to think, when his thumb runs over your bottom lip, messing up the lipstick even more. "make y'self look presentable. unless y'wanna let everyone upstairs know how good i just fucked you." he tilts his head to the side, grinning more. "can't let them know what kinda slut you are, yeah?"

you pathetically shake your head, trying to fix your hair with your hands, and slowly walking towards his bathroom to actually fix yourself up. his eyes once again traveling down to your ass, he was feeling proud. proud that he made you fucked out of your mind, not anyone else. he sits down on the edge of his bed, leaning on his hands, his legs spread. he looked relaxed, the smirk never leaving his lips, as a few minutes later he sees you coming back to the room. you were definitely trying your best to look as nothing happened, yet he knew one look at you and people will know you were with someone. he didn't say anything though, feeling the weird possessiveness filling his chest, knowing you will have to come back upstairs in this state.

making the eye contact with you, he says. "next up you wanna be all over matt, think twice and pick the right brother to fuck you outta your mind, 'kay?"

"y-yeah."

—————————————

a/n: lowk need this irl okay bye

[drgnflyteabox]

lament [1]

part one -> honey || part two -> tbd

pairing: john price x fem reader summary: as you recover from prolonged illness, you meet a man on a hike in the woods just as strange things begin happening around you. tags/warnings: creepy / horror vibes, slowburn, phone sex, masturbation, injuries, mention of hospitals, pneumonia, mobility aids, softdom!price (for now), dubcon due to intoxication, tags will update as the story does w.c: 5.9k

The woods are a peaceful, meditative thing. You’ve been spending your mornings there walking with Diva, meandering through the local trails and venturing off for pictures of red mushrooms or Diva in her little yellow raincoat, sniffing something or other.

The trails were scarcely used and took a couple of hours to finish, a longer trek in taller trees that closed off the sunlight and created peace through insulation, like an echo chamber of wet pitter patter from rain the night before and the gentle calls of birds, broken only by the sounds of your hiking shoes crunching gently through pebbles and leaves.

Quiet. It’s just what you need, slowly erasing memories of bright fluorescent lights and the smell of antiseptics. The trail isn’t elevated, it’s long, but not elevated. That’s important for your recovery, two months spent in a hospital bed attached to breathing apparatus.

Relief, freedom, as slow as your steps are and as beleaguered is your breathing, it’s pure relief. You’re no longer breathing through a straw, building strength walk by walk, spending time with Diva and watching her little tail wiggle under her coat. This time is good for her, too. You could sink to your knees and praise a higher being for the time off and sick pay policies your job has - so could Diva.

The shaking continues, your limbs still weak, muscles unused to standing and walking. You often find yourself sitting, on a log or a rock, and taking time to breathe and recover. Sometimes a granola bar makes its way into the mix, sometimes a handful of trail mix.

The last few times, there’s been a man. Tall, imposing, walking much quicker than you even with a brace around his knee. His posture tells you he takes himself pretty seriously, or he’s military, if there’s any difference.

Mutton chops, mustache, cargo pants. He’s been coming up behind you with sure steps, barely a limp even with his knee, and going by you so fast there's a breeze, makes you a little nervous to get mowed down.

Diva is weary of him. Her hackles raise, though she doesn’t bark, and she tucks close to you when he goes by. You don't feel unsafe, just a little surprised at the break in monotony no matter how tiny it is.

Doesn’t help that it’s pretty nice watching him go, that broad back and tight shirt, those well sculpted legs. Hey, you’re still sick and weak, still recovering. Sue me, you think, leaning on a tree when your lungs start burning again a little too much.

He stops, a few feet in front of you.

“You broken?” His voice is just as you imagined, rough maybe from smoking, maybe from overuse.

“What?” Broken?

“You alright?” He repeats, turning then. The quiet is a little oppressive now, with your struggle. You’re wheezing.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine-” you cough, dryly. “Just asthmatic.” It’s an easy explanation, you’re trying to get him to move on. You’ve never felt in danger, but it’s still the middle of the woods and he’s still a strange man.

“Need a hand?” He has to look down at you, even from a distance. His head is tilted down, arms folding across his chest, biceps calling to you like sirens.

You shake your head, squatting down as best you can, taking the breaths learned from your doctor and pulling out your steroid inhaler. One puff, two puff.

The man looks at you skeptically, eyes small and narrowed, flitting once to Diva who would fail as a service dog, but tries her best at guarding you despite being so small. Her gaze is pinpointed to him, as stiff as he is.

”Right, then,” is all he says before he’s back to his soldiers march.

You imagine him with horse blinders on and pulling a sled behind him, wheezing a laugh into the empty air.

Recovery is not linear. That’s what your doctor tells you, what you were told before you left the ICU, before you were discharged all together. There’ll be ups and downs, moments where you feel you’ve backslid to the point of having to start all over.

You get it, really. It’s a mantra. Recovery is not linear.

What they don't warn you is that it’s different when you’re actually feeling it, waking up weaker than ever and coughing, burning in your chest. It’s jarring, every cell in your body crying for oxygen and yet you aren’t low enough that you need to go back to the ER, just sit up in bed and stare out the window to the fortress of green that surrounds your house.

Recovery is not linear. You watch comfort shows - animated Halloween specials, a couple months too early. They fit the cooling temperatures, the slow yellowing of the trees.

Food is hard when you can’t stand for long periods of time, so you order in. Soup, and an extra chicken crunch treat for Diva on her dinner.

It’s only when you turn Charlie Brown off that you hear it.

Tap tap tap. Deliberate, timed taps, like a mini hammer on a mini nail. Quiet enough that your ears strain, and yet you can just barely catch the sound. It’s coming from the side of your house, opposite to your bedroom and closest to the living room you were just in.

Tap tap tap. Maybe it’s the vibe you put yourself in, but you shiver with apprehension. Could be an animal, you do live fairly far out, and by the woods. Your driveway is long, separated from the highway just outside of town.

Diva is usually a false alarm - she raises her hackles at the stove, she’s not trustworthy when it comes to alerting you. And yet you look, and find her standing straight up and staring at the wall the sound is coming from, lips peeling back.

Only there's nothing you can do. You aren’t gonna go check, not with your weak limbs and thin breath. Theres a landline in the kitchen with a long cord, and your cellphone. The best you can do is lock the windows and doors, which you do, shuffling so as to make the least amount of noise possible.

Next the lights and curtains, drawn and shut. You tuck a knife under your mattress, more for reassurance than anything, and close your bedroom door behind Diva.

The only reason you’re able to sleep is the bedroom door locks. The handle has one, and there’s a chain above that. You tuck into bed under the covers like a child hiding from their closet, straining to hear the tap tap tap. Sometime between you locking all the entries and exits, it stopped, but you’re still unmoored.

Your lungs fare better the next morning, eased by rest. You’re back in the woods by late morning, driving up to the trailhead through the canopy of trees. It really is beautiful, part of the reason you moved here, other than peace and quiet.

There's another car as you pull up, a reliable model in a dark colour, a surprise since you’re usually the first one there. 

You park away from it in an effort to not be creepy, but still sneak a peak while Diva does her post-car ride shakeout and pee.

It’s the man from before, sitting in the front seat, talking on a phone. He looks serious, frowning, talking in a measured way but you can still hear the volume as you pass by.

He waves, and you wave back, giving him a little smile.

Diva leads the way, prancing into the woods without fear even as the leaves start blocking out the sun. She inspires you - a little dog, brave, braver than you were last night.

God, it was probably a rabbit or a possum stuck somewhere. Maybe a mouse, and though you hope it isn’t it is the season for them. Cooler temperatures means creatures trying to enter your house. Means you have yet to drive down to town and pick up insulation supplies for your windows before fall really hits and you’re freezing.

Making a mental note of that, you lean heavily on your walking stick and pause. It’s one of those days, needing more aid than usual after yesterday and more breaks.

Crunch.

“Sorry, honey,” the army man holds his arms up, seeming sheepish as you flip around to face him. “Didn’t mean to scare ya.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” your cheeks burn in embarrassment. “Just jumpy today.”

“That’s alright,” his eyes crinkle at the corners, softening at the edges. He’s approachable today, not speed walking through the woods like there's a pot of gold at the end. “Mind if I join you?”

Unexpected, but with your eyes at pec-height it’s an easy yes. You deserve a handsome escort for the second half of the trail, and your emergency alarm is tucked in your front sweater pocket if you need it.

“Sure,” you nod. “I’m pretty slow, though, just to warn you. Recovering.”

“That’s fine, I should be taking it easier anyway. Make my physio happy for once,” he gestures to his knee with a chuckle. “John.”

You tell him your name. John. It suits him, the masculinity of it, the simpleness too. He gives the impression that he’s careful about how he presents himself, that outside of this sudden friendliness he’s very closed off - the way he was when you’d come across him before. Now he calls you honey, and touches his fingertips to your back as you navigate a patch of rough terrain warped by roots.

“I’m off until my knee is battle-ready, again,” he says it like it’s a joke, but there’s a steel edge beneath his words. You ask about his job: contract work, he says, not self-employed but with pockets of free time.

“Did you move here recently?” The wind shivers the trees, chillier than last week, as you meander.

“Ah, didn’t move here,” he scratches his thumb with his nose. “Staying with a friend. Needed the fresh air.”

“I get it,” your shoulder brushes his arm. “That’s why I moved here too.”

“Helps your asthma?”

You pause for a moment, confused. And then.

“Oh!” You’re a little embarrassed. “I don’t have asthma, actually. I mean I could have it, or develop it. But really I had pneumonia for a while, really wiped me out.”

“Ah, I see,” his voice says surprised, but his face stays the same. You wonder if he notices. “Terrible, that. My mum had a bad bout of it a couple years back, gave us a scare.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” you aren’t sure how old John is, but you can assume it was dangerous for his mother to have caught such a bad infection. “How’s she doing now?”

“Much better. Healthy as a goat.”

“A goat?” You’re laughing, then. A giggle that has him smiling back at you. “Haven’t heard that one before.”

John hums when he doesn’t reply verbally, and nods like you’re giving a university lecture. The attentiveness is nice, but it makes you self conscious, unused to having so much attention so focused on you. And he is so focused, like you’re discussing nuclear launch codes or what a quark is or something important. Honestly, it makes you hide your face in an embarrassingly shy way, avoiding eye contact.

He walks with you slowly, patiently down the path, arms crossed behind his back. Every once in a while either or the two of you laugh, which seems to bother Diva, whose been looking back at John suspiciously or trying to get between you the whole time.

“So sorry about that,” you really don’t know what’s gotten into her. Sure, she’s a pro at finding innocuous things suspicious, but you’ve been walking for a while now and she usually warms up when she realizes you’re okay with the offensive person or item.

“Don’t worry about it, honey,” honey again. He sure knows how to make a lady flustered. “She’s just looking out for her mama, right?”

If your pussy reacts to that, it’s no one’s business but your own.

The air chills, day by day. John has begun joining you on your walks every other day, and sometimes you catch him jogging to the trailhead from the road instead of driving it. It makes you wonder where he’s, whether it’s close or he’s really pushing his knee, and whether or not he’s flirting with you when he shows up all sweaty in a tight shirt.

Another anomaly is that the tapping has returned, nearly every night. You’re scared every time, won’t even let Diva out for a final pee and have stuck to walking up at the buttcrack of dawn to make sure she’s taken care of.

Tedious, is what it is. Ridiculous. And yet when those little taps come, in different places around the house now, different walls, you hide under the covers with Diva growling her little growl at the bedroom door and try to sleep.

When cabin fever starts to set in, anxiety and insane thoughts like, what if someone is trying to break into my house? You decide it’s past time for a visit to town.

The trip serves many purposes, anyways. Diva needs treats, kibble, and a new ball. You need groceries, tampons, new socks. Overall worth it outside of the fresh air and human interaction with more than just one person.

“Hey! Hey you!”

You’re in the bakery, weighing with your hands two loaves of artisanal bread. Just the one will do, since your freezer is small, but you want both. Pumpernickel or dark rye? Which will go better with the honey ham sandwich slices?

“Hello? Earth to-”

Your deliberation is interrupted by a waving in your face. You realize Jo, your only real friend in town, has run across the street to catch your attention.

“Oh gosh, my bad,” you look down at your shoes, then reach for a hug. She squeezes you.

“That’s okay, babe, off in your own world?” She’s dazzling, too cute for such a small town. Her ringlets bounce on her shoulders and her mouth, which is always smiling, is stretched wide with mirth. Makes you feel warm inside that she cares for you.

“Trying to make a hard decision. You know, end world hunger or stop all wars.” Stupid, but she laughs. You love making her laugh, and if you were lesbian you’d have made a move on her. Maybe you were, just a little.

“Why not both?” Her hands find your shoulders and squeeze. It’s then that you notice someone behind her, a much taller someone. At first the muscled chest and thick neck make you think it’s John, and a small squeeze of jealousy grips your stomach.

Then you see the mohawk, the difference in height. This man is looking at you with a similar intensity, though, all piercing blue eyes, thick furrowed brows, pin-straight posture.

“You’re right,” your laugh is more awkward, then, motioning with your eyes to the man.

“Oh, I’m so rude,” she turns to him. “This is Johnny, we met a few weeks ago.”

A wink. Ah, they met a few weeks ago. You picture them in the only bar in town, low lighting and Jo looking like Botticelli’s Venus, plump cheeks and red lips. And yeah, Johnny’s pretty good looking. You’d laugh about the mixup and the names if it wasn’t rude.

“Nice tae meet ya,” his accent is thick, palm warm and rough against yours. “Shall we, lass?”

He’s talking to Jo. They exchange glances, him looking at you once so fast you almost miss it. There’s something uncomfortably familiar about the look he gives you, but you shake it off. Nerves, you think. From the taps.

“Right,” Jo looks a little sheepish, then. “We’re off to the movies, but nice to see you!”

You raise a brow. You can’t help it, it’s 10am. Jo laughs and they leave.

You bake, sometimes. It’s a good hobby for someone on a leave of absence with nothing much else to do but read, walk and play with her dog.

The oven sometimes scares Diva, and she curls up in your room indignantly until you’re done using it. You’ve always wondered why, since she came to you as a puppy and hasn’t got a single reason to be upset with the appliance. 

Oh well.

You decide to bring brown butter chocolate chip cookies on your hike, hoping to see John and give him one. Your interactions haven’t progressed past leisurely chatting and walking together, but he’s a handsome man and you're still a little stir-crazy. At least with work, it wasn’t just hours on hours of uninterrupted alone time.

Funny how that works, isn’t it? You spend every day at work wishing not to be at work, and once you have the opportunity you have no idea what to do with yourself.

John loves the cookies. He takes two right out of the Tupperware, flattering you by groaning as he eats. The recipe is that good, but you think he might be putting it on a bit anyway.

It’s sweet.

“Fantastic,” he says, licking his fingers. You try not to look. “You bake often?”

“Just something to do, keeps me busy.” Diva has growled at John again, her second offense. She’s being a real heel today, rude and fussy. You elect to schedule a vet visit for a checkup soon.

“No one to keep you company in that house?” He stops when you need to stop, takes the opportunity to stretch his bad leg.

“What?” You take a puff of the inhaler, frowning a little.

“Are you lonely?” A weird question, but you chalk it up to small town weirdness.

“A little, but that one over there keeps me company,” as if she knows, she turns and yips. “What do you mean, that house?”

“You mentioned you live in your grandfather's house, no? Inherited it.” He chuckles at Diva.

“Did I? I don’t think…” you fully frown, thinking back to your conversations. Did you mention that? You haven’t even thought of it yourself for a while, not wanting to revisit painful memories. Your grandpa did pass you his house, but you’re usually more private than offering more than surface-level information to strangers.

“I believe so,” he looks deep in thought himself, squinting up at the umbrella of trees above you. That comforts you, the fact that he’s trying to recall. You’ve been so anxious lately.

“I must have forgotten, sorry. I’ve just been so scrambled lately.” John perks up at that, turning towards you as you finally continue walking.

“Scrambled?” His palm finds the back of your arm, the meat of it. He squeezes you, and it fills you with warmth. “How so?”

“Ah, well, just some animals around my house. I think,” you meet eyes, and he gets the best of you, so you elect to stare between his brows.

“Want me to take a look?” His tone is very serious. You shiver.

“I don’t think it’s necessary… I think there’s just some mice making a home for winter. I gotta call an expert,” He slides his hand down to your elbow, holding it gently. You’re nearing the end of the trail, the woods getting brighter around you. Diva marks her territory here more than anywhere else and yips at John again. 

“I could do it for free though, honey,” the air drops where you are, a gust of wind creating a symphony of sound all around you. A little romantic, you think. Ridiculous.

“Well,” far be it from you to pass up free help. “Only if you let me pay you back somehow.” 

“You have already,” he holds up the cookie Tupperware, shaking it gently. 

“Then let me make you dinner. Whatever you want!” The enthusiasm in which you say it has you cringing at yourself, but mentally you justify it; it’s completely normal to invite a friend over, especially to pay back a favour. You’re not being obvious that you’re attracted to him at all, no sir. Definitely not scared and in need of comfort, Mr John sir. 

“Sounds like a plan. I’m free after 7 o’clock.”

You elect to be cliche and make British food. Good British food, a proper roast. Something you’d had a few times with friends in pubs or that time you’d visited London as an exchange student. Hot, smothered in gravy, salty and perfect with a mug of beer British food. You really hope he likes it, that he doesn't think you’re weird or making fun of him for his accent.

John is a proper gentleman, so punctual that he knocks on your door the very second it turns to 7:30 on your oven timer.

Diva has to battle her hatred of the stove with her need to announce a guest, staying in hallway purgatory barking at both.

The smell of garlicky roast beef, rosemary and thyme, salt and boiling potatoes is rife in the air, no doubt spilling into the woods through your badly insulated windows.

The moment it hits John, you can see it. Your door opens, creaking, and his eyes fix to you so quickly it’s almost physical.

“Hey! Thanks for coming,” you open it, motioning for him to come in. “Don’t mind Diva, she’s not a fan of the oven being on.”

He toes his boots off, still staring, like you’re a prize heifer and he’s set on buying you at the farm auction. A little sexy, mostly nerve wracking. Diva peeks around the corner at him and the sound of her little nails on the hardwood breaks the tension.

“Smells like home,” he leans closer to you to put his coat up on the rack. “You really went through all this trouble?”

“It’s the least I can do for your help.” At that moment, he seems to remember.

“Right, the mice. Want to show me where you heard them, or can I not steal you away from the stove?” His voice deepens as he talks, intensifying, grating hot coals and growling like a bear. Blue, focused eyes find the half-apron you’re wearing. You swear his pupils dilate, but he shakes his head before you’re sure.

“I can show you, there’s still a few minutes left for everything.”

The air is biting outside, cold with the evening breeze and dark already. So dark you equip your biggest, brightest flashlight and walk around the house with him, explaining the taps all around.

“I figure it’s them trying to dig holes so they can get in,” you hand the flashlight to him, feeling your fingers brush, and shivering in response. “I’ve been too chicken to check, to be honest. I keep thinking it’s a person walking around, not some animal.”

John nods as you speak, squatting by your little tool shed, looking diligently and moving items as he needs to. Then, he looks up, smiling a little.

“Why don’t you head inside, darling? Let me take care of this.”

“Sure,” you squeak. Squeak. Your stomach makes a knot and you scurry like one of the mice he’s looking for back into the house to mash the potatoes and make the gravy.

You are quite proud of this meal, not a proper cook by a long shot but it looks and smells pretty good. The Yorkshire puddings are alright, too, and that was the hardest part. Plus, you think, it’s free food. He’s gotta be happy with the effort, even if he winds up not liking it, right? That’s something your mother always told you. Someone’s put in a lot of effort for this meal, she’d say, pointing at you with a long nail. Better eat it.

“Think I found the little buggers,” John startles you just a little as he comes in, toeing his boots off again. You’re plating his plate, huge portions of mash potato and roast carrot and brussel sprouts nestled to the beef. His eyes look at the plate, then to you, then down to your apron, and you pretend you can’t see him adjusting his pants.

This isn’t what you think it is, you remind yourself. Two friends, one lending a hand and the other paying them back. You don’t even know his last name.

“Oh god, how bad was it?” You ladle gravy over his portion, then yours, pretending to be unaffected when he walks into your kitchen and takes a huge sniff.

“Not too bad. I’ll have to come back with some traps, if that’s alright.” You want to say John, you can come back anytime, but you don’t.

“Glad to know it was mice at least,” that’s the truth. A feeling you didn’t totally realize you had turns from paranoia into relief. “I was really scared it was some creep walking around my house, trying to get in.”

“Here,” John takes his plate when you hand it to him, but puts his phone into your hands before you can get yours. “Put your number in there, honey. Call me if anything like that happens.”

Honey. You fucking love that, so much it renders you temporarily mute as you punch in your number. He doesn't let you bring your own plate to the table, picks it up while you’re busy and comes back to shepherd you there with a palm on your lower back.

“Thank you,” you say, struck timid by his casual and yet firm guidance of you.

Diva makes an appearance for supper, summoned by the smell of beef and the oven being turned off. Her little claws tip tap against the hardwood as she circles your chair, tucks herself under the table looking for scraps, and whines at John while he’s trying to eat.

You nudge her away from him with a socked foot, stuttering that she isn’t usually like this, honest, only for him to brush it off kindly.

After supper, when you’re full and you can’t handle him looking at you with those half-lidded, well-fed bear eyes anymore, you move to pick up the dishes and bring them to the kitchen.

“Ah ah,” John cuts in front of you, stealing the plates and cutlery. “You cooked, I’ll clean.”

Useless to argue - he’s built like a brick shithouse. You’re forced to pack up the leftovers, one container for you and one for him to take home. For no reason other than you’re feeling especially soft and gooey, you wrap up a few homemade fig and date granola bars for him to take too.

“Thank you,” he gruffs, rolling his sleeves to his elbows, flexing his forearm muscles, making you hot again.

“It’s really the least I can-”

Snap. Fuck, the day that creepy noises don’t happen near your house is the day you convert to whatever religion that’ll make it happen. Both your heads turn to the living room window, where the sound came from, a crack in the otherwise quiet night air.

Anxiety curls in your stomach, sharp and dreadful. You try to remind yourself that you live in the woods for gods sake, there’s gonna be sounds, but that awful sense of danger is back and if you were Diva your hackles would be raised.

John frowns, wiping his hands on a towel. He doesn't seem as phased as you are, probably because he’s not worried over boogeymen haunting the forest like you are, but when he looks back at you and sees your fright he leans in and murmurs that he’ll go take a look.

“It’s okay, it’s probably one of my furry friends,” you try, but he shakes his head, putting a palm on your hip for a brief moment as reassurance and then he’s out the door.

God, you’re so nervous you whip out a bottle of wine, desperate for a little courage. The feeling is so strange, you’re used to feeling safe and cushioned by your home, by the forest. Even your little dog whimpers, tapping her way into the kitchen, rubbing her face on your leg like a cat. She’s a comfort still, something about there being a more nervous person (or animal) that inspires bravery. Still, you won't peek out the window.

The wine is good. A little too dry, but still good. A housewarming gift from your mother, even though she knew you didn’t drink unless it was social.

Or unless you were nervously waiting for some man to come back, having dealt with your problems for you. She’d weep to see you, aproned and wringing your hands and sipping red wine too quickly. Whatever, you think. There’s nothing wrong with letting him help.

John comes back in, maybe a few minutes later or maybe a half hour, you can’t tell. Your wine is half empty, and you feel awkward about it so you pour him one without asking.

“Think you’ve got more than one furry friend,” John says, laughter in his voice. In his fingers he’s got tufts of light brown hair, which he holds up. “Dinner, if you hunt.”

“Ah, I don’t,” and you wouldn’t. You’re fine eating meat or even purchasing it from a local hunter to eat, but there’s something in you that’s deeply uncomfortable with the idea. Maybe it’s cowardice, unable to do the dirty work and yet enjoying the fruits of someone else’s labour. Maybe you’re putting stock in something that really isn’t worth stressing over. Either way, you’re overthinking, and only stop when John steps into your space.

“Hey- you alright, darling?” You like darling too, just as much as honey.

“Yeah, sorry,” your hands find the wine glass you poured for him, and you hand it over. One thing about abstaining is that it hits you quickly, even with the big meal. “Want to sit? I’ve got a fireplace.”

You cringe at yourself, not meaning to sound so suggestive. Oh well, he doesn’t seem to mind, just nods and takes you by the elbow again to your living room.

“This all the heading you’ve got?” John asks.

“Er, no. I have to get my windows insulated for winter, then I can turn the heating on without it all going to waste. For now, I make do with the fireplace,” when you sit, Diva runs to you both and demands to be swaddled in her blanket. It’s an old knitted one, a college project finished between essay assignments and readings. There’s sentimental value there, especially with your pup who doesn’t even let the presence of a strange man come between her and her cozying up.

“I can help with that,” John says. Briefly, Westley pops into your head shouting As you wish! and it makes you smile.

“That’s okay,” you sip, tasting spice. Would’ve been good with dinner. “I owe you double now for helping me again.”

“Not at all, sweetheart.” Oh, he’s full of names - and getting bolder. 

The conversation ebbs and flows naturally. Sometimes you both sit in silence, sipping, refilling glasses, staring at the fire. He’s easy to talk to, soothing, his confidence and sureness leaving you relaxed.

“I better get going,” he grunts as he stands, extending a palm to you.

“Are you okay to drive?” You’re half worried, half disappointed. There’s been a steadily building sense of heat between your legs the entire evening, brought on by his touches and his pet names and his taking care of you

“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. I live close-by.” That’s one mystery solved.

“Well, okay. But will you call when you get home?” If you weren’t three glasses in, you might be embarrassed. John crinkles his eyes at you while he puts his boots on.

“John?” You’re in your pajamas, face hastily cleaned with a makeup wipe. Your door is double locked again, anxiety beaten down by the wine.

“I’m home,” he sounds distant. You can’t really hear anything, just his breathing, the sounds of him taking off his coat and his boots. “You tucked in bed, sweetheart?”

“I am,” you breathe, eyes slipping, drunker than you thought you were. “Did you drive okay?”

“I did,” he laughs. His keys jingle and make a clamor as he tosses them. You imagine him in a house that fits him, a log cabin or a house built by hand, before remembering he’s talking with someone. Disappointment dampens you a little.

“I guess I should let you get to bed then,” you try to keep it out of your voice, but you’re curled on your side with a hand pressed against your clothed pussy and it’s hard not to be sad at the fact that you have no idea if he’s actually been flirting with you, or just being friendly.

“You sound disappointed,” either he’s perceptive, or you’re more obvious than you’re trying to be. “Don’t worry, I won’t leave you without saying goodnight.”

A pulse, between your legs. You rub with all four fingers, moving the phone away from your mouth.

“That’s okay, I don’t want to keep you,” you scrunch your eyes shut, trying to stop, not being able to. You’re starved, really, haven’t been touched or talked to like you’re desirable in quite some time and he makes you feel safe. Taken care of.

“You touching that wet little cunt, sweetheart?” A shockwave, from your nipples tightening to your toes tingling, curling. You stop hiding, breathing whines into the phone.

“I’m so sorry,” you mumble, biting your lips. It feels like permission, and maybe it is or maybe it isn’t, but you stuff your hand into your pants and start focusing on your needy clit. “I’m so-”

“Shh, sh, sh,” you hear a mattress creak, a grunt, and imagine him laying back. Maybe palming his cock. “That’s okay, baby, I could tell how needy you were.”

Panting, you stuff two fingers in your soft hole, grinding your palm into your clit. You hear him making sounds, quieter than you, but you’re straining to hear them. He starts talking you through it, murmuring into your ear, calling you sweetheart and honey and baby, telling you to put three fingers in and to play with your tits.

“Go ahead and touch your nipples, sweetheart, go on,” his breath is growing laboured. “Needed to come so she could sleep, did she?”

For a moment, you think he’s talking about you.

“Poor little pussy needed some attention,” his voice gets rougher again, like when he walked in and saw that you had made him a roast. “Give it to her then, baby, go on, let her come.”

That’s all you need. You squeeze your nipples one last time, letting your tits out of your shirt and turning over to hump your hand unashamedly. Your clit drags against your palm still, hips desperately moving, listening to him grunting and groaning on the other side of the call, waiting to hear him come before you let go.

You shake, shiver, curl into yourself as your core tightens and explodes like an elastic band snapping. It’s great, just what you needed, and you’re half asleep by the end of it

“John..” you mumble into your pillow, just enough consciousness left to pull your hand out of your pajama pants.

“It’s alright, it’s time to sleep now, alright? Close your eyes.”

“Alright, John.”

“Good girl,” his voice is distant, sleep taking you, muscles more relaxed than they’ve been in so long.

You’ll deal with the rest in the morning.

[mikkomacko]

timo and some of the guys taking reader out drinking and returning to an angry nico with a drunk reader

You did nothing wrong, to be fair.

Well maybe not entirely since you never once told Nico that you weren’t in fact having a quiet night at home anymore.

It was supposed to be a cute and cozy movie night for the two of you, but Nico had some stuff to work out with Lee and the Isles so he’d gone over to Elmont with Jonas and Jesper.

And whatever deal or job they were working out had run far longer than they thought it would. Nico was gonna be home late, something he swore he’d make up for by cooking you dinner tomorrow night, whatever you wanted, and then snuggling with you on the couch after.

It was a fair deal. So you weren’t upset. That and you know how this life goes. It’s very unpredictable and you’ve learned to adapt.

Which is exactly what you did when Timo’s contact lit up your phone screen ten minutes after Nico rescheduled your date.

“Come to the bar with us tonight!” He had said in place of a greeting, and you could hear the muffled voices of the other boys in the background.

“I don’t Teems,” you mumbled, eyeing the couch and fuzzy blankets you’d laid out earlier.

The line rustled, Timo’s disgruntled shout trailing away as someone stole the phone from him.

“Come on boss,” it was Mercer, words already a little sloppy. “We can’t go out without our leader, and we’d rather have you than Nico anyway.”

Before you could answer, overlapping shouts of encouragement and jeering interrupted whatever excuse you were trying to come up with. Instead you laughed.

“Alright alright! I’ll be ready in half an hour, someone better be outside to pick me up!”

That was four hours ago.

Four hours of scream singing Kesha in the car with Jack, Luke, and Holtzy who were your drivers for the night. Four hours of slipping into Nico’s seat at the private booth, martini and martini coming to the table. They were unstopping, always with extra garnishes, and always at the ready like some weird fountain of youth. Four hours of trying to out drink Mercer and out dance Timo. Four hours of keg standing behind the bar with Lazar and Dermy.

Lazar gives out first, legs awkwardly slipping from Haula’s hold and his boots crash heavily into the wood floor. The boys holler like drunk frat boys at a football game, Dermy slapping at your calf in celebration and you let the nozzle slip from your lips.

Dermy carefully drops your legs, your toes barely touching the ground before him, Timo, and Mercer are squeezing around you. Head spinning, from both alcohol and being upside down, you laugh as Timo lifts you up. Hanging over his shoulder you find Jack, the older Hughes boy just as plastered and lining up a row of fireball shots.

“Miss boss!” He yells, messily waving you over and you stretch your arms out towards him.

“Jacky!” You call, words slurring but enough for him to comprehend. And Timo too because he stumbles around the counter to Jack, placing you on the sticky bar top.

Mercer’s head pops up next to you, propped on his elbows and his eyes twinkle when he sees the shot glasses.

“We should close the bar for just us more often.” Mercer laughs, shaking sweaty strands of hair off his forehead. Haula claps him on the shoulder, a shit eating grin on his face when he looks between the group of you.

“And leave Nico at home!” He teases, winking at you. You laugh, elbow digging into Mercers shoulder as you lean over him to get closer to Haula.

“But I like him!” You defend, swaying a bit when Mercer adjusts his stance in order to accept the overflowing shot glass Jack is hanging him. “He’s so fun!”

They all groan in unison, dramatically hanging their heads as if you just said the most  egregious sentence ever spoken.

“Babe,” Jack pouts, “you don’t have to lie to us. You can say you’re with him because he’s hot.”

He hands you a shot glass. “What?” You gasps, then giggle drunkenly. “He’s so fun. We should invite him.”

Jack and Mercer share a look. “You must not be drunk enough. Hurry and down that.”

You don’t need to be told twice. The group of you messily clink glasses together, fireball dripping down your fingers and then you’re tossing it back.

Heat licks at your throat and chest, enough to make your voice hoarse when you jab a finger at Jack’s shoulder. “Don’t be mean to my Nico, mister.”

He holds his hands up in defense. “M’just saying, he doesn’t have a lot of hobbies.”

“Boring,” Haula cackles. “He’s saying he’s boring.”

“That is so not true!” You shout, shocked that any of them could say that. “Take that back Jack!”

The boy giggles, smacking Timo on the chest before nodding at you. “Beat me at a keg off and I’ll take it back!”

Not one to shy away from a challenge, especially when drunk, you push yourself off the bar with gangly limbs. Timo reaches out to steady you, helping you to your feet with a drunken laugh.

“Dermy,” you shout, “get my feet. We’re kegging!”

~~~~~

Which is where Nico finds you two minutes later, sitting on Timo and Dermy’s shoulders with the leg nozzle hanging from your lips and Jack on his knees behind the bar, puking into the trash can.

You don’t see him at first, triumphantly holding your fists in the air while the two men bounce you in time with all the boys cheering. Luke is at your feet, a wide grin plastered on his face and phone out taking either a video or a photo.

Not that it matters to you, sticking your tongue out and squeezing your eyes shut as you lean forward into the camera. Time has to grab your thigh to keep you from falling, laughing when you cheer “suck on that Jacky boy!”

You can hear Jack trying to rebuttal, but it’s quickly cut off by the ear piercing whistle that rings through the empty bar.

Everyone freezes, half of you out of fear and the other half out of drunken surprise. Because three men are in the entryway of the bar, Jesper and Jonas trying to hide amused smiles as they take in the scene in front of them.

You plastered and on the shoulders of Timo and Dermy, the boys jeering you on. And Jack on the floor, two seconds away from passing out.

You’re too focused on the beautiful man in front though, unfazed by the scowl on his lips and the pinch between his eyebrows. He’s still in the dress pants he wore this morning, but his button up has been abandoned in favor of a black tank top, so tight you think you can see his abs through it.

“What is going on here?” Nico growls, arms crossed over his chest. Your eyes fall to his biceps, mouth pooling with saliva as they flex.

Timo and Dermy drop you, not enough for it hurt but enough that it makes your knees wobble and buckle, only staying upright when Luke’s body gets in the way of you falling.

“Oh shit,” Timo mutters. “Sorry babe.”

You don’t care. All you care about is the beautiful, beautiful man up front that’s staring at you so heatedly you think you might melt.

“Nicoooo!” You sing, stumbling through the crowd of boys and towards your boyfriend. He meets you halfway, sighing heavily when you trip on your own feet and wobble forward.

Crashing into his chest, you slink your arms around his middle, wrap your right leg around his left and squish your cheek into his body. Nico wraps an arm around you to keep you steady, fingers tight around your bicep.

“Whose bright idea was this?” Nico calls out, gruff and annoyed. You can hear muttering behind you, all the boys arguing over who to blame and who kept serving drinks and who challenged who and who even planned this in the first place.

Sleepy, you tuck your chin into his chest and blink up Nico. “Don’t be mad, why are you mad?”

Nico sighs softly, peering down at you with a raised eyebrow. “You didn’t think to tell me that you wouldn’t be at home tonight?” He asks, though it doesn’t actually sounds like a question.

“Or maybe answer your phone when I text? Or again when I call? Five times?”

Confused, you slap at the back pocket of your jeans, frowning when you come up empty handed. You have no idea where your phone is.

“Lost,” you respond, clinging tighter to Nico when he looks over your head and nudges forward, free hand stretching out. Then he’s wiggling your phone in front of you, an amused frown on his face when you smile.

“You found it! It’s because you’re so smart, I know you’re so smart and fun. And funny too, like when you make that face.”

Your fingers find his mouth, tracing over his pout fondly. Nico ignores your touch and slips your phone into your back pocket.

“I was worried,” he scolds, voice deep and rumbly. “Especially when you didn’t answer the fifth call…”

Nico looks at you pointedly, and it settles heavily in your gut when you finally realize what he’s saying. You’d gone MIA on him pretty much. As soon as Luke and Holtzy were knocking on your door, you’d forgotten everything except that Jack had Jell-O shots in the back seat and Luke is good on aux.

You never told Nico where you were going or how long. And then you never answered your phone.

Okay maybe you did technically do something wrong.

“Nico,” you gasps softly, dropping your right foot back to the ground and standing up straight. “M’sorry. I just-Luke and then Jack, and Mercer called me boss, and then we were having fun-“

“Oh I know,” he interrupts. “I had about ten videos from Jack of you on the bar and then on the keg and on the dance floor.”

Maybe he’s a tiny bit amused now, ready to let everything go. You smile innocently, cheeks heating up as he recounts your drunken fun. Nico nods to the Devs behind him.

“Someone get Jack home. The rest of you clean up and get out.”

Immediately they jump into action, scuffling and chatting lowly as the sober help the drunk home. You imagine Luke is in charge of Jack and you wince.

“What?” Nico mumbles, brushing your hair out of your face.

“I made Jack throw up.” You whisper, giggling quietly. “And now Luke has to clean him up.”

Nico blinks. “Good, maybe it’ll teach them to grow up.”

You pout. “I’m older than them.”

“You don’t need to grow up. You can stay just like this.”

“Because you’ve got me?”

Pride glimmers in his dark eyes. “Because I got you.”

Nico takes you home after that, holds your hand in the car and talks you through chugging a bottle of water on the ride there. And he helps you inside, an arm around your waist when you stumble through the front door. And he even holds your hair when you dash into the kitchen to throw up.

Even if he is angry or annoyed, he’s got you.

[jwsverse]

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 timestamp 03:09

pairing ⁝ jake x f!reader

synopsis ⁝ in which jake tells the boys all about his crush on you, and he's way too downbad

genre ⁝ fluff!!! , reader is implied to be "cold", jake is in luv and the boys are real goofs, oh reader os also said to have bunny teeth (sawry if you guys dh it cause i do so im sorry for being self indulgent 😥)

word count ⁝ 0.8k

author's note ⁝ ummmm idk what this is but i wanted to make tbis like black cat x golden retriever typa shii... kinda wanna write a long fic for this icl!' also fhis is NAWTTT proofread

“you like who?!”

jake stumbles back a bit at the loudness of jake's voice. he chuckles awkwardly, glancing around at the boys who are now gathered around him. even heeseung, who was about to make his leave for his next class, turns around with wide eyes.

“uh, i like y/n?” jake scratches the back of his neck shyly, flushing under the eyes of his friends as well as from his confession, “what's wrong?”

jay jumps from his seat, leaning across with his palms flat om the table as he hurriedly says, “but why? i mean like how? what about y/n? why her?”

jake is a little confused, and it's clear, so sunoo quickly clarifies, “there's nothing wrong with y/n! she's our friend and we love her!” then a pause, and his face scrunches up as he hesitates, “but it's just... you know, y/n. she's not the most cheerful nor is she the friendliest! and you've known her the shortest among us! so you know, we're just shocked.” sunoo ends his ramble with a stiff tilt of his head as he leans back into his seat.

“oh,” jake utters out quietly, flushing red, “but y/n's great. she's not very cheerful or friendly. but she cares a lot! especially for you guys!” he defends.

he doesn't quite understand what the guys are trying to say here. he knows that amongst all of them, he's known you the shortest, considering he joined the friend group late after transferring here. but, feelings don't need explanation, right? there's no reason for liking someone, it's a ‘just because’ kind of thing.

“and she's super pretty! especially when she smiles and laughs, which i know is rare, but she only ever does it around you guys, you know? she hates it but, when her bunny teeth shows it's the cutest thing and i think that makes her so unique. and she may seem cold, but i think she really cares for you guys! like whenever we go to parties, she doesn't drink cause she know you guys would get drunk, so someone has to take care of you guys.” jake rambles. he takes a deep breath, only then noticing the boys' wide eyes all staring at him.

“what?”

sunghoon, who has been silent all this while, shakes his head, gesturing for jake to go on.

“y/n's... well she doesn't show it. but she's actually really sensitive. every time you guys tease her, she may flick you off but deep down, she does get hurt! i mean you can just tell by the way her eyes shift downwards and she goes quiet for awhile.” jake frowns at a fresh memory from just last week when the boys joked about you rejecting a boy who confessed to you too coldly, and you had looked hurt for a second, before masking it up into annoyance.

“she hates it when people see her blush, but when she does, her cheeks don't turn pink, her neck does. and she always tucks her hair back when she's nervous and she'll never make eye contact with you! she's always the happiest when she's with us, and you'll miss her subtle smile if you don't pay attention. her eyes always go brighter and her way of showing care and love is by rolling her eyes and being childish.”

“i like y/n. i really do, i know i've known her the shortest and there are still many things i need to know and understand about her, but i just want you guys to know i'm really sincere about her.”

jake has to take a deep breath once he's finished. his face is red, and his mouth is dry from all the rambling. even so, he wants to go on, and he intends to, until heeseung cuts in, with his palm in his face, stopping him.

“okay that's enough. we get it jake, we trust you.” heeseung utters out with a smirk, finding the flush on his friend's cheeks awfully funny and cute. “we know you're a good guy and we think you'll be good for y/n! let's just take this slowly, okay? let's discuss after class.”

heeseung grabs his bag and heads for the door, turning back to jake as he winks, “don't worry, we won't tell y/n.” he twists the door knob and immediately halts.

right behind the door, stands you with wide eyes in shock and your hand about to knock. the heat is evident in your neck as you glance from heeseung to jake then you look away immediately.

“i...” your throat dries up as you snap out of it and tuck your hair behind your ear in a hurry, “i just wanted to grab my book.” then without looking at any of them, you cover up the side of your neck, sneak pass heeseung to grab your belongings and you run out of the room.

sunoo chuckles awkwardly, “well... at least you got her behavior on point.”

© jwsverse

[yummyuta]

under the same roof | l.j ft l.m

♡ genre: smut - mdni! (lee jeno x reader) & slight angst | word count: 2,233

♡ warnings: fingering, voyeurism, phone sex & masturbation

♡ summary: tensions rise when your roommate mark goes out of town for a few days, leaving you with your other unfamiliar roommate, jeno. will you be able to bridge the gap between the two of you or continue to avoid each other until mark returns?

♡ authors note: this is part 2 of this fic, read part 1 here.

♡ song recommendation:

over the next few weeks things settled into a playful routine. the three of you all hanging out together, often sprawled on the couch, binge watching a show, or having a movie marathon. during these sessions, jeno couldn’t resist his urges. he would subtly slide closer under the blanket, his hand brushing against the inside of your thighs and he’d whisper teasing comments about laying you down, and fucking you senseless right there.

you had begun to get used to sneaking around with jeno. there was nothing inherently wrong with what you were doing, but you didn't want to ward any suspicion or questions from mark. you knew he was protective of you, even more so now that he had to pick up the pieces of your shattered heart off the floor. it was best to stay in your bubble with jeno for now. it felt...safer that way.

one day, as mark wandered off to the kitchen, jeno pulled you into a quick yet exhilarating kiss. this was a dangerous game you were playing. part of you knew that, but you didn't want to admit it. you wanted to keep jeno close to you this way. it was intoxicating the way he filled your lungs with such yearning that you were becoming addicted to it. you could hear mark asking if you wanted anything, yet could barely choke out a coherant response with the feeling of jeno's mouth sucking and biting on your neck. "no thank you...i got everything i need" you mustered out, looking down at jenos head settled in the crook of your shoulder. he looked up at you with wandering eyes, smirking knowing exactly what you meant by that.

you heard mark's footsteps in the distance, and just as he entered the room, jeno leaned back onto the couch as if nothing had happened, leaving you flustered. mark pressed play on the movie you were currently watching, and quickly became engrossed in it. you, however, found it incredibly difficult to pay attention to the plot with jeno next to you, his hands sliding up and down your thighs from under the blanket, getting dangerously closer to heat each time. you glared at jeno, warning him to back off. he raised an eyebrow at you, challenging your gaze as his fingers brushed past the waistband of your shorts. you shuddered abruptly which mark took notice too. "are you okay, do you need another blanket?" you quickly shook your head no and told him not to worry.

you bit your lip as jeno pushed his hands past your waist. your legs slightly opening a bit more to give him access before locking them closed around his fingers when they made way into your pussy. luckily you were watching an action movie so the loud fighting sounds drowned out any gasps, whimpers or moans that involuntarily made their way out of your mouth. jeno kept his eyes glued to the screen despite wanting nothing more than to look at your flushed cheeks and heaving chest. he looked over at mark who was sitting on the seat to the left of where you and jeno were on the couch making sure the coast was clear before suitating himself closer to your body.

you tried to keep your eyes averted from him, but jeno sped his digits up, tearing your attention away in suprise. you nearly choked out a sob, but he titled his head to the side, motioning to mark as a reminder that you needed to be a good quiet girl. his lips went close to your ear, whispering teasing praises about how well you behave for him. "i can't believe you are letting me do this to you with your best friend in the room." you rolled your eyes, wanting to scoff at him, but you kept your compusure. you didn't want to admit it, but this entire situation turned you on, and you found yourself close to release relatively quickly. "come on love, finish all over my fingers and look at him while you do it." was the last thing jeno whispered before he moved to place a kiss behind your ear, wanting to keep moving back to his spot in your neck but opting not to since it might be too obvious.

he held your hips down with his forearm as your legs studdered. you brought the blanket up towards your face, to suppress your noises but you did as you were told looking over at mark who seemingly had no idea what was going on less than 10 feet away from him. jeno removed his fingers from you, placing them in his mouth, leisurely licking them clean without a care in the world. you looked at him in pure shock, he was shamless completely different from the man you first met but you loved it. you wanted nothing more than to kiss him in that moment but that would have to wait until later.

-------------------------------------------------------

despite the teasing and sneaking around, there was an undeniable bond growing between you and jeno. the banter, the stolen kisses, and the shared glances all contributed to a deepening connection. his affection and attentiveness were undeniable. even with mark around, jeno’s care was evident. he had this knack for making even the most mundane tasks feel special. it was in the little things—the way he’d wrap a blanket around you when you dozed off on the couch, or how he would carry you into your room and kiss you on the forehead as he tucked you in. he listened to you and paid attention whenever you had a good or bad day or when you were excited about something that you were interested in. however, there was a knot of fear in your stomach. the ease with which he cared for you both comforting and confusing. you had been burned once before and the idea of talking about what you were becoming—what you might be—seemed daunting.

suddenly, like a blessing and a curse, jeno ended up having to go out of town for work. this gave you time to reflect on your situation and breathe a little. as you tossed and turned in bed, becoming incredibly restless, you realized something. you missed the sound of his deep voice, the way he drew circles on your waist with his fingertips before pulling you tighter by your hips into him. the reverberation of his chuckle as it hit your back after you told him a joke in your state of sleep deprived delerium.

before you could stop yourself, you sighed as your hand was reaching over to your nightstand, unplugging your phone from its charger. you punched in his number, pressing your phone against your ear as you fumbled with the drawstrings of your shorts. "babygirl?" his voice immediately bringing you at ease, the nickname he had started calling you just a few short days ago ringing in your eyes. you spoke briefly about your days before your hand began moving in between your legs, fingers wanting to move the fabric of your underwear to the side. "i miss you...so much jeno" you whimpered, trying to contain the desperation in your voice.

"really? what do you miss about me?" he questioned you. jeno was smart he knew what you were after and he would happily give it to you but you were going to have to work for it a little bit.

"your voice...and" your voice trailed off as you slipped a hand up to your breast, softly caressing the nipple teasing yourself. "your taste", you tried to continue. "is my princess touching herself right now?" jeno snarked at you. "i cant help it, but its not enough i need your touch." he paused, thinking to himself for a moment before instructing you on what to do. you continued playing with your tits with one hand while your other headed south to your entrance.

you circled your clit a few times, electricity beginning to surge through you before sliding your middle finger in. soft gaps and moans filled your room. jeno kept talking to you, whispering sweet nothings. "do your fingers stretch you out as good as mine? add another one love, you can take it." you listened intently, rolling your eyes back as your index finger followed suit. pumping furiously, legs shaking, your juices were soaking your sheets, and you wished for nothing more than more jeno to be there drinking you up. you were so close you could taste it.

this was the first time you were actually getting so much satisfaction from pleasuring yourself. you felt like you understood your body so much better now that you have been with jeno. you mumbled out "i....love..." but stopped yourself from spilling your feelings. "you love what?" he asked. you couldnt say those words, not now when hes not even actually here. you focused back on the feeling you were experiencing. "how i feel right now," you managed to get out.

"then let it all go." jeno said in a hushed, seductive tone. your body obeyed, listening to his cues as you released all over yourself. chest heaving, and thighs tingling, you were finally worn out. eyes closing softly as jeno calmed you to sleep.

-------------------------------------------------------

unbeknowst to you, mark was catching on and confronted you about it the following morning. "hey i heard you talking on the phone last night as well as some...other stuff." you immediately placed your hands over your face, wanting to dig yourself into a hole and disappear. matters only got worse when his expression got sulky and he whined, "you have a boyfriend and didnt tell me." you quickly explained that it wasn't like that, and you weren't exactly sure what you were, but you would be more careful from now on. mark left it at that, not wanting to pry any further into your business. you felt horrible keeping a secret like this from your best friend and knew that it was now or never.

jeno came back one afternoon when mark was out. he barged through the door, wasting no time, beginning to kiss you feverishly as he led you back to your room. he mumbled against your lips, how much he missed you.

you knew if this continued, you would never ask, so you pushed him a way a bit, and he saw your face and how nervous you were. so you took his hand, leading him to sit down on the bed. you cleared your throat, trying to find the right words to say as you began pacing the room. "do you like me?" his eyes widened, confusing setting in on his face but answering "yes." trying to kiss you once more, lips barely brushing yours but it still wasnt right.

you felt like that wasn't good enough, you needed a clearer answer, so you asked him again. "no, do you actually like ME or just the sex?" you couldnt even look at him, your leg was bouncing. he came closer, lifting your chin and said "you".

his lips met yours again, things were getting heated. his hands reaching up to cup your breasts. you were losing yourself in the feeling but shook your head shoving him away for a final time, breaking, "what are we?" he titled his head and stared at you knowingly. "do you really need me to spell it out for you?" you felt so small, and self concious before adding "im sorry, im just confused i like you a lot but we just hang out, and fuck around. i dont do this, i want you to be my boyfriend and i want to go out on dates with you, and go on trips, and be able to tell our friends." you paused, choosing your next words very carefully because there would be no coming back from them. "i just want you...i love you."

he just smiled at you as you rolled your eyes again and started whining because why wasn't he saying anything. suddenly, he asked, "will you be my girlfriend?" you thought you were dreaming. "i knew i liked you ever since i saw you wearing my tshirt in the kitchen, but i knew i was falling more in love with you everytime we were together and when i wasnt home i just wanted to be with you." he explained, and that was enough to ease your mind and heart. now it was your turn to lean him and kiss him, finally letting yourself relish in the feeling of your now boyfriend.

you were so happy, your hearts and bodies finally connecting. jeno moving you up the bed settling in between you as you fell deeper into the pillows and his embrace. your love for him enveloping you. you were both so lost in the moment that you didnt even notice your door opening slightly.

"I KNEW IT! you suddenly heard, shoving jeno away so hard he fell off the bed. he got dejavu and started laughing while you sat there unsure of what to do or say now. "you guys fucked while i went on that trip didnt you?" mark questioned, eyebrow lifting curiously. although he already knew the answer, he had a feeling for a while. you just nodded and he smiled, saying "i told you he didnt hate you." then he closed the door leaving you and jeno to finish what you had started.

[sweetyyhippyy]

After Party. Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader. *Fluff*

Summary: Eddie's fiancé has the best time at her bachelorette party. So much fun that Eddie has to take care of her when she gets home.

Word Count: 1.6k

TW: Very drunk reader. Mentions of alcohol. Reader being kind of an airhead (she's drunk its not her fault). Reader also being hungover.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie had long nodded off on the couch, the reruns on the tv had run their course and now the late night infomercials played. He felt himself falling asleep while he waited for his fiancé to make her way back home from her bachelorette party, bargaining with himself he would only close his eyes for 5 minutes.  

The rapid ding of the doorbell jolted him awake, his brown eyes scanning the room in confusion at first until the annoyance of the constant ringing brought him back. He lifted himself onto his feet, shuffling to the door and opening it up. 

His fiancé was wrapped around her best friend Gianna, a squiggly smile on her face. 

“She’s fucked up.” Gianna says, handing Eddie his bride-to-be's discarded boots and her clutch purse. “I would have called to have you come pick her up, but she threatened to push me into a bush if I called you.” 

Eddie sighed, tossing her belongings onto the floor next to him and stepping out to grab hold of his fiancé. 

“Hello, handsome.” She slurs the second Eddie takes her by her hand. “I’m a married woman!” She snatches her hand out of his, furrowing her eyebrows at him. 

Eddie wanted to be amused, but he also knew she was going to fight him every step of the way until her eyes closed for the night. 

“I tried to get some food in her, but she wanted nothing to do with it. I brought it just in case you have better luck.” 

“I want him to give me chicken nuggets.” She grumbles at her friend, giving her a glaring look. 

“If you come inside, I’ll give you some chicken nuggets. But you have to let me help you.” 

“But Eddie will get mad if you touch me.” She pouts her bottom lip out dramatically, batting her eyes at him adorably. 

“I’ll talk to him and tell him I was just trying to help you and feed you.” He offers his hand again slowly, her hand reaching out for her while she untangles herself from Gianna. 

“She had like 5 tequila shots. That’s what this is.” Gianna laughs. “Your turn now.” 

“Yeah, thanks.” He replies, giving her an unamused face. 

“You put a ring on it, you’re responsible. I’ll call her in the morning to check up on her.” 

“You need me to call you a cab?” Eddie asks, not wanting to let her go without a safe ride home. 

“Gareth picked us up. He’s parked out front. Thanks though. Good luck.” 

Eddie leads her inside, carefully guiding her through the house 

until they reach their bedroom. “Here, let’s sit right here so I can help you get undressed.” 

She giggles loudly, bouncing on the edge of the bed. “You’re going to see me naked? And on the first date?” 

Eddie can’t help but smirk at her, kneeling down on one knee, grabbing her by her ankle to take her sock off. 

“My husband has that necklace. You kinda look like him, but he’s hotter.” She wiggles her eyebrows, laughing to herself. 

Eddie secretly loved she already referred to him as her husband.

“Where is he? He’s not here taking care of you while you’re drunk.” Eddie teases back to her. 

She stares at him for a while, quiet for the first time since she’s been home. 

Eddie was ready to jump up and grab the trash can in case she was unable to hold her liquor anymore. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“You look a lot like my husband.” She pokes his cheek with her finger. “But he’s hotter.” She repeats herself, smiling from ear to ear. 

As much as he loved her, she turned real dingy when she was drunk but it always made for an entertaining night. 

Eddie goes back to taking her socks off for her, rubbing her ankle when she complained her ankles were sore from her boots. 

“I miss my husband.” She sighs, laying back on the mattress dramatically. 

“What’s your husband like?” Eddie teases, wanting to see what she would say. 

She sits up onto her elbows, smiling like an idiot. “Well like I said earlier, he kinda looks like you, but he’s so much hotter. He has really pretty brown eyes, and he has this really cute mole on his lower tummy. And he’s kinda nerdy but I like it, nerds are so cute. And he’s really sweet, he loves me even though I’m really annoying and even though I drool in my sleep.”

Eddie stifles a laugh, he sure did love her despite her drooling in her sleep. “Sounds like a hell of a guy if you ask me.” 

She hums happily. “He got me this.” She shows off the engagement ring on her hand, smiling at it. 

He wasn’t going to lie, he wasn’t entirely happy with the engagement ring he had bought her. He always wanted to get her a flashy diamond like her friend Janett Marks had when she got engaged. But all he could afford was a puny diamond that was barely .5 caret. He thought she deserved something so much bigger. 

“Eddie worked so hard to get this for me. Worked a lot of hours and saved a lot of money.” A warm smile spreads across her face the longer she looks at the ring. “I really lucked out with him, I have such a good man.” 

Eddie couldn’t help but smile at her, wanting nothing more than to kiss her but she didn’t even know who he was and he didn’t want to confuse her. “Yeah, it sounds like you have a good one there. Why don’t I get you some pajamas and get you to bed?” 

She whines, throwing herself back into the bed. “I’m hungry! Eddie always feeds me!” 

“What do you want to eat, sweetheart?” 

“First,” She hops back up, wagging her finger around in the air. “Nobody calls me sweetheart other than Eddie.” 

“Okay, noted. I’m sorry.” 

“Second, I want taquitos with cheese.” 

Eddie bites back a smile, nodding his head. “Alright, I can do that. But you gotta change.” He walks over to her dresser, getting out a pair of sweatpants and a band tshirt for her. 

“You’re trying to get me naked!” She laughs obnoxiously. “You naughty boy! You can’t see me naked! You have to go!” 

“Yup, yup. I’m going.” Eddie puts his hands up in the air to surrender, closing the door behind him. “Jesus Christ.” He sighs, never seeing her that drunk before. He knew the next morning was going to be rough for her. 

By the time the taquitos were done in the microwave, she still hadn't come out of their bedroom and he was a little worried that she might have gotten sick or hurt herself by accident. 

He walks back to the room, slowly opening the door to peek his head in. 

She’s in the middle of the bed and on top of the sheets, pajamas surprisingly on her body correctly, small snores coming from her. 

Eddie goes into their closet and grabs an extra blanket, laying it on top of her, along with the trash can next to her side of the bed, just in case. “Love you, sweetheart.” 

*** 

Eddie jumps back from the pan as the grease from the bacon pops at him. “Fucker.” He curses, turning the heat down. 

“Eds?” He hears a mumble from behind him. 

He turns around to see his fiancé dragging her feet into the kitchen, eyes half open, black smudges under her eyes from the makeup Eddie tried to wipe off her face while she was asleep, and hair going in every single direction. 

“Oh good afternoon sleepy head. So nice of you to get up this fine Saturday morning. How’d you sleep?” Eddie puts on his best chipper tone, teasing her in her hungover state. 

“I feel like a giant bus hit me and ran me over.” She whines, sitting in the chair a few feet from him. “Did you have to come get me?” 

“No Gareth and Gianna brought you home, but not without a fight from you.” He smirks, putting a large glass of ice water and Tylenol in front of her. 

She grimaced at him, only imagining what she did or said to him last night. “Oh god I’m sorry. Did I say anything incriminating?” 

Eddie chuckles to himself as he flips the bacon onto the other side. “Just that your husband is hotter than me.” He turns back to look at her reaction, a shit eating grin on his face. 

She groans to herself, struggling to open the medicine bottle before whining and looking to Eddie for help. 

Eddie walks over, taking the bottle from her and opening it, shaking two white pills out and handing them to her. “Would you like a tequila sunrise to wash that down?” He teases. 

Her body visibly retches at the word tequila. “God no, eww.” 

“Come on babe!” Eddie chuckles loudly. “They say the cure to a killer hangover is to keep drinking.” 

She glares at him, holding up her middle finger to him. “You’re an ass.” She pops the pills into her mouth and takes a few sips of water before putting the cup down. “I’m sorry if I was embarrassing or was too much last night. I know sloppy drunks aren’t fun.” 

He smiles as he kisses her temple. “You had fun at your bachelorette party and I’m glad. I’ll gladly take care of you when you’re fucked up any day. It’s all part of the deal, right?” Eddie takes her left hand and touches her engagement ring. 

She smiles at him and softly nods her head. “All part of the deal.” 

“Besides, next weekend is my bachelor party. And who knows what kind of shit the guys and I are going to get into.” Eddie smirks before walking away to finish cooking breakfast.

She knew she was going to be in way over her head with drunk Eddie next weekend. She would no doubt have to rope Wayne into helping her.

[archangeldyke-all]

what about sev and reader meeting little fucker'd girlfriend's parents?

sevika it's like "im killing your daughter if she hurts my baby" and then one of the parents it's like "no, im killing your daughter if she hurts my daughter" and then sevika just shrugs like "yeah that's fair"

this is just so funny i'm such a sucker for family fics heheh

men and minors dni

your daughter's been dating her girlfriend for two years now, and in the fall they'll be going off to college together, so you and sevika figured it was time to bite the bullet and meet her parents.

it's not that you don't want to. it's just that... your family is definitely a lot for those not as used to it as smooches is (smooches is the nickname the twins came up with for little fucker's girlfriend-- because of all the kisses the two are always sharing) and smooches comes from a quiet family.

she's an only child, both of her parents are super smart lawyer types-- and you and sevika both worry that they'll take one look at your home (currently in disrepair because the twins are going through a 'science experiment' phase) and your family (whose love language is teasing and squabbling) and they'll decide that their daughter actually shouldn't be spending so much time with her girlfriend and family. which would break both of your hearts, because as much as you tease little fucker and smooches--your daughter's girlfriend is basically your family now.

she's over for dinner more nights than not, she spends the night on weekends, and the twins adore her.

so, you're all trying to be on your best behavior at dinner tonight. (trying being the key word, because there are just some familial duties that even the best behavior cannot stop.)

stinkerbutt goes around the table at the restaurant and pulls out each chair for the adults, helping push in smooches' dads in with some help from her twin, kissing you and sevika's cheeks sweetly when she pushes you two up to the table.

shithead very politely stacks all your dishes and glasses together between bread, appetizers, and after dinner-- ensuring the table is easy to clear for the waitresses and there's more room for everyone to spread out.

you and sevika exchange pleasentries with mr. and mr. smooches, asking them about work and drama on the pta at the girls' high school-- and you even get some friendly banter going when it's revealed that sevika and one of smooches' dads' share favorite television shows. they spend about fifteen minutes gushing to each other about the writing while you and smooches' remaining dad roll your eyes fondly-- both happy they're not talking to you about the nerdy shit for a change.

there's not one stain on any of your sort-of matching outfits-- little fucker wanted to look like a unit so she insisted you all wear blue-- and you're under the impression that you've made it through the night with out incident.

you're wrong.

but, surprisingly, it isn't your family that starts it tonight.

"i have to say something." mr. smooches mumbles at the end of the night as you're waiting for dessert to be brought to the table.

"babe--" his husband responds, in that same placating tone you recognize from how often you use it on sevika. "it's been such a nice night."

"pops please don't." smooches groans from her seat beside him.

still, mr. smooches clears his throat and takes a sip of his wine before speaking.

"you all are a lovely family," he begins while his daughter groans and hides her face behind her hands, "and i am so grateful my daughter's found someone who loves her so much-- and someone whose family loves her too..." you all wait in tense silence for him to continue.

"but?" little fucker asks.

"but it is my duty as a father to tell all of you that if my daughter is ever hurt-- physically or emotionally-- i do know lawyers who can make murder charges disappear." he says with a shrug.

you raise an eyebrow at his husband, impressed, and he groans and buries his own face in his hands-- just like his daughter.

beside you, sevika bursts into laughter and smacks his back. "i didn't think you had it in you!" she cackles.

"what do you mean?" smooches asks from between her dads, her mortification lessening at sevika's reaction.

"i've been watchin' your old man try to work up the courage to threaten us all night."

"it wasn't a threat! it was just a fun fact about myself i wanted to share." smooches dad says with a growing smile. sevika cackles.

"well, here's a fun fact about our family-- together i think we've got, what was it babe? twenty three?"

"twenty four." you fill in for sevika. sevika grins and kisses your cheek.

"twenty four cousins in prison, so, y'know. we probably wouldn't be able to get rid of the charges, but we'd definitely know how to handle the bodies." she says with a shrug.

the table bursts into laughter, and mr. smooches reaches across the table to give sevika a solid handshake.

you and his husband sit back and watch with fond amusement as your daughters attempt to sneak away from the table without anybody noticing.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

imagine steve waiting on you

this goes out to all my babes that love punk music

The hallway leading to your office was quiet, the echoes of Steve Roger's footsteps were quiet but pronounced. He checked his watch and smiled, you were supposed to meet him downstairs fifteen minutes ago. As he drew closer to your office, the silence had gave way to heavy, loud music. He chuckled to himself and opened the office door. As always his ears were assaulted by the sounds of lead vocalist Keith Morris of Black Flag. Of course, he had left the band citing creative differences and a self proclaimed coke habit but you had always preferred Morris's vocals over the other singers.

Why did Steve know this?

Because you were a complete music nerd and he adored getting you drunk to hear your rants over why the southern California punk movement produced some of the greatest punk bands of all time.

Anything for love.

"Your ears are going to bleed out," Steve turned down the speakers near the door and smiled over at you.

At your desk, you looked up from your computer. "Shit."

"Yup."

Steve looked handsome and put together, while you were wearing an old Bad Religion tee from your high school days. "Fuck."

Steve laughed, telling you it was fine. "I sorta lied about the reservation time, we still have an hour."

Shutting down your computer, because work can wait until tomorrow, you smiled up at your boyfriend. "You are so getting your dick sucked tonight."

He laughed, cheeks redder than a tomato. "At least let me buy you dinner..."

Moving from your desk to Steve, you melted into his arms as he kissed your forehead, then your lips. His arms wrapped around your body and you relaxed under his touch. "I can give you dessert now, if you want..."

Steve groaned but kissed you softly on the lips. "Later, baby. I know you haven't eaten much today. Let me take you out to dinner."

Nodding you kissed him once more. "Fine, I better go get changed. This dissertation is kicking me in the ass. After this is all done, I want to take a long vacation and fuck your brains out."

Again the man blushed but quickly added that California could be a good vacation spot. Your eyes immediately lit up and Steve laughed as you listed all the bands that came out of California. He helped motioned you out of the office, letting you go on and on because even though he hadn't the slightest clue what you were talking about - he loved seeing you so passionate and he had to admit, it kind of turned him on.

[thezombieprostitute]

Tech Tuesday: Lloyd Hansen

Summary: It's your first week on the job and you find yourself having to deal with a very angry higher up.

Warnings: Power imbalance, Yelling. Please let me know if I missed any.

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

"For the last time, Hansen, NO! We have these regulations for a reason." Levinson was yet again regretting hiring Lloyd. There's no denying the man got results but were the results worth the cost of dealing with the man? He'll have to get some of his analysts take a look. He doesn't even have to ask and he knows Raymond, his assistant, has made note to ask them.

"It's a bullshit regulation," Lloyd argues. "There's one IT person who can work with me, why the hell wouldn't they be the one to go with me on this trip? You've always been okay with us bringing some tech head in case our company electronics have problems."

"Yes, but that's for experienced tech employees," Jonathan intervenes. "This young lady has been working with us for only a few weeks. She is very skilled, yes, but---"

"And she's the only one of your team that isn't a pompous ass," Lloyd sneers. Ari, Jonathan and Raymond all give him a look. "Yeah, I know I'm a pompous ass. It's why I don't work well with those other assholes."

Ari sighs, "still, we can't have such a new employee going on a trip. You're going to take a more experienced IT member or you will take no one."

Lloyd huffs before stomping out of the CEO's office.

The project for the CFO is taking up a lot of your time but you're grateful for having something to focus on between tickets. Working with people was never your strong suit and those tickets can be draining.

Except for the ones from Hansen, funny enough. While you understand why others don't like to work with him, you're grateful that he leaves you be. He doesn't pester you with questions or offer advice that you have to pretend is good. He doesn't talk about his life's story or complain about "technology these days" that you have to half listen to so as not to appear rude. He lets you work, get in the zone, and you can get the ticket completed without feeling drained afterwards.

He seems like the naturally loud and demanding type so the fact that he's quiet when you work really means something to you. And he always follows it up with praising your work. The nickname "Maestro" seems to have stuck with the rest of the IT crew and it's really helped you feel more like you belong. You're genuinely grateful to Lloyd for that.

Almost as if your thoughts made him manifest, Lloyd enters your cubicle and sets his laptop next to you.

"Hey there, Maestro," Lloyd smiles. "My laptop is acting up. Take a look at it for me, will ya?"

"Um, Mr. Hansen, Sir, did you submit a ticket?"

Lloyd's smile drops. "If I did that, it might not get assigned to you. This way we can work around that requirement and spend some more time together."

"I'm, I'm sorry, Sir," you shake your head. "You have to submit the ticket. It's regulation."

"What the hell is with everyone and these damn regulations?!"

"I could get in trouble, Sir," you explain. "If I fix your laptop without submitting a ticket, that's work time that I can't account for. In other cases, Sir, if something goes wrong with company property, they need to know who was responsible for fixing it. If I fix your laptop but the fix doesn't work, there's a gap in that item's history that could throw off future updates. I really don't want to get in trouble, Mr. Hansen." You look up at him, eyes pleading.

He sighs, "well, can't have a good girl like you getting in trouble on my account, huh?" You try to hide your reaction to being called a good girl but Lloyd gives you a look before grinning at you. "Did you like that?" His voice is low and he brings himself to your level so he's right next to your ear. "Do you like being a good girl?"

"Y-yes, Sir," you confess.

He chuckles, "I'll remember that, Maestro." He grabs his laptop and gives you a wink before sauntering out.

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory;

@late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82; @ozwriterchick; @ronearoundblindly; @lokislady82

[morose-melodies]

a quiet place x yandere! dottore

dottore could not find it in himself to leave his lab behind, no, it was too dear to him - he had conducted far too many experiments and learned far too many things to let it go so easily.

not to mention you. if he considered leaving the laboratory, he would have to take you along with him; you, though he couldn't imagine being without you, you were a pain in his side.

dottore could not leave this laboratory. so, he decided he would make do with his situation. dottore had since removed his shoes since the last thing he would want was the alert those creatures.

dottore expected that you'd soon be waking up from your week-long sleep. after those creatures had crashed down on snezhnaya, dottore reasoned that you would only cause him trouble so, with a tasty concoction, he put you to sleep.

dottore entered his laboratory, where you slept stiffly on the exam table. he maneuvered around you, grabbing a notebook and prepared to scribble away - to explain the situation the two of you were in.

you shifted, slowly sitting up.

dottore held a finger over his lip, silently hushing you. he saw that look on your face; he saw the way your lips parted, the way you wanted to scream, so he held his finger over your lip, shaking his head once again hushing you.

slowly, he moved his finger away from your lip and began scribbling in the notepad; you could make out the words 'you must,' 'silent,' 'there,' 'creatures, ' a sound,' and 'die.'

you shook your head - curse his messy handwriting, but now you were afraid and more confused than you were when you woke up.

dottore looked back down to the pad and wrote the word 'understand?'

again, you shook your head, but you didn't dare speak - if he was telling the truth, you would die, so you couldn't risk it.

dottore looked down at the notepad, before glancing at you, then he wrote 'do not make a sound.'

this felt real... this didn't feel like one of his sadistic mind games, not this time and you were scared.

and it seemed dottore knew you all too well, as much as you hated it - he watched as a tear rolled down your cheek and he wiped it away. he would do anything to keep you quiet, anything.

so, when your bottom lip quivered, and you leaned forward, attempting to get off of the exam table, dottore hugged you.

it was a firm hug; one to keep your cries muffled and keep you in place. so, when he felt you cry on his shoulder he was just grateful that he was there to muffle the cries - he would pet your head, silently soothing you without a complaint if that kept you calm.

but that was never enough to keep the monsters at bay.

his pen rolled off the table and dropped to the floor. in that moment, dottore lowered his head and sighed.

you heard the creature crash through the manor and heard its purr as it roamed around and dottore held a finger to your lips, shaking his head.

you were in tears at this point, all you could think of was how you would die and never see your family again.

the creature roamed his laboratory, and you trembled - dottore tried to calm you, his free hand massaging your trembling hand but it was of no use.

he looked at you, at your wide tearful eyes and mouthed, "close your eyes," and you did.

the creature purred, bumping into glass vials and whatnot, getting alarmed and examining the room repeatedly before eventually turning and leaving the laboratory but it never left the manor.

dottore sighed once more, there goes his laboratory. he stepped back slowly, assessing the situation - liquids spilled all over the floor, glass shattered everywhere, and years of research down the drain.

it seemed he had nothing left to stay for - leaving was now preferable; leaving with you, that was.

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Shattered Pieces (logan)

Summary: Logan leaves you broken and shattered

WC: 740ish

Warnings: ansgt

Read on Ao3!

-

The rain poured down relentlessly, the sky shrouded in thick, dark clouds. You stood under the small awning of a cabin you and Logan had shared for the past few months. It was a quiet refuge, a world away from the chaos of the X-Men and everything else. But peace was something fleeting, especially with Logan.

You watched the storm roll in, matching the turmoil inside you. The tension between you and Logan had been building for days, ever since you’d heard rumors of the new mission that required his attention. His silence had been suffocating, and the weight of the impending goodbye hung heavily in the air.

“I didn’t want to tell you like this,” Logan’s gruff voice cut through the sound of the rain. His posture was stiff, like he was bracing himself for the inevitable.

You turned to face him, heart sinking at the sight of his clenched fists and the pained look in his eyes. "When were you going to tell me?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, though the ache in your chest threatened to break it.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, running a hand through his damp hair. “But I’m leaving soon.”

Of course, he was. You weren’t stupid—this was how it always went with Logan. He had demons, and every time things got too close, he pulled away, chasing a fight, a war, anything to escape the connection that terrified him.

“Logan, I can’t keep doing this,” you whispered, stepping closer, though the distance between you felt more like miles than inches. "Every time it feels like we’re getting somewhere, like you're letting me in, you just… leave. You shut me out."

His jaw clenched, eyes darkening with an emotion you couldn't fully place. “It’s not that simple. You know what I am. I’m not—” He stopped, voice wavering, almost like he was trying to hold back something, maybe even himself.

“I know exactly what you are,” you interrupted, stepping closer. “But I also know that you’re the only one who understands me. You’re my missing puzzle piece, Logan. Every time you leave, it’s like a part of me goes missing with you.”

The rawness in your voice cracked something in him, but instead of drawing closer, Logan took a step back, shaking his head. His eyes were burning with a mix of regret and anger. “I’ll only hurt you, you don’t get it. I can’t—I don’t deserve this.”

“You’re not a monster, Logan.” Your voice was barely above a whisper now, pleading. “Stop trying to convince me that you don’t care because I know you do.”

Logan let out a bitter laugh, filled with self-loathing. "I can’t give you what you want, what you need. You deserve someone better. Someone who won’t disappear in the middle of the night and come back bloodied with a trail of bodies behind him."

“That’s not for you to decide,” you snapped, tears finally breaking free as you fought to keep your voice steady. “I’m not scared of you. I’m scared of losing you.”

He turned away, unable to meet your eyes. “You already have.”

The words felt like a punch to the gut, stealing the air from your lungs. Silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. You could see it in his eyes—he had already made his choice.

“You’re just going to leave, then?” Your voice broke, and you hated how vulnerable you sounded. “After everything?”

Logan turned back to face you, his expression a mix of guilt and pain. “I’m doing this for you.”

“No, Logan,” you said, your voice low and filled with sorrow. “You’re doing this for yourself. Because you’re scared.”

He didn’t deny it. His eyes softened, and for a moment, you saw the man underneath all the anger and regret. The man who, despite his attempts to push you away, had let you in, piece by piece.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice rough, as if the words themselves were too hard to say.

Without another word, Logan turned and walked out into the storm. You stood there, watching him disappear into the rain, knowing that this time, he might not come back.

The sound of the rain echoed in the emptiness he left behind, and you hugged yourself, trying to keep warm. But no amount of warmth could fill the hole he’d just left in your heart.

Because Logan Howlett was your missing puzzle piece.

And now, you were incomplete.

-

tags!

EVERYTHING PERM: @nekoannie-chan @kjs-s @notyourtypicalrose @mistressofallthingsgeeky

MARVEL PERM: @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @late-to-the-party-81 @capsthot @kenzieam @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes

LOGAN/WOLVERINE:  @winterslove1917

[shellbilee]

Hey There Darlin' - Chapter 9

A Glen Powell RPF Series

Warning: Smutttt, cursing

Glen

Glen looks down at his watch as he walks out of the gym, tilting his wrist to shield it from the glare of the Friday afternoon sun. 3.30pm. 

He pulls out his phone to text Billie knowing she finishes early on Fridays, opening his texts and looking down at their last message. She’d replied to the message he'd sent at lunchtime asking how her day was going.

He smiles as he looks down at her words, picturing her face as he reads. He's been unable to stop thinking about her since he'd left her place yesterday, certain he was becoming totally infatuated by everything that was Billie.

He goes to type a text message but then quickly deletes it, deciding to facetime her instead. He jumps into his car as his phone starts to ring out, glancing at his sweaty, post-gym reflection in the review mirror just as Billie's face appears smiling on the screen.

“Hey handsome”

Glen can't help the way he grins back at her then. She’s so fucking beautiful, her long hair pulled back into a high pony tail that's snaking down her shoulder, a pair of trendy, clear framed glasses perched on her nose. Almost instantly he feels his insides stirring in that most delectable way - he didn’t know he had a thing for girls with glasses until just now. 

Fuck.

“Hey darlin’. What you doing?”

“Just finishing up some paperwork and then I’m out of here. You?”

“Just finished the gym and thinking about you”

Billie grins teasingly, her eyes bright behind her glasses.

“Oh yeah? Thinking about me and anything specific?”

Glen grins back, taking the bait.

“Well originally I was just thinkin’ about how I wanted to see you again. But seeing you in glasses, now I’m thinkin’ about a whole lot of other things”

Billie laughs gorgeously, her smile taking up her whole face in that way that Glen finds insanely attractive.

“You’re bad Glen”

He winks mischievously. “I’m just gettin’ started Billie”.

They both laugh, grinning back at one another through the screen.

“Anyway” he says, taking his hat off and reaching up to run his hands through his gym-sweaty hair, “The actual reason I called was to see what you were doing tonight?”

“Oh yeah? Any chance you want some company with your Netflix? What do the kids say, Netflix and chill?”

Billie tilts her head and leans back in her chair.

“Can’t say I really had any plans tonight, was just going to head home and take Nugget for a walk and then have a quiet night in with Netflix”

Billie laughs again, this time louder.

“I'm not sure you’re up with the kid's lingo these days old man, Netflix and chill doesn’t mean what you think it means”

Billie shakes her head and chuckles. 

Glen laughs, shooting her a mildly offended face.

“First of all, I’m not old. Second of all, I’m well aware of what Netflix and chill means. And I mean it in that sense and the literal sense” he says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Well then, since you’re offering both, yes, I’d love some company” she replies, winking back gorgeously and making Glen feel all kinds of things, “I’m leaving here in five, so feel free to meet me at home? Usually it takes me about twenty minutes or so to get home”.

Glen nods. “I’ll head home, have a shower n’ grab Brisket, then we’ll come over?”

“Oh yeah? I’m very okay with that too, but only if you’re joinin’ me”

Billie tilts her head as if she's thinking for a moment, her lips stretching into a sly smile.

“You know, I am very ok with you showering at mine if you’d like” she adds flirtatiously, Glen raising an eyebrow as he looks back at the screen.

Billie bites her lip teasingly and grins. “I think that can be arranged”

Glen flashes her his best grin.

“See you soon, peach”.

---

Glen hears Nugget barking before he’s even at the door, Brisket instantly bouncing excitedly at the sound of his friend. Glen lifts his hand to knock but is beaten by the sound of Billie’s voice from somewhere telling him the door is open, wrangling Brisket on the lead as he walks them both inside.

Nugget is all over Brisket the moment they step inside, Glen unable to help his smile at the two boys sniffing furiously and wagging their tails happily. He bends to unclip Brisket and watches when they immediately sprint off into the house, pausing to look at his reflection in the hallway mirror and quickly readjusting his hat.

He lets out a breath and makes his way down the hallway, stepping into the living room to find Billie standing with her hands on her hips in front of a huge, half opened box. It takes him a second to realise that it’s her new couch that’s been delivered, too distracted by how damn gorgeous she looks standing there in her work uniform. His eyes run over her fitted black polo shirt and tight black bike shorts that show off her perfect ass, and for a moment he can’t help but wonder how any of her clients possibly focus when she’s treating them.

“Hey you” Billie says turning to face him, her smile growing bigger when Glen steps towards her and wraps his arm around her waist.

“Hey gorgeous” he replies with his own grin, pulling her into him and kissing her deeply. 

She’s still wearing her glasses from before, her beautiful hazel eyes looking even more so behind the lenses. 

“How was your day?”

Glen nods, looking over at the box that’s taking up the majority of the living room. “I'm surprised it got delivered so quickly”

Billie shrugs, smiling adorably. “Really busy actually! But definitely better when I came home to the Ikea truck pulling into my driveway”.

“Me too” Billie replies, looking back up at Glen from behind her glasses, “And I guess it's good timing that you came over tonight”.

“To help you set it up?”

Glen can’t help his laugh, grabbing her waist again and this time dipping her before he kisses her.

Billie looks up and around as if she’s thinking for a second, shrugging her shoulders innocently when she looks back at Glen.

“Well that, and also, because I'll need to christen the couch, obviously”

“And you say I’m bad”

Billie grins wickedly, reaching up to cup his jaw. “What can I say, you're rubbing off on me”

“Oh yeah? Anything else of yours need rubbing?”

Billie immediately snorts and throws her head back in laughter, Glen instantly deciding that her laugh is his new favourite sound and he’d listen to it all day if he could.

“Wow Glen, that was terrible”

“But it made you laugh though” he replies matter-of-factly and flashing his best smile, bending to kiss Billie again. Her mouth tastes like mint chewing gum and he just can’t get enough.

“You know, if you keep distracting me like this, we’ll never get this couch put together” Billie comments when they part, resting her hands on his chest and looking up at him.

Glen shoots her a mildly offended look. 

“Me distracting you? Darlin’, I don’t know if you’ve looked in the mirror today but I am most definitely not the one being distracting. Look at you” he remarks, stepping back for a moment and gesturing to her in front of him.

“Yes, your work uniform. Your fuckin’ ass Billie, my God it’s just perfect. It’s round and peachy and just--- fuck” he explains, his voice almost pained, stepping back towards her and snaking his hands down until he’s cupping her ass, squeezing her cheeks for emphasis, “It’s perfect. Seriously, how do your clients not just stare at you all day?”

Billie shakes her head in confused amusement, looking down at her outfit and back up at Glen again.

“In my work uniform?”

Billie rolls her eyes and laughs, “I work with high school and college athletes, Glen”

“I’m pretty sure they’re all aware that I’m at least ten years older than most of them”

Glen nods his head enthusiastically in response.

“Exactly my point. God, I’d be fakin’ all kinds of injuries if it meant I got to look at this” he adds, squeezing her cheeks again and making Billie giggle.

Glen shakes his head definitively. “And you think that matters?”.

Billie pulls a face and Glen can’t help but laugh. 

“Trust me darlin’, I was once a college aged boy. A perfect ass is a perfect ass”.

Billie chuckles.

“So am I correct in assuming by those words that you’re an ass man then?”

This time it’s Glen’s turn to chuckle.. 

Glen’s grin grows wider.

“You would be, yes. There’s just nothing fuckin’ better” he says gripping her ass and suddenly lifting her from the floor, Glen loving the way her legs reflexively wrap around his waist.

She folds her arms around his neck but doesn’t say anything, looking down at him expectantly like she’s waiting for him to continue.

“Like, having a handful of this in each hand?” he explains, squeezing her ass again and feeling his deep muscles contract deliciously at the feeling of holding her, “Or you know, seeing it bent over and bouncin’? Just mmm---”

His words trail off into a near-pained groan that rumbles in his throat, Glen instantly aware of his suddenly hardening erection that’s pressing into Billie’s groin. 

Billie looks down at him with bright eyes, clearly amused by his words, and he can tell from her expression that she can more than feel his growing excitement.

“Well, how about instead of just talking about my ass” Billie whispers, cupping Glen’s jaw and bending to kiss him in a way that teases more, “You put me down and help me put this couch together, then maybe I’ll let you bend me over it” 

Her words have an instant response in Glen and he immediately drops her to her feet, Billie laughing at his reaction as he bends and kisses her quickly. She grins up at him, Glen doing his best to ignore his now very restrictive shorts, reaching up to readjust his hat and looking down at her in front of him. 

He smiles wickedly.  “Give me those fuckin’ instructions”

---

Billie

“Screw bracket three into hole two on the base using a ‘C’ screw” Billie reads from the instruction pamphlet, looking up as Glen tightens the screw into the base of the couch. 

Her eyes run over his bulging biceps as he holds the electric drill, and for a second Billie has to remind herself how to breathe. 

He’s wearing a tight black Texas Longhorn’s t-shirt that hugs his muscles perfectly, a black sports cap sitting backwards on his gorgeous head. He looks casual and all-American and sexy as hell, and Billie finds herself seriously struggling to pay attention to her task at hand. Watching him screw the couch together has her thinking all kinds of things, most notably, how badly she wants him to screw her.

“Billie, darlin?” Glen asks suddenly, waving his big hand in front of her face and instantly shaking her from her thoughts, “I said can you pass me another of those big C screws?”

“Huh? Oh yeah sorry” she replies, immediately flustered, leaning back on her knees and grabbing the plastic bag of screws marked ‘C’ from the floor behind her.

“Daydreaming?” he asks when she passes him a screw, looking at her curiously with one raised eyebrow.

She shakes her head and smiles. 

“Just got caught up in my thoughts for a moment” she explains, smiling innocently as she readjusts her glasses and looks back down at the instructions in her hand.

Her cheeks heat when she feels Glen’s gaze on her for a moment longer, knowing she’s been caught and that Glen definitely knows what was on her mind just a moment ago. 

She hears him chuckle before the sound of the electric drill starts again, Billie pressing her lips together and glancing out of the living room window to see Nugget and Brisket chasing each other around the backyard.

Billie turns back when she hears her phone buzzing on the floor, picking it up to find a message in her girl’s group chat. It’s Sloane, asking what she's planning on wearing tomorrow to Chelsea’s bachelorette party, along with several pictures of her own outfit options. The party was going to be an all day event - complete with a full body spa experience, a pole dancing class, cocktails at a rooftop lounge and dancing at some Beverly Hills club to finish off the night. 

“The girls?” Glen asks when Billie’s typing back, Billie looking up to find him gazing at her expectantly.

Billie nods. “It’s Sloane. Asking what I’m wearing tomorrow”.

“What’s tomorrow?”

“A bachelorette party. A very full on bachelorette party to be exact”.

Glen doesn’t say anything, but his expression wills her to explain.

Billie ticks off the itinerary for the party tomorrow, chuckling when Glen’s eyebrows raise at the mention of pole dancing.

“Wow. I don't think I've heard of a bachelorette like that before. Where do you know Chelsea from?”

“She’s actually Bec’s little sister. She’s a few years younger than me, getting married next month” Billie explains, looking down at her phone and back up at Glen, “Her husband Patrick, his family owns olive vineyards or something so they’re really well off. Hence the crazy bachelorette party”.

“I assume the wedding's going to be just as big and crazy?”

Billie laughs. “You assume correct. It's on Catalina Island and I'm pretty sure they've hired an entire resort”.

Glen turns back and finishes screwing another one of the legs onto the couch base, wriggling it to make sure its fixed tight.

“What about you, what are you doing tomorrow? Any plans?” Billie asks, handing Glen another screw when he picks up the final leg.

“Yeah actually, I’ve got a friends birthday somewhere in West Hollywood”

“Close friend?” Billie inquires, typing another response to Sloane before putting her phone back down.

“Yeah, my boy Chord. Used to be my roommate back when I first moved to LA” Glen explains, repeating the process with the last couch leg and fixing it to the base, “We’re still super close”.

Billie tilts her head curiously. “Like, Chord, as in Chord Overstreet?”

Glen turns to face Billie and laughs. “Yes that’s him”

Bille chuckles and shakes her head, suddenly wondering if she'll ever get used to hearing Glen talk casually about his famous friends on a first name basis.

“Alright help me lift this?” Glen says suddenly, Billie getting to her feet and stabilising the back of the couch as Glen lifts it the right way up. 

Glen connects the chaise lounge section as Billie peels the protective film from the leather, the two standing back to admire the finished product in front of them.

“So where are you going to put it?” Glen asks, standing back with hands on his hips beside Billie, looking over their handiwork. “I take it we’re moving this one?” he adds, gesturing to her existing grey three-seater with his foot.

Billie nods, “Yep. And then the new one is going to go this way” she explains, motioning with her hands, gesturing along the wall to the left.

Twenty minutes later they’ve rearranged the living room, taken apart the old couch, and replaced it with the new one, Billie turning to grin at Glen happily when he walks back in from taking the last of the packaging rubbish to her bin outside.

“Happy with it?”

Billie smiles happily. “More than happy. I love it” she remarks, stepping forward to adjust one of the new fluffy throw cushions she’s put on it, before flopping down onto it.

“What are you going to do with the old one?”

“I'm gonna try and sell it. Put it on Facebook marketplace or something” she says, smoothing her hand over the caramel coloured leather.

“Thank you for helping” Billie adds when Glen sits down beside her, smiling gratefully when he reaches over and squeezes her bare thigh, “This probably would have taken me all night if you weren’t here”.

“You���re more than welcome darlin’, it was no trouble at all” he replies with a gentle smile, his fingers rubbing small circles into her skin.

She stares at his hand, loving the way his touch feels, feeling the muscles deep in her belly squeeze the longer she watches it. She hasn’t forgotten about her shower comment earlier today, her imagination suddenly conjuring thoughts of her bent over in the shower with him, Glen standing behind her and matching each push of her hips with his own.

She’s just about to open her mouth to suggest as much, Glen’s phone ringing suddenly and breaking the silence. He squeezes her thigh gently, using the other to fish his phone from his pocket and looking down at the number on the screen, offering an apologetic smile to Billie before he accepts the call.

Her thoughts elsewhere, and a slow-burning fire simmering in the pit of her insides, an idea slowly forms in her brain. She stands up from the couch, pausing mid-stand to bend and quickly kiss Glen, making her way to the bedroom and leaving him alone on her new living room couch.

She pulls the tie from her hair and runs her fingers through her long waves, stripping off her work uniform until she’s naked. She leaves her clothes in a strategic trail from her bedroom to her ensuite bathroom, looking back at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She can feel her heart start to race, butterflies unfurling in her stomach, a mix of excitement and nervousness suddenly coursing through her veins.

Billie leans into the shower and turns the water on hot, steam starting to fill the bathroom after a few seconds. She picks up her phone and lets out a shaky, excited breath, opening the camera and pointing it at the mirror until her reflection fills the screen. She turns and tosses her hair back, looking over her shoulder at the mirror, crossing her legs so that her ass curves in just the right way and she teases just a hint of side boob. Covering her face with her phone, she snaps her best sexy selfie, looking down at the screen and grinning excitedly. Deciding it’s her best work yet and feeling the adrenaline shooting down her spine, she inhales deeply, closing her eyes for a moment to calm herself, before tapping at the screen and sending it to Glen.

Waiting for you to join me for that shower, handsome 😉

Billie grins and tosses her phone onto the bathroom counter, stepping into the shower and under the spray of the hot water. She closes her eyes as she tips her head back beneath the water, sighing when she feels her muscles instantly relax. She takes a second to enjoy it - the feel of the hot water soothing her muscles and washing away the day, and the delicious feeling of anticipation from her devious text. She smiles to herself knowing she has maybe a minute before Glen sees her message, her mind filling with thoughts of one thing only.

Forty-seven seconds later she hears footsteps entering the bathroom, unable to help the way her lips part when she hears Glen curse out loud, followed by a near-pained groan that makes her feel all kinds of things deep in her stomach. She doesn’t turn around, instead hearing the shuffling sound of clothes being removed, a cool breeze from the shower door soon being opened making goosebumps rise on her skin. 

She feels Glen’s arms snaking around her waist and joining her under the spray only a second later, his arousal pressing into her ass, already thick, hard and tantalisingly perfect. A heavy breath falls from her when his hand flattens against her belly, her body being pulled back until she’s flush against his chest. She feels his other hand glide up her arm, fingers collecting her wet hair and sliding it over her shoulder, soon dancing along her throat and pulling her head back against his chest.

The action has Billie reeling, every fibre of her body suddenly on fire, her eyes closing when Glen leans in and presses his mouth to her now exposed neck. She can’t help the sigh that escapes her then, letting herself melt into Glen as he kisses and sucks at her skin in the most sensual way.

She’s in heaven, she’s sure of it, feeling her whole body turn to liquid from the feel of the steamy hot water and Glen’s mouth. She nearly whimpers when the hand on her belly glides lower, teasing her for just a moment before he’s cupping her sex. They both groan then - her at the feeling of his fingers slipping through her slippery folds, him at finding her already deliciously wet and wanting.

Her breathing heavy, she musters a sliver of focus from somewhere unknown and reaches one hand behind to find his arousal, wrapping her fingers around and gliding her fist up and down his thick length. The sound Glen makes in her ear reaches the deepest pit of her stomach, his grip on her neck tightening in the best way and only spurring her on more.

She increases her pace but momentarily stalls when Glen slips his fingers inside her, two and then a third only a moment later, the sudden decadent fullness making Billie cry out his name in the most sinful way.

“I love hearin’ you say my name darlin’’” Glen breathes in her ear, his voice only just audible over the spray of the shower, his words like silky velvet wrapping around Billie’s spine and sending shivers throughout her entire body. 

He’s still holding her throat, holding her pressed against his shoulder as he continues his assault on her neck, finger fucking her with a steady rhythm and making the edges of her vision start to blur.

Billie does her best to focus on her own rhythm as Glen curls his fingers inside her, the sounds of wet and skin getting obscenely louder as they both increase their pace. Billie can feel herself quickly unravelling, slipping further into the heady cloud of erotic bliss, her heart thumping so loud she can feel it in her ears. She squeezes her eyes shut, no longer able to focus on her coordination, reluctantly letting go of Glen and instead reaching for the wall to brace herself. 

She doesn’t quite find the wall though, suddenly feeling herself being flipped around, Glen pressing her back against the tiles, caging her in and kissing her lips again hungrily. His lips are feverish, his tongue licking into her mouth, one of his hands sliding down her thigh before hooking it up and over his arm. 

His free hand snakes back to her sex and within moments he’s buried back inside her, curling his fingers once again in a way that makes Billie moan desperately into his mouth. Glen has a better angle like this, his fingers stretching and fucking her in a way that makes her toes curl, Billie knowing she’s done for the moment he finds that perfect spot inside her.

At some point she has to force herself away from Glen’s lips, dropping her head back against the tiled wall as she cries out into the shower. His lips suddenly abandoned, Glen moves down to her throat and sucks at Billie’s skin, pressing his palm against her clit and making her cry out a second time. Billie’s leg wobbles at the new contact and she grabs for his arm, gripping at his thick biceps to stabilise herself as she feels herself start to tremble.

She knows Glen can feel it too then, knowing she’s right there on the edge, his voice deep and silky in her ear as he tells her to come for him.

“Come on peach, that’s it” Glen breathes, his voice like smooth velvet, “Let me feel it baby, let me hear you come”.

His encouragement is her undoing and all of a sudden she’s coming all over his fingers, gripping onto his arms with everything she has as she spasms around his hand. She can feel Glen kissing her as she rides out her high - aware but unable to focus on the feel of his lips on her neck, her jaw, her shoulder, too caught up in her orgasm flooding through her. 

Eventually she stills, Glen still peppering her with kisses, finally pulling his fingers from her and lowering her leg to the floor. He makes sure she’s stable, still holding her waist with one hand, Billie’s eyes fluttering open to find his pale green eyes looking down at her in awe.

“You okay?”

She answers with an exhausted but emphatic nod, the action making Glen chuckle, Billie smiling when he bends to kiss her gently and tuck strands of stray, wet hair behind her ear.

She squeezes his arm, finally recovered from her release, all of a sudden very aware of Glen’s raging arousal that’s pressing against his belly just inches from her own. She inhales deeply, her next decision forming in her brain, Glen noting the change in her expression and looking down at her curiously.

She licks her lips and pushes herself off the wall, using her grip on Glen’s arms to turn him around and swap their positions so that he’s the one now pressed against the tiles. She leans in and kisses him fleetingly, teasing his lips with her tongue, her hands moving to his chest and suddenly sliding down lower.

Glen’s eyes are on her, his lips parted in anticipation as his chest rises and falls, watching Billie’s every move as she slowly, teasingly, sinks down to her knees in front of him to return the favour.

---

Glen

They’re sitting on the new couch after their shower, Glen with a beer and Billie with a glass of rose, Glen glancing over at Billie beside him. Her damp hair is freshly washed and pulled back into a braid that’s snaking down her shoulder, her clear-framed glasses from earlier perched on her nose. She’s wearing a loose pair of soft, grey sweat shorts and a white cropped t-shirt that teases a slice of her toned abdomen whenever she moves a certain way. Even fresh from the shower and with what he’s pretty sure is a face completely free of makeup, he still can’t help but think how fucking gorgeous she is.

Glen lets out a breath and takes a sip of his beer, relaxing back into the couch. Some part of him is still reeling from the shower earlier, certain he'd never get over the sight of Billie on her knees in front of him. The way she’d worked his cock over and over, teasing him and stroking him in the best way until he was coming down her throat. Her bright hazel eyes when she’d gorgeously grinned up at him, the way she’d winked at him after she’d swallowed. The thought was enough to make him hard all over again.

She was a fucking goddess and my God he’d never seen anything more sexy.

The sound of the doorbell ringing breaks him from his thoughts, Billie moving to put down her glass just as Glen stops her with a hand on her knee.

“You stay, I’ll get it”

He puts down his beer and makes his way down the hallway, both Nugget and Brisket already standing at the door and wagging their tails expectantly. Glen bends to ruffle Nugget’s fur with a smile, before opening the door and frowning when he doesn’t find the Chinese takeout he and Billie had ordered earlier.

“Billie we’re engaged!”

Instead he’s met with a hand directly in his face, a thick, shiny gold ring adorning the fourth finger.

Glen’s frown grows even deeper, confusion taking over his face, the hand suddenly yanking away and allowing Glen a full view of the owner.

“Oh…you’re not Billie”

Glen stares blankly at two men standing in front of him, the expressions on their faces just as confused as his own, the three of them seemingly lost for words as they all stare at one another. Glen watches as the taller one stands back and looks up over the house, as if checking that they’re at the right place, the other still looking back at Glen in bewilderment. 

“But that’s Nugget…” the taller one confirms out loud when he spies the happily panting golden dog at Glen’s feet, the first man with the ring tilting his head and blatantly looking Glen up and down. 

“Where’s Billie?” the taller guy asks.

“Wait, are you---” the man with the ring asks at the same time, the two looking at each other for a second before turning back to Glen when he clears his throat.

“She’s inside” he offers, stepping back and calling Billie’s name into the house behind him.

Glen hears his name whispered by one of the men, turning in time to see them whispering to one another, the taller one’s eyes widening in absolute surprise as he realises who’s standing in front of him.

“Oh my fucking God it is!” the taller one remarks loudly, “You’re Glen Powell!”.

Glen only nods at them, looking over his shoulder when Billie suddenly comes jogging up behind him, her face splitting into a smile when she spies the two men.

“Hey guys!” Billie exclaims, opening the door wider and standing beside Glen, “Everything okay?”

“Oh my God Billie!” the one with the ring shouts, clapping his hands happily, “Look! We’re engaged!”.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” Billie stutters, looking back and flashing Glen an apologetic smile, reaching out to squeeze his arm before turning back to the two guys.

He thrusts his hand towards Billie and Glen watches as she immediately erupts into excited cheers of congratulations, rushing forward and wrapping both men in a happy hug. Glen shuffles his feet, still having zero idea who the two men are, looking down at Billie as she takes the man’s hand in hers and closely inspects the golden ring.

"Ryan I love it, it’s gorgeous” she gushes, smiling affectionately up at the two, her eyes soon widening as if she suddenly remembers that Glen’s standing there.

“Glen, this is Ryan and Lachlan, my neighbours” she explains, gesturing from him to the men and back again, “Ryan and Lach, this is Glen”.

“You mean Glen Powell” Ryan emphasises as Glen shakes Lachlan’s hand, Billie laughing and shaking her head when Ryan says something under his breath that Glen doesn’t quite catch. 

Glen grins and steps forward to shake Ryan’s hand next, telling them that it’s nice to meet them both and offering his congratulations on their engagement.

“You both have to come in and have a drink to celebrate” Glen proposes, a soft smile on his face as he gestures to the two to come inside.

“Oh no no, we couldn’t impose like that” Lachlan replies immediately, shaking his head in polite decline.

“Absolutely. We couldn’t possibly interrupt your… date night” Ryan adds, accentuating the words ‘date night’ and shooting a questioning look at Billie that she dismisses with a wink and a knowing grin.

“Guys you just got engaged. Please come in and celebrate” Billie insists, gesturing again for them to come in, “I’m certain I have a bottle of champagne somewhere”.

The sound of the word champagne has them both immediately changing tact, Glen stepping aside and holding the door open for them both to pass by. Billie smiles up at him as she turns to follow them, Glen instead catching her arm and stopping her, bending and quickly kissing her. He doesn’t say anything when they part, only winking back at her and loving the way her lips part into her gorgeous smile, Billie tightening her hold on his hand and tugging him towards the living room.

---

Previous Chapter

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[wayrad]

hiii number 15 on that prompt list would be delicious if u fancy it

omgosh yes anything for you legend <3

for prompt 15: “this is going to hurt, okay?”

Usually John’s the rash one, the on who jumps in over his head, doesn’t think things through. Prefers it that way, too; if he’s going off the deep end at least he knows Gale will be there to reign him back in. Get a hand on his nape and tell him knock it off, Bucky, always in that tone of voice that John needs.

That’s not how it happened today. Today, just another tick on the wall, and Gale woke up on the edge. He goes non-verbal, somedays, has got a storm brewing in him, and no seems to notice it but John. He knew today was a bad one, and not just for Gale; the Luftwaffe officers feel it too. The edge, like a knife licking up the spine. They hold their rifles a little higher, the chains on their dogs a little looser.

Gale had been so quiet. He’d never been the one they watch, especially not on days like these, but. But.

And John should’ve known. Should’ve.

Now, perspiration gathers on Gale’s severe brow bone. He looks pasty as a ghost, sounds like one too; the air in his lungs is rattling about like it’s slipping through the cracks of him. He looks drunk- but that’d be a mercy in here.

“Gale,” John says, tries, for what seems like the hundredth time in the last thirty minutes. “Gale, baby. Baby can you hear me?”

The pain’s making him delirious. He’s in shock, too, up to his head in it, shivering, muttering all incoherent. And John hasn’t been able to look at it, not for long- Gale's sleeve, pulled up, what’s waiting there for them. It’s still in the shape of a mouth, like the mutt was still hanging onto Gale’s tattered flesh, yanking, pulling as the German officer just watched and let it all happen.

John had ordered every man to stay out. He’d— handle it. He’d take care of Gale.

“I’m going to get your shirt open, okay?” he says slowly, taking the ruddied fabric between his fingers. When he shifts it experimentally Gale’s chest heaves, a wet sob breaking apart from his lips. It’s the loudest he’s been all day, loudest he's been since the bite took him.

John takes Gale's shoulders, hopes it's soothing. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he lulls. "Ain't no doctors around, not yet. Just me. I'm doing the best I can, huh?"

To that, Gale says nothing. Just clutches at his shoulder like he's trying to keep his arm attached to his body. John gives up on getting Gale's shirt off the right way; he finds little dull scissors the guys use to cut out pinups and takes the sleeve right from the seam. Warm clothes are hard to come by, and Gale would say as much, if he could.

Without the fabric to cover the gash, John's faced with the gravity of their situation. Puncture wounds litter the purpling skin of Gale's forearm, blood tacked and dripping across his wrist. There are chunks of skin missing. Around it, a mottled bruise blooms purple and green over the entire thing, makes John think it really could fall off.

"Jesus," he mutters. They've got nothing to clean it with, nothing proper, but- and that's an idea. John cups Gale's jaw. "Hey. I'm not leaving, okay?" he says. Gale shivers against him. His skin is clammy and too-hot, but he nods, and that's something.

John makes across the room, below his bunk, to where a jar of contraband liquor is stashed next to the notebook he was able to scrounge up a couple weeks ago.

This isn't exactly the special occasion he'd been saving it for.

Rounding up on Gale again, John smooths his sweat-stringy hair from his forehead. "Gale," he says. "This is going to hurt, okay?"

Gale flashes John his eyes- blue and full of pain- and John almost can't do it. Almost.

He unscrews the cap and tips, takes Gale's wrist when he jerks, crying out in pain. Forces it down. He holds Gale's arm and doesn't stop pouring until he runs through the entire jar. "Shh," he says, and it isn't enough, nothing could be enough. "Shh, Buck, it's okay."

Gale's body kicks against his chair. Slumps, eyes shutting. He's hasn't got enough fight left in him to break John's grip: he isn't eating, isn't sleeping, and now this. John's never seen him like this before. Not once in his life.

"Did good, Gale, huh?" John says. Presses his lips to the fire-hot skin of his forehead, slumping too. "Did good."