#because she clearly thinks so lowly of me

[entitled-fangirl]

Bravery.

Cregan Stark x Strong!reader; Aemond x forced betrothed!reader

Summary: Aemond drags Y/n Strong alongside him on his journey to appease the great Lord Stark. Seems she's more loyal to her deceased father and brother than she cares to admit.

Warnings: cursing, manipulation, talks of death

Masterlist

.........................................

"You're a fucking fool, Aemond," she sneered at him.

"You don't think my conscience speaks that enough?!" He exclaimed. "I made a mistake, but my love, I did not kill my brother's heir. That was Rhaenyra's choice. Not mine."

"You killed one of hers!" She argued. 

"I did not pay men to become traitors to the crown," he growled.

"You do not have to," she sneered lowly. "You have the greatest dragon alive in your claws. You're like a snake the way you spit venom on everything you touch!"

Silence filled the room, the two staring at one another in full contemplation of what had just been said.

"Aemond, I-"

"ENOUGH!" He yelled, throwing his hands up. He took a breath and continued. "I have given everything to my mother and brother. My grandsire. This kingdom. And I get nothing."

"True service is doing so without expecting return."

"I expect recognition for sacrifice." Aemond glared.

"And what of your brother's sacrifice for the kingdom? His own heir?" When his jaw ticked, she continued. "And do not think for a moment that Rhaenyra has not sacrificed, because she knows it better than you. Better than anyone."

"Better than my mother?" He dared to ask.

Her mouth opened to combat him, but she had nothing so her mouth closed again.

"I'm tired of sacrifices," he explained.

"Do you believe that your family is the only one? What of the scattered high lords throughout the kingdom? What of me?"

"What of you?" He asked, as if the thought was ridiculous.

Her jaw dropped a bit in shock. "You don't…" She then scoffed, the shock turning to anger. "You don't think I sacrifice? My duty is my sacrifice."

"Oh, and mine is not?" He asked. 

"If this is your duty, then you're piss poor at doing it!"

Something flashed in his eye, the blue somehow holding red to it, as if that's all he could see. "Get out." His voice was low, clearly a final warning to her. 

She took that as it was, going to leave. She paused in the doorway, "We leave on the morr-"

"Go."

…

With the recent happenings, Aegon had almost reconsidered sending the two to the North to reason with Lord Cregan Stark. The thought had been questioned, as well as the girl's loyalty. But all in all, what family did she have but her older brother Larys who had taken her under his wing after the mysterious death of their father and brother? They couldn't ever see the girl daring to side with her bastard nephews. The idea was ridiculous. The Strong house under Larys refused to claim the boys, and so was she expected to.

So when they arrived in Winterfell, Cregan was surprised. 

He knew they were coming. They had said so moons ago, but that was before the attacks, before Jace's visit, and he had figured it would be put aside until matters grew better.

As if war ever got better.

"My prince," the stone-faced lord greeted. "My Lady Strong."

"I thank you for your hospitality, Lord Stark," Aemond smirked. "The Crown thanks you."

Cregan gave a small nod. "Yes. I see." His eyes dart to Y/n, and back to Aemond. "Please rest and we'll discuss in the morn-"

"-Let's discuss now," Aemond remarked, dragging his betrothed along and moving past the Lord.

Cregan's eyes watched the two walk by. Though he already knew his loyalty was to the blood oath he made to Jacaerys, he would enjoy watching the Hightower squirm for his honor.

…

"And what might appease you then?" Aemond asked. 

"And what could the crown have that I would want?" Cregan countered. 

"Gold, honor, protection… dragons," he listed.

"I have gold, honor, and though I have no dragons, I hold a direwolf that does more than enough protection." Cregan leaned back in his chair. "You are asking a Stark to go back on an oath made by my father. We do not do so easily."

"Tell me what you want then," Aemond reasoned.

"It will take some time to figure that out, I'm afraid."

"That is the one thing I cannot give you. We're running out of time."

Cregan gives a curt nod, then completely turns his attention to Y/n, "My lady, surely some sustenance would do you well. You've traveled far."

Her eyes snapped to him, now realizing that he was indeed talking to her. "Do not fret over me, my lord. I am completely content."

Aemond smirked, reaching beside him to grab at the back of her neck. "Indeed. Don't worry over her. Let us focus on our business here." He leaned towards her, "To bed with you. The morning will come sooner than expected."

Y/n stood, giving Cregan one last look before quietly excusing herself.

The door closed behind her and Aemond gave a sigh. "Women are life's greatest pain."

"Women are images of the Mother," Cregan snapped harshly. There would be no talk like this in his halls. "That is your religion, is it not?"

"Rather she be like the Maiden," Aemond retorted.

Cregan chewed on his bottom lip to keep his thoughts straight. "And what would you wish to be, my prince? What beacon do you follow?"

"The Father," He answered without thought. "I follow the Father."

The northern man stood with a loud creak from his large chair and began to lightly pace the room. "Justice is a narrow slope. Sometimes you become so focused on it for others that you become the judged."

"Meaning what?" Aemond's eye narrowed. 

Cregan shrugged, as if he didn't mean anything by it, though he clearly did. "Meaning… we all have our faults, my prince. If I lived for justice and justice alone, I'd find myself paying for every crime I committed."

"Don't Starks live by honor?" 

Cregan's lip turned upwards. "Aye. But those do not compare. Not in the slightest."

Aemond picked at his nails, his hands on the table. "How so, Stark?"

He stopped and considered the prince's question- more… how to answer it without saying all of his thoughts. "Judgment can easily turn to anger. Honor upholds hope over anything else."

"You can't compare something so complex as if they're simple things like night and day," Aemond taunted. "You cannot be all honor, for you'll be the one ruled, and your people will stomp you into the ground. Judgment keeps peace-"

"-At what cost?" Cregan countered, his head tilted as he dared to argue with the man.

Aemond's jaw ticked, and Cregan quickly realized that he may have said the wrong thing. The prince's head tilted down for a moment, then back up as he decided his words. "You believe Rhaenyra has honor?" He asked, pure venom in his tone, though his metaphorical fangs weren't showing.

Stark paused. "It doesn't matter what I think. Does it?"

Aemond's lips turned up into an amused smirk. "So stuck in your idea of honor that you won't do what's best for your people?" His arm waved dramatically. "A dragon lies outside your castle and still it does nothing to your 'honor'?"

"I won't go back on my father's word. That is my answer to you."

Aemond slammed his fists onto the table and stood with a glare that could melt the Wall. "And your answer is death!"

Cregan met his glare with one of his own. "So be it."

…

He let Aemond stay that night against his better judgment. He should have made him leave, but the thought of dragging the Lady Strong into their fight cause an ache in him. 

The next morning, he stood on the balcony overlooking the courtyard. He had a lot on his mind, and no way to fix them.

"Jace's promise to you must have been grand," a voice piped up from behind him.

Cregan turned to see Y/n standing there with a polite smile to her. He felt himself grinning. "More of mine to him, my lady. He'll accomplish great things for the Realm."

She hummed. If she caught onto his meaning, she didn't voice it. "Tell me about him. My nephew Jace."

Cregan's face fell a bit. "My lady-"

"-Lord Stark," she said with a knowing look. "I only meant that I will be married to Aemond soon, and therefore Jace will soon be my nephew. I don't care about titles. I care about Jace."

He let out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. "The prince is… honest. And kind. And quite fair. Should he be named the successor, then I hold no fears for the Realm."

"He seems to be like his father," she quipped. "Harwin was… His very essence was beautiful. I wish I remembered him more."

Cregan ran his tongue across his teeth. He knew that Jace was no Velaryon as well, but he found himself not caring. Jace was more than the lack of royal blood that ran through him.

"Aegon holds the crown, though," she admitted heavily as if the very thought of it was horrid to her.

Cregan shuffled his weight to his other foot. "Tell me. Why are you marrying such a fool of a man?"

"Aemond is," she hesitated, realizing there was no point in defending something that has no defense. "It wasn't by choice."

"Stay in Winterfell."

Her head shot up, her wide eyes meeting his confident ones. "No."

His nose twitched. "Why not?"

"I can't. He'll have my head. And… and Rhaenyra would never accept me-"

"-You don't know that."

She sniffled and studied him. "What you do mean?"

Cregan cleared his throat as he prepared to finally say the thing he'd been holding back. "Jace spoke of your kindness. From when they visited King's Landing just before the death of the King. You… you welcomed them more than his own family."

He was right in that. She had. And she had scolded and fought with Aemond endlessly that night about it after helping clean Luke's bloody nose and Jace's split knuckles. She shifted uncomfortably, "I suppose you're right."

"What I mean by all this is," he paused and heaved a sigh. "If you and Jace are truly made of the same blood as I know you are, then you cannot idly sit by while your brother's sons' inheritances are taken."

The thought brought back the tears from her fight with Aemond not a day ago. 

Aemond had killed Harwin's boy. 

How could she sit by and let herself be married to such a man?

"Larys is like a spider," she whispered, unsure if Cregan even heard it. "You crawl into his web and… and you only realize the dangers of it when your hands are tied."

Cregan gave a tiny nod.

"I'm tired of his web. I may be tied to Aemond forever if I do this."

"Then stay here. I'll get you to Dragonstone."

"Those are too high of promises. Even for a Stark."

Cregan's shoulders moved back. "Starks do not forget an oath."

"What of Vhagar?"

"What of Vhagar?" He retaliated. "She's useless here in the cold. And to unleash an attack on the North is to seal the victor of this war before it truly begins."

She let out a small scoff and threw up her hands. "You Starks and your bravery. Do you think that's what makes a man? Bravery? Bravery only makes a man dead."

"Then I'll die contently," he calmly answered. His head tilted. "Will you?"

Her eyes shifted down to the northernman's lips, noticing the small quirk to them as if the strongforce of a man was somehow holding back a smile. 

"I die regardless. Might as well be for my brother's sons."

....................................

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver, @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom, @dozcan123, @wangjiangelangel, @kamitargaryen, @aegonswife, @lv7867, @helpmedecideaname

[ivymarquis]

The Neighbor

Hello friends I fucked off for a month but I’m back and I bring Price smut as an apology for my absence. @sky-is-the-limit’s “Im here to do what your boyfriend cant” prompt has lived in my brain rent free ecer since I read it and while I didn’t follow it verbatim, I did keep in spirit with the theme :)

Also womp I was gone for the Price challenge by @glitterypirateduck but this actually checks off a couple of the prompt options (first time being intimate, a confession/secret is discovered/revealed) so I’m submitting it.

There are a lot of tags. Make sure you read them.

Pairing| John Price x Reader Rating| M Word Count| 4.8k Kinks/Content/Warnings| Accidental voyuerism by virtue of living in an apartment, the reader has a dogshit boyfriend at the beginning of the fic (there is no cheating), slut shaming (from the dogshit boyfriend), these two idiots are down bad for each other, sex toys, oral (F!receiving), unprotected PiV, gratuitous squirting because I’m me, not really heavy on BDSM elements but mentions of the following: bondage/restraints (John uses his hands, nothing crazy), something akin to subspace from how good the nut is, aftercare, John is a prick to the now-ex, very brief angst due to a quick misunderstanding, very vaguely implied somnophilia, rampant abuse of italics. Lemme know if I missed anything.

His neighbor is clearly used to Price being deployed.

She’s a sweet thing, really, and on the whole isn’t that disagreeable of a neighbor.

He just has one problem with her (not even her, really) that is a thorn in his fucking side- her boyfriend.

The boyfriend was not an issue when they first met- wasn’t in the picture at all.

And no John most assuredly hasn’t had it out for the guy since Day 1. The fact that John had gathered himself up to ask his pretty neighbor out when he came back from his latest mission, only to find out about the new boyfriend, does not color his impression of the other man. He’s grown and this is not the first time his advances have been turned away for whatever reason.

But there are, to his knowledge, no true redeeming qualities about the man and he is about as useful as a screen door on a submarine.

He catches bits and pieces through the walls. The boyfriend is not attentive, caring, or sweet to her. She is treated as a guest in her own home, and twice he’s heard bellowing shouts that had Price at the door with his fist banging against it- both to shut him up and make it exceptionally well known that if the boyfriend thinks intimidating a woman is going to fly, that Price will not hesitate to kick the door in.

The most appalling part of it all is that John has a front row seat to just how atrocious he is in bed.

For the life of him John does not understand. It’s not even like the lad’s a good lay.

He’s heard many stories of women tolerating absolutely atrocious behavior from the muppets they were with because he knew how to make them see stars.

That is exceptionally not the case here. And John is rapidly finding his patience wearing thin at continually being subjugated to his pathetic performance.

So what the hell is it about the boyfriend that keeps his neighbor so enamored with him?

John stares at the ceiling, watching the blades of the fan turn as he tries to tune out the thumping of the headboard against the wall.

He thinks that if the man was just a bad lay and completely incapable of getting her anywhere, that would be one thing and John would continue to be frustrated but ultimately understand. But it’s the way he seems to actively ruin it anytime she has the audacity to enjoy having sex with him that truly grates on John’s nerves.

It’s not often, but even a blind squirrel finds a nut every now and then. The thumping of the headboard is accompanied by her sweet voice moaning lowly in short staccato notes as the boyfriend appears to finally be doing something right.

The thumping comes to a halt, and John groans in frustration.

“Why’d you stop?” He can hear his pretty neighbor lament through the thin walls.

“Why the fuck are you being so loud? Trying to give the neighbor a show?”

John squints his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance. The fucking muppet can’t do anything right.

If the neighbor was his, John wouldn’t give a fuck who heard. Let all the neighbors know that he could fuck the sense clear out of her pretty little head. John could show the muppet what loud is.

“No! I’m not trying to do anything- it just felt good,” she defends herself.

“Well, be quieter about it, no one needs to hear that. You sound like a whore,” the muppet snaps at her irritably, and John is nearly at his fucking limit when the god damn headboard starts to thump against the wall again.

“Get out.”

Oh.

John is impressed- pleasure and pride coursing through him as his sweet neighbor stands up for herself rather than letting that ungrateful swine continue to berate her.

Good fucking girl.

“What did you just say?” The thumping stops.

“You don’t get to call me names. Get off of me and get out.”

For all his sins, it seems even the muppet has a line he’s not willing to cross.

There’s a shifting as he presumably pulls out and gets off the bed- the words are muffled but the tone is clear. The muppet isn’t above laying into her verbally though consent is (smartly) a line he won’t toe.

And good thinking on his part- John would probably tear through the drywall and turn him into a chew toy had that conversation gone in any other direction.

The door slams loudly, announcing the boyfriend’s departure.

John can’t help but keep his attention on his neighbor to see what her reaction is going to be. It is taking every ounce of self control he has to not follow the boyfriend and wring his neck in the parking lot.

There’s no conventional guide for how to address this situation with your neighbor. ‘Hello, I’ve fancied you for quite some time and that ungrateful prick somehow swept you up before I got the nerve to ask you out. I've had to hear you have the most lackluster sex ever for the past several months, and equal parts want to check in on how you’re doing emotionally after his latest stunt, and also want to bend you over and pin you to the mattress until you’re squealing. May I come in?’

He can’t say he is too surprised to hear things slamming about in the apartment- his pretty neighbor sounding more pissed off than upset, catching snippets of “Who the fuck does he think he is, talking to me like that” and “Motherfucker couldn’t find my clit with a map and a headlamp but can find the audacity to call me names-”

Okay, John has to fight back the urge to laugh at that last one lest she hear him. She’s quite the viper when (finally) provoked, and it just endears her more to him.

She doesn’t appear particularly distraught, the slamming and huffing and muttering concluding with her tossing herself on the bed.

It’s a very common occurrence that after the neighbor’s rendezvous with her lazy boyfriend, John is treated to a show where she finishes herself off with her toys.

The boyfriend, like many inadequate men, is threatened by them and John has heard the snide remarks.

Hilarious, he finds it, that a man incapable of getting her off is so adamant that she gets rid of them.

She hasn’t listened, clearly, as the low sound of her vibrator can be heard through the wall.

John is soon graced with the sound of her panting moans. His cock stiffens in interest at her voice, which is a frequent occurrence. She makes such pretty noises, mewling and whimpering as she works herself up.

Tonight is a whirlwind of emotions for his pretty neighbor, and at the end of the day her no-good boyfriend left her high and dry.

John will gladly enjoy the consequences of the boyfriend’s actions, one hand wrapping around his cock and beginning to stroke in time with her whines.

What he wouldn’t give for a chance to make her see stars. He’d be so good to her.

The reality of his job makes dating a logistical nightmare, part of what stayed his hand for so long.

He’s not blind. His neighbor is kind and sweet with a killer smile and wandering eyes. He’s caught her more than once ogling him when he’s returned home in uniform, or more nondescript tactical clothing.

Feeling her gaze on him always makes him puff up with pride, enjoying holding her attention no matter how fleeting. If he takes his time after a run and makes a point to pull the hem of his shirt up to wipe at his brow where she can see it, that’s his business.

So John thinks he’s dreaming when he hears that lovely voice whimper his name from the other side of the wall.

He stiffens, quietly waiting to see if he hears it again.

“John- Oh, fuck- please,” is all he needs to hear before he’s well and truly lost any semblance of patience.

Only having the presence of mind to dress himself enough to not warrant any errant looks from the other neighbors, he is at her door in a second.

It’s only after he knocks that he realizes he may well have killed whatever momentum she’s built for herself- given her muttering as she approaches the door- but he fully intends to make up for the stolen release.

She opens the door without looking through the peephole, obviously expecting it to be the ex based on the vitriol poised to spill at John’s chest, approximately eye level with where the (hopefully ex) boyfriend would be.

Once again he has to stifle a laugh, finding her a comical vision when the anger on her face melts away as her eyes flick up to his face with the realization that it is him at the door and not the object of her ire.

“What are you doing here, John?” Christ, he’s always been a sucker for pretty doe eyes. If he held even an ounce less of restraint he’d be mounting her right here for everyone to see.

“I’m here to do what your sorry excuse of a boyfriend can’t.”

Even as he reaches out to pull her in for a kiss, he’s watching her body language- gauging if she stiffens or shifts away.

She doesn’t.

In fact, her arms loop behind him and pull him closer, tugging on his hair and his shirt.

John’s not wasting any more time than he already has, walking her backwards into the apartment and shutting the door with his foot before reaching back to lock it- he’s got no desire for any interruptions from wayward former boyfriends.

They separate for a moment as she paws at the hem of his shirt, clearly wanting it off of him. John is all too happy to oblige, preening under her attention. He’s always had the stockier build of a man who’s fitness came from utility in the field, opposed to the hard defined abs of someone who spends most of their time in the gym.

It’s cute, the way she has to pry her eyes up to his face- clearly liking what she sees and flustered by the fact that John can see her staring.

“I broke up with him,” she clarifies.

“Good,” is his simplistic response, although if John’s being honest with himself he doesn’t really care about the finer details. The little prick never deserved to have her and John finally has his chance to prove himself worthy.

“The bedroom’s this way,” she prompts between kisses.

Their clothes are peeled off in turns as they stumble towards the room. The layout is inverted to John’s own flat nextdoor, so despite having never stepped foot inside before he guides her to keep her from crashing into something behind her.

By the time they are collapsing against her bed, they’re stripped of everything except a scant thong on her and his own boxers.

She’s just so delightfully soft in his grip, John can’t keep his hands or his mouth off of her.

The feeling is reciprocated as she pushes up off the bed to grind against him. As much as he’s relishing in them dry humping and making out like teenagers, he’s wanted her for so long and now that she’s finally willing and pliant underneath him, he’s itching for a taste of her.

Kissing his way down her body- starting at her jaw, the column of her neck, across her collar bone, down her sternum; latching onto each nipple and teasing them to hardened peaks before continuing his path down.

He’s compelled by the urge to turn her into a chew toy as he reaches her belly, although he stifles that urge and keeps his teeth to himself.

He can’t quite resist giving a small nip as she squirms, clearly excited by the implication of where he’s heading.

There’s a damp spot on her underwear already as he kisses along the waistband while his hands tease with the elastic on either side of her hips.

The sound of her breath hitching in anticipation makes him smirk, attention drifting further south.

The fabric is in his way as he presses a kiss against her clothed cunt, gripping handfuls of her hips to keep her still as she bucks in his grasp.

“Easy, sweetheart- we’ve got all night,” he soothes before moving his attention up one thigh to the backside of her knee.

Those sweet thighs are splayed open for him, giving John unfettered access as he continues to tease.

“When’s this sweet cunt been eaten last, hm?”

He knows he’s heard her give that undeserving muppet head, but can’t recall any reciprocation occuring. There’s not much that can shock John at this point in his life, and he’s willing to roll the dice by dragging up her now-ex because he knows this poor thing hasn’t been eaten until she’s begging him off in ages.

“I couldn’t even begin to tell you,” she answers breathlessly, anticipating having her thighs twitching in his hold.

Out of the corner of his eye, John spies a torn condom wrapper that didn’t quite make it into the bin. Well that keeps him from having to ask two questions, then. Smart girl.

“What a shame,” he tsks lightly, peppering kisses back up and down her thigh.

Deciding that she’s waited long enough and he’s had his fun being a tease, John is quick to remove the scant lace and pull it off of her legs before tossing it to who-knows-where.

The sounds she makes as he makes a meal out of her is music to his ears. Each hitched moan and breathy whimper makes him stiffen in interest.

His attention shifts to focus on her clit, tongue circling the sensitive nub as his hands hold her hips in place.

As focused as he is on what’s right in front of him, it takes a moment for John to realize that she’s stifling her noises. One hand is fisting the sheets beneath her while the other is clamped across her lips.

Well. That simply won’t do.

The ex may have trained and shamed her into silence, but John didn’t make it as a military captain without learning how to break someone else’s bad habits.

He ignores her whimper of protest as he stops, one hand abandoning the softness of her hip in favor of grabbing her wrist and pulling her hand away from her mouth.

“None of that,” he admonishes gently, pressing a kiss to one thigh. “Let me hear you.”

“I-I’m too loud,” she protests and for a split second John sees red.

To his credit, he does not leave her wet and leaking on the bed to go bludgeon her ex to death with a blunt object.

“No such thing, sweetheart,” he soothes before having a thought to tease her. “Who are you worried is going to hear you?” He asks kindly, a shit eating grin as he speaks again, “the neighbor?”

Her wide eyed expression is thoroughly scandalized and John can’t fight the chuckle that escapes him.

He hasn’t released her wrist yet, deciding that it’s time to get back to his meal. If she abandons gripping the sheet with her free hand to cover her mouth again, he simply plans to hold both of her wrists.

It’s tentative at first, still not entirely trusting John at his word that he wants to hear her.

But John is all for positive reinforcement as a motivator, crooking his fingers to stroke that one spot that makes her see stars to encourage more from her.

She’s a quick study, although when she releases the sheet John is watching her like a hawk.

Rather than clasping over her mouth again, John is pleased when her fingers end up burying in his hair.

More than happy to let her guide him, John takes his cues from how she pulls at his hair. The feel of her thighs twitching as she breathes in staccato breaths is all the reward he needs.

“You’re getting close,” he says against her cunt, pointing out the obvious before getting back to work. She’s anxious, he thinks, the closer she gets to her climax. Poor girl doesn’t know what to do with herself with an orgasm she hasn’t had to put all the work into.

“D-don’t stop,” she stammers, rewarded immediately with John redoubling his efforts.

He’s not going to stop. Pretty thing like her deserves nothing less than laying on her back and enjoying getting her cunt eaten out.

“O-oh fuck,” is his only warning before she’s gushing on his face and John is like a kid on Christmas morning.

He doesn’t even know if she realizes she’s squirted, too caught up in the pleasure of her high.

He’s always thought it was hot- now that he knows his pretty neighbor is a squirter he is more than willing to get on his knees and pray to whoever is listening that this isn’t a one time event. He’ll do anything to get her to keep him.

Even as her high fades he doesn’t let up on her, continuing to work his middle and ring finger inside of her. All he wants is to see her cum- wants to see those eyes roll as she squeezes them shut in anticipation.

Despite pulling his face away from her wet pussy, he doesn’t leave her clit unattended for long before his thumb is gently circling in time with the thrusts of his fingers.

Kissing his way back up her body, John can’t help but be pleased as she pulls him in to make out with him. Snatched gasps and bucks of her hips grace his ears as he works her from orgasm to the next, the wet sound of his palm slapping against her.

“John Im gonna cum again,” she whimpers in warning.

He feels like a god with the way she stares up at him reverently, eyes wide and desperate for another climax.

“Come on,” he goads, “Show me- let me see your face when you cum.”

Christ if her leg twitches any harder it’s going to start vibrating, serving to only encourage him.

“O-oh,” she mewls, “God- don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t-“ she’s pleading with him like he wouldn’t sit at her feet if she asked him to.

The bewildered look on her face is darling, and John nearly finishes untouched; he's so wound up it’s not going to take much.

A few choice thoughts keep his own eminent climax at bay and buys him enough breathing room. She bucks and trembles in his hold, a high pitched squeal escaping her as he proves not only can he make her cum twice, but he can make her squirt like a faucet twice.

As soon as she’s starting to come down from her high she’s pulling at him, drawing up her knees to spread her legs in invitation.

“Greedy girl,” he teases as he kisses her- wet fingers abandoning her cunt in favor of manhandling her, wrapping her legs around his waist as he positions himself.

“Please, please, please-“ she begs so prettily for him, pleading for him to do exactly what he’s been fantasizing about for months.

He’s not a small man and mindful of that fact, but she’s well prepped and takes him easily. The desperate whimper that escapes her sears into John’s memory.

The buildup of everything finally gets to him as he wastes no time setting a steady pace.

“That’s it, sweetheart, just like that. Let me hear you,” he encourages as she cants her hips in time with his, whines of pleasure escaping her on each thrust.

“John, please,” she begs, eyebrows furrowing in pleasure as she watches where they’re joined.

“Eyes up here,” he instructs and Christ he almost loses it when her gaze flicks from between their bodies up to his face.

His hands find hers, fingers lacing together as he lowers his torso in order to kiss the ethereal creature underneath him.

She whimpers into his mouth, her sounds only encouraging John.

Everything about her is warm and inviting, from her soft skin to her warm cunt and the way she sings for him at every thrust.

Maneuvering them so he can grip both her wrists with one of his hands, the other immediately dives between their bodies to find her clit again.

His pretty neighbor has spent months not having an orgasm she didn’t give herself, and John is determined to prove to her that he can give her as many as she can handle.

“John I can’t cum again,” she pleads even as her thighs shake on either side of him.

“Yes you can,” he assures her. “One more time for me, yeah?”

Now, should she insist she’s done and satisfied then John would leave her clit alone and finish up their fun. As it is, though, she nods in acquiescence before the trembling in her thighs increases.

“Good girl,” he praises, fingers continuing their steady pace around her clit as she creeps closer to the edge.

She’s babbling in his ear as he presses a kiss to her temple and he knows she’s almost there.

“Good girl,” he praises again, a cocksure grin pulling at the corners of his lips at her immediate response.

“My good girl,” he ups the ante, testing her response to John staking a claim on her. And God did it ever work. That last little bit is all it takes to finally tip her over.

She clenches down on him like a vice and John immediately loses it, groaning low as the haze of his orgasm washes over him.

It’s everything he wants- she’s everything he wants as he recovers enough from his climax to finally notice that the bed is an utter mess beneath them.

It’s not his immediate concern however, more interested in soothing her through the come down of her high. She’s shivering underneath him, eyes glossy from the intensity of her last orgasm.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he murmurs reassuringly. “Just breathe for me.”

He gathers her up in his arms, listening as her heartbeat relaxes in time with his own.

Eventually when enough time passes she’s more alert and happily snuggling against his chest. After giving her a chance to rest he herds her along to the bathroom so she doesn’t give herself a UTI. She tries to brush him off but her legs are taking their sweet time cooperating again.

Of course, she’s not exactly a recruit taking a piss test so he gives her her privacy and she’s able to return on her own albeit on shaky legs.

John pets at her head idly, attention drifting in post coital bliss as his hand strokes down along her back.

“I can’t believe you’re actually in my bed,” she giggles deliriously after a stretch of quiet.

“Only reason I wasn’t here sooner was because of that muppet,” he assures her. He doesn’t want her thinking that this is a one time thing for him. He’s wanted her for so long he can’t possibly be expected to turn her loose at the end of the night.

“I only dated him because I didn’t think you liked me,” she scoffs at herself.

“Oh, it was nearly the first moment I laid eyes on you. But with my work I kept talking myself out of doing anything,” he tells her. “Kept telling myself you deserve better. And then you brought the muppet home and kept him around,” John grouses good naturedly at her. “Think they say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.”

“I plead temporary insanity,” she jokes, snuggling closer against his chest. “But I got rid of him. And you finally made your move.”

He hums in agreement, sleep pulling at him now that he has her tucked up against his side.

John doesn’t remember falling asleep but he wakes with a jolt to the sound of pounding on her door.

He’s only been out for an hour or so when he checks the clock on the nightstand, his neighbor sprawled out next to him.

Well, now he knows she snores. The sound is light enough to have never heard it through the wall, but curled up next to him she’s like a cat purring loudly in his ear.

And he’s exceptionally pissed right off at the fact someone has woken him up. Especially considering he has one guess who it is.

He fully debates answering the door buck ass naked to teach the prick a lesson about banging on doors after midnight but settles on tossing his joggers on.

Much like when she opened the door for John, the ex is automatically trained at where her head would be rather than looking at John’s face.

“My eyes are here,” he quips sarcastically. “Why the fuck are you banging on the door this late.”

“Why th-“ the ex starts to parrot back before cutting himself off. “Why the fuck are you in her apartment? Why isn’t she answering?”

“She’s asleep,” John answers simply. There’s no obligation to explain the why and how he ended up in her apartment.

“What the fuck do you mean she’s asleep? How is she asleep after she just dumped me? And why the fuck are you here?”

The boyfriend (the ex boyfriend, he thinks with glee) is either oblivious or…

Well. The ex boyfriend is oblivious. Let’s just keep it at that.

“I’m here because you can’t do your job right. She’s asleep because I can. What part of that is confusing?”

“That stupid slag’s been fucking you behind my back-“

“No.” John is somewhat mindful of not giving a full on “screaming at recruits” bellow, but his voice booms into the corridor outside the apartment anyway. “You watch your fucking mouth. This” John gestures vaguely at his own presence in her flat, “just happened after she dumped you. You don’t get to hurl insults.”

“She hopped off of my cock and straight to yours- what the fuck else is it?”

“You couldn’t get her off,” John hisses in annoyance. “I’ve had front row seats to your shitty little performance more than once. Not 5 minutes after you leave and she’s having to handle it herself.”

“I can’t be expected to compete with a fucking vibrator!”

“Well I sure as shit didn’t need one to get the job done. Poor girl could barely get her legs to work to go to the loo and not give herself a UTI. Your skill issues are what started all of this.”

“You know what? Fucking have her. I don’t need this shit.”

Ah yes, because John needs the ex’s permission to date a newly single woman. Absolutely. That’s entirely how that works.

“Never needed your blessing. Now fuck off. I’m trying to sleep.”

The ex responds with a two finger salute as he spins on his heel and storms off.

John is almost tempted to grab him by the back of his neck and turn him into a chew toy. Given his military career, his patience for muppets giving him attitude is virtually nonexistent.

But the siren call of his pretty neighbor is a stronger pull than the muppet can ever hope to achieve. John’s succeeded in his mission to run the prick off, and he’s going to try to get a few more hours of sleep before seeing if she’s interested in another romp in the morning when she wakes up.

The bedroom is dark and poorly lit but John immediately picks up on the silence.

Rather than being sprawled out and snoring like when he left her, she’s quiet and curled into a ball.

She’s awake.

“Sweetheart?” He calls softly.

She jolts, fabric rustling from the sheets falling off her as she sits up.

“You’re still here,” the surprise in her tone cuts, although he knows she didn’t mean for it to.

She seems to realize how that comes across and clarifies further, “I- I heard the door shut.”

It falls into place for him then- she woke up to the sound of the door and John nowhere to be found. She thought he’d left.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he consoles, making his way back to the bed. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he assures her while gathering her back into his arms.

Sleep comes back readily once the two of them are situated back in the bed.

Come morning, John’s got the patience and the presence of mind to throw a towel on the bed. He finds out for himself that his neighbor makes the prettiest noises with her arse propped up in the air and her face still buried in her pillow.

He can’t help but laugh later when she texts him that one of the neighbors made a noise complaint.

Age in bio/pinned or I will block you ♡

[frogchiro]

The guard dogs humping kitty reader as a show of dominance whenever she gets to sassy with them.

They pin her down and mount her but it’s not for the pleasure (mainly), it’s to remind her who’s in charge. Clothes stay on and they growl in her ear to remind her of her place.

And the poor thing gets so embarrassed when they do it in the middle of the farm where all the other animals can see.

(Ghost also definitely does this to soap when he gets too mouthy)

Ohhh my god :( This ask did things to me ngl

But yes, whenever you're acting up and get too bratty for their liking they have absolutely no qualms in wrangling you down on all fours, mounting you and humping you in clothing and everything just to hear you yowl and whine and beg them to just fuck you properly but this isn't about your wishes princess! This is about punishment for you acting like a damn brat and mouthing off at them!

I think Guard dog!Johnny would be much more lenient just because he's still young and dumb and very horny and having a mewling catgirl underneath his burly body is like turning his brain off and start thinking with his dick :(( Before you know it your panties are shoved aside and his huge, leaking cock is shoved into your cunt as he thrusts away without abandon, whines of his own escaping his maw as he desperately tries to make his fat knot fit :((

Both you and Johnny whine and yowl when Guard dog!Simon finds you like this; out in the open, tired out and stuck together because Johnny thought with his dick and the dumb mutt couldn't even properly punish you.

And yes, Simon definitely does it to Soap too :( Johnny can bark, snarl or whine all he wants but he's still getting mounted by the older male and bit on the back of his neck like a bitch as Si growls lowly that he'll show Johnny how to properly train a bratty bitch since he clearly can't do it himself <3

[moonstruckme]

Okay I’ve been thinking of request ideas for Thawing Out all day while I was at work 😂 What about if something happened with her on the way to practice (nothing serious but maybe it shook her up a bit) and she was late and clearly acting off? Obviously her boys are going to notice…

Love you as always, hope you’re doing amazing! 💖💖💖

Thank you Amber my love!!! Hope you like it <3

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12

cw: modern au, chronic pain, mention of harassment

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.6k words

You come into the rink with quick, determined steps, blitzing past every door in your path until you get to the bleachers. Sirius is already on the ice, Remus leaned against the boards while he watches. Both boys turn when you sit down. 

“Hello,” Sirius calls, clearly chuffed to have you here as a buffer between him and your bristly coach. “Where’s my latte?”

“No time today,” you say back. You jam your foot into a skate. 

Remus gives you a scrutinous look. “You alright?”

“Fine. Sorry I’m late.” 

You get your skates on in record time, laced up tight enough to hurt. Sirius is ready for you in your starting position, his hands firm on your shoulders. He gives a little squeeze, meant to coax a smile out of you, but you’re in no mood. 

“I was just fucking with you about the latte,” he says lowly. “I don’t need it to get through practice, though he has been especially insufferable this morning.” 

You glance at Remus. He looks the same as always, half relaxed and half watchful. He and Sirius have fallen into a routine of petty spats that you suspect don’t exactly make him look forward to practice every morning, and yet he seems to be getting used to the both of you. He’s less curt than he had been during your first few days together. 

“You only say that because you were here alone with him,” you say. 

“It didn’t help. Without you here he’s in his most unfiltered, fogey form.” 

Your skating is as near to flawless as it’s been in weeks. You throw yourself into each jump with everything you have, using the hot emotions simmering beneath your skin to your advantage. And it works. Remus looks caught offguard but directs several nods of approval your way, whereas Sirius is all untempered joy. His grin widens with each flawless landing, and when you finish your most difficult move in the routine he actually whoops. You think you see Remus’ lips twitch at that. 

“There she is!” Sirius grips your hand, squeezing tight as you go into a synchronized arabesque. His hair is pulled back into a bun, but a couple of loose pieces flutter around his face as he skates backwards. He looks so happy for you, and some of that tight feeling you’ve been carrying around all morning dissipates. You smile back at him. 

You both go into a lutz. It’s a jump you’ve done half a million times. It should be a given, perfect every time. And yet you catch your mistake in midair. 

You land on your hands and knees. 

You pant a couple of times, and your next breath scrapes on the way in. Tears press at your eyes horrifyingly fast, like they’ve only been waiting for their chance. You press your nose to the ice. 

Skates hiss until they’re next to you, Sirius’ hand on your back. 

“What’s wrong? What happened?” 

You shake your head, humiliated by your fall and even more so by this fracturing, how easily it came on. You feel pathetic. 

“Where is it?” Sirius’ voice climbs, growing shrill with panic. “Let me see. How bad is it?” 

He’s trying to sit you up, hands cold and gentle and frantic, but his touch stills when a warmer one meets your shoulder. 

“Are you hurt?” Remus asks. 

“No.” You finally find your voice, but it’s pitchy and awful. “I’m sorry.” 

“Fuck. Fucking hell.” In the next second you’re smushed against Sirius, who hugs you tight as soon as he knows he doesn’t have to be delicate with you. “You scared the shit out of me.” 

“I’m sorry.” Your face feels hotter than hot in the cold rink. You push into your eyes with your fingertips. “God, what the fuck! I thought I fixed it. I don’t understand why this is still happening.” 

You’re sobbing now, tiny explosions that start in your chest and ricochet all the way through you, but fuming all the same. 

“You were both right, I’m holding myself back. I thought I could stop, but it just keeps happening, and I can’t do this. I’m so incompetent I can’t even do a fucking lutz. We need to find Sirius a new partner. I can’t hold us back anymore, I—” 

“Hey.” 

Remus’ voice is harsh, but not as harsh as Sirius’ grip on you turns at the sound of it. Your partner’s face goes sharp and cruel in an instant, an animal bearing its teeth. 

Remus pays him no mind. He keeps his eyes on yours, firm and unrelenting. “Don’t speak about yourself that way,” he says. 

You feel Sirius’ hold slacken in surprise. 

Another tear trudges down your face, and Remus’ expression gentles. “Everyone falls,” he tells you. “You have been improving, faster than I thought was possible, but you can’t expect it to happen all at once. You’re still going to fall sometimes. It’s alright. We’re working on it, yeah?” 

You sniff, wiping underneath your eyes. “Yeah,” you squeak out. “Sorry.” 

“You don’t need to be sorry. Just give yourself some grace, yeah?” His lips press together in a little grimace that’s likely meant to be a smile. “It’s my job to be hard on you, not yours. You’re allowed to fuck up. It doesn’t make you incompetent, or unworthy of competing with Sirius. You are the best person to be his partner. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be here, understand?” 

“Yeah.” You take a deep breath in. “Thank you.” It stutters a bit on the way out, catching on another tiny sob you can’t help. This one comes from a place of relief, but Sirius’ cold fingers dig into your arm anyway and Remus’ brows twitch slightly as though it hurts him, too. 

“No problem,” he says softly. “Are you sure you haven’t hurt yourself?” 

You nod, closing your eyes to will yourself calmer. 

“Good. Do you want to leave off early today?” 

You swallow and start to stand. “No. I’m okay.” 

“No.” Sirius’ voice is bemused enough to sound like a question. He rises beside you, looking at you like he’s trying to puzzle you out. “No, something’s up with you today. We should stop.” 

Remus seems to go along with him, starting back towards the opening in the boards, and you think wryly that if one good thing comes from all this it might be those two finally starting to get along. You also realize for the first time that Remus is out here with you on the ice. It’s the first time you’ve seen him so much as think about coming off of the bleachers, even if he is only in regular shoes and leaning heavily on his good hip as he makes his way back towards them. 

“I’m okay,” you repeat to Sirius. 

He shakes his head. “You’ve been weird since you got here. What happened?”

“Nothing happened.” 

“Something did.” 

You push out a frustrated breath. “Nothing relevant.” 

“But something did happen.” 

He’s steering you towards the exit now. It feels petulant to rip away and stay on the ice even if no one else will, though that’s what you’d really like to do. 

“Are you actively trying to piss me off?” you ask him. 

Sirius shrugs, stepping onto the floor. “If that’s what’s going to work. I only want to know what got you so upset.” 

“Nothing.” 

“Here we are again. Back to ‘nothing.’” 

Remus is watching you both like you’re a show his TV has randomly flipped to. Tentative of where he stands, but definitely entertained. 

You hate that this has become such a big thing. “It’s really nothing,” you say, planting yourself on the bench with a force that perhaps belies your claim. “It was just some git on the way here this morning.” 

Sirius’ eyebrows go up while Remus’ come down. 

“And what did this git have to say to you?” Sirius asks. 

You sigh, starting to unlace your skates since apparently practice is over. “It’s not what he said. He only asked me out, which is fine, but then he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He, like, grabbed onto my arm and wouldn’t let go for a bit.” 

Sirius’ expression goes stormy. It’s almost as bad as the look he’d given Remus earlier, only without a target to be directed at. “Are you fucking joking?” 

“It was fine,” you say. “I made it here, didn’t I? It just freaked me out a little. And pissed me off.” 

“Yeah, you should be pissed!” Sirius starts pacing, mindless of the indents his blades are putting into the rubber flooring. “Who does that? Did he think—what, you were just going to have to go out with him if he took you captive?” 

“I don’t know.” You give him a dead-eyed stare. “I didn’t ask him.” 

“God, you should be able to walk to fucking practice in the morning without being accosted by—by some—”

“Do you need someone to walk with you in the mornings?” Remus seems uninterested in waiting to hear what creative insult Sirius comes up with for the git. He looks at you steadily, his jaw tight but ready to accept whatever answer you give him. 

“No,” you say. “Like I said, it was really nothing.” 

“It upset you,” he says matter-of-factly. “That’s not nothing.” 

“I can walk you.” Sirius plonks down beside you on the bench, seeming to have come to a decision. “Just wait for me inside tomorrow morning, and I’ll come pick you up.” 

You can’t help but smile at that. “If I leave it to you, we’ll never get here. There’ll never be another morning practice again.” Remus’ tongue pokes into his cheek like he’s repressing a grin. 

“Wha—so little faith!” Sirius sputters, straightening before he’s so much as touched his laces. “I’ll be there, okay? We will be needing to pick up my coffee on the way here, though.” 

You give him a skeptical look. “You realize I wake up a half hour earlier to have time to get those?” 

“Fucking hell! Do you really?”

[areyouwell]

Hi!!! I really love your work- photophobia is my favorite piece of fanfiction ever!!

I don't know if your requests are still open but if they are and you feel inspired I'd like to request a one-shot where Logan and reader are caught having sex by a member of the x-men (you can decide who!!) I'd love to see your take on it <3

Like Animals

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Mutant!F!Reader

Warnings: MDNI

Word count: 3.4k

A/N: im sorry this took so long ;-; work's been driving me crazy and i've been creatively constipated BUT i really liked this request and ngl i was laughing to myself when writing it hehehe. also not sure if this counts as a oneshot or a drabble since it's kinda short but i hope this is what you had in mind!

Taglist: @fries11 (i had a taglist for Phobophobia but this is a more general one if anyone wants to be on it lmk <3)

How many steps could one person do in a single day? It was a question you idly entertained whilst pacing across the floor of the kitchen, having been asked to politely remove yourself from movie night by a mildly irritated Kitty when you were unable to sit still. You’d spent most of your day like this. Anxiously, mindlessly marching from place to place, your body humming with anticipation since yesterday evening. 

It was the longest you and Logan had been apart since the start of your relationship a year and a half ago, and fuck you missed him. It had been roughly three weeks since he’d left, Charles trusting him with gathering intel on some new fucked up mutant slave trade just south of the school. He’d called you, of course he had, and you knew it was purely just to hear your voice, but his calls were few and far between. He was busy, incredibly busy. And whilst you tried to keep yourself busy too, it was hard not to think about him constantly. Not to wonder how he was doing, whether he was okay. If he missed you just as much as you missed him.

But you were pacing because he was supposed to be coming home today. Supposed to, if everything had gone well. Scott was almost as excited as you were, but only because he was happy to finally have his bike back. He was almost inconsolable when he went into the garage to see his prized possession had once again been stolen, and you tried everything you could to hide your amused grin. It was so typical of him, for his last act before he was gone for three weeks to be something that would piss off Scott. 

Fuck you loved him. 

You checked the clock on the wall for the thirtieth time that minute, the hands mocking you with the rhythmic clicking. Quarter past nine. He was supposed to be back an hour ago. Hence the anxious pacing. You resisted the urge to call him, hoping that maybe the traffic was just bad, or he got held up for some reason. He was okay. Of course he was okay. This was Logan you were thinking about. He was always okay. He had to be okay. 

Your teeth gnawed on your bottom lip cursing lowly as you didn’t focus on where you were going and smacked your hip into the corner of the table. If only he knew the things he id to you when he was away. 

With a brief pause, you debated whether or not to go back to movie night. Whilst you had no idea what was happening onscreen, being unable to focus, you think you could understand the fairly basic premise of Night at the Museum. Some guy spends a night at a museum. How complex could that actually be? But remembering Kitty’s flat stare of knowing, you thought better of it. She’d been helpful in distracting you for the last three weeks, but clearly, you’d worn down her patience. Not that you could blame the girl. She called you out for being too codependent on him, and whilst at the time you refuted the claim, you couldn’t help thinking she may have had a point. Maybe.

You weren’t codependent. You just loved him. A lot. Enough to constantly be by his side every minute of every day. And it wasn’t like he was any different. 

Another minute ticked by and you clenched your jaw. Had he gotten lost or something? Why was he making you wait longer than you needed to? Of course it wasn’t deliberate, even if he wanted to, you don’t think he had the strength to do that, deprive you both of the other’s presence, but he really picked a time to be an hour late. 

You crossed to the window, pulling back the curtain for the umpteenth time and waiting for longer than you should for the peek of headlights around the drive. But there was nothing. Just the moonlit grass and silhouette of trees. You huffed, throwing the curtain back into place. Footsteps echoed through the hallway towards the kitchen, and you dragged a hand down your face. 

“I’m fine, Scott. Just… getting kinda worried now. He should have been back an hour ago.” You couldn’t help pulling back the curtain again, as if anything would have changed in the last twenty seconds. 

“Scott? Seriously?”

Oh. That was not Scott. 

You whipped around, heart soaring as you knew that voice instantly. You could be deaf and still know the sound of his voice. Your lips split into a broad grin as you saw Logan standing in the doorway, arms folded across his chest, brow raised with a wry smile pulling at his lips. 

“Logan!” You beamed, racing across the room to all but tackle him. He dropped his leather bag to the floor, wrapping his arms around around your middle, spinning with the momentum of your jump. Your legs anchored around his waist, ankles locking at the small of his back as you let yourself bask in his presence, inhaling the familiar scent of cigars and wood smoke. 

“Hi darlin’. Sorry ‘m late.” He breathed, tightening his hold on you more for comfort than anything else. The tightness in his chest finally eased with the feeling of having you back in his arms. Logan always thought of himself as a lone wolf. An outsider. Someone who didn’t need anybody else. That was until he met you and fell absolutely head over heels. Now he could barely stand to be on his own for longer than five minutes before he’d find himself sorely missing your presence. So the last three weeks had been as torturous for him as they had been for you. 

Removing your face from the crook of his neck, you schooled your expression into a scowl. “Where the fuck have you been? An hour, Logan. I haven’t seen you in three weeks and you make me wait another hour?!”

He rolled his eyes at your dramatics, smirking as your furrowed brows deepened. “Roads were closed. Fuckin’ tree blocked the way so I had to turn back n’ find another way round.” He explained, and you reluctantly accepted it. “Not that you missed me or anythin’.”

“Me? Miss you?” you quirked a brow, your scowl dissolving into a mischievous smirk. “In your dreams, Howlett.”

Before he had a chance to quip back, you wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging tight as your lips crashed into his, dragging a quiet groan from his throat as he tasted longing passion on your tongue. His hands slid from your back to your thighs and oh how you missed the way he would grip them, leaving little purple bruises where he dug his fingers into your soft flesh. 

Your brows pinched as he shifted to pin you against the wall, palms kneading your ass whilst he ground his rapidly hardening cock against your clothed heat. You whimpered lightly as his touches became desperate, your teeth tugging at his bottom lip, eliciting a sharp gasp from the depths of his chest. Shifting from his neck, your nails dug into the hard muscles of his shoulders, leaving little crescent dents across the sinewy skin before you the brown flannel from his arms. It was barely clinging on anyway, so why not assist the fall?

“Where’s everyone?” He ground, lips fanning against your lower jaw as he moved to pepper tingling kisses and aching bruises along the column of your neck, his teeth scraping the sensitive skin above your pulse point. You angled your head to the side, allowing him easier access, the scuff of his beard scratching deliciously against the hollow of your throat.

“Movie night��� Logan…!” you gasped his name as quietly as you could when his hands left the plush of your ass, using your grip around his waist and the wall to hold you aloft whilst he pawed and kneaded at your breasts through your t-shirt, braless nipples hardening almost instantly. He pinched the pebble through the fabric, tugging slightly and silencing your whine with a burning kiss, hungrily devouring your mouth before you alerted anyone in the living room to the new show playing in the kitchen. 

He growled a gravelly “Good” against your lips, removing your arms from his shoulders to raise above your head, pulling your shirt up and off in a hurried frenzy, almost snarling to himself as you bared yourself for him. You shivered slightly, though not from the cold, quite the opposite. The heat radiating off him kept you warm as you scrabbled to return the favour, your nails scratching at his naval before pulling up the white singlet and discarding it to the ground alongside your own shirt. Your hands fell to his belt, his mouth delivering little bites to your collarbone. Fuck, you needed him now. You needed him yesterday. Hell, you needed him the day he left, because fucking yourself with your fingers wearing his flannel was nothing in comparison to the ecstasy of fucking yourself on his cock. 

“Need you,” you breathed, popping open the button atop his jeans and pulling down the zipper over the incredibly obvious and likely extremely uncomfortable tent in his pants. Logan groaned slightly against your neck in relief, the tip of his cock pulsing and leaking with need. He hadn’t been this desperate for you since–

What the fuck was he saying? He was always desperate for you. In any way, shape or form. For whatever you were willing to give him. Though, luckily enough, you were usually willing to give him everything. 

“Fuck princess, ‘can smell you. Smell so fuckin’ good.” he growled directly into your ear, hot breath sending shivers down your spine. You really didn’t care that you were in the kitchen, nor did you care when he carefully tore through the crotch of your sweatpants with a single claw. Your arousal clouded his senses, the sweet scent of need making his hips buck into you. Especially when he dipped his hand through the tear to find you were naked beneath. “No underwear? You did miss me.” He grinned the same smile as a predator, and you clamped your lips together to stop your own disobedient smile. 

“‘Was in my pyjamas… at least, they were my pyjamas.” You hissed, brows pinching as a curious, delicate finger softly grazed through your slick folds, gathering your dewy arousal on the tip of his fingers before bringing them up to his mouth. A carnal groan rumbled from his chest as he tasted you, his eyes rolling before they closed. Your mouth fell open, chest rising and falling in rapid pants as one of your hands shoved the elastic of his briefs down below his hips, just far enough for his desperate cock to spring from his confines. 

“Impatient?” He smirked darkly as you attempted to grind against him, having to clench your jaw to stop yourself from whining. You shot him an equally wicked look, earning yourself a brow raise before his jaw slackened, your hand circling his length in a tight palm, jerking him from base to tip and using your thumb to slather the head of his cock in his own yearning. He bucked into your hand, a gasp flying from his lips before you slid him through the tear in your sweatpants. But before you could coerce him to drive home, he pulled you from the wall. 

With a small squeak of surprise, your nails clung to his back, tearing angry marks up his spine as he set you back down on the table, leaning over you until you were lying against the solid wood. 

“Say you missed me,” he growled with a smile, clearly deriving pleasure from the way you huffed in frustration. You only responded by raising your hips into his, grinding your now-soaked crotch against his throbbing cock. “C’mon baby, just say it, ‘n I’ll give you everything you want.” he bargained, though finding it incredibly difficult to deny you. He grunted a soft curse when you locked your legs tighter around his waist, forcing his sensitive tip to graze through your aching heat. Fuck he wanted you. But at the same time, he really wanted to hear you say it. “C’mooon, say you missed me. Can’t really deny it.”

“Fuck, yes I missed you. Of course I missed you. Now fuck me already!” You spat through gritted teeth, but he still didn’t claim you the way you wanted him to. 

“How much?”

“Logan?!”

“How much? How much did you miss me?” He grinned and you groaned in frustration. Trust him to find the worst times to wind you up. With a deep breath, you leaned up, holding both sides of his neck as you took the shell of his ear between your teeth. 

“I fucked myself wearing your clothes, whining your name, imagining my fingers were your fingers. Imagining that stupid silicon cock was your cock. That’s how much I missed you.” You whispered, earning yourself a needy groan from the man above you. 

His hips moved as if they had a mind of their own, his hand guiding himself through the ruins of your sweatpants to sink into your leaking cunt, and you both gasped airily at the sensation. Incrementally, Logan pushed inside you, savouring the pulse of your silken walls, the pitch of your trapped whines behind a wall of teeth and lips. Oh how he wanted to hear you, but somewhere in the back of his pleasure-addles mind, he was glad you were keeping quiet. At least one of you was still aware of the time and place. 

Slowly he bottomed out, pressing the coarse hairs of his pelvis against your clit. Taking your hand in his, he trapped it by the side of your head, knuckled turning white as he fought to resist the urge to cum there and then. You felt so fucking good. How did you always feel so fucking good?

“F-fuck, Logan… move.” You hissed, your hips undulating in desperate pumps as you attempted to get him to do something other than just fill you. It felt incredible, but you needed more. What you didn’t realise was that he was hypersensitive. He’d been without you for the last three weeks, with nothing but your voice on the other side of his phone and his own fist to satisfy his craving for you. And it did nothing but make it worse. Did nothing but make him harder for you. 

“Easy, princess. Not– fuck… not goin’ anywhere.” He swore as you deliberately clenched around him, slowly pulling back until only his tip was submerged in your heat, before pushing back in, having to sink his teeth into the meat of your shoulder to muffle his loud groan of ecstasy. You clawed at his closed fist, sharp nails digging into the three spaces where his claws would slide out—an unknown erogenous zone.

Until now.

His cock jumped inside you, shivers of pure electric honey quivering down his spine as he slammed his hips into yours, momentarily losing control of himself. “Shit… shit! Fuck that was– what did you–” 

You did it again, watching his features fall completely slack, mouth agape as he bucked into you uncontrollably, as if searching for a deeper place to reach. Your chest inflated with a sharp gasp as the leaking, throbbing tip of his cock brushed that little bundle of pleasure nestled inside your walls, the tight leash you were holding on your voice loosening slightly as he thrust into you sharply, having found just the right angle. 

“Yes… fuck, yeah, there, right– shit, right there!” Your eyes fluttered closed, your body set alight as he set a determined pace, the table shifting slightly with each delicious thrust, your ecstasy climbing higher and higher and you let yourself be completely consumed by pleasure. 

“Yeah?” he growled, gasping into the side of your neck as your other hand scratched up his back as if you were trying to get past his regeneration and leave lingering marks. He loved it when you got rough, it drove him fucking crazy when you tried to leave your marks on him. There were times he hated his mutation for that because nothing would push him higher than knowing he could look in the mirror and see your desperation sucked into his neck or torn into his back. 

“Fuck! Logan, I–”

“Are you fucking serious?!”

At the first sound of a foreign voice outside of your bubble of rapture, your mutation flared, blinking both you and Logan out of sight. Though, if you could teleport, that would have been a whole lot more beneficial. Because now poor Scott had to bear witness to your spontaneous kitchen table tryst. 

Had to bear witness to Logan’s bare ass. You almost wished you had his perspective…

“Maybe he didn’t see us…” you whispered as quietly as you could, and though you couldn’t see Logan smile, you knew he was grinning from ear to ear. 

“I wouldn’t hold out hope.”

“I can fucking hear you. On the table? Seriously? Everyone eats there. I eat there!” He lamented, and you craned your neck to see he’d covered his already covered eyes with his hands, his face a nice shade of bright pink. 

“Like you and Jean are any more discrete in the danger room, Summers.” Logan barked, and you snorted a laugh which quickly turned into a gasp when he shifted slightly. You couldn’t even hide the way your cunt pulsed the moment you heard him walk in, and you knew Logan would have given you a look of intrigue. 

“That’s not– You’re still going?!”

“You kinda walked in at a bad time.” You could hear just how hard Logan was trying to keep his shit together whilst still being under the influence of your arousal, like a siren to a sailor. 

“Exactly. It’s rude to walk in on a lady without knocking, I could have been naked!” You bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning aloud as Logan shifted again, deliberately this time. Oh, how you wished you could see his face right now. 

“In the kitchen?!” 

You snorted a laugh, earning a low groan from Logan as your walls convulsed around his cock, your thighs tightening around his waist. You could almost hear his teeth grind together as he continued his battle to stop from pounding into you there and then. 

“You might wanna go, Scott. Logan’s getting impatient.”

“You can’t even see him, how’d you kn– OH FUCK’S SAKE!”  He huffed, turning on his heel and storming from the room, no doubt to tell Kitty and Ororo he’d just caught the two of you fucking like animals on the kitchen table. 

When you were certain he was gone, you released your grip on your mutation and the visage of Logan’s sweat-slicked face greeted you, a crooked grin pulling at his lips. 

“You liked that, didn’t you?” He asked lowly, nipping at your jaw. “Could feel you gushin’ around me, princess. You liked it when he walked in. You liked it when we got caught.” Feeling boneless, Logan pulled you up with him as he stood, sliding his still-hard cock from your twitching cunt. 

“Shut up…” You mumbled, attempting to latch your lips to his. But he pulled back from you, that same shit-eating grin still shining. With a huff, you hopped off the table, stooping to snatch your t-shirt from the ground. 

“My little exhibitionist. Who knew?” Logan wrapped his arms around your naked waist and you leaned back into his chest, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as you felt his cock press against your ass. “‘M not against extending invitations. Just to watch. Nobody gets to touch you but me.” He growled, a possessive edge cutting into his tone, one that made you slightly weak at the knees, as if you weren’t already struggling to stand. A fresh wave of arousal curled in your lower gut, and you turned in his arms, eyes like heated coals.

“Bedroom. Now.”

“Just the two of us?”

“Now, Logan!”

With a dark chuckle, he bent to pick you up, hands braced against the backs of your thighs much like he had when he first walked in. 

“Yes ma’am.” He murmured, before finally letting you capture his mouth with your own, teeth clashing and tongues dancing as he blindly carried you up to bed to finish what you both started. 

[popamolly]

I HAVE A REQ FOR VAL

reader will be a one of the employees who works the cameras at the studio, the rumor that she has a huge crush on val gets out and he confronts her.. in the end having a few drinks which loosens her up and makes her confess how much she wants him and val shows her the time of her life 🤗🤗 (bonus points for overstim and degrading/ praise)

៸៸ ﹟CUT THE CAMERAS!

pairing. valentino x fem!reader

warnings. valentino exists, valentino x fem!employee!reader, smut, oneshot, rough sex, degradation/praise (best of both worlds), overstimulation, reader is a bit tipsy, vouyerism (?), Valentino doesn’t get to cum >:)

author’s note. thank you for the idea anon! this is kinda long because i got carried away but i hope you enjoy <3 (I also want to note that i do not condone Valentine’s actions toward Angel in the show) and as always, request are open!

𖤐 MASTERLIST

“Oh no! I’m a bad boy and I need a real hunk daddy to put me in my place!” Angel acted out the script well, his voice clearly blurring the lines of authenticity as you focused the camera on him and the four large demons that surrounded him. The demons were definitely jocks on Earth because they towered over Angel with ease, their swollen cocks in hand dripping with precum, ready to snap the poor spider like a twig, “Yes, daddy! Stuff me full of your cock!”

All you could think about was how lucky you were to be on the opposite side of the camera. You couldn’t even imagine taking someone or something as large as a forearm, not even to mention the girth— and there was four of them. Angel Dust truly was a wonder and you commended him for his bravery. Little did you know that he was under a contract that practically forced him to do the things he was doing. Did he want to be a pornstar? Not really. Did he want to be a druggie? Who’s to say. Hell was definitely that, Hell.

You focused on your job with a sigh. Which was to work your camera to get all the right angles, preferably with Angel’s fucked out face or holes in the shot. The workers behind the camera wouldn’t dare move from their post on set. Everyone was in their respective roles under Valentino’s watchful gaze.

‘Valentino,’ Just his name in your thoughts had your heart beat quickening. Everything about him was so alluring that you couldn’t help but be intrigued by him. You glanced over in his direction which was across the set from you, giving you a good view of the man you’ve had a crush on since the moment you got this job. He sat tall in his directors chair, right leg crossed over his left elegantly to expose his fish net tights and smooth toned legs. The sight alone could make you drool and he wasn’t doing anything else than just sitting there, ‘Fuck, he is so hot’.

But your thoughts were only just that, thoughts. A silly crush that you told yourself you would grow out of eventually.

You blinked out of your thoughts suddenly at the sound of Angel’s pleasurable scream of ecstasy. After a few more cheesy lines exchanged from the script the scene was officially over.

“And scene! Good job everyone, wrap it up!” Your manager claps before walking Valentino over to my camera to look at the still shots I took and a preview of the video. The lights in the studio came on just as the pair came to stand next to you. Your manager nearly shoves you to the side to take credit of the knowledge of videography like you weren’t just the one that stood behind the camera for hours. If anything you should be the one showcasing your work to Valentino and present him all the best stills you took during the scene— it was your work after all. But atlas you were nothing more than a lowly employee that can’t even draw the attention of the Boss.

“We will delete these as the light is a bit off and to the left, not really highlighting Angel,” Your manager clicked an arrow to scroll through the picture, “Whoever was on light duty needs to be fired.”

“Just trash the ones we can’t use,” Valentino lets out a puff of pink smoke in annoyance, “I only want the best shots of Angel.”

You looked toward the screen, speaking before actually thinking, “Well if you adjust the lighting and contrast on the photos it should be salvageable.”

“Excuse me?” Your manager glares at you, “You aren’t a professional. Your job is to hold a camera, that is it—!”

Valentino covers your managers mouth with one of his four hands before tilting his head at you in curiosity, “You can fix the photos, darling?”

You nearly jump out of your skin with excitement. Valentino was talking to you— actually talking to you and looking in your direction. All you could do was nod at his question before turning toward the computer that was next to the camera, fixing the problem in less than five minutes and presenting the stills to Valentino in anticipation.

Valentino looks them over with a grin, “Perfect, caro. You just potentially saved me thousands of dollars.” Now that he was standing in front you the tall moth man had a chance to take a good look at you. A wicked smile on his face as he had countless of thoughts in his head on just how he could use that perfect body of yours. Something about you had him twitching in want and it wasn’t like Valentino ignore his urges.

Valentino outstretched his arm to extend his body down to be able to take your hand in one of his, his lips brushing against your knuckles gently in a sweet affectionate kiss that had you swooning, “Follow me to my office? I wish to discuss something with you.”

“Oh—I—Um—Okay!” You agreed, stumbling over your words as you tried to ignore the feeling of your manager burning a hole into your head. Without complaint you follow Valentino up some steps and into his large office that just so happened to have a king size bed conveniently placed in the middle of the room, “Did I do something wrong, Valentino?”

“Nonsense! Quite the opposite,” Valentino gestures you to sit on one of his gaudy plush animal print chairs as he walks over to his alcohol table to pour you and himself a drink, “You captured my attention for the time being, how lucky for you, principessa.”

“I-I guess so,“ You gladly take the wine glass Valentino offers you, gliding your fingertips along the rim nervously. Your heart was pounding so much you felt as if it would burst out your chest. Now that you were prey under his gaze you felt as though he would pounce on you at any moment. And the crazy part was that you’d let him. You would let him do every dirty deed to you in the book if he wanted.

To calm your nerves you quickly downed your first glass of wine before letting Valentino offer you another glass. And then another. It wasn’t long before your head was spinning slightly from the buzz the alcohol gave you due to your lightweight nature. It for sure made this interaction easier and even loosened your tongue.

“Can I be honest with you?” You at least still had a clear mind to confess what has been on your mind for weeks now. It was now or never right? “I secretly hoped for this… for you to notice me.”

“Oh?” Valentino raised his eyebrow teasingly, “How naughty of you.”

“Naughty or not..” You sat on the edge of your chair, your knees brushing up against his, “You’re an inspiration Val, truly. I admire you and the work that you do.”

Valentino smiles wide, his gold tooth shining in the light, before taking a small sip of his wine before setting down the glass on a side table. You were giving him such an ego boost that he was starting to like you more and more.

“(Y/N), was it? What a pretty name,” Valentino wasn’t fooled by your innocent persona. If anything, he knew you were the exact opposite. He never breathed down any of his employees necks but he always did an intense research on them and of course nothing happened on his side of Pride Ring without him knowing. Every conversation you had with your fellow coworkers was something he heard about verbatim. This little crush you had on him was flattering to say the least and Valentino wanted to see how far you would take your feelings for him, “Have you ever thought about being in front of the camera instead of behind it? I could make you a star, sweetheart.”

That being said he was good at reading people, and it was quite clear that you were shrinking under his gaze. But it wasn’t from fear— no, it was from something more sensual. Valentino couldn’t help but smirk at you and think how turned on you were and how you did such a terrible job of hiding it.

“Really?” You looked up to meet Valentino’s gaze with such hopeful and naive eyes that your boss felt his cock twitch, “I’m not very photogenic…”

“Oh mio caro, that is an easy fix,” Valentino brought his finger under your glass to slowly tip it up, forcing you to finish your drink down to the last drop. Once you were finished he delicately takes the glass from your hands and sets it aside, “All you have to do it just find a perfect angle that suits you just right.”

With your mind slightly a buzz, you lookedup at Valentino’s looming figure with a soft look, “Valentino—”

“Show me, darling.” Valentino clicks his tongue, fluffing the fur around his neck collar as his heart shaped glasses fell to the bridge of his nose, “Show me how you touch yourself and I promise to find that perfect angle for you.”

With that you are gently pushed down onto the bed, Valentino’s soft hands gliding along your inner thigh before spreading your legs apart, which in turn raises your skirt you were wearing to your waist. A pleased hum falling from his lips as he noticed your pink colored thong you were wearing that had a wet patch beginning to form right in the middle.

“I-I have never..don’t this before,” You admit, “In front of a camera I mean.”

“Oh my darling, there will be no camera, just us.” Valentino took a long drag from his cigarette, “I can find your perfect angle through my eyes alone. Now..show me.”

You got comfortable on the bed, trying to relax your mind and invision yourself in the comfort of your own home. You felt so small under Valentino’s gaze and it caused nothing but a pleasurable shiver to go down your spine as you removed your panties which Valentino was quick to take from your hands so he could sniff them with a deep inhale.

“So obedient,” Valentino smirks at the whimpers that left your lips, eyes fixed on the way your fingers messily rubbed over your clit, “Aren’t you, principessa?”

You nod wordlessly, so caught up in chasing your orgasm, you didn’t even notice Valentino sauntering closer to you. Your fingers began to move faster and faster before they’re pulled away from you suddenly, a whine leaving your lips from your denied orgasm. “You’ll cum when I say slut,” Valentino orders, his fingers rubbing through your soaked pussy at an agonizingly slow pace. You gasp, hips rising for more contact.

“Patience, darling, is a virtue.” You bit down on your bottom lip at Valentino’s words, “You’re so wet for me, i just want to make a mess of you.”

A light moan leaves your lips when you feel the tips of his fingers dip into your needy cunt. You don’t even get a chance to respond before his lips are pressed roughly onto yours, his tongue instantly invading your mouth, your moans now muffled as his fingers continued to skillfully move against your aching pussy. Valentino bites your lip, tugging on the flesh before plunging his fingers back into you, your back arching off the bed at the pleasure.

“V-Valentino! F-Fuck..!”

“Such a good girl for being so patient,” His praises only turn you on even more, if all was possible. “A dirty, fucking girl who wants nothing more than to cum, hm? i feel you tightening around my fingers mio caro.” Valentino is amused by the way your pussy sucks his fingers in with every thrust, “Oh you have such a pretty pussy.”

You whine from the way his thumb ghosts over your clit, “P-Please!”

“Please what, darling? Use that pretty voice of yours hm?”

“P-Please…can I cum?”

Valentino chuckles darkly, thumb rubbing your clit roughly as his fingers continue to pump in and out of you in a fast pace, “Cum for me slut.” You clench your eyes shut from the pleasure, loud, sultry moans leaving your lips with each pump of his fingers. You feel the knot in your stomach begin to tighten, your walls clenching around his digits desperately.

“Ah—! Fuck!” You’re too caught up in finally catching your orgasm. That intense wave crashing over you, leaving your fluttering hole clenching around Valentino’s slender fingers as he continued to pistol them in and out of you at fast pace so you could ride out your mindboggling orgasm.

“There it is! Good fucking girl,” Valentino positions himself between your legs, placing hot kisses onto your neck as your body continues to writhe beneath him, your back arches from the feeling of his tip rubbing between your sensitive folds, a whimper falling from your lips from the overstimulation you felt, “Oh I am not finished with you yet.”

“W-wait! Val—!” You nearly cry out when he pushes himself into you roughly.

“Shhhh,” Valentino’s fingers curl around your throat, his mouth lowering to your ear as his other two hands pin your legs to your chest, putting you in a deep folding press that allowed him to go impossibly deeper, “You’re doing so well for me, sweetheart. Look how this slutty hole takes my cock with ease.”

His thrusts start off slow and deep, each thrust nearing you to yet another orgasm. Everything about him was starting to become addicting. You wanted it all, his touch, his breath, his tongue— you wanted him to use you like his own personal fuck toy. You try to move your hips to match his thrusts, only for his grip to tighten around your throat, a low growl leaving his lips.

“You’re a natural at this, aren’t you dear? You want to get fucked like a slut that bad huh?” Tears began to escape your eyes as Valentino begins to pick up the pace, the tip of his dick kissing your cervix with every thrust. The overstimulation was too much and you couldn’t help but cry from the overwhelming pleasure, “Look at you, such a perfect whore for me.”

You wrap your hands around his wrist to leverage yourself, his grip around your throat nearly sending you over the edge. You felt the sudden desperate need to cum again and you couldn’t hold it back anymore.

Valentino groans from the feeling of your cunt clenching around his dick sporadically, “You going to cum again for me, mio caro? Fucking do it.” He licks his lips at the sight of your tear stained face contorted with pleasure, bringing down his free hand to circle around your clit roughly, your loud moans bouncing off the walls of the dimly lit room, “Do it, slut.”

You release the moment the words left his mouth, Valentino’s thrust coming to a halt as his fingers continue to make a mess of your clit, the clear liquid squirting all over your legs and his pelvis.

Fuck, did he love this. You were falling right into his hands like a moth to a flame and he planned on using that against you. Your naivety and love for him was going to be your downfall and he would be right there with sweet words to guide your hand into signing your soul to him. You would be another star in the making, another flower ready to bloom under the sparkling light. And Valentino couldn’t wait to use that to his advantage.

“That’s my good little whore,” He didn’t even give you a moment to catch your breath before moving his hips once again, “Now you’re going get that slutty pussy to squirt for me again.”

© POPAMOLLY 2024 all fanfics belong to me, do not copy, translate, or repost in any other social media.

[wandascosmic]

your boyfriend, he's upset (4)

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

part four of 'you belong with me' series

summary: basically a wanda series inspired by jim and pam from the office

word count: 2596

tags: slight homophobia, best friends to lovers, reader's so in love, wanda's as oblivious as it gets, to reader's feelings and her own, reader messing with sam even more, wanda joins in on the pranks, we hate vision in this one

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7

“Hey,” Sam whispers to you as you’re reading over your files by the copy machine. “So, listen, I was thinking that it might be a good idea if you and I formed an alliance, you know, ‘cause of the downsizing.” 

You nod slightly, still keeping your eyes on your papers but acknowledging the fact that you’re listening to him. There was a rumor going around that Tony was possibly being forced by corporate to remove a couple of his staff, and because Sam was Tony’s biggest suckup, naturally he was worried about being laid off. You and Wanda had talked about it earlier, and you both weren’t too worried, since you knew you would remain friends. Plus, the only good part about your job in your opinion was seeing Wanda every day, so that would probably be the driving force that would make you miss this place at all.  

“Would you like to form an alliance with me?” he asks lowly, like the two of you were on some sort of top-secret mission. 

You meet his gaze, narrowing your eyes and looking over your shoulder as if to ensure no one was eavesdropping on your conversation. “Absolutely, I do,” you respond under your breath, imitating his spy-like tone of voice. 

“Good, good,” Sam answers, crossing his arms and scowling around at the members of the office. “Okay, now we need to figure out who’s vulnerable, and who’s protected,” he points a finger to emphasize his point. 

Sam continues to speak about his plan for the two of you, but you don’t hear him over the excitement bubbling up in your chest as he presents to you a way you can finally get back at him for all the times he’s annoyed you. Your mind runs through a million different ideas of how to prank him, and you try not to smile to give it away, doing your best to maintain a serious expression.  

“Just one other thing, and this is important,” Sam states, and you snap out of your thoughts to play your role once more. 

You lean closer to hear him clearly. 

“This alliance is completely secret, ok? You cannot tell anyone about this.” 

You nod, holding out your hand for him to shake. He takes it with a firm grip. 

*** “An alliance?” Wanda asks with a laugh.  

“Oh, yeah,” you shrug, leaning over her desk, acting nonchalant but giving her a look to indicate that it’s a joke to you too. 

“What does that even mean?”

You break out into a smile. “I don’t know, I think it has something to do with ‘Survivor’, but I’m honestly not sure,” you joke. 

Wanda chuckles at your jest. 

“It’ll definitely involve spying on people, and we may build a fort in accounting,” you finish amusingly as she grins. 

“Y/N!” Sam interrupts from across the room, your head snapping up to turn towards him by the fake tree in the middle of the office. 

He narrows his gaze at you and Wanda suspiciously. “Can I talk to you for a second about…the paper products?” he lies, beckoning you over with a gesture of his hand. 

“Good luck,” Wanda whispers to you. 

You wink at her before walking over to meet Sam in the kitchen. 

Wanda watches your retreating from with a smile and an amused shake of her head. 

***

Slamming the door closed, Sam wastes no time in confronting you. “Did you tell Wanda about the alliance?” he accuses, pointing a finger at your chest. 

“What? No-” you respond as if his accusation is completely ludicrous.

“Just now!” Sam shouts at you. 

“Oh,” your eyes widen in fake realization. “Oh, no, no, no, Sam, no. I’m using her,” you clarify. “For the alliance.” 

Sam looks at you skeptically. 

“Who knows the most information about this office? Wanda!” you explain. 

“Right, that’s good, keep doing it,” Sam says, watching Wanda work at her desk in suspicion through the kitchen window. 

“Well, I’m trying to,” you answer. “Do you see what I’m doing?” 

“Mhm,” Sam continues to analyze all of Wanda’s actions. 

“But listen,” you get his attention, turning him back around to face you. “I’m gonna have to talk to her a lot, all right?” Sam nods. “And there may be chatting, and giggling, alright? And you gotta just pretend to ignore it, got that? Wipe it away.” 

“Done,” Sam says. 

“All right,” you acknowledge, patting him on the back and leaving the kitchen to head to your desk. 

***

“You’re not gonna believe this,” you tell Sam in the parking lot between the cars, pacing back and forth with your arms crossed and a scowl on your face.  

“What?” he asks with worry. 

“Bruce and Nat,” you pause, stepping closer to him. “They’re forming an alliance,” you admit. 

“What? How do you know?” he asks disbelievingly. 

“I saw them talking at lunch,” you lie. In reality, they were talking about their favorite sandwich shop in New York and they let you join in on the fun. You actually managed to learn a lot more about the history of ham and cheese. “And if Bruce is in HR, and Nat is in accounting, think about it.” 

“Oh, they are forming an alliance!” he grunts angrily, kicking the tires of a red car in front of the two of you. 

“Okay, listen,” you tell him. “We need to assume that everyone in this office is forming an alliance, and is therefore trying to get us kicked off.” 

“God, damn it! Why us?” he asks up at the sky. 

You hold his shoulder as he makes eye contact with you. “Because we’re strong, Sam. Because we’re strong.”  

***

“Hey, Y/N? Can I talk to you for a second?” Wanda asks, her arms crossed as she comes up to your desk, seeming as if something was weighing her down. 

“Sure, what’s up?” you ask, swiveling around in your chair to face her. 

“Um, I don’t know, I’m just going a little crazy,” she explains. “‘Cause I keep overhearing all of these conversations between Tony and corporate.” 

Sam’s ears perk up as he hears Wanda’s confession from his desk next to yours. 

“And they’re all about like, staff issues,” she continues.

You smirk as you see Sam’s brows furrow out of the corner of your eye as he pretends to keep reading his magazine.  

“Oh, no,” you respond, leaning your elbow on your chair’s armrest and putting your chin in your hand. 

“Yeah,” she agrees. “And he’s making me take notes on all these meetings, and I’m like, “These people are my friends,”” she says with worry. 

“Right,” you acknowledge. 

“But he’s all like, “This is confidential, you can’t tell anybody,”” she imitates. “But I don’t know, I just feel like I need to tell somebody, you know?”

“Yeah, of course,” you assure her. 

“Anyways, just promise me you’re not gonna say anything?” she asks you nervously and pulling her sleeves over the back of her hands. 

“I will not tell anybody,” you promise. “This is between you and me.” 

“Okay,” she says with relief and blows out a puff of air. You get out your chair and follow her back to her desk. 

“I didn’t know you were an actress, Maximoff, that was perfect,” you whisper to her, stopping at reception, and drumming your fingers on the table.

“All in a day’s work, L/N,” she repeats your phrase back to you with a cheeky grin as she sits back down.

You shake your head in amusement. That was all her idea too. Leaning on your elbow and putting your head in your palm, you admire her quietly as she starts typing on her computer, giving you small smiles every now and then. You sigh softly, she’s so amazing.

***

“Okay, here’s the deal,” you let Sam know in the kitchen, locking the door and peeking through the window to make sure no one’s listening. “Wanda says that one of the alliances is meeting in the warehouse during Jennifer’s birthday party later today.” 

“Oh my god, we have to be there!” Sam responds. 

“I know! But it’s gonna be a little tough because there’s no good place to hide down there,” you explain. 

“No, no, yes there is behind the shelves- oh my God,” Sam’s eyes widen. 

“What is it?” you ask with curiosity. 

“I know exactly what to do.” 

***

“This is not what I had in mind, Sam,” you say as he steps into the large cardboard box in the middle of the warehouse. 

“Shut up, this is gonna be perfect, Y/N. It’s got a central location, and it’s the perfect cover. I can see and hear everything,” he answers. 

“Okay, good,” you respond, as he sits down in the box. “Wait, this isn’t gonna work, the lids open,” you let him know. 

“So tape it down,” he answers obviously. 

“I can’t do that,” you squat down at his level. “You won’t be able to breathe.” 

He rolls his eyes. “Look, I can breathe just fine, okay, but if it makes you feel better, I’ll poke holes in the box.” 

“Thank you, okay,” you nod, standing up and closing the lid. 

“God, you’re so needy, Y/N,” he says. 

“Yeah, thank you, Sam,” you say sarcastically. “So, do you want me to stay here, and you know, stand next to the box?” 

“No,” he retorts, opening up the lid from the inside. “You need to go upstairs to the party, so people don’t notice that we’re both gone.”

“Right. That’s good.” 

You poke a couple of holes in the box as well as two peepholes before taping the lid shut.  

Letting Sam know that you’re finished, he tells you to leave to go to the party. “All right, let me know if you hear anything,” you tell him, walking backwards slowly, and trying your best to hold in your laughter. 

Once you’re at the bottom of the staircase you turn to rush upstairs to let Wanda know about what your shared scheme has led to. 

***

“He’s in a box?” Wanda asks disbelievingly as she looks up at you from her chair. 

“Wanda, he’s in a box!” you laugh, eating a bite of Jennifer’s birthday cake and leaning further over her desk.  “He’s downstairs, in a box, on the floor near the shelves.” 

Wanda laughs. 

“I’m serious! Go down there, check it out, and work your magic,” you say as you point your fork at her with a mischievous grin. 

Wanda bites her lip in mischief, nudging her head towards the stairs for the two of you to go mess with Sam even more. 

Wanda steps down the stairs loudly to make sure Sam can hear her arrival, while you trudge behind her as quietly as possible ready to watch the scene unfold before you.

Stopping at the last few steps, you point towards the box Sam is in, and Wanda walks towards it, pulling out her phone. 

“Hey, where are you?” she says as if she’s on an important call. “Yeah, we were supposed to meet here.” 

You bite your fist to hold in your laughter. 

“What?” Wanda says with fake shock. “Oh my gosh,” Wanda says as she covers her mouth to hold in her laughter. “That ties in perfectly with something that Tony was telling me earlier!” The two of you look at each other with enormous grins as you both notice Sam trying to tear open the box from the inside with his pocket knife. “Yeah, I just don’t know what people, in like, accounting are gonna do,” she says as if she’s stressed. “It said specifically that-” 

Sam falls over in his box and the two of you nearly burst out in hysterics. 

With Sam letting out a groan of pain, Wanda shuts her phone and runs towards you with a huge smile on her face and grabs your hand absentmindedly, the two of you unable to control your laughter as you both make your way back upstairs. 

***

“Wanda!” you say excitedly as you run around her receptionist's desk to stand behind her chair. “I have something that totally tops the box.” 

“Oh, tell me, tell me,” she says eagerly looking up at you. 

“Okay,” you start with a big smile on your face. “I have just convinced Sam that he needs to go to Stamford, and spy on our other branch.” 

Wanda muffles her laughter with her hand. 

“No, no, no!” you continue. “But before he does so, I told him that he should dye his hair to go undercover.” 

“Oh my god,” Wanda says, putting her head in her hand as she tries to stop her overwhelming urge to fall to the floor in hysterics. 

The two of you break out into a fit of laughter together, and in the heat of the moment, you wrap one of your arms around her shoulder and place your palm there and hold her hand with the other. 

“If we can get him to drive to Connecticut, and put peroxide in his hair,” you continue through your laughter, the two of you unable to stop your giggles. 

“What the hell is this?” 

Your heart drops as you hear the sound of Wanda’s fiance. Stopping your laughter immediately, you take a big step away from Wanda and turn your head, making direct eye contact with Vision. 

“What are you trying to cop a feel or something, L/N?” he asks in anger. 

“No, no, no-” you try to explain. 

Vision’s anger overcomes him further and he starts to stalk towards you in rage. You take a couple steps back in fear away from him. 

“Vis! Hey, hey, stop!” Wanda interrupts, putting herself between the two of you and placing the palm of her hand on Vision’s chest.

Wanda looks at you wide-eyed as Vision continues to glare daggers at you. 

“God, I don’t even know how to explain this,” you say awkwardly, rubbing the back of your neck. Whether that was in fear or nervousness you didn’t know, but this was definitely not an ideal situation. “Um,” you clear your throat. “Sam asked me to be in an alliance,” you state, almost laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. “And, um, we were, we’ve just been messing with him, you know, because of the whole alliance thing.” 

“Yeah, it’s just office pranks,” Wanda explains to her fiance, rubbing his arm to calm him down. 

“Exactly, it’s just office pranks,” you agree. 

“An alliance, what the hell is he talking about?” Vision asks Sam who stands by the fake tree. 

You look at Sam, silently apologizing and urging to explain the situation. 

 “I have absolutely no idea,” Sam replies, ignoring the situation before him and plopping down at his desk to make his sales calls. 

Your mouth parts slightly in shock. 

Vision looks at you angrily. “C’mon,” he tells Wanda, shoving her in the direction of the door while never breaking eye contact with you. Wanda tries to give you an apologetic look as she walks out but you don’t manage to meet her gaze as her fiance continues to intimidate you. 

Once Wanda’s outside, Vision stalks even closer to you, and at this point you’re nearly completely back to back with the wall. “You know she’s not gay, right?” he tells you venomously. 

Gulping, you nod. 

He narrows his eyes at you in anger, before finally deciding to walk out and follow his fiance. 

Standing awkwardly at Wanda’s empty receptionist’s desk, you walk quietly towards the ledge and lean onto your elbows, and sigh softly into your hands.

part 5

[partycatty]

may i request makeup sex with johnny and he's whiny and pathetic and very sweet <3

i just got the cutest idea :3

johnny cage > sorry, not sorry

makeup sex with johnny turns into a hospital trip... but you're not all that sorry.

warnings: nsfw, mild gore not really, more like a small injury, ur going crazy style

notes: i promise i'm still here, just mainly on twitter lately! oh, and i have a tiktok and discord server now!

[ masterlist ]

• johnny, as per usual, had to be right. he wasn't always, but being wrong ticked him off. for better or for worse, you were really good at being right. better than him.

• "clearly, your memory's going," his arms are crossed, lip twitching in mild frustration. "the entire twist ending was that coraline only dreamt about the other world. that was the whole point of the — don't look at me like that."

• "i'm not looking at you like anything," you throw your hands up defensively. "i just know you're wrong. she would just wake up in the bed, so... why are we even arguing about this?"

• "because you have the attitude of someone who knows what they're talking about."

• "and you have the attitude of a man sleeping on the couch tonight."

• "it's not my fault you're being dumb!"

• "jonathan."

• "uh oh. full name."

• he spends the rest of the evening apologizing to you, practically crawling up your shirt in an attempt to get you to forgive him. similarly to a pathetic dog, he trails behind you with big eyes, hoping to warm the cold shoulder.

• partially due to your pettiness and partially because you were starting to find it amusing, your silence carried into the night. crawling into bed, you made it clear that being the big spoon was off the table. what wasn't, in johnny's eyes, was the little spoon.

• he shimmies over to you, the sheets swishing obnoxiously as he makes his existence clear. a warm, strong hand finds its way to your hip, squeezing the flesh tenderly.

• "still mad?" he whispers in the darkness.

• "you've spent all day trying to get me to forgive you without even saying 'sorry,'" you reply lowly.

• he thinks for a moment. "i'm sorry. can i make it better?" his fingers dance their way up your shirt, and then down your pajama bottoms, massaging circles into your skin. "i promise i'll be good."

• your stomach twists — and your core pulses — hearing such filthy words fall from his lips so suddenly. damn him and his honey tongue, his sweet words and oh-so charming voice that always makes you weak in the knees when you try to be stone.

• "now?" you try to sound annoyed, but the noise sounds more like a chipping resolve, a pathetic excuse for anger that leans closer to curiosity. "you can't think of anything better?"

• "can you?"

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

• he had you there. somehow, someway, johnny was now below you, squeezing your thighs lovingly as you hovered above him.

• "you'll suffocate," you protest nervously, running a hand through his soft locks. "i may still be mad at you but i don't want to kill you."

• "you won't," his voice is half here, half somewhere else as he fixates on the sight of your pantsless form, your cunt embarrassingly eager for attention already when all you had done prior is made out. "if i told you i only worked out for this very moment, would you believe me?"

• "if you said it convincingly enough, superstar," you tug on his hair and he whines, a desperate needy whine that makes his own hips buck and his grip tighten on the chub of your thighs. unable to wait a moment more, he tugs you downward, landing your pussy directly onto his open mouth that hungrily latches to you like you offered his last meal.

• at first, you're hesitant to apply more weight into his face, but you feel his nose bump into your clit as he laps at your hole and something inside of you stirs in the most twisted way.

• johnny eats you out like an absolute starved man, a king of head as he proclaims himself to be. his hands climb up your body, drawing reddened lines down your bare skin as he grips onto something, anything to ground himself from this heavenly experience. to him, your pussy was liquid gold, the finest meal, and he would do absolutely anything for a taste of how aroused you were for him and him only.

• you instinctively rock your hips, sliding yourself across his face and johnny does his best to accommodate, providing just enough attention to whatever he has immediate access to to make you moan and writhe, jolting and twitching for more.

• "mmph — fuck, i forgive you," you breathe out an airy laugh as you massage his scalp. attempting to lean your torso back, you grab hold of his cock. it's almost painfully hard and weeping, twitching for attention. he deserved it, after his "apology."

• johnny immediately reacts to the sudden hold, reeling in the way you stroke his length. he groans into your cunt, causing you to rock unintentionally harder than before and snap your hips forward with a cry out. it inspires him to wrap his lips around your clit and suck, flicking his tongue back and forth with so much speed he might whine about his jaw being sore the next morning.

• you feel your orgasm quickly approach, chasing up on you like a very abrupt finish line. you attempt to warn johnny but you could only whimper and spew out incoherent vowels, now completely dismissive of how much weight you were now applying to his face.

• "j-johnny—" crack!

• johnny cries out in pain, tapping your bare ass as a sign to lift yourself up, a silent safe word. immediately obliging, you sheepishly climb off of him, now sitting by his face and leaning over it in concern.

• he's grinning, grinning like an absolute fool, except he's now covered in blood. well, a mix of you and blood. the source is easy to find, as his nose is now a distorted shape and horrifically bruised.

• "did..." your arousal fades away and is replaced by embarrassment and horror as you realize what you'd done. johnny seems so pleased about it all, brows furrowed in pain but smile as bright as ever.

• "i forgive you," he grins, reaching up to wipe his face. "just help me realign it."

• "realign your nose? it's broken, dude, we should go to a hospital."

• "funny how you call someone whose face you sat on 'dude,'" he mutters under his breath as he feels the shape of his bridge. "yeah, realign. done it tons of times. you think in all my years of martial arts, i've never broken anything?"

• you want to yell at him again, smack him, ask if he's okay and kiss him at the same time. your man, johnny fucking cage was the embodiment of the word "goofy" and he showed it in the oddest ways. only he would be so fucking pleased about it all, cheesing this hard while covered in blood. it was almost... kind of hot.

• a chuckle slips past your lips, then an ugly snort that makes his eyes widen in amusement. unable to fully process the day you've had, you double over in laughter, slapping his chest as you cackle. johnny joins in, his laughter chiming like silver bells. even his "ugly" laugh was the prettiest.

• "i'm sorry for calling you dumb earlier," he repeats, wiping his face with a giggle. "i really am."

• "and i'm sorry for breaking your nose by sitting on it," you reply, leaning over to place a kiss to his temple. "sorry... not sorry."

• "ha, ha," he brushes you off, going to scrunch his nose but instead wincing in pain. "i didn't think you'd go all popclaw on me, doll. i'm lucky i kept my head."

• "consider that a warning."

• "right..." he trails off. "we... should probably actually go to the hospital."

[lexisecretaccx]

A+ Student Pt 7

Masterlist!

(Fem reader, angst, smut, more car sex😭🙏 , argument, drama, it all goes down bro, etc, not proofread!)

Summary: Y/n is a great student in her college, always getting good grades. Her college professor Matt, thinks she can get even higher ones with some “extra credit.” That is until she meets her new gym teacher..

I look at my phone blankly, not answering it. The call disappears off of my screen and I breathe out finally. Until it rings again, he’s desperate to reach me, I let it ring a third time and then I pick it up and answer it. “Hello?” I hesitate. A sigh leaves the other end of the phone.

“Matt?” I ask, “You’ve made me so fucking angry y/n.” He speaks lowly. “I- uh how?” I’m nervous, I don’t know why. He chuckles sarcastically, “You know why.” He breathes in, “You need to pay for what you did. You’re a little slut.” He hisses, even though he’s clearly upset I can’t help but get turned on by the way he’s speaking to me.

I swallow harshly, “How would I pay for what I did?” I ask, my core aching. “You deserve a punishment, a.. detention perhaps.” He seems like he’s being flirty but he still sounds angry and that is a hot combination. “Okay when should I have a detention professor?” I tease him, “don’t enjoy this y/n. I’ll hang up if you fucking enjoy this shit.. you’re a slut you know that?” He huffs in frustration.

“We both know that Matt.” I speak seductively and smirk, he can’t see it but you know. “Fuck..” he groans, “I’ll tell you something.” I start to speak, “what?” He replies and I chuckle softly, “I think you’re only mad because your brother has fucked me twice and he’s only know me for a short while and you? You’ve been my professor for the past year and you’ve only been able to eat me out. Hm?”

“I couldn’t care less y/n,” he sighs, “I’m fucking pissed off because..” he stops speaking, “because I left yours after you basically forced me out and then I fucked Chris?” I’m having fun winding him up. “Yes that and also because you don’t have a fucking clue about Chris.” He speaks coldly.

“What about him?” I’m confused, “I can’t tell you on the phone it’s easier to speak in person, I want to see your face.” I sigh, “well I’ll meet you tomorrow?” I wanna know what he’s talking about “I can’t tomorrow, grading papers, Sunday?” He really wants to tell me something I can tell, “yeah sure.”

We talk for another minute before hanging up, what the fuck is he talking about? I’ll have to see him on Sunday, wait shit! I forgot to ask Lizzy if she was okay. I pull out my phone and call her. Luckily she answers quickly, “Liz you okay? I’m so sorry I didn’t reply.” She laughs lightly, “yeah it’s all good now, my parents were arguing and I just needed somewhere to go.”

“If I was home I would’ve let you come over, where did you go in the end?” “Just to a friend’s house, where were you then?” I need to lie I don’t want her to know about what went on. “I was out with my dad.”

Me and her talk back and forth until she has to go.

Sunday

My alarm goes off and I struggle to grab my phone to shut it off. “Fuck..” I groan out of tiredness, it’s 8:30am and after 10 minutes of procrastinating wether I should go back to sleep I get out of bed and hop in the shower, still not fully awake so I’m stumbling.

I do my everything shower and get into my room to get dressed, I pick a basic ass pair of sweats and a tight white vest. I put some makeup on and check the time, it’s 10:23. Matt told me he could pick me up at half 10. I get my shoes on and go downstairs, “I’m headed out dad!” I call to my dad who is on the couch.

“No worries stay safe pumpkin.” He smiles, “do you want me to make you a coffee before I go?” I ask him as I still have time, “It’s alright, I got one here.” He lifts his mug, “thank you though.” He nods, “Okay no worries, see ya!” I walk out the front door and I just wait on the sidewalk.

After 10 minutes the Porsche pulls up and I remember Matt saying he drives it sometimes. He stops in front of me and I hop in the passenger seat, the same passenger seat that me and Chris fucked in 2 days previously. “Hey.” He speaks, “Hi, what did you wanna tell me?” I ask him putting the seatbelt on.

He looks at me for a good 10 seconds, I tilt my head in confusion as he isn’t speaking. “I lied.” He swallows, “Lied? About what?” I’m even more confused now, he starts driving. “I lied, I have nothing to say about Chris.” He sounds unsure, “What why?” I ask him.

“I’m fucking jealous as shit y/n,” He sighs, “I just wanted to see you, I’m sorry I’m a fucking dick.” He slows down and pulls down a street. “It’s okay Matt, don’t worry.” I try to reassure him.” He shakes his head, “It’s not okay, not until I can.. feel you around me.” He whispers. He pulls into the parking lot of an abandoned store.

I feel myself get hot, did he really just say that? I can’t form words out of shock, he turns to me. “He fucked you in this car didn’t he.” I look at him and nod, “in the backseat?” He speaks quieter, I shake my head “in this seat.” I point at where I’m sitting, “that must’ve been awkward.” He smirks, “yeah I hit my head a few times.”

“Maybe you need someone to show you how to fuck in a car.. the comfortable way.” He bites his lip, I squeeze my thighs together as he speaks. His hand comes down to my thigh, “you’re a slut.” He chuckles, my face turns red and I look away.

He grabs my face and turns it to him, “get in the back.” He undoes my seatbelt. I nod quickly and hop out the car, he copies and we both get into the backseat, I’m glad these back windows are tinted as it’s broad daylight outside, even though the car park is empty. He wastes no time and crashes his lips onto mine.

His hands travel to my sweatpants as pulls them down to my ankles and then undoes the zipper of his jeans before pulling both of our pants off. The imprint of his cock is unmissable. He grabs my legs and slides me so I’m practically laying down on the backseat, without hesitation he removes my underwear and puts it on the drivers seat.

“Such a pretty pussy.” He slides two fingers across my slit before pushing them in quickly. I moan out lightly, he moves them in and out about 5 times, before removing them. “Please..” I look up at him, raising my inner brows. He smirks before pulling his boxes off, his dick is big, not as big as Chris’ but it’s still perfect.

I go to try and wrap my hands around his length and he stops me by grabbing my hands with one hand, pushing them above my head and with the other hand moves my legs into missionary position.

“I don’t have a condom.” He looks at me, “I’m on birth control.” I speak rapidly, just wanting to feel him inside me, “desperate hm?” He leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead. I nod, “please Matt.. fuck me.” I whine, he chuckles, resting his tip at my entrance but not pushing it in, I wiggle to try and get some friction.

“Matt.. stop teasing me please just…” he cuts me off by pushing inside instantly, I moan out and grip the seat. “Just what? What did you want me to do?” He teases, he thrusts in and out slowly at first before quickening the pace until he’s pounding into me and the car is definitely moving. Mine and his moans fill the car.

I can feel myself getting closer and closer, I look down at where we connect, his dick disappearing inside of me with every thrust, his hand comes down and rubs circles on my clit. I scream out his name and my back arches. “Fuck..” he groans out, I feel the euphoria wash over me as I come undone. My arousal leaking around his dick.

Not long after he finishes inside of me and pulls out. We both sit breathlessly, “that was.. fucking amazing.” I breathe out harshly, “Can I have my panties back?” I ask him as I grab my sweatpants off of the car floor, “I think I’ll keep them, as a souvenir.” He smirks as he gets his boxers and jeans back on. “You weirdo.” I tease him and slide my sweatpants on without underwear underneath.

We get back into the front seats and he gives me the aux, I put on some random playlist on shuffle. He stuffs my panties into his pocket before we put our seatbelts on and he drives off. “Do you wanna come to mine? Just for food or something.” Matt asks me, “Yeah of course, is Chris gonna be there?” I whisper his name.

“Probably not, Chris did say he was going out somewhere.” Matt replies, “okay yeah I’ll come.”

We get to his house and Matt pulls in the driveway before we get out the car and enter the house. It’s quiet, except for faint music coming from upstairs. I look to Matt, “Nick probably.” He answers, we walk to the kitchen and I sit on the barstool. “Do you want a soda?” Matt opens the fridge, “yeah sure what do you have?” I lean on the counter to look in the fridge, my ass in the air.

“We have Pepsi and..” Matt gets cut off, “That’s a nice view.” Chris. He walks up from the hallway behind, I sit back down and turn to him, my face red. He’s wearing a black wifebeater vest and grey sweats holding an empty glass, Matt stands up and closes the fridge. “What ya doing?” Chris asks as he walks up next to Matt, “nothing important.”

“What’s this?” Chris pulls my panties out of the pocket of Matts jeans. He looks at me, tilting his head. “Oh.” Is all that he says. He chuckles but I can tell he’s pissed off.

“I just..” I try to explain but Chris scoffs loudly, “Oh shut it y/n.” He puts his glass down and slams his hands on the counter infront of me, I flinch. “What happened to ‘Matt is a dick’ and all that bullshit?” He leans in further. “Hm?” He looks angry. “I don’t know.” I mumble. I look over, Matt is smiling slightly?

Chris turns to Matt, “I don’t know what your problem is. This is just a competition to you isn’t it?” Chris shoves Matt backwards into the fridge door. “Calm down.” Matt replies to Chris who just turns around, “Calm down? I can’t fucking calm down right now Matt.” He walks over to me, “you’re a selfish bitch.” He points his finger in my face.

“It was going well, I thought you actually gave a fuck.” He scoffs, “I do Chris..” I try to speak again, “If you did then why did you go back to him?” It’s a valid question, I don’t know. “Maybe she prefers me.” Matt stupidly pipes up. Chris picks the glass that he put down and he throws it at the cabinet next to Matt.

It smashes and the glass flies everywhere. I get off the stool and step back, “Chris stop..” I thought I’d be scared of him. “It was a joke just stop being so childish.” Matt retorts to Chris, “I’m not fucking laughing.” He speaks more calmly, his eyes look watery. “I’ll clean that up.” He spoke quietly, pointing at the shattered glass on the floor.

“While you’re at it clean your act up too hm?” Matt smirks, he’s making this worse. “I’ll be cleaning your fucking blood off the wall if you don’t shut the fuck up.” Chris yells. “Your acting all tough but I don’t think she knows about you know what.” Chris points at me, Matts eyes widen.

“What?” I’m confused, “What was her name again? Kelly?” Chris asks Matt, Matt looks nervous. Kelly the new girl? What are they talking about. “Yeah that was it, that was strange when she was here wasn’t it.” Chris hisses.

She was here? “I think that was the night after y/n was here the first time right? The night you upset her and I was the only person who comforted her right?” Chris walks even closer to Matt. “What is he talking about?” I ask Matt because I feel like I know what went on I just wanna hear it from him.

“He was ‘helping her catch up with the work’ or something, what was your excuse again?” Chris turns to Matt who’s face is bright red, Matt looks at me, “Matt what the fuck is he talking about?” I raise my voice to him.

“I.. Kelly wanted to get caught up with the class work, that’s all I promise you y/n.” He pleads with me, “The thing is, you don’t teach biology so there was no need for your dick to be out.” Chris chuckles, Matts expression shows me everything I need to know, he’s a fucking liar. “I have every right to report you to the college.” Chris smirks at Matt.

“You’d lose your job too asshole.” Matt growls back at him, “yeah but I don’t need that job, I got it just to try it out.” Chris grabs the brush and pan and starts to sweep up the glass. “Fuck you.” Matt grabs his car keys and walks out of the house.

I feel tears run down my eyes as I stand there in shock, the day after he refused to kiss me he had Kelly here and his dick out? What the fuck. “You good?” Chris stands up and looks at me, his expression shifting to concern as he notices the tears rolling down my face.

“I’m so sorry.” He apologises.

A/n: guys…. Heheh Hehehe smut with Matt hehehe but the angst is wilding out. Chris is my baby girl😖 bro I have so many ideas for new series’ and I just wanna write a new series rn (pbviously continuing this one as it’ll only have like 2 parts left I think!

@blahbel668 @mattsleftnipple03 @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @hysteria-things @mattybslover @jakevwebber @braindead4l @mattybearnard @st7rnioioss @junnniiieee07 @bueckerslover @fratbrochrisgf @sturniol0s @alwayssublimedelusion @certifiednatelover @freshsturns @riasturns @sturniololvrrr @maryx2xx @whicked-hazlatwhore @cammie4298 @sturnsjtop @sturnzblog @chr1sgirl4life @evie-sturns @milasturniolo @jaxyy219 @mattsturniolosbae @h3arts4harry @littlebookworm803 @realqueenofpepsi @elsxz1 @jnkvivi @nayveetbhh @sturnsmadl @mattspleasure @m0r94n @raysmayhem-72 @flamethrower313

[max-nico]

Sonic is feeling abnormally sentimental, everyone around him thinks it's warranted, but it doesn't stop the fact that he feels like he could burst into tears any moment. Gosh, he's just so proud. He essentially raised this kid from a toddler to almost an adult, because he's only sixteen, but still! That's his baby brother!

His baby brother who is doing an amazing job, giving his amazing speech, at this amazing venue. He's gotten tall, his tails are thick and bushy, and he looks so confident. Sonic knew he would see that day Tails could stand on his own, from the moment he took the little fox in, he knew.

And the kid looks all grown up in his brown suit, he's wearing pants and everything! If Sonic was a lesser hedgehog, he'd be a blubbering mess of tears right now. Watching his little buddy be presented with an incredibly prestigious scientific award, that Sonic doesn't fully understand in all honesty, has his heart squeezing in so many emotions he's getting overwhelmed. He's big enough to admit that there are bittersweet feelings tied up in all his big brother pride.

"Euhg, you reek of ego." Knuckles says, walking up to Sonic.

"Can you blame me? I raised that kid."

"Barely."

Sonic rolls his eyes, leaning against the stage walls. He's unperturbed by the echidna's rudeness. Some people never change. Though, if anyone should stay the same it's Knuckles, not that Sonic would ever tell him that.

"How'd you even get back here?"

"Your lowly guards are no match for a warrior." Knuckles puffs his chest out, like beating up poor unsuspecting security workers is a flex. "They could not stop me from congratulating Tails after his acceptance speech... Also, Amy's going to be late and she wanted me to make sure I give Tails a bouquet of flowers."

"And we all know how Amy gets about her flowers." The two say in sync, matching smiles on their faces.

Amy opened a flower shop a few years ago, a business that she and Vanilla are teaching Cream how to run. It's sweet, and her own opinion, what gift shows love better than a bouquet. Sonic would argue that a good chilli dog beats flowers any day, but Amy also says he has no taste, so truly, what does he know.

The two lapse into silence as they listen to Tails talk. He answers questions fluidly, with a charismatic ease you could only get from spending time with Sonic the Hedgehog. Even rude comments from the audience are taken in stride and spun in his favor. Geez, maybe Sonic should've taken those PR classes with Tails a few years ago, the kid is much smoother than him when it comes to the media.

It feels like no time at all as well as a hundred years have passed by the time closing statements are being given. The crowd has begun to get antsy as well, the energy shifting as the award ceremony comes to an end. Not without Tails giving a concluding speech obviously, because his little brother has officially cemented himself in history, and is very clearly the most important person here.

"And of course, I would like to thank my older brother, Sonic The Hedgehog!" Tails gestures to backstage, and the crowd goes wild at just the mention of Sonic's name. "I know right. The guy who's devoted his life to saving the world is the same guy who raised me, sometimes I still have a hard time believing it myself!" He chuckles. "That is, until I remember he's also the same guy who refused to eat vegetables until I was old enough to start hiding them in his chilli dogs."

The joke got the crowd to laugh, and Sonic promises that's the only reason why he doesn't go out there and set the record straight. Because first of all, he didn't refuse, he just never felt like making a second serving! Tails got his vegetables and that's what mattered! Some brother he is, lying on Sonic's name like that.

"I would like to thank the rest of my family as well! They're your heroes, but they're the ones who gave me the confidence to do anything even close to this! I don't know where I would be without them so I kinda think this award belongs to them too... Still going to my trophy shelf though, they can get their own."

There's another laugh from the crowd, and a little tear wiped from Knuckles' eye. Sonic isn't doing much better beside him, the hedgehog is holding it together as well as straw holds up a house. Hell, Sonic barely listens to the rest of the speech, too focused on keeping it together until his little brother comes off stage.

All too soon there's clapping and cheering from the crowd, and Tails is beelining towards them. The curtains are coming down, blocking the stage lights, and within moments the fox's mic is removed and his blazer is thrown to the floor. None of them have ever been much for the restriction of formal clothing, Tails being no exception.

"Did I do good?" He asks. Sonic's heart clenches at how deep it's gotten. "Gosh, I was so nervous."

"You did very well." Knuckles scoops up Tails from behind, giving him a good noogie and messing up his tamed fur. "Couldn't have done it better myself."

The fox beams at the praise. For a moment, all Sonic can see is that little 8 year old smiling at him like he's the only good thing in the world. That same sweetly sharp grin, packed to the brim in naivety, but obvious intelligence below the surface. He's trying so hard not to get all mushy, Tails will make fun of him if he does. Hmm, he wonders where Tails gets that from.

"You did great, little brother! I told you that you could do it, and look, you got that fancy medal and everything just to prove it."

Tails flushes as Sonic pulls him in for a hug. He's a little taller than Sonic now, and the thought makes the hedgehog slightly nauseous... When did that happen?

"I dunno about little, I think you're more deserving of that title now!"

"As if!"

Now it's Sonic's turn to noogie the fox, much to his chagrin.

"You may be getting tall, but you'll always be my baby!" Sonic says obnoxiously.

"Ew, you're being so gross right now."

"C'mon keed, can't take a little affection from your big bro?"

"Not when you're acting like this, and stop calling me that, you weirdo!"

Sonic and Knuckles laugh at Tails playful disdain.

Hopefully he knows how proud they both are of him, Knuckles might beat it into the fox if he doesn't. Not even Sonic can save him from that fate.

Yeah I'm gonna participate in whumptober I said. WRONG !! WHOLESOME WEDNESDAY ATTACK 🌈🩷🫶🏾

I've had this fic in my drafts for ages, please take it away and treat it with care lol, it's been waiting so long for me to finish it

Also, someone give me an idea for a lil fic to write for Tails birthday !! I could just do the whumptober prompt but if anyone has any better ideas, I'm all ears !!

My askbox is always open !! Come yap to me !! Let's be friends !! @max-nicoxfandom is my general fandom blog if you're interested 🩷🩷

[bumblinv]

--- jealousy, jealousy☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

jake, neteyam, lo'ak (seperated) x f!omaticaya!reader

from a scale from one to ten, how jealous do the sully boys get?

contents ; pure fluff

requested by anon

neteyam 5/10

i feel like he rarely gets jealous

he trusts you with all of his heart. the other sully boys does too, but neteyam is more on the calmer side

there's someone staring at you? he shrugs it off. i mean, he does too, stare at your beautiful self

a guy clearly saying that he’s into you? as long as he remains respectful, neteyam wont barge in. because that would only crush that man's self-esteem

after you and that man part ways, neteyam finally approaches you

"who was that guy?"

"someone nice, he tells me that he likes me"

hearing your answer makes him smile, tilting his head down to press a gentle kiss on your forehead, "that means he appreciate you"

his soft smile quickly changing to a sly smirk

you chuckle, "what is it?"

"he's really self-confident, i respect that"

"hm?"

"thinking he could snatch you away from me? he doesn't know you’re going to be my tsahik"

a light smack on his chest and your burning cheeks were able to make him laugh

this man is way too chill for my liking, but there will be times when he gets jealous and protective over you

lets say you were talking with a guy, then he starts to get all handsy on you

the man leans down close to your face, his hands altering from hugging your shoulders to touching your hands and hip. when you move away, he still comes closer, even when your face shows utter discomfort

"i, uh... my boyfriend would come in just a moment"

"what boyfriend? sweetheart, i see none"

"back off" 

a warning hiss was heard. you both quickly turn your heads towards the noise and was met with a really angry neteyam. he came running, his steps loud and bold, quickly to snatch you away from that man's hold

"the fuck is wrong with you, touching a woman with no respect? do you not have shame?"

you couldn't see that man's face because neteyam is holding you ever so tightly to his chest, but you could hear him struggling

"well i, i didn't know she had a partner-"

"now he's here. back. off."

after the creep gets away, neteyam places his hands on your shoulders, quickly turning you to face him. his golden eyes scanning over your body with worry

"are you okay? he didn't hurt you, didn't he?"

you shake your head

it was more than enough for him to finally let out a sigh of relieve. his gaze softens as your eyes met. his hands went up to hold your cheek with the upmost care, completely different than his earlier tight and protective hold.  

you could see his bioluminescent freckles clearly, as he leans down to you. keeping your faces close

"hear me closely” his whisper sternly, “no one will ever be touching you with disrespect under my watch, you got that?"

"okay, neteyam"

“and if i’m not around and a creep comes to you, remember to kick his balls real good. got that?”

“okay”, you giggle

"good girl" he smiles softly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss on your lips

the kiss was nothing more than soft and comforting. despite the cold night,  his hold radiates warmth. he reaches down to hold your hip, making you wrap your arms around his neck in content.

but he quickly parts away. before you could protest, he whispers lowly on your ear:

"im the one who could touch you like that, you got it?"

jake 8/10

(this is written for young jake in 2009′s avatar)

young jake was unbothered

because one, he knows you only got eyes on him

and two, he’s confident about himself

‘why would you want other men when you got this big buff hunk right here’, is his mindset

i mean

he’s not wrong

and that mindset would only grow once he becomes the toruk makto. he knows he’s amazing. no men would ever lay their eyes on you

but before that, i would say that he isn’t that umbothered. he doesn’t want other men trying to hit on you because they thought they could get rid of him so easily. because he’s just a dreamwalker

if he notice someone getting too close to you and a starting to get a little bit handsy that you look uncomfortable, he would step in, by casually slipping himself into the convo

“...and then we caught this big sturmbeest-”

“that thing was a big boy, isn’t it? its able to feed the entire clan for a week!  ya in the huntin’ party too?”

the man looks at jake with furrowed brows, shooting him with a why-are-you-here look. “right. and what is your business here, jakesully?”

“don’t mind me, i’m just here to tell her that food’s ready” then he leaned down to you, grinning, “can’t wait to have dinner with ya, darling”

that always works, because not long after you two would be walking home, hand in hand

he never really makes a huge deal of people flirting with you, because he could easily lure them away like he always did. but disrespectful people? oh he’s ready to throw hands

i know he would always want to be your big guy. yours to depend to and yours to hold. especially after spending the day acting tough, he gets all clingy during the night because now he got you all to himself.

there’s time when you just need some air, so you would curl yourself away from him and cuddle with your favorite knitted blanket instead

you could hear jake’s heavy huff. his hands clung on your hip in defeat after multiple failed attempts to turn you around to face him. only to realize you’re all wrapped up to your huge blanket again

“what’s so great about that dammed blanket? you know my muscles are comfier than that thing”

you let out a giggle as he rests his chin on your arm, pouting like a lost puppy, “ya sure ya don’t want to cuddle me instead? i’m warmer and way prettier”  

“jake, don’t tell me you’re getting jealous of a blanket?”

lo'ak 12/10

now this man

this man right here

he's the total opposite of his brother🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️

don't get me wrong, lo'ak trust you with every fiber in his being. he just got a bit of a temper

lets put him in the same scenario as i put neteyam earlier; he caught a guy staring at you for too long to his liking

unlike neteyam who shrugs it off, my boy would come straight to you and do what ever he feels like he needs to do. he would hold your hand, kiss your cheek or forehead, even on your lips. just to make the guy go away.

but if he sees you getting a confession from a boy, i don’t see him as someone who would interfere. he will if the guy starts touching you or making you uncomfortable.

“what does he wants?”

“who?”

“the guy you’re talking to earlier” he huffs, crossing his arms on an almost childish manner, “what does he wants?”

a sly grin appears on your lip, “why do you ask?”

he let out a scoff. “just answer my damn question”

“he said that he likes me, that’s all”

his stern facade worns off, he approaches you and rests his chin on top of your head. he doesn’t say anything, just holds you on that exact same position for quite some time

lo’ak is the type of guy who never really talk about his feelings. so just be prepared for him to literally glue himself to your side for the rest of the day.

[forest-meadow]

The Aftermath

Summary: Astarion walks in on you waiting for Shadowheart to come heal you after you've been attacked.

Pairing: Astarion x Tav

TW: mentions of being attacked, attempted rape, blood, injuries, swearing, anger

Word Count: 1.5K

You hadn’t meant to show him. In fact, you intended not to for as long as possible. You hadn’t even realized he had entered the room as you peeled off your blood soaked shirt, grimacing as some of the dried blood stuck and pulled at a few of your injuries. You had already called for Shadowheart for help with this as this was beyond your skill set and would likely take more than a simple healing potion. Deep cuts and purpling bruises darkened your skin. A particular movement had you gasping in pain. You were just thinking how lucky you were that no one else in your party was at the Elf Song just yet when you heard an animalistic growl behind you.

You dropped your shirt and spun on your heel, reaching for the knife at your back, then relaxed, “Oh. It’s just you.”

Astarion had seen you naked countless times, and this time you were only half naked. But his eyes were darkened just the same.

“Who did this to you?” he growled, and you realized his eyes weren’t darkened with hunger, but with pure, unbridled rage.

You felt unease creep up your spine at his anger. It was never an emotion you knew what to do with, either yours or others. Usually yours would be dealt with in the heat of battle, fueling your drive to destroy the enemy. Others, on the other hand, were much more volatile. Especially Astarion.

“Darling. I need to know who or what did this to you so I can go rip their throats out this instant,” Astarion said lowly.

You held your hands up to him, holding in a wince when your injuries smarted, but he still caught it and growled again. “Star, I’ll be alright. Shadowheart is already on her way-”

“Who?” was all he said, still waiting for an answer.

“It doesn’t matter-” you started

“Doesn’t matter?!” he shouted, “How can you say that when you're practically bleeding out on the floor?! It ‘doesn’t matter’?!”

“Because they’re dead! It was him or me and I certainly wasn’t going to let it be me!” you shouted over him, and then winced at how much the shouting moved you.

“What do you mean- ‘him or me’?” Astarion’s rage suddenly melted into concern as he realized the possibility that your injuries might be more than physical, “He didn’t try to- did he?”

“What else could he have been doing?” you muttered bitterly.

“Oh, dearest,” he breathed, “I’m so sorry. I should have been there.”

“There’s no way you could have been. I was out getting you a surprise. I made sure the others were distracting you so it was just me out and about and he took advantage of my being alone,” you explained.

He took a step towards you, then hesitated, “My darling, I-” he stopped, not knowing how to finish his own sentence, speechless for once in his life.

“Yeah. I know.”

The door to the room opened again as Shadowheart rushed in, “Gods! Are you alright, Y/N? What the hells happened?”

You chewed your lip nervously, “I was attacked.”

“As in, attacked? Or just attacked?” she asked.

You nodded your head slightly to the first one.

“Gods, okay. Let’s get you cleaned up. Astarion, you can either help or leave.” Shadowheart immediately took charge of the situation, “If you’re going to help, grab some clean towels and rags.”

Astarion stayed where he was, staring at you, clearly in shock.

“Astarion!” Shadowheart snapped.

He started and blinked at her, “What?”

“Either get clean towels and help or leave and get the drink you clearly need,” she ordered.

He looked to you.

“It’s alright if you need to go, love. I understand,” you said.

“What do you need?” he asked, still looking at you.

You pulled in a slow breath and finally looked him in the eyes again, “I need you here. Please.”

He nodded once, rolled up his sleeves, and set to work following Shadowheart’s instructions as she barked them out.

A knock came at the door and it cracked open, “Is it alright if we come in? We’re all a bit worried,” Karlach’s voice came through the crack in the door.

Shadowheart looked to you and you shook your head.

“Not just yet,” she called to the door, “We’ll come out when we’re done and ready.”

“Alright. You alright, soldier?”

“I’ll be fine, Karlach,” you tried to reassure the others, but knew it failed as soon as your voice cracked on the word “fine”.

You could sense the worry in your large friend grow, but the door clicked gently shut anyway.

Astarion was resolutely following Shadowheart’s every instruction, touching you as infrequently as possible. You understood his hesitance, but it still stung, and not in the same way your injuries did.

Shadowheart cleaned your wounds as best she could, apologizing under her breath when you would inhale sharply at a particularly nasty part, and set to work muttering a few healing spells after she was satisfied anything that wouldn’t be healed today wouldn’t get infected. When she was done, she stood up and grabbed the towels and rags, dumping them in a corner and going to wash the blood off her hands in the basin nearby.

“Do you need anything else?” She asked, “I can stay with you as long as you need me to.”

You looked over at Astarion. He was trying his best not to look like someone had kicked Scratch in the ribs right in front of him, you could tell, but failing miserably.

“I think we’ll be okay. Might be a little longer before we come down and join you, though,” you said.

She nodded, “Understood. If you need anything-”

“You’ll be second to know,” you agreed with a small nod towards Astarion.

She gave a slight smile, a curt nod, and took her leave.

Before the door even latched, you threw yourself at Astarion, wrapping yourself around him the way a small frightened child would their parent, and clutched at him for dear life.

“Precious, you’re shaking,” he said softly, gently but firmly wrapping his arms around you in return.

You were grateful for the sturdiness of your lover in that moment.

“What do you need, my love?” he asked in that same soft tone.

You let out a choked sob and crumpled into him, your legs losing their strength.

“Oh, darling,” he carefully picked you up and carried you to the bed the two of you shared. 

He sat on the mattress with his back against the wall and let you situate yourself in his lap as he gently ran his fingers through the tangled mess that was your hair.

“I’m here,” he reassured you, “I’m right here.”

All you could do was weep in his arms, the reality of what had happened to you hitting you all at once, like a charging owl bear. Astarion held you until you had cried yourself out, rocking you gently back and forth. It was so soothing. When all you had left were hiccups and sniffles, he pulled away a little to get a look at your face. He gently reached up and wiped away what remained of your tears and leaned down to press a firm kiss to your forehead.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, pet. But I am ready to listen when you are ready to talk,” he promised.

You nodded meekly and moved off his lap, “I need to change clothes.”

“Of course. Would you like me to turn towards the wall?” he asked.

You found yourself surprised by him once again. Since dealing with Cazador, it was like he felt he was allowed to be kind again. You weren’t complaining, but it was certainly different.

“Would you mind?” you asked.

“Not at all, darling,” he promptly turned to face the rather boring wall.

With Astarion’s back toward you, you felt yourself relax minutely. You searched for a clean shirt and pulled it over your head before removing your blood soaked trousers and replacing them with clean ones. You then walked to the vanity and worked out the tangles Astarion had missed with his finger combing and splashed some water on your face to get rid of the tear stains. Feeling presentable once more and a little more like yourself, you turned back to face him, only to find him dutifully staring at the wall.

“You can turn around now,” you said softly.

“Are you dressed?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m dressed.”

Astarion glanced over his shoulder at you, as if confirming to himself that you were, indeed, decent before he turned around and leaned back against the wall once more, “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shrugged as you move to sit beside him, leaving a small space between the two of you, but laying your hand in the space with your palm upwards, inviting him to take it in his own, “Pretty much told you all there is to know.”

“I see. Would you like to join the others down stairs? Or I could go and fetch them?” he asked.

You considered it a moment, then answered, “Could we just sit here for a little while? I’d like to enjoy the quiet a moment.”

“Of course, my love.”

[seresinhangmanjake]

The One I Want: Part 12

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x plus size!reader

Summary: You’re new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Notes/Warnings: cursing, emotional stuff and vulnerability, typos

Words: 1766

The One I Want Masterlist

“How?” he says as you remove yourself from his lap. He immediately stands and runs a hand through his hair, then he looks at you. “When?”

The expression on his face is indecipherable, lingering in the realm of confusion and shock, and—looking a bit deeper into his eyes—nearing the cusp of anger. 

Your fingers fiddle with the hem of your dress. “After you left."

Jake takes a step away from you, the back of his knee knocking into the coffee table causing a slight stumble. A knife makes a little slash in your heart as he turns his back to you, but then he spins around, opens his mouth, closes it, shakes his head, and finally locks his eyes onto yours. “She knocked on the door.”

You shrug. “I guess so.” Not that it matters. Brit wanted to separate you from Jake so she could get you alone. Whether that was due to her own fist banging on the door or another’s, the goal was achieved. She got to you. 

Jake’s tone falls dark, much darker than you could imagine coming from him, when he grinds out, “What did she say to you?” 

You don’t instantly respond. It’s a delicate matter simply because you know that, in Jake’s eyes, a line was crossed. Well, not so much crossed as obliterated, but you're not sure how he's going to react, or where that reaction will be directed.

“Tell me,” he demands. You don’t miss the underlying plea.

Clearing your throat, you say, “In a few words?”

“However many you need.”

You nod, glancing down to find your fingers still messing with your dress. You could potentially ruin it with the constant rubbing and picking at the same spot, but that’s not enough to deter the habit. You lick away the dryness of your lips that came after losing the warmth and moisture of his, and you look back up at him. “That it’s only a matter of time before you hurt me.”

Jake’s face crumbles—all darkness lost to devastation—and his body loosens as if about to slump right onto the floor. He manages to stay upright enough to make his way over and kneel in front of you. Though fiddling with your dress is the most comforting method you have to keep nervous energy at bay, your hand doesn’t resist being taken into his. 

“You should have told me,” he says, but it’s so weak and desperate that it’s more of a whine. “I could’ve–”

“It was your birthday,” you stop him. “I wasn’t going to ruin it.”

Jake’s thumb runs over your knuckles in a back-and-forth motion—such a common reassurance between you over the last few weeks that you’re not sure if he even knows he does it. It has just become one of those things you do now. He takes your hand, caresses your skin, and in return, you squeeze your fingers around his.

“You think I care more about my birthday than I care about you?” he asks, but after a few moments of your silence, his brow pinches and he says, “Why aren’t you answering me?”

“Jake, I–” you pause to consider the response he’s likely to give, but you don’t want to—can’t—lie to him. So you let the words slide evenly out of your mouth and prepare yourself for the inevitable. “I don’t want to be the cause of good things getting messed up for you.”

Jake regains the strength in his body and stands on perfectly sturdy legs. Your hand falls from his as he, once again, backs away. His eyes narrow, his mind clearly running through all possible reasons why you would say something like that to him, but coming up short on anything that will make him feel better. 

“Don’t say that,” he says lowly.

You sigh. “That’s why I kept it to myself.”

Then there is fury growing; a rage threatening to coat the living room that only minutes ago was so peaceful while your bodies and lips and touches were slotted together like puzzle pieces. 

“Well that's a bad reason!” he snaps. 

“Why?” you shoot back, rising from the couch. “Why is that so bad?”

“Because I don’t want you to start thinking like that!” It’s a shout now; the beginning of a rapid tumbling of words. “You could never mess up anything! But I can’t keep her away from you! I can’t control what she does or says! She’s the one who will mess things up and then I will lose you because you’ll go looking for a twelfth new place, and fuck knows where that will be, which means I won’t have a chance to fix what she destroyed because I won’t even be able to find you!”

His voice echoes, bouncing off the walls, and as words settle in, every ounce of his anger melts into anguish. With a groan, his head falls forward into his hands. 

“Fuck,” is muffled by his palms. “I'm sorry.”

You allow yourself to look at him; at the man who is ready to fall apart before you, who cycled through every emotion you've been hoping he wasn’t keeping inside. But you knew of this possibility. You knew that sharing your past with Jake could plant seeds that might have him wondering if you will one day leave him, too, because of circumstances entirely out of his control. 

You pictured yourself much more persuasive, though. You’ve changed, Jake changed you, and you thought it was evident enough to keep him from believing that he could fall victim to your old patterns. As it shows, you were wrong.

Easing yourself around the coffee table, you go to Jake—the magnet you’re drawn to—pry his hands from his face, and press your lips to his. 

He doesn’t waste a moment adapting to its unexpectedness. Never does, though. Whenever you kiss him when he’s least expecting it, he reacts so quickly—snaking an arm around your waist, tangling his fingers into your hair, moving his lips with yours—as if the taste of your mouth flips a switch inside of him. He returns your kisses with the enthusiasm of a man not wanting to sacrifice a single second of the feeling you give him. He kisses you back like he wasn't just on the verge of shattering.

“Breathe,” you whisper when you break the kiss.

His forehead rests against yours. “I can't.”

“You can.”

Eventually doing as you ask, he inhales and exhales and inhales and exhales, his breath brushing your face until he’s calm enough for you to accept. His hold on you tightens, pulling your body into his. 

“Don’t leave,” he says, lips briefly ghosting over yours. “You’re the only one who has made me feel like this since I lost them.”

“Like what?”

“Whole,” he replies. He swallows. “Safe.”

One of your hands slides from his shoulder to rest over his heart. Despite the breaths you requested from him, your fingers practically feel the relentless jackrabbiting thump within his chest. Wild, and yet, heavy, strong. Were you to put your ear up to him, the sound alone would be enough to drown out your other senses. 

“Jake, look at me,” you utter, so faint that his non-compliance has you questioning if he heard you; if the drumming beat inside his body is overpowering his head, his ears, and your voice lacks the might to break through. 

But then, with great reluctance you can feel, he pulls back. 

You almost gasp. The green you love is too green. No longer the grassy hue of a shaded forest floor, but more vivid, like a single leaf from a single tree within that forest shining under morning’s sunlight. It seems odd—unfair—to only see such a stunning green when his eyes are glassy and surrounded by red.  

Don’t, you think. Don’t cry. Because then you’ll cry, perhaps sob, for the man who has spent so much of his time working to restore a bit of life into you. Had someone told you when you first moved in that he’d succeed, you would’ve brushed the idea under a rug and taped the edges and corners to the floor to keep yourself from neglecting the likelihood of being let down. But Jake doesn’t let you down. Jake was there and Jake is here, still here, and so are you.

“Why would I leave?” you ask, louder, clearer.

Jake’s gaze travels from your eyes to your nose to your mouth where it remains as he answers. “You said that’s what you do when–”

“When people break me.” The hand not above his heart cups his cheek. “Jake, you haven't broken me. You’re healing me,” you swear. “Ok? You're saving me.” 

Maybe it’s because you think of him so often, or that you’ve pictured his face enough to have memorized it, but you continue to see him perfectly through the blur of your tears, so much so that the blur goes unnoticed. When he should be an indistinguishable mass of fuzzy shapes and tan skin and blond hair, you see, as if completely unaffected, the sharp lines and smooth planes and sculpted features of his face.

He’s all you focus on. You don’t feel the tear that gets caught on your chin, or the second tear that joins the first, making it heavy enough to drip onto the floor. You do feel Jake’s thumb gently rubbing the salty trail into your cheek. 

“I'm not scared of her,” you continue. “I understand why you’d think I might be, but I’m not. She's not enough to change anything. She won’t make me leave.”

Everything slows after you’ve spoken. Painfully long seconds extend into a minute, during which your vision unblurs and the air surrounding you settles. Jake is silent, and you give him that time. He listened, and now he’s quiet—processing. It's when his eyes finally soften that you know he understands. He knows that what he feels for you is what you feel for him. 

His lips curve in a hint of a smile that encourages yours to do the same. 

“What?” you say.

He shakes his head and his forehead meets yours again. 

“I tell you something, you tell me something,” you remind him.

Jake hums as if he anticipated you calling out the deal he made with you that started it all. Bare heart for bare heart, that’s how it works, and though Jake has already expressed his fair share, you know he won’t deny you a little bit more. 

“You’re healing me too, beautiful,” he says, his nose nudging yours. “More than I knew I needed.”

---

Tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @mamachasesmayhem @sky2nd @jessicab1991 @rosedurin @averyhotchner @horseshoegirl @roosteraloha @elite4cekalyma @buckysteveloki-me @shelbycillian @kissmethric3 @fox-bee926 @hangmandruigandmav @waltermis @fandom-life-12 @a-serene-place-to-be @bruher @tngrace @mamaskillerqueen @emma8895eb @benedictsvestcollection @blackwidownat2814 @himbos-on-ice @hookslove1592 @alwaysclassyeagle @chaytea06

[lovebugism]

If you’re taking requests could I ask for one from the fall prompts with Steve and punchy?

“When she wears YOUR flannel shirt”

ty for requesting! steve x punchy nation rise! — you spend an autumn morning with steve which results in misplaced jealousy and spilled coffee (established relationship, fluff, v v brief miscommunication, 1k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Steve, still wearing last night’s pajamas, stands barefoot on the patio and basks in the early morning orange. 

Fall seemed to arrive in Hawkins overnight. It’s cooler than usual outside, and everything is weirdly more yellow. Every tree has seemingly shed its leaves, too, and somehow ended up right in his pool. He uses the net to fish the dying things from the rippling blue.

You watch him from the doorway. His golden arms tense with every scoop, and his sleep shirt is so tight you can see the muscles in his back flexing, too. Your bare legs are cold and prickly with it, but the sight of him makes you feel all warm — like the mug of hot coffee burning your palm.

“You have to stop being so productive so early in the morning,” you chastise, voice still heavy with sleep. “It’s getting weird.”

“It’s gotta get done, babe,” Steve retorts with a soft laugh, his back still facing you.

You take it as an opportunity to press yourself against him. You wrap your free hand around his waist and spread your palm along the faint pudge of his covered tummy. Your cheek melts between his shoulder blades as you mumble, “Not while normal people are still sleeping. Think about it— we could be spooning right now and not freezing our asses off—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Steve interjects with a boyish vibrato. Still gripping the metal handle of the pool skimmer, he turns around to face you. His honey eyes are wide as they dart up and down your form. “No way you’re wearing Eddie’s shirt right now.”

Your brows pinch together just like his bushy ones. You look down at yourself, at the deep green and navy blue flannel swallowing you whole, then back at him. “No?” you answer, though it comes out as more of a question. “This is your shirt.”

Steve shakes his head, puts a hand on his hip, and clicks his lips against his teeth. 

“No… I’m pretty sure I saw him wearing it the other day— he said he was gonna cut the sleeves off and wear it over his jacket like a freak.”

“And I told him he couldn’t, remember?” you lilt with raised brows. “‘Cause he stole it from me after I stole it from you.”

Steve winces when you shove your pointer finger into his chest.

“So, it’s mine?” he questions, confused all over again.

You nod all slow. “Yeah.”

“Oh…” he hums, less jealous and more content than he was a moment ago. 

His chest starts to warm now that he can see you more clearly, without the haze of misplaced envy clouding his vision. 

Your hair’s a mess, and you’re still in yesterday’s makeup, and your legs are unshaven. The buttons on the flannel don’t quite line up, either, and the lapel droops off one shoulder to reveal the lovebite he left on your collarbone the night before.

If home was a place, he’s pretty sure it’d look an awful lot like you.

“…Oh,” he repeats, with a more profound inflection this time. ‘Cause he’s a boy, and you’re wearing his shirt, and it’s doing irreversible damage to his brain.

“I just got, like, ten times hotter, huh?” you tease with a knowing squint.

“Try a thousand,” Steve scoffs with a pink grin.

“A million?”

“A billion,” he argues, wrapping his free arm around your shoulders to pull you into him again. His other stays firmly gripping the pool net because he’s not diving in to rescue this thing if it sinks. “A kajillion, even,” he jokes with sparkling eyes that dance between both of yours.

You laugh before you mean to. “Wow. That’s a real big number, Harrington. Sure you know what it means?”

“If it means I wanna kiss the life outta you, then, yeah,” he murmurs lowly, already leaning in to kiss your smile.

You taste like coffee, where he tastes like minty mouthwash. It’s an unearthly concoction that feels like heaven on your tongue. 

It’s perhaps too early to be kissed so ardently, with your head tilted back against the crook of Steve’s elbow while he steals the breath from your lungs. You get so effortlessly drunk on him — quickly forgetting the crisp cold and the fresh coffee in your hand.

Steve hisses when he pulls back from you, features contorted in discomfort. “Hot coffee,” he winces through gritted teeth. “Hot coffee on my foot.”

Only then do you recognize your limp hand and the subtle splashing of your drink against the patio.

“Oh, shit!” you blurt into the quiet, early morning. “Fuck, Steve— I’m sorry!”

He shakes his head and swipes a hand through his hair. He scrunches his nose and tries to smile. “It’s okay. Didn’t even hurt.”

Your eyes flit down to his splotchy red foot, then back at him. You look more pained by it than he does. “Yes, it did!” you agonize, wrapping your arms around his waist and smushing your cheek into his chest. 

Thankfully, there’s not much coffee left in the mug to spill this time. 

“I’m sorry, Stevie,” you mumble into his t-shirt. “Fuck, I wish I wasn’t so clumsy all the time— it’s annoying.”

Steve laughs into your hair and abandons the pool skimmer to wrap both arms around you. One hand squeezes your shoulder while the other smooths up and down your back. “I don’t think so. I think it’s sweet.”

“…Even when I give you third-degree burns from my coffee?”

He exhales a faint chuckle. “Yeah, even when you give me third-degree burns from your coffee.”

Your cheek rubs against the soft cotton of his t-shirt when you turn to look up at him. Your chin tilts against his chest and bobs as you ask him, “Do you still wanna kiss me?”

A crooked smile tugs slow at his pink mouth. His honey eyes twinkle when they look down at you. He quickly forgets the tingling pain fading at the top of his foot because you’re so damn pretty wrapped up in his arms.

“I’d kiss you forever, baby,” he murmurs so fondly it makes your stomach whirl. “You know that.”

[tcfactory]

Thinking about an AU where the manual did cause Binghe to qi-deviate and ruin his cultivation potential exactly one year after he's taken in as disciple. Seeing that anyone would have suffered the same fate, it wasn't some kind of karmic punishment directed at Shen Qingqiu for being an unpleasant, hateful little thing (the self-hatred and projection is Real in this one) settles something in him, like a broken peace of him is suddenly jolted back into its proper place. It makes him lose interest in torturing Binghe any further.

That does leave him with a disciple that's not suited to his peak in any way shape or form, so clearly the next step is to have one of the other peaks take him off his hands. He subtly puts out word while Binghe is on Qian Cao recovering, so that anyone who might want the brat can take him after the next peak lord meeting, but there really is only one choice.

Out of the peaks with a physical cultivation style, Bai Zhan is out of the question on account of Binghe's ruined potential, Ku Xing doesn't take children this young and, in his opinion, Binghe is just too stupid and trusting to make it on Qiong Ding or An Ding, so clearly that only leaves Zui Xian. If the little beast is fortunate, eating all the spiritual food might even help him recover a little.

Perfect plan!

All he needs is to make up a good enough excuse as to why he allowed the little beast to cultivate from a faulty manual or let him be bullied. And he knows already how he's going to do it: he will let Qi Qingqi make the excuse for him.

"Qi-shimei," he says, the very picture of nonchalance, as if Liu Qingge didn't have a sword at his neck. "I know you assume that any disciple of yours returning to secular life will do so at the side of a powerful husband, but if that was not the case: how would you test if someone of lowly birth and no connections could survive the court environment?" Qi Qingqi thinks about it for just a moment before her mouth twists into an unhappy pout, eyes lighting up with understanding. "Let him go, Liu-shidi. It was not an attempt at murder, merely Shen-shixiong being a crafty old dog who made a test too harsh for Luo-shizhi." "But-" "Scholars, like my girls, are intrinsically linked to the mortal courts, as much sages and exemplars in the four arts as advisors in politics. If one has no allies, then connections must be made. Bullies that can't be fought head on must be outwitted or circumvented." She gives the fake manual a disgusted glance. "Ill intent and sabotage must be recognized, regardless of its source. Without these qualities, someone without proper backing will be dead the week they set foot in court." "Quite. Disciple Luo has failed each and every one of those criteria: he bent obediently to the whims of his bullies, made no friends or sought no help from anyone on or off peak, and kept cultivating from the faulty manual with a bullheaded stubbornness that surprised even me. I fully expected him to realize at least as much, but he proved too simple even for that." He resists the urge to smile when Liu Qingge reluctantly withdraws his sword. It's a sweet, if easy victory.

So Luo Binghe goes to the food and wine peak, where he can make friends, his heart (and to a degree his cultivation) can be mended and his trust in his higher ups isn't scorned or abused, but he never forgets that Shen Qingqiu sent him away because he found him too stupid for his peak. Shen Qingqiu picked him, only him, from dozens of potential disciples and was disappointed. He keeps striving, even years later, to somehow get Shen Qingqiu's approval, taking every opportunity to loiter on Qing Jing with food offerings and all sorts of excuses. He's almost as bad as the sect leader! They do, indeed, bond with Yue Qingyuan over being the frequent targets of Shen Qingqiu's ire.

Then one day when Binghe is around 17 a qi deviation splits Shen Qingqiu into two: the scarred, sharp-tongued and vicious Shen Jiu and the sickly, soft hearted and kind Shen Yuan, and Luo Binghe suddenly feels vindicated in his dogged insistence because the soft Shen Qingqiu likes him! It's literally the best thing in the world!! And maybe sect leader Yue helps him a few times to steal Shen Yuan away on some absolutely-not-a-date picnics, so it's really only fair that he helps him reconcile with the sharper Shen Jiu (Binghe can't see the appeal, personally, but as long as Yue-shibo doesn't want to take his Shen Qingqiu too then he's fine with those two doing whatever).

Everything seems to be going perfectly (QiJiu have reconciled, BingQiu are almost inseparable), but then Binghe leaves the mountain to gather ingredients for the very special meal he wants to propose with, trips and stumbles straight into the Abyss and the rest is SVSSS-typical miscommunication and demon shenanigans.

[simplyzeeka]

Episode 2. Season 1

Lingering

But I'ma be someone to know soon

Come fuck with me

I aint got no plans for the weekend

Don't know what you was thinking.

Warnings: MDNI! Sweaty Terry in a wife beater, subtle flirting.

Summary: Where Syrae and Terry meet two times too many and sparks seem to fly yet again.

Author's note: everything in italics is a flashback.

Were degrees worth it? A single piece of paper, that only showed that you were eligible to work in a certain field. It didn't guarantee that you would even find work. Syrae often wondered all of this when it was time to open a book and study for her damned Dental Science degree.

With an assignment yet to be submitted, she had to grab her laptop and use her favourite cafés Wi-Fi, since the Wi-Fi in her ran down building was down every other week. Unfortunately for her (and her bank account), that meant she also had to constantly buy something to stay in the café. “Just a coffee will do, thanks.” She said to the waitress with a kind smile before turning back to her laptop.

She was stuck, tired and honestly so over life in general. Having to constantly click in and out of tabs to search for textbooks she couldn't afford was beginning to seem tedious, and she wished she would've gone to the local library instead, but something about the dust there always had her feeling a little itchy. As if her place was any better.

“Fuck me.” She groans lowly, taking off the glasses on her face and placing them on the table. She quickly saved her work and shut her laptop. Clearly she was not going to be the most productive.

Not only was she completely over this degree, she was exhausted from having to now work weekdays at the club. Syrae was falling a bit behind on rent, and that meant having to pick up shifts at the bar. “Thank you very much.” She said to the waitress as they placed her cup on the table.“You're welcome, ma’am. By the way, your check has already been settled by that man over there.”

With a frown, Syrae looks over to where the woman pointed. A tall man, piercing, green eyes and an intimidating aura despite the closed smile on his face. A tall man she has worked overnight trying to get out of her head, especially considering his situation.

“Your fiancé know you here?” A question slips past the sly smile she had on her lips. He chuckles, gaze unmoving, needing to commit her beauty to memory.

“It's my bachelor party, pretty sure she doin’ the same thing as me.” A shrug, he wasn't worried, pretty confident he would maintain his fidelity. “Hmm, a shame really.” her voice echoes, flying like pretty little monarchs into his ear and straight to his stomach.

“And why's that?” Curious, he needed to know, even if it would kill him. “Cause I could've given the greatest dance in your life.” because even if it did, satisfaction would most definitely bring him back. “You still can.” A nonchalant shrug, a mistake more than anything… because once lines blurred, it was hard to draw them again.

“Put it on me, baby.” And who would deny him with eyes like that? Syrae wouldn't, and Indigo? Indigo wouldn't dare to.

She knew she shouldn't entertain this in the slightest. The man was fine… too fine for her own good, but not only that- he was engaged… Well married by now and that was a no-no zone.

So Syrae only smiles, mouths a curt ‘thank you’ before she opened her laptop, trying to look like she was occupied.

Her attempts fail, because Terry frowned at the interaction. Clearly not satisfied, he walked over to her secluded table in meticulous steps, not wanting to seem too forthcoming and eager.

“Uh, hey? Hey, I'm sorry. I figured the message may seem malicious, and that's not the-”

Oh but Syrae was already on his ass, interrupting with a sigh and an unbothered look. “Look, I don't know what you thought this was. But that night was work. I'm not some piece of hot ass you could use to cheat on your wife. I might be a…dancer, but that don't mean I'm unethical.”

Terry placed his coffee on the table and raised his hands in surrender, before looking around then back at her. “Woah woah, that wasn't my intention. I wanted to apologise… for anyway I might have acted that night, actually. I had a bit much to drink, and I don't hold my liquor well.” He explains with a small frown.

Syrae's shoulders relax a bit, he seemed genuine for the most part. “Hmm, you were quite bold.” She jokes with a small smile. “I'm sorry, I just get a lot of thirsty husbands asking shit like that, and-”

It's Terry's turn to interrupt, a short laugh. Too short for Syrae's liking because the rumble was a smooth honey that had little dragonflies fluttering in her stomach. “Nah, you good. I get it. I'm not like that.”

“Of course you not…” Syrae whispered, loud enough for him to hear as they inspected each other with gentle smiles. It took a while for Syrae to notice that their eyes lingered a second too long, so she cleared her throat, pursing her lips as she straightened her posture.

Terry broke his eyes from hers, retrieving his coffee from the table before bidding his goodbyes. “Well, I hope you enjoy the rest of your day, Indigo.”

Syrae internally cringed at the use of her stripper name outside of work, but mustered up a smile anyway. “You too. Thanks…again.” Everything about this was so awkward, she was glad when he simply nodded his head and turned to walk out the café so that she could finally release the breath she was holding.

Until a brown object caught her eyes on the floor. She squints and notices that the plain, brown woven leather just so happened to be his wallet. With determined haste, she stood and ran out the café, eyes scanning the sidewalk only to see nobody.

“Damn. Long ass legs.” She did what any other person would. Opened his wallet in hopes of a number, and luckily for her, she saw a business card with a number on it. Mike's Auto Masters. Below were a few numbers on how to contact the owner, followed under a name. Terry Richmond.

“Welp, looks like we gotta catch him again. God, why are all the fine ones taken.” She whispered before walking back into the café to finish her coffee and retrieve her belongings.

“Can't believe that you, Syrae Belles, is bout to break a rule.” Broisa, a fellow friend of Syrae comments as she lays stomach down on the couch.

Syrae rolled her eyes, a sigh resonated deep in chest. “I'm not breakin’ a rule girl.” She stated, “where else I'm ‘sposed to give this man his wallet?”

Broisa was annoying and noisy, Syrae couldn't believe their friendship survived as long as it did. Broisa was a beautiful dark-skinned woman. Working as a bottle girl at the same club Syrae worked in since she claimed pole dancing was too much of a work out for her.

“At the club? Where he met you?” the sassy woman replies as if the answer was that obvious. “You the one who made this whole rule bout not meeting your clients outside of he club, now here you are… breaking it.���

“I wouldn't say he's my client, Broisa. I only danced for him once.” Syrae defended with a sigh as she popped a chip in her mouth. “Yeah, one dance too many. Now he payin’ for your orders in cafés and shit.”

Syrae regretted telling Broisa about Terry. All she needed was one story to spiral everything into some hot fantasy where Syrae and Terry have an affair, despite her screaming men are trash, specifically for that reason alone.

“Broisa, please. I'm just meetin’ him at his shop tomorrow morning and giving the man back his wallet. Besides, ‘member when I told you he's married.” She emphasised the last word with a raised brow.

“How sure are you that he went through with the wedding?” Broisa throws back, “What if he told his wife he cheated and she left him at the al-”

“Woah now girl, cheat? I barely danced on that pole for an hour.” She laughs worriedly, Syrae doesn't condone cheating. Otherwise she wouldn't have shut himself down so quickly at the café. “Besides, he said that his wife went to a strip club herself.”

Broisa hums in apprehension, she has never really understood going to strip clubs for bachelor and bachelorette parties. Hell, she never understood those parties in general. Like hell will her man ever go to a strip club to celebrate his ‘last day single.’ She would turn that into his last day living.

“Anywho, where you go yesterday?” Syrae deflected with a question, “Had me blowing up your phone like I wanted your help burying a body.”

Broisa perked up at the question with a smile. “Tuh, girl! Tell me why Gage popped up on me?”

And just like that, the girls fell into a different conversation.

Syrae couldn't help but hum at the vast space of the auto repair shop. Clearly this Mike guy just recently built this shop from the ground up, everything was so pristine.

Syrae managed to call the number on the car and actually reached Terry himself, so they could arrange a time to meet a little after she found the wallet.

Back at her dusty apartment, Syrae can't help but to light some candles to help soothe her growing anxiety. Something about talking to this random stranger on the phone had her a little too nervous for a plausible explanation.

Still, she dialled the number and then listened to the phone ring as she eyed the flame on the herbal candle. When he heard the baritone of his voice she damn near slid off the couch. “Hey! Hey… uh. Hi, sorry.”

Embarrassing, that was embarrassing. The earth could open up and swallow her whole. If she still smoked weed, she would need fifteen blunts after this phone call. Syrae urged herself to get herself together in her head, needing so desperately to hold onto some sanity and clarity.

“Hey. I'm sorry, who am I talkin’ to?” And fuck did he have to sound so good? The way the phone amplified his voice made him sound finer than he usually does, despite Syrae only having heard his voice twice.

“Oh sorry, it's the girl from the café. I-Indigo? I got the wallet you dropped with me.” She explains, “Got your number on your business card.”

Terry sighs, seemingly in relief as Syrae interprets. “Fuck. Thank you so much, I was stressed out ‘bout that.” He laughed into the line, and Syrae clenched her thighs at the sound. “It's no problem, where would you like to meet to get it?” She asked immediately, needing to get off this damn phone.

There was silence in the line, “What bout tomorrow? I got an early mornin’ at work. You could pass by the shop and drop it off. That good?” He clarifies.

Stupidly, Syrae nodded her head as if he could see her. But she caught herself quickly and cleared her throat. “Uh, yeah. That sound good. See you tomorrow then.”

The inside of the shop was quiet, but Syrae heard the faint sound of soft rock playing at the back. That was probably the garage where all the magic happened. Syrae looked around while walking towards the reception desk. “Mornin’, I’m looking for Terry? Terry Richmond. Here to drop off a package.”

Despite her kindness, Syrae noticed the condescending look the woman behind the desk gave her. “I’m sorry ma’am, he went out.” Syrae frowned at the snide smile on the woman’s face. Syrae couldn't help but laugh sarcastically. “Well in that case… Miranda.” She drags after looking at her nametag, “Could you tell him to come back from wherever he is and honour our appoi-”

“Oh, you’re here already? Is everythin’ alright?” Terry graced the women with his presence. Dressed in a loose wife beater that was tucked underneath blue overalls in which he used the arms to tie around his waist. Rippled arms exposed while he wiped oil from his hands with a cloth.

Syrae quickly averted her gaze from his sweaty build and turned to the receptionist. “Yeah, just peaches and cream. Miranda here was just assurin’ security.” being the petty woman she is, Syrae scrunched her nose at the woman for extra measure.

Terry scratched his neck, noticing the obvious tension. Women, he thought, something always had to be a problem. “O-kay. Let’s go to the workshop. Thanks Randa.”

Syrae suddenly frowned at him, because there was no need for them to go in the workshop, she could have just given him the wallet and went on with her day. She did not vocalise her thoughts however, simply followed his lead.

The workshop smelled like a cacophony of strong smells that had her nostrils burning. The faint scent of Terry’s cologne seemed to soothe the burn. It was messy, tools everywhere and car parts. A number of men carried tyres and tools around as loud machines whirring had her feeling a little overstimulated.

The lingering stares from men made her regret her choice of wearing a skirt, and following Terry back here. Why did she follow him back here again?

Thankfully, the man led them into a secluded room, which seemed to absorb all the noise. His office. “Sorry bout the noise, figured here would be better.”

Syrae looked around the office. It was neat, had her jealous about his consistency to keep his space clean. Her room was always a hotspot for clean clothes on the floor with the way she raided her own closet everyday trying to find an outfit. “Yeah,much better.” she responded nervously, because nothing about being alone with this man was better.

“Oh, your wallet.” she said as she dug into her bag and handed him the leather accessory. “Right, thank you. A lot. I was ramming my head ‘bout it.” he laughed and Syrae reciprocated the gesture.

“You should be. Why you put everything in there? The poor thang can barely close.”

Terry let out a shoulder-shaking laugh, one that had Syrae wondering about how he liked his breakfast in the morning, or whether he preferred movies or reading, morning or night. Out of the two times she’s met him, she’s never seen him smile with all his teeth out like he was now. “Oh so you were snooping?” he asked with one thick eyebrow raised.

Syrae rolled her eyes playfully, “How else was I ‘sposed to find your number, which you have quite a lot, sir. You deal with pharmaceuticals or somethin’?” she eyed the man as he leaned on the desk with his arms crossed over his chest,only further flexing his deliciously muscular arms.

“Now what if I was and you askin’ that so boldly.” He laughed and shook his head. “But nah, I don’t.”

Their eyes lingered a few seconds too long, which Syrae broke her eyes from his. “Oh, I bought you some coffee, just to say thank you… for the other day.” she reached her hand towards him with a short smile. “Ain’t know what you like, so I just went with black with two sugars.”

Terry accepted the coffee with a quiet murmur of gratitude, hummed in gratitude at the taste. The coffee was more or less how he took it. “You did good, how you figured I would like it black though.”

“Well, you seem a little… practical and straight-forward. Someone who appreciates the simpler things in life. And you also look a little broody.”

Terry shook his head, taking no offence to her last comment. He often got people telling him that. Even his wife. “Hmm, and what about you?” he probably should not be flirting, he definitely shouldn't be. But just a little banter wouldn't hurt, and Syrae seemed to have a lot of it, it was refreshing.

“What about me?” and she shouldn't be entertaining any of this, but the way Terry was staring her down with those damn eyes. He was reeling her in, hook, line and sinker.

“Are you simple?” The question was, well… simple. But Syrae began overthinking it. The depth of it had her thinking over her entire life. “Hmm, I believe I’m a little more complex than that.” It was a joke, just something to keep the conversation going, although it should be put to an end, because Syrae failed to realise that Terry had long removed himself from the desk. Probably when she was handing him the coffee, his scent tickled her nose forcibly. Old wood and cocoa butter.

“How complex?” It was a leading question, an eager one too. One that had her slowly blinking to think it over, that had her biting down on her bottom lip. Her heart thumped a little faster, because damn Terry’s eyes were so beautiful. He had no reason being as beautiful as he was, had no reason to send waves of heat to her stomach that made the dragonflies grow tenfold. The fluttering caused a slight feel of nausea in her stomach.

Still, despite being so nervous, she smiled. “You tryna find out?”

Fuck, why did Syrae follow him back here again?