#it's the street smarts and living in his car for me

[scurvyboy]

Im watching Trailer Park boys rn and Stan is so ricky coded what the hell

he really is and i think about it all the time

another one for the occasion:

[boolger]

A lapdog at a farm - chapter 1

AO3 link. next chapter -> Call of duty. Explicit, 18+, minors do not interact. read the tags. wc: 4,147

Maybe support me on kofi?🥺👉👈

Farmer!John Price x Hybrid!Reader, hybrid! Kyle Gaz Garrick x hybrid! Johnny Soap MacTavish x hybrid! Simon Ghost, John Price x Nikolai.

Summary: When Price was young and left his childhood home, a farm in the middle of nowhere in England, he didn’t enter the military. Instead he moved to London, got a degree and a good career, earning good money. He got you, a human dog hybrid as a pet, after feeling lonely - and you lived your best life for years, spoiled and pampered, Price’s lapdog who got praised at every party. Loved and fucked every night. That was until Price decided to return to his roots and go back to farming - dragging you along to the middle of nowhere, away from all the wonders of the big city. Expecting you to accept this sudden change in lifestyle and pretend to be a farm dog. Bad luck however, because you fucking hated it, and became more and more unruly. In hopes of getting you to calm down and to keep his live-stock and farm safe, Price then got three working dog hybrids - and all at once, your life was even worse than before.

tags: Rape/non-con elements, dub-con, dog!hybrid!people being kept as pets, alternative universe - farm, dark, farmer!John Price, working-dogs, punishments, mating cycles/rut/heat (no omegaverse), the dove isn't dead but its dying, reader is a brat, knotting, animal tails and ears, mentions of trauma, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, collars, rough sex, breeding kink, biting, threesome, foursome, everyone is fucking your honor, enemies to lovers, chubby reader, reader has a pussy

author's note: Hi sinners <33 Just a heads up; the reader is gonna be a spoiled brat. If you want a smart and sweet reader who isn’t mean at times, well. Bad news. This ain’t it.🥰The reader is she / her and has a pussy and is chubby. I tried my best to keep the descriptions somewhat vague otherwise. Reader is a cocker spaniel hybrid. I will tell the others along the way. In this universe, hybrids have ears, tail, claws beneath nails and canine fangs. There will be heats and ruts but there is no omegaverse. They will have personality traits of their dog breed and so on. Now. I know there aren’t wild wolves in the UK… but in this fic there is, ok? mwah.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

The countryside was peaceful compared to the city; the absence of the bustling streets and constant traffic, created a quietness that was indescribable.

Out here, at the new farm, the noises only came from animals that lived in the stables and barn or the occasional rumble as a tractor turned on. The wind caressed the never ending fields of wheat and the long rows of fruit trees, under which the goats and sheep walked most days.

The stress here wasn’t the same kind as in the city. Sure , there were stressful moments and sometimes Price looked like he needed to sleep for more than just the few hours he got everyday.

But he didn’t have to worry about the morning traffic, waiting in a queue for an overpriced, questionable tea or coffee. There was no need for him to wear a suit, no noisy, overfilled train cars in the underground. No crowded dog or hybrid parks, no meetings or rules to follow - except those John Price decided for himself.

He was happy, so much was clear to you. It had been three months since the move - Johnhad gone back to his roots, buying back the farm that his parents had used to own a little while ago, using some of his endless wealth on renovating the place. There was no step on the stairs that was loose, like it used to when he was a kid - sure they still creaked, but you weren’t afraid they would disappear from beneath you.

It was modernized, but most of the old charm left. Price fit right in; the furniture he had inherited and never believed he would use was suddenly in the living room. His knowledge of the business world was abandoned in the city, for the knowledge of farming that he still had left from his youth. John got a couple of farm hands and workers, who helped him with the big place.

It was like he reclaimed his own self that had been buried beneath the suits, ties and paperwork. Now he didn’t smoke his cigars from stress, but from pleasure, clearly much content.

It was like the farm had truly made John Price happy once more; his smiles more genuine, his true self stepping forth. Returning to his childhood home and taking over the farm had been the best decision Price had made. There was no question about it.

… and you hated every bloody day at the farm.

The early morning hours in bed with him, being disturbed by the farm waking up, the rooster crowing and John leaving the bed, giving you a pat in between your ears, taking all the heat with him. The constant bugs, the muddy stables and the big animals, the helpers who always teased you for not fitting in, the lack of friends you had out here. The foxes’ screams in the night, the wolves howling, and the cows occasionally mooing sounded like creatures stepping out of nightmares.

You were not made for farm life. Literally. Simply not made for it.

Some would argue that you, as a hybrid pet, didn’t have a say in it and sure , legally you didn’t. But you were a lapdog, an elegant pet. Not a farm dog. Created to be cared for and cuddled, you were a purebred cocker spaniel hybrid; you weren’t made to run around on a farm, following John on his duties And doing work. 

Sure, you had the instincts to hunt a few things here and there, but it was mostly balls and the occasional bird or squirrel. You weren’t a guard hybrid, not really a working dog.

You had had enough trauma throughout your life - you deserved not to be forced into this! You had grown up being trained to be a lapdog, not a working-dog like you felt like John expected you to act like now.

You wanted John to be happy, you really did - you loved your Master! When he bought you a few years ago, when you were still aggressive and unruly (… more than now at least), you had thought he would tire of you like everybody else had. But with patience, rules, training, praise and punishment and a whole lot of sex later, you were a perfect hybrid pet for the city! People always praised how well you looked, laughing when Price said you were really a little troublemaker. You would follow him throughout the fancy apartment, on your daily walks, sometimes for meetings.

But why the fuck did it have to be a farm? He worked somwwhat the same time that he did before, genuinely seeming to enjoy himself. Forgetting about poor you!

Out here, there were no hybrid daycare that you would go to when he had long days, there were none of your playmates nearby, everything stank of animals and there were no places nearby for you to get your hair and fur styled and pampered! No nail technicians, no fancy cafes, no shops for John to buy you things in! No special made coffee or chef-made meals every other evening, no freshly baked croissants.

You felt like you had tried . You really had. 

But after the first week, you had your first breakdown - and as the weeks passed, they didn’t stop. At first, John was sympathetic, like the perfect owner he was.

Cooing at you, kissing your forehead, as he gently scratched your ears. Kissing away any tears, saying it was okay - that you were just overwhelmed, that it would be okay. That you would come to like it out here.

Big fucking joke.

He had tried every trick in the book, in an attempt to please you and made you less upset, but as days turned into weeks and tantrums began to appear, you knew his patience began to disappear.

He followed professional advice and then the advice of the neighbors down the street, Rodolfo and Alejandro (who had caught you running away at one point), tried some of the workers’ advice. He had given you your own room, and it was mostly designed like your own, perfect to the pale green paint on the wall, all your toys and dog beds, your CDs - everything. He had tried hauling you along every day, trying to give you a routine to follow - but after two weeks, he gave up, not having the energy to deal with a tantrum that got worse and worse each day. He went on walks with you, fucked you silly, tried his best — and you didn’t want it.

No, you wanted to go back to your old life. Not this country life that you hadn’t signed up for, with horses that neighed loudly whenever you passed them; they were definitely going to trample you at the first chance, you knew that. You could hear foxes scream in the night, warning you of the dangers. The goats and sheep were so fucking loud and no you didn’t want to go pick fresh apples off the trees - had he seen the size of the spiders crawling on them?

When you in one of your biggest tantrums took off and bolted from the farm in distress, Rodolfo and Alejandro had almost hit you when you emerged from the corn fields onto the road. 

You had cried the entire drive home, no matter what the two men had tried saying, especially as Rodolfo called Price in advance — your master was livid . The worst thing was, that it was not that kind of anger where he yelled at you before punishing you - no, this one was almost silent, a sharp grip on your collar as he dragged you along after thanking his neighbours.

He had belted you then, ignoring your crying and screaming, only stopping when you broke, sobbing and going quiet. He had explained it to you then, what could have happened, what dangers you could have ended in - and as you sobbingly apologized and tried to explain, that you wanted to go back to the city, John had sighed .

Said that he had pampered you too much since he got you, which had made you greedy and attention seeking. Which only made you cry more, as you hid your face in his neck, fingers digging into his shirt, ass cheeks burning.

“Spoiled rotten, little birdie,” he mused, though you could hear the softness in him, your tail wagging a little, hoping to get him to be less mad.

“‘M sorry,” you had whined in distress, upset with yourself as well, ears tipping down, “wanna be good but I don’t like it.”

Your rather dull escape attempt resulted in several things. An AirTag on your collar, so that he always knew where you were. A remarkable lack of treats, sex and then… the crate .

You fucking hated the dog crate. 

Sure, it hadn’t been nice of you to bite one of his pillows into a simple pulp of fabric, feathers everywhere. Or create chaos in the kitchen… or get drunk on his fancy whiskey (that one had ended worse for you, hangover was a bitch and there wasn’t much sympathy from John). And yes, you might have ripped most of the flowers surrounding the house up, until one of the workers had caught you. Maybe pissing yourself in the middle of the living room while staring him in the eyes and ignoring his warnings had been a little…excessive. 

But the dog crate? You hated that thing with a burning passion. 

Hated it when he locked you up, ignoring your whimpers and whines, your promises to behave, ignoring your little howls as he left. 

Mean. The farm had made him mean. Perhaps you had become a bit unruly too, but it was like he didn’t take your clear suffering seriously.

Mean and happy - unruly and suffering. What a pair you were. One of the workers, KAte Laswell, who was a big helper and often stayed over for dinner, suggested a fucking shock collar. You had growled, only stopped when John sent you a sharp look. 

You had even heard him talking over the phone with somebody, saying that he didn’t want to rehome you, but he didn’t know what to do.

That had made you melt a little and you had cried as you had crawled into his bed a couple of hours later, begging him to not abandon you. Fears of never getting to see John again or being loved again by him made you cling onto him as he kissed away your tears, gently fucking you.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

It was a random morning a couple of days later, that you found him still in the kitchen, reading the newspaper, humming to himself while smoking a cigar.

He looked nice like this. Despite how he sometimes muttered about being too old, he wasn’t really that old. Late thirties, and perhaps it was the peace on his face or the sun rays that kissed him, which made him look younger. But still. There was a decade between you, but days like this, you were reminded that it didn’t matter.

“Are you going to stare all day or are you going to join me, Darling?” He asked teasingly, pulling you from your thoughts. You let out a little huff and kissed him good morning, receiving a pat on the ass before you sat down on your own seat. It had been a while since the two of you had eaten together - often he was up at the crack of dawn, so his calm behavior and gentle humming was unusual to say the least.

“Why are you not working?” You asked carefully, as you ate some of the bread, trying to ignore how it wasn’t a fancy sourdough one - though you were pretty sure he had picked it up from a local bakery in the village which was a little drive away.

“Because,” he put the paper down, then tapping some ash off the cigar into his ashtray, before looking over at you, a pleased smile on his face, “you and I are going on a trip.”

“A trip?” You didn’t even bother to be embarrassed about how your voice got higher with excitement or how your tail thumped against the backrest of the chair as you wagged it, “where are we going? When? Can we go now?”

Price had laughed, a happy sound that you knew not many got to hear; it made your heart beat a little faster, made you feel butterflies in your stomach. 

“Well, we got to do a few things first to get ready, and you ,” he used the cigar to point at you, your tail wagging a little faster, “need to not freak out when I tell you where we are going.”

Despite the warning, tears streamed down your cheeks when he told you. John didn’t get mad as a part of you had expected; he knew your abandonment issues first hand, knew how you had been left behind before, from one bad owner to another. 

“You’re going to sell me and leave me with a mean owner and I’m gonna die of hunger and thirst - and - and —“

“Not gonna leave you, princess,” John crooned, covering your face in kisses as you hiccuped and sniffled, clinging to his clothes, “you know that. My favorite puppy. Pretty girl.”

Despite your tears and small sobs, your tail wagged at his words, “silly puppy,” he mused with a smile, gently scratching your lower back, “‘m not gonna sell you. Ale and Rodolfo are looking for a hybrid, I figured we could go look at the auction as well.”

“What if - what if - what if you’ll like them more?” You sniffled dramatically, sure that your life was only going to become worse than it already was. One thing was this bloody farm and the crate, another thing was having to share Price. You didn’t like the idea one bit. If that happened, you were going to show him how a proper tantrum was thrown - the crate would probably be the least of your worries.

As if to prove his love, John bent you over the table, fucking you in between the clattering dishes and cutlery, tea and coffee almost spilling over. Despite how many times your owner fucked you, it made you lose control of your mind every single time. His cock reached so deep inside you that it bordered on pain, your mouth open as you panted and moaned at each thrust; your soft stomach being pressed against the edge of the table, one hand holding onto the back of your collar, the other on your tail. The table rattled, John groaned and moaned, your fingers desperately trying to hold onto anything. 

“My princess,” he snarled darkly into your ear, “you’ll always be mine-“ a moan, a grunt, “- no matter what happens, yeah?”

“Yes ye-ah- yes, sir, I’m yours - ah ah - I’m yours!” you managed in between pants and wails of pleasure, fear of abandonment forgotten in the ocean of euphoric satisfaction. 

You came harder than you had for a while; the reminder of your worth, of how you deserved his worship, making you cream around his throbbing length, legs in spasms afterwards. He pushed deeper, filling you up with a loud roar like sound, his hands moving to grab onto the fat of your ass and hips as he came. Pain and pleasure made your toes curl and a content sigh left you, your tail wagging against Price as he chuckled.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

The auction hall was filled to the brim with humans and hybrids alike. Every owned hybrid followed their respective owners, all wearing mandatory leashes so no pets would be confused with the ones that were being sold. You wore your own pink one with pride, gem stones sparkling. A matching leash connected to the D-ring on it, that also bore your tags. You were convinced yours were the most beautiful in this entire place.

“They’re bonded,” Laswell pointed out, pointing to the papers that hung nearby, showing off general information about them, “gotta get all three.”

You dared to look at the little board with the informations about the three hybrids they were looking at.

“Ah, we don't have space for three, mi amor.”

“eso es una pena,” Rodolfo answered, while you looked over at John - who kept looking at the three hybrids. You dared to peek over at them.

All three of them were enormous .

Two of them wore muzzles, meaning they were biters. At least at the auction. You shouldn’t judge then, not really, but you did... Even though you had worn a muzzle five years ago, when Price had chosen you. You hadn’t tried biting people out of malice; you had been scared and angry at the world. Angry for being abandoned once more, over the fact that you were most likely being passed on to another abusive master. You leaned a little closer to Price, taking in his scent.

Even from the start, despite all the problems and your attitude problems, he had been sweet. Strict at times — probably not enough — but kind.

The biggest one looked like a Great Pyrenees breed, most likely. The fur on his ears and tail looked shorter, badly cut. Probably due to matting or if he refused to get it cut. His hair, a dark blonde almost brown, was in a buzz cut. He had scars, all over - unable to hide because of the lack of clothes most hybrids were given, only underwear. There was a lot in his face, though you suspected a bunch were hidden by the muzzle. He stared into nothing, his ears curled back, though they moved now and again, listening to different sounds.

“Hard to get sold,” Laswell commented and you looked over at her in synchronicity with John, “they’re ex-military.”

Like he had been called to them, a man who wore one of the seller badges appeared.

“They’re obedient once they fall into place,” he happily explained, going full seller-mode, “they’re just not too fond of the auctions - too many people.”

“Makes sense,” Price mused, clearly interested - much to your annoyance. The fact that he asked follow up questions made you frown, fingers tightening in his shirt. He was here to look. To help Alejandro and Rodolfo, who both had continued their walk. You dared to look over at the hybrids again. All three were staring at you and John. 

“How come they were discharged?”

“One of them got a hearing loss -“ he nodded towards them, “the one with the mohawk. And they’re a bonded pack.”

“So only retiring him was out of the question,” John concluded once more looking over at them.

You felt your tail go in between your legs. He couldn’t be seriously considering those three . you couldn’t help but let out a small whine. Price gave your leash a little tug.

“They’re working dogs,” the seller continued, his eyes flickering to you, making you huff, “so they’ll need something to do, not just be pets.”

“Oh I know. I have a farm. Need some work dogs - this one isn’t guarding much.”

They all laughed, your tail going even further between your legs with embarrassment.

“You can’t be serious,” you whined in a whisper to John, not caring that you sounded needy - spoiled would Laswell had said and you ignored her as she rolled her eyes.

“Hush, Princess.” John didn’t even look at you.

“You have animals there?” The seller asked, “one of them is a herding dog - the border collie.”

“I do - several. That’s why there's a need for guarding dogs as well, bloody wolves have been terrorizing us.”

You knew he was telling the truth; he had muttered about dead sheeps and goats several times - even a calf had lost its life to the wolves in the area, despite he and Laswell having shot two already. Even foxes had gotten into the coop, despite the fences.

“They’re good at that too, with their training,” the seller offered, clearly interested in selling them or at least getting John to bid on them. “The one with the mohawk, Soap , will have hearing aids with him, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

You looked over at this “Soap”, scrunching your nose. They were still staring, the biggest one bending down to listen to the third one, a beautiful black man, whisper in his ear. No doubt judging you.

“It says here they don’t do well with others,” you muttered, in a desperate attempt to sway John, pointing to the board with their papers. It did indeed say so, to which you wanted to argue that YOU should be his main focus in this whole thing - how would he even consider adding them to your household if these dogs could get a hold of you?

“It’s in the sense that they’re not really housetrained to be social family pets,” the seller swooped in, pushing your argument away, annoying you even more, “they’ve had missions all their lives. They need to have something to do.”

“I’m sure you’ll get along with them, sweetheart,” Price answered, giving you a small scratch beneath your chin as he finally looked over at you, a glint in his eyes, “some company will do you good.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. Hardly . Price’s smile told you that he thought this was a great idea however. You dared to look at the men again. Still staring, fucking bastards.

The black man seemed like a mix of some breeds, German shepherd and… you looked shortly at the board. Belgian malinois. Fancy. He wasn’t as tall as the big one, but broad and with scars as well. There was a more slender look to him, but his six pack proved he was strong. His curly hair wasn’t too long, probably cut not too long ago. He was looking at you curiously, making you raise your upper lip a little, as if to warn him.

The one with the hearing loss looked like some sort of border collie - covered in scars as well, some of his skin looking like it had been too close to fire. He was broad like the two others, his upper arms the size of your head. He even sent you a cheeky grin, even daring to wink at you. You just looked away, tipping your chin up a little.

“You can look closer if you want, sir?”

You were pulled back into the conversation at once and before you could argue, John had already passed on your leash to Laswell and walked towards the men with the seller. You whined, distressed that he was really, actually considering this.

“You’ll be fine,” Laswell commented calmly, with empathy in her voice for once, though she didn’t look at you, merely at John and the others.

“He is gonna lose interest in me,” you whined, perhaps a little dramatically, bottom lip wobbling a little as you could feel tears welling up in your eyes, “then he’ll leave me in the crate all day and only care about them an—“

“Calm down,” Laswell said, “you’ll work yourself into a fuss.”

“He can’t do this to me,” you argued in a sullen voice, already imagining John forgetting all about you, focusing on these three hybrids for the rest of his life, leaving you cold and lonely inside the dog crate - maybe even rehoming you, “he promised he wouldn’t get rid of me.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Laswell answered just as calmly as before, “John loves you too much, you’re just being spoiled. Hanging out with some working dogs will do you good.”

“They probably have fleas,” you said, your prejudices seeping into your words, knowing you’re being mean, judgmental against your own kind, “they’ll kill me and eat my dead body.”

Laswell laughed. “No they won’t. Worst thing they’ll do, is probably knock you up.”

A high pitched, scandalized sound left you, despite knowing you had an implant. Laswell laughed again, giving your leash a little yank and then scratching you behind your long ears.

“Settle, Princess. That won’t happen without John’s permission.”

You almost cried at the sight of John shaking the seller’s hand.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

They all met up again for the actual auction part and you sat at John’s feet, sniffling a little. Crying hadn’t helped, in fact John had just petted and kissed you, calling you sensitive. Alejandro had gotten a hybrid earlier that they didn’t need to bid on - she was for sale for a certain price. Something about being too intense without enough space to roam, having attacked others before.

Fucking great. Beasts all around you.

John won the bidding on the three working dog hybrids he had been interested in - because of course he did. He spent way too much money on them too, according to you.

One more - or well, three more fucking things to hate about this “farming life” that had been forced upon you.

Maybe John had gone mad.

next chapter ->

[bruciemilf]

Logan being a father because my brain will physically melt if I don’t talk about him:

— Hates pop music; He puts up with it when Bobby blasts it at full volume in his car because he’s a weak worm of a man for the kid’s puppy eyes.

— Realized he was humming “California Girls” in the middle of a supermarket and had a silent panic attack in the dairy aisle.

— Kitty and Jubilee definetly watch trash vampire/werewolf tv shows and Logan “subtly” watches with them. Takes about 10 walks through the living room. Stands next to the couch with his arms crossed like a scarecrow. “I’m just grabbing something from the kitchen.”

— Is either super chill about everything or extremely unhinged. No in between. “Hey I’m gonna hunt down and fight Sabertooth because Jubilee dared me to”

“Have fun. Be home at 9.”

“Also,,, Ive been thinking of getting Tinder—“

“Are you fucking insane.”

— Logan is smart, okay? He is. It’s just that teachers have a TALENT for making parents completely confused with their math. He’s been staring at Laura’s paper for 20 minutes trying to recognize this formula. Nothing.

— “They did NOT have this when I was a kid.” “Yeah, we kinda progressed from sticks and rocks, Lo.” “Shut up, smartass! This is ridiculous! MATH IS MATH!”

— The kids texting Logan: [literally the most unhinged thing you’ve ever read in your life]

— Logan: 👍

— He FEELS when one of them needs a nap. He’ll pretend to sleep on the couch (Logan never, ever sleeps in open spaces, not if he can help it, not if he can’t trust.) and Laura will burrow under his hoodie or shirt like a baby cat.

— Bobby likes to simply jump on him. Especially from behind, for piggyback rides. He has no idea why Scott always looked so flabbergasted and surprised. And slightly afraid.

— Jubilee won’t admit it, but, she likes holding his hand when they’re walking down the street. Even if he always fixes her collar and tells her to straighten her shrimp posture.

— kitty falling asleep on Logan’s shoulder on the jet is something that can be so personal. Logan who absolutely hates flying but will shut up and let his half pint nap on him all she wants :((

[xgryffinwhore]

Study break

Summary: Johnny and his girlfriend take a break form studying to go out to eat, but it turns into something else.

Warnings: Smut, swearing, angst, mentions of violence

Word Count: 7.8k

The afternoon sun cast a warm glow through the windows of Johnny step dad, Sid’s house, lighting up the group scattered across the living room. Textbooks, notebooks, and snack wrappers were spread out around them as they attempted to cram for the upcoming biology exam. The focus had been strong at first, but as the minutes wore on, everyone’s attention started to wane.

Johnny Lawrence sat on the floor beside her, a biology textbook open in his lap, though he barely glanced at it. Every few moments, his gaze drifted to her, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. They had been dating for a few months now, but he still looked at her as if he couldn’t quite believe his luck.

Her friend groaned from the couch, tossing her pen aside in frustration. “Alright, seriously, does anyone understand photosynthesis?” she asked, looking around the room for help.

Johnny rolled his eyes, nudging her knee with his. “I don’t get why plants have to be so complicated,” he said with a grin, leaning closer to her as his voice softened. “You’re the smart one here—think you could explain it to me, or is my brain a lost cause?”

He slipped his hand over hers, his thumb tracing light circles against her skin. “Or,” he added in a low, conspiratorial tone, “maybe we could ditch this study session, sneak out, and grab a burger. My treat.”

He looked at her, his blue eyes full of mischief and warmth, that familiar boyish charm in his smile. It was clear that, even surrounded by friends and endless biology notes, he only had eyes for her

She blushed at his offer, it definitely wasn't rational, they're biology exam was at the end of the week. But she could hardly resist his lopsided smile, he really used his charasma to his advantage.

 "That doesn't sound terrible right now" she said quietly. 

He squeezed her hand gently, his thumb continuing to trace lazy circles on her skin as he leaned in closer, his voice a low whisper that only she could hear. “You sure?” he teased, already feeling the excitement building between them. “You *never* skip studying.”

She knows he's right, she's a little *too* academically responsible. Johnny awoke something in here that made her want to live on the edge, even if the edge was the diner. She whispered back to him, "I think I can make an exception."

“You won’t regret it,” he responded, giving her hand one last gentle squeeze before pulling back. He looked up to the group on the couch, clearing his throat loudly to draw their attention. “Hey, we’re gonna head out for a bit.”

Jimmy looked up from his notes, smirking at the couple "You sure you don't want to stick around for cell functions?" he teased. 

Johnny shot him a mocking glance, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, no thanks,” he said, making a show of closing his textbook. “If I have to hear the word *mitochondria* one more time, my brain might actually explode.”

They make their way out to Johnny's firebird, he opens the door for her as she gets in. The loud roar of his engine booming through the neighborhood. "So where are you thinking? The diner?" she asks. 

"You know me too well," he replied, jamming the keys into the ignition and revving the engine enthusiastically. "Dinner it is."

He pulled out of the driveway and into the street, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline as the car picked up speed. The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the neighborhood, but he barely noticed it—his focus was firmly on the road ahead and the girl beside him.

As they pulled up to the diner, Johnny got out and opened the door for her. He held the small of her back as they walked toward the restaurant, she lingered on his touch. They slide into the booth, the vinyl seats creaking softly beneath their weight. Johnny reached across the table and took her hand in his, a warm smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

He had been itching to get some alone time with her all day, and now that they were finally out and away from their friends, he wasn't going to waste a single moment.

"I swear," he said, his thumb tracing small circles over the back of her hand, "I was losing my mind back there. I can only study biology for so long before I feel my brain cells start dying."

She laughed at his phrase, his little dumb blonde moments rising to meet the surface. "Isn't learning like- the opposite of your brain cells dying? They make new connections when you study, you know that right?" She chuckles at him, looking over the menu.

Johnny chuckled along with her, squeezing her hand gently. "Yeah, yeah," he said with a mock eye roll. "I know, I know. Learning is good for your brain or whatever. But you gotta admit, there's a limit to how much biology a guy can take in one day."

He leaned back against the booth, a mischievous smirk on his lips. "Besides, we both know I'm much better at other things than studying."

"Johnny, shut up" She jokes, a blush spreading across her face. She sets down the menu after she's made her decision. The waiter comes over to take food orders.

Johnny chuckled again at her blush, pride swelling within him as he saw the way her cheeks tinted pink. He was the only one who could make her flustered so easily, and he loved it.

As the waiter approached and he gave his order, he made sure to keep his hand in hers, their fingers intertwined on top of the table. Once the waiter left, he leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with affection as he looked at her. "You're cute when you blush, you know that?"

She darts her tongue out at him playfully, too shy to say much else. She'd always been that way, promiscuous topics making her sheepish. She loved how different they were from each other, it made their chemistry more roused.  

He could practically see the shyness radiating off of her, and he knew exactly how to push her buttons to make her more flustered.

With a devilish sparkle in his eyes, he leaned forward even further, closing the distance between them. "You know," he said in a low, teasing tone, "there are plenty of other things I'd like to see that tongue do instead of just sticking it at me."

She gave his hand a warning squeeze, she loathed how he loved to toy with her in public. "We're in a restaurant you know, people all around us" she cautioned him. 

Johnny continued to lean closer. "So?" he teased, his voice still low and suggestive. "We're in a booth in the back—they're not paying attention to us."

His gaze flicked around the room, taking in the other diners. Sure enough, they were either absorbed in their own conversations or focused on their food. He turned his attention back to her, a cocky smirk on his lips. "Nobody's gonna care if I flirt with my girlfriend."

"You're trying to kill me" she giggles, he had always been so direct. That's another reason she loved Johnny, he was bold. 

His thumb traced over her lips, his touch light but deliberate. "You know I can't help it," he murmured, his voice still holding that edge of mischief. "You're just so damn cute when you're blushing. I gotta have my fun."

The love they shared was so pure, well for most of it, she couldn't help but give him a crooked smile back. "Anyway" She says, hoping to get the heat off of herself "We still have lots of studying to do, so we better make this quick."

Johnny gave her cheek a final, affectionate caress before reluctantly pulling his hand away, a small pout on his lips. "Alright, fine," he conceded, feigning a sigh of acceptance. "I guess I can behave myself for a while."

He leaned back in his seat, unraveling his silverware with impatience. "Let's hope the food comes quickly, though. I don’t know how much longer I can keep my hands off you."

The food comes out a few moments later, it looks utterly delicious. Something about greasy diner food always makes you want to come back for more. She takes a bite of her fries and closes her eyes entranced with the salty relief. "Thank god, i'm starving" she sighed.

He picked up his burger and took a large bite, relishing the greasy, meaty taste. "Same here," he mumbled through a mouthful of food, his words muffled. "I was starving for more than just food, but this works too."

She rolled her eyes, he never stops. 

Johnny chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief as she caught onto his double entendre. "What? I can't help it," he said, his voice laced with innocence. He took another bite of his burger, grinning. "You make me hungry, and not just for food."

Her faulter fake annoyance. They continue to eat, clearing their plates and sitting back completely full. "I'll be right back, I'm gonna use the bathroom before we leave, okay?" She stands up, walking to the restroom. 

Johnny watches as she gets up from the booth and heads towards the restroom. He nods in acknowledgment, his eyes following her path until she disappears behind the door. He stretches his arms above his head, the diner food sitting comfortably in his stomach as he waits for her to return.

As she finishes using the bathroom and comes out, the waiter stops her outside of the bathroom entrance. He looked around their age, probably went to North Valley. "So, what a guy like me gotta do to get your number?" he asks, a menacing smile forming across his lips. 

His question hit her like a ton of bricks, surprising her. Normally no one dared to approach her like this, but here he was. 

"Oh," she said, her voice soft as she paused for a moment. "I'm sorry, I’m actually see—" 

The words caught in her throat as his smile turned menacing, a shiver running down her spine.

"Already have a boyfriend," she finished weakly, her eyes darting around the diner. Johnny was still sitting in the booth, happily oblivious to the interaction by the bathroom.

He nodded, seeming unphased by that information. She went to sit back down, fumbling with her hands nervously, Johnny can't know, if he does, he'll flip. She collected herself and sat down, smiling sweetly at her boyfriend.

Johnny looked up as she slid back into the booth across from him, a small smile on his face. Her smile seemed forced, and her hands were fidgeting nervously in her lap.

His smile faded slightly, replaced with a hint of concern. "You okay?" he asked, his voice soft and laced with worry.

She wouldn't let him know, he'd probably damn near kill the guy. He had a real bad temper, the type that he took out in karate, or it got him in trouble. "Yeah baby, everything's alright" she chirped. 

A few moments later, the waiter came by with the check, and a side of a sly smile. "Here's the bill, oh and if you change your mind" he leans in a little closer to her "My numbers on the back of the receipt." He winks, walking away. Her eyes bolt to Johnnys, she's praying he doesn't snap, not here, not now.

She gulps, this can not be good. "Johnny wait, I can explain"

Johnny's eyes darkened as he scanned the back of the receipt, finding the waiter's number scribbled on there. He slammed the check down on the table with a thud, his jaw clenching.

"Explain what?" he said through gritted teeth. "Why some guy is handing you his number and winking to you?"

Johnny sat up straighter in his seat, his body tense and coiled. He knew she'd told the guy she had a boyfriend. He trusted her. But the sight of the waiter's number and that damned wink... It unleashed something primal within him. 

"I told him I have a boyfriend!" she defended. But she knows Johnny, she's seen him beat guys to a pulp for much less.

"I know you did," he said through clenched teeth. "But that didn't stop him, did it? And you didn't tell me about it either."

"It just happened, I didn't want you to be upset Johnny" she reaches over and rubs his knuckle, its white from his grip on the table. She can tell he's trying hard to hold back.

Her touch on his knuckle was soothing, but it was like trying to cool down a raging wildfire with a squirt gun. His grip on the table loosen slightly, but his anger still simmered just below the surface. 

"I'm already upset," he muttered, his voice low and tight. "But not at you." 

He looked down at the check again, that number mocking him like a taunt.

"Just please don't do anything irrational" She begged, she knew he was beyond saving but she hoped her words would somehow get through to him. 

Her pleading words fell on deaf ears, her attempt to calm him only fueling the storm within him. The fire in his eyes flared as he clenched his fists, the rage coursing through his veins. 

"Don't do anything irrational?" he repeated, his voice barely containing the dangerous edge. "That ship already sailed, doll." 

He rose from his seat abruptly, his body tense like a spring coiled tight.

"Johnny!" she pleads, people from other tables turning their heads to watch the comotion. She can't believe that this is happening again, his hot head making him do things that he couldn't take back.

He zeroed in on the waiter as he moved across the diner, his jaw clenched tight. He could see the waiter's cocky grin from here, a target for all his pent-up frustration and anger.

"Hey, punk" he spat.

The waiter looked up, startled as Johnny approached him with menacing steps. He swallowed, a flash of fear crossing his eyes. 

"Y-yeah?" he replied nervously, his bravado vanishing under Johnny's intense gaze.

"You got a lot of nerve, handin' my girl your number like that." 

Johnny's voice was cold, his eyes narrowing as he loomed over the waiter, practically daring him to speak.

The waiter seemed to shrink under Johnny's glare, all his earlier confidence gone. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. 

Johnny continued, his voice like a razor's edge. "You thought she would be interested in you, huh? Thought you had a shot?"

The waiter found his voice again, although it trembled slightly under the weight of Johnny's anger. 

"I-I didn't think—"

But Johnny cut him off with a sharp gesture. "You didn't think, period, dumbass."

The other diners in the diner grew quiet, the usually bustling atmosphere now replaced with an eerie silence as they watched the confrontation unfold. 

Johnny leaned in closer to the waiter, his tone dropping into a menacing whisper. "You ever try that again, you'll look at her again, and you'll be picking your teeth up off the floor. Got it?"

She couldn't handle watching this anymore, she prayed for the waiter's sake that he didn't talk back. She rushed outside, her heart rate picking up, hoping he was only a few steps behind her and not a few inches into this guy's face.

Johnny's gaze remained locked on the waiter for a moment longer, the threat hanging heavy in the air. It took every ounce of restraint to stop himself from acting on his anger right there. 

Finally, he turned away from the waiter, his eyes scanning the tables for her. He saw her slip outside, and he pushed through the exit after her, the door slamming shut behind him.

"Why'd you run off like that?" he demanded, his voice gruff.

"Dammit Johnny" she cursed, turning around at him with rage. "Do you always have to cause a scene like that?"

"Hey, watch the tone." 

Johnny bristled at her anger, his irritation rising in response. "That jack-ass needed to be taught a lesson. I was just making sure he wouldn’t bother you ever again."

She shakes her head with bitterness, a resentful smirk on her lips "Well it's not like we can ever go back there again, after the shit you just pulled."

He took a step closer to her, his expression dark. "What about that guy giving you his number? You weren't worried about that?"

"It's not like I was going to take it Johnny, Jesus," she huffs, storming to his car.

Johnny followed her to his car, his anger notching up a level with her tone. He stalked after her, his steps fast and purposeful. 

"I know you wouldn't take it," he said, his voice tight. "But it's the fact that he thought he had a chance that pisses me off."

She opens the passenger door, aggravated with his stubbornness. "Well we both know he didn't, and that should be all that matters" she says quietly, stepping into his car.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He knew he hadn't handled the situation the best he could, but the idea of her dealing with another guy hitting on her made his blood boil.

He got into the driver's seat, slamming the door shut. "Yeah, I know that," he muttered begrudgingly.

She crossed her arms, facing the window. She loved him, she really did, but it was so hard with him always getting into these altercations. His temper always got the better of him.

Johnny started the car, the engine roaring to life. The tension between them was palpable, a suffocating silence taking over. 

He gripped the steering wheel tightly, the veins in his arms standing out as he drove. He glances over at her, her body turned away from him, her arms crossed defensively. 

"You're pissed at me," he stated, his voice low.

Her gaze stayed out the window, she knew if she looked at him she would soften. That's how it was, he did something dumb, she looked at him for too long, and all of her defenses came crashing down. "Yeah, I am."

Johnny clenched his jaw, her words like a punch to his gut. Her unwillingness to look at him only added insult to injury.

He let out a heavy sigh, his anger mixing with guilt. "I just... I can't stand seeing other guys looking at you like that. It drives me nuts."

His words made her weak in the knees, she secretly loves it when he gets all jealous, when he wants to be the only boy in her world. She finds her voice "Lots of things to do."

His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he tried to keep his emotions in check. "Don't start," he warned, his voice a low rumble.

"*I* did not start anything Johnny" she said his name like it was a cuss. 

His jaw clenched tight, the way she said his name making him want to simultaneously strangle her and kiss her senseless. 

He kept his gaze focused on the road, the car's engine rumbling as he pressed down on the gas pedal a little harder than necessary. 

"You're pushing it, doll," he ground out, his voice tight.

A scorn breath leaves her lips, she doesn't know how she's going to go back and study when he's acting erratic like this. Like he always does.

He pulls off the road, they can't go back in this state.

"Just... can you just—" he cut himself off, swallowing his words. He took a deep breath, his jaw clenching again. "Just stop for a minute, and look at me."

She slowly turned to meet his gaze, still keeping her distance as her arms stayed glued on top of each other.

His eyes lock on hers, his chest tightening at the sight of her. Every fiber in his being is screaming to reach out and pull her closer, but her arms crossed and the look in her eyes are keeping him at bay. 

He runs a hand through his hair, his voice tight. "I just... I can't stand the thought of another guy looking at you the way I do, okay?"

"I know, Johnny" She sighs softly, the wall she built slowly falling over. Damn him for those gorgeous eyes.

She reaches out and rubs his shoulder, trying to offer some foundation for his feelings. Sure, he was a little crazy, but it all came from a good place.

He lets out a low growl, his body twitching involuntarily under her touch. "You're not helping," he mutters, his voice hoarse.

She flinches back her hand, not willing to be a victim of his crossfire "Sorry.." 

"No, you don't —" he says, cutting himself off. He takes a hand through his hair, frustration and desire warring in his chest. "No, don't apologize. Just... come here."

She unbuckles, sliding across the connected seat (the 80s, right?) to sit on his lap. She straddles either side of his legs, stroking his blonde locks to put some ease to the fire that burned within Johnny.

His breath hitches as she settles on his lap, the weight of her body on his making desire flare through him like a bolt of lightning. 

He lets out a low, approving hum when she starts to touch his hair, his tense muscles loosening almost immediately. He lets his hands come to rest on her hips, his fingers clenching against the fabric of her skirt.

As he starts to relax under her touch, she admires the way his features soften. Only then, does she really start to see the power she holds over him. He might act like he is in the driver's seat, but she knows now she's the one pressing the gas. 

She lines his features lightly with one hand, and caresses his hair with the other.

Every touch from her is like a match to his already burning desire. He lets out a soft, almost pained groan as she explores his features with her gentle hands. He feels like he’s falling apart beneath her touch in the best kind of way. 

He leans into her grasp, his eyes fluttering shut as her fingers glide through his hair. He tightens his grip on her hips, pulling her a little closer on his lap.

"Feeling a little more calm now?" she quizzes, lining his jaw with her index finger. 

He nods slightly, his body responding to her touch like it always does. He lets out a shaky breath as she continues to caress his face. 

"Yeah, doll," he mutters, his voice thick with desire. "You're pretty damn good at calming me down, I'll give you that."

She chuckles at his attitude. "Well, good" she whispers as she kisses him on the cheek.

He tilts his head to capture her mouth in a hot, desperate kiss. 

His hands slide up from her hips, up her sides and around to her back to pull her closer still, the need for her building to the point of aching.

Her hands moved to his shoulders as she deepened the kiss, a kiss they both needed after all of that. 

He groans into the kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips, seeking entrance. He wraps his arms around her, pulling her tight against his chest. 

He nips at her bottom lip, his hands moving lower to grip her hips again, his fingers digging, almost possessively.

She breaks the kiss, "We have to get back to the study group" she says breathlessly, her lips plump from assault. 

"Study group can wait," he mutters. He leans down to press a kiss to the hollow of her throat, his lips and tongue working against her skin.

She gasps at the contact, his lips felt sinful going down the thin skin of her neck. It was insane how easily he made her forget about everything else with just his tongue.

His lips roam down her neck, nipping, kissing and sucking as they go, marking her flesh with his mouth. 

His hands slide up her body just enough to slide under her shirt, his fingers tracing the warm expanse of her bare skin.

A gasp escaped her lips as she felt his fingers travel, her hips rock involuntarily against him. He knew how to get her all hot and bothered, her thoughts of him and only him.

He lets out a low groan at the feeling of her hips rocking against him, the friction driving him wild. He nips at the sensitive spot under her ear, his teeth grazing against her skin. 

His hands continue to roam her body, his touch almost reverent as they caress her soft flesh. He wishes that guy from the diner were here to see this, to show him that she belonged to Johnny, and never anyone else.

She leans back, providing him with more access as her eyes screweed shut in gratification. Her skirt rides up as she presses herself against the steering wheel.

He takes full advantage of the new space, his mouth moving lower, nipping and sucking at her collarbone and the sensitive spot at her neck. His hands slide back down her body to the hem of her skirt, his fingers dipping underneath to run along the smooth skin of her thighs.

Her body quakes at his touch, her thighs begging for him, needing him. She parts her legs even further, completely driven by desire. She can't fully grasp the effect he has on her, but she knows it's more than anyone else ever could or will.

His fingers trace the edge of her panties, teasing, taunting. “Mmm, you want something, doll?” he murmurs against her skin, his voice low and dangerous.

Her head nods feverishly as she pulls her skirt up so it sits around her waist. She's desperate for some relief.

His breath hitches at the sight of her skirt around her waist, her hips rocking against him again. He swears under his breath, his own need for her building to almost painful heights. 

He moves one hand from her thigh, bringing it up to her stomach. He dips his fingers under the edge of her panties, his touch light as he teases her aching flesh. “You’re begging for it aren’t you, doll?” he purrs against her ear.

Her body trembles, he is really teasing her today, but she can't put up a fight. "Johnny please" she whimpers, desperation lacing her voice.

His chest tightens at the sound of her whimper, her begging him almost undoing him. He can’t resist her, not when she’s like this. 

He moves his fingers lower, seeking the spot he knows will make her fall apart. “You want me to make you feel good, doll?” he whispers, his breath hot against her skin.

"More than anything, Johnny" she pleads, the tension building in her increasing rapidly. 

He lets out a low growl, her pleading making something primal flare up within him. He slips his fingers further down, finding the sweet spot that he knew would drive her wild. 

His long fingers plunging in and out of her heat, his movements slow and deliberate, wanting to draw out her pleasure as long as he can. “You’re so sensitive, doll,” he murmurs in her ear.

She lets out a soft moan, it overpowers the sound of the thunderbirds engine. His words work to undo her almost as good as his fingers are.

His fingers move a little harder, a little faster. “You sound so good, doll,” he whispers, his voice low and rough. “I could listen to those little sounds you make all damn day.”

"Please dont stop.. dont stop talking" she groans, lost in her own pleasure. Normally, she would have a fit doing this on the side of the road, but with him hitting that spot right against her walls, she didn't really give a damn.

He can’t help but let out a low chuckle at her plea, the sound of her begging him music to his ears. He has her at his mercy, and we're enjoying every second of it. 

"You like my voice, doll?" Johnny murmurs against her ear, his mouth brushing her skin. "You like it when I talk to you like this?" 

His fingers maintain their pace, keeping her on the edge, his thumb adding just a hint of extra pressure.

"God yes, Johnny" she moans like a prayer. His fingers driving her to the brink, but she's aching for more of him. Every inch of him.

He slows his pace just slightly, his fingers swirling and flicking against her sensitive flesh. "You want more dolls?" Johnny murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "You want more of me?"

"Yes" she accords, her hands flying to release him from his jeans. Her  small hands unzip his pants, shaking from the pleasure only Johnny can provide.

The feeling of her small hands on him, freeing him from his jeans makes him groan low in throat. Her skin against his is like fire, his body responding to her touch with a fierce intensity. 

He moves his fingers back down, his calloused touch teasing her in slow, steady circles. He wants her, wants to be inside her, but he won't give in yet. "Is this what you want, doll?" Johnny's voice is rough and heavy. 

"Please, oh my god, please" she begs, pulling him out of his briefs. Her eyes gush as she sees how aroused he is from pleasing her. 

Seeing her gaze on him, her eyes wide and her lips parted just so, drives him wild. He's ready to throw her in the backseat and take her right there, but he holds back just long enough to take in the sight of her. 

He moans at her words, her begging almost sending him over the edge. He groans her name, his voice thick with desire. "You want me, doll," Johnny purrs. "You need me, don't you?"

She begins to stroke him, trying to halt his teasing. "I need you, now."

He groans at her hands, pleasing him, his desire overcoming his arrogance. 

Her words and her touch have the desired effect, her hands driving him wild. He can't hold back anymore, he needs her too badly. 

He lets out a low growl, his body tight with need. Johnny grabs her hips and lifts her up, moving her to a more comfortable position straddling his lap. "Tell me you're mine," he mutters, his voice hot and possessive.

She sinks down on him, taking in a harsh breath as she feels her brain go fuzzy from the pressure. "I'm yours Johnny" she gasps, taking him fully.

The feeling of her around him makes him groan, the sensation overwhelming. He grips her hips tightly, anchoring her in place as he takes a moment to regain some composure. 

He looks up at her, his eyes dark with desire. "Mine," he growls, repeating the word like a declaration. He snaps his hips into her, a scream shoots from her lips. 

The feeling of him coming and going with each bounce of her hips, she can barely take him.

Johnny can feel himself getting closer with each buck of her hips, her body like a vice around him. "You're mine," he mutters, the words rough against her skin. "You belong to me, don't you?”

"I belong to you, Johnny" she cries, her core tightening as she gets close to her demise. The feeling of him that she never gets used to, that she craves and needs, it's the same every time. Always so good.

He loves hearing her say it, the fact that she belongs to him sears through his brain like a branding iron. He takes possession of her mouth, his tongue claiming hers in a hot and desperate kiss. 

He can feel himself getting closer, his body on the edge of release. "You're so good," he growls against her mouth, his voice ragged. "So goddamn good."

She returns the kiss 10 fold, a sloppy, sexy, erotic lock of lips. She rides Johnny faster, trying to bring him to where she's about to be. "Johnny.. I'm gonna.."

He moans into the kiss, his body responding to her movements with an intensity he can hardly control. Johnny can feel his own release building, his body thrumming like a live wire. 

He nips at her bottom lip, his own breath coming in ragged gasps. "Come for me, doll," he mutters against her mouth, his thumb moving to her clit to make her combust.

She lets out a shriek, Johnny's name, and curses falling from her lips as she rides out her high, her body feels like it's on fire. The waves of ecstacy travel from her head to her toes.

Johnny's wild beneath her, the feeling of her convulsing and wrapping around him pushes him to the edge. Her body against his is like a flame, his mind a dizzy mix of pleasure and desire. Johnny grips her hips tightly, his hands almost digging into her skin as he helps guide her movements. "Doll, I can't last.." he mutters, his voice rough and uneven. 

Her breath ragged, still coming down from her high, but still riding him like there's no tomorrow. "Come Johnny, just come in me.." she whimpers.

 He's hanging on by a thread, his muscles tense and straining. "You want it, doll? You want me to fill you up?"

"Fill me up baby, fill me with your come" she begs, eager to please him just as he did her.

The sound of her begging pushes him over the edge, his brain exploding like a grenade, his body erupting with pleasure. Johnny tightens his grip on her hips as he releases thick ropes to come deep within her. He's lost in the feeling of his release, Johnny's body bucking and shuddering beneath her. He comes buried deep inside her, her name coming from his lips. "Fuck," he gasps out. 

He's breathing hard, his body spent and sated, his mind still spinning with pleasure. He holds her tightly to him, burying his face in her neck, his breath hot and rasping against her skin.

She holds Johnny close, feeling his liquid drip out of her and back onto him. She breathes deeply in bliss.

The sticky mess between them is a reminder of what they just shared. He runs his hand down her back, his touch gentle and affectionate.

"Fuck, doll.." Johnny breathes. "You're gonna kill me one day, y'know that?"

"Let's hope not" she giggles, holding his sandy hair and taking in the scent. 

"I'm a serious doll," he mutters, his voice muffled against her skin. "One of these days, you're gonna finish me off for good."

She giggles at his dramatics, another thing she loved about him. They relished in the moment for a few minutes, catching their breath. She slowly got off of him, fixing her shirt and skirt, trying to appear as if they weren't doing what they were just doing.  

He tucks himself back into his jeans, zipping them up. He leans back against the seat, Johnny's eyes roaming over her body, still taking in the sight of her.

"We should probably head back," he reasons. "They're gonna start wondering where we are."

She grimaces about having to go back and study "Yeah, we've been gone for too long.. hopefully they won't give us shit for it" she laughs, knowing fully well their friends will.

Johnny chuckles slowly, knowing full well that they're gonna get teased for being gone so long.

"I'd be surprised if they didn't give us hell for it," he mutters, a slight grin on his lips. "Especially Dutch."

Her eyes roll, knowing he is right "Well," she huffs "better face the lions sooner than later."

Johnny lets out a long sigh, his body still a little sluggish from their activities. He knows she's right, but he's in no hurry to go back to studying.

"Fine," he grumbles, his hand still on her knee. "But just so you know, I'm gonna be thinking about this all throughout the study group."

She smirks as he begins to drive off.

As he pulls back onto the road, he can't help but steal a few glances over at her. The memory of what they just did is still fresh in his mind. He can't focus on anything else, his body still humming with leftover pleasure.

They pull up back to Johnny's step fathers house, reluctantly getting out and going back inside.

Johnny leads the way inside, his hand on the small of her back. As soon as they enter, they're met with the rest of the group, all of them throwing teasing looks and quipping their way.

"Well, look who decided to join us," Dutch quips, his eyebrows raised knowingly.

"Yeah, how was your food?" Her friend questions them, fully knowing.

Johnny rolls his eyes, a slight smirk on his lips. He knows they all know what they were up to, and he doesn't really care. 

"Food was delicious," he replies, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "But we got hungry after, so we had some dessert." He lets his eyes slide over to her, a subtle reminder of what he's referring to.

Her face turned bright red, his audacity was applaudable. The whole group gives knowing giggles and glances. "Subtle Johnny, real subtle" she groans, sitting back down.

Johnny grins widely, his eyes gleaming with mischief. He knows he's being blatantly obvious, and he doesn't care. He's not ashamed of what they just did, and he definitely doesn't mind rubbing it in the rest of the group's faces.

"What can I say? I'm a subtle guy," he quips, his smirk still in place. "You know me doll."

Dutch chuckles at Johnny's attitude, shaking his head. "Yeah, as subtle as a brick to the head," he remarks. "You're lucky we didn't go over much while you two where on your *break*."

Johnny's smirk only widens at Dutch's jab. "Yeah, I'm sure we would've been heartbroken if we missed some of your valuable input, Dutch." His tone is playful, but there's an edge of snark to it.

"Hey, my input is very valuable," Dutch protests. "I'm full of wisdom."  

Johnny snorts. "Yeah, that's one word for it. 'Full of it' is more like it."

She laughs at the group's banter back in full swing, like they never left. She picks up her notebook, beginning to look over her notes again. "Okay guys, so where did you make it to?"

The rest of the group quiets down, shifting back into "study mode." They continue discussing the notes and materials, delving into the subject.

Johnny does his best to focus, but his mind has other ideas. He can't help but glance over at her, his eyes straying to her lips, remembering the way she tasted. His mind wanders, his thoughts far from academics.

She glances over at him, seeing that dark look in his eyes. "Focus Johnny, you had a break, it's time to get back to studying" she says with a mix of stern and playfulness. 

"Yeah, yeah, Doll," he grumbles, "I'm focused." But his eyes are still roaming over her, the memories from their little "break" still fresh in his mind.

She shakes her head at him, flipping to her notes on mitosis and meiosis. 

Johnny tries his best to concentrate on the notes in front of him, but his thoughts keep drifting back to her. The way she looked, the way she sounded, the way she felt. He can't help but steal glances at her, his eyes always straying to her lips, his mind wandering down dirty paths.

He shifts in his seat, trying to discreetly adjust himself in his jeans. He's only half paying attention to the material now, his focus split between studying and fantasizing about her.

"What comes first again?" she asks the group "Interphase or Prophase?" She bites the tip of her eraser. 

Jimmy answers; "Interphase. The phase where the cell grows and copies the DNA or something."

The rest of the group nods in agreement, but Johnny's too preoccupied to respond. His eyes are glued to her, watching her bite her eraser. He can't help but imagine that it's his finger instead... His mind starts to wander again, his thoughts becoming dirtier by the second.

She looks over at him, noticing his eyes on her, she quirks her brow at him. 'What?' she mouths to Johnny discreetly.

He quickly glances around at the rest of the group, making sure no one else noticed.

He gives her a little smile, his eyes still dark with lingering desire. He mouths back at her, 'You're distracting.'

'How?' she mouths again at him.

Johnny lets out a small huff of breath, his eyes raking over her. 'You know how.' he mouths back.

He shifts again in his seat, trying to subtly adjust himself in his jeans again. The sight of her is driving him crazy, and he's finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate.

She looks down at him fixing himself, a familiar burn comes back to haunt her.  She scans the room to make sure no one is seeing this. 'I'm not doing anything' she mouths.

Johnny watches her eyes glance at his lap, her expression shifting at the sight of him adjusting. He can see the same heat in her eyes that he feels. 

He mouths back to her, 'You're biting that damn eraser.'

His gaze is intense, full of desire and a hint of frustration. He nods to the eraser she was chewing on.

She looks down at it, 'So?' she mouths to Johnny.

He mouths back, 'It's distracting me.'

'Look away' she mouths back, sort of enjoying the secret banter.

He looks back at her, the corner of his lips rising in a sly smirk. 'I can't.' he mouths back. 

She softly bites the tip of the eraser, looking at him, pressing his buttons.

Johnny bites his lip, leaning back on the couch, his legs spreading open slightly, a subtle invitation.

'Not fair' she mouths and shakes her head.

'You started it,' he mouths, his smirk still in place.

He looks around again, but no one else seems to be paying attention. He lets his eyes linger on her for a few more moments, his gaze dark with desire. He shifts once again, the bulge in his jeans more obvious this time.

Her eyes darted down to his growing member. 'Stop. It. Now.' she mouths, her throat feeling dry.

Johnny's smirk widens, noticing the effects of his body on her. 'Why should I?' he mouths back, his eyes holding a mischievous gleam.

He lets his legs spread even further apart, his hand resting on his lap casually. He glances down at himself, and then looks back up at her, a silent challenge in his eyes.

She bites the eraser harder, trying to keep control and composure. 'Johnny. No.' she mouths.

Seeing her mouth 'no' only makes him want her more. He shifts again, the pressure in his jeans getting to be almost unbearable.

He mouths back, 'Why not?' 

He gives her a sidelong glance, a hint of defiance in his eyes.

'Study' she shoots him a warning glare, her eyes wandering to his lap once again.

He mouths back, 'Can't concentrate.'

He leans back in his seat, his legs spreading a little further apart. It's like he's daring her to look again.

She cant help but look, dammit it was right in front of her, tempting her, in front of everyone. She looked around to make sure they were still in the clear. 'Stop' she mouths, her eyes trying hard to look anywhere but his jeans.

He mouths back at her, 'Nah.'

Johnny lets his hand slide over his lap, his thumb pressing down against the hard bulge in his jeans. Just a casual move, but enough to send a message.

Two can play at this game. she leans back her notebook not so accidently, catching on her skirt as it rides up her thigh. 

Johnny's eyes immediately snap down to her skirt, the fabric riding up and exposing more of her skin. He lets out a low growl under his breath, his fingers digging into the couch.

He looks up at her, his eyes dark with lust. He mouths, 'That's cheating.'

'I'm not doing anything,' she mouths, feigning innocence as she notes to bring the notebook closer, her skirt coming with it. It's dangerously close to her upper thigh. 

Johnny's eyes are glued to her skirt, watching as it creeps higher and higher up her thigh. He clenches his jaw, his body tense with desire. 

He mouths back at her, 'Bullshit.' 

He shifts forward a little in his seat, getting a better view of her bare skin.

She decides to push him further, knowing he can't do a damn thing but watch. She brings the notebook up, her skirt revealing the lining of her white panties. 

He shakes his head, the words 'Stop it.' visible on his lips.

She looks around at all of their friends, deep in their books. 'Make me' she mouths, elongating every lip movement. 

Johnny watches her lips, the way they move as she mouths the challenge. He shakes his head again, his jaw clenching in a mixture of frustration and arousal.

But the look on her face, the challenge in her eyes, it's like fuel to the fire roaring inside him. He shifts forward a little more, his leg brushing against hers.

She moves her skirt back down standing up, it catches Johnny by surprise. "Be right back, just gonna go to the bathroom" she tells the group, they barely look up from their studies. She saunters away.

Johnny watches her strut away, his eyes glued to her legs as she walks. He lets out a frustrated huff, his body still thrumming with unfulfilled desire.

He looks around at the others, making sure they're still focused on their study material. He waits a few minutes, trying to compose himself, but the memory of her skirt hitched up and her panties in view is seared in his brain. He can't take it anymore.

Finally, he stands up, feigning a yawn. "Hey, I'm gonna go take a piss real quick," he calls out to the group, trying to act casual.

As Johnny makes his way towards the door, he looks back at their friends, making sure no one is watching. He slips out into the hallway, his heart pounding with anticipation.

He knocks on the closed door.

She opens it, her smirk widens when she sees her boyfriend. "Took you long enough," she whispered.

His eyes rake over her, taking in the sight of her standing in the doorway. His hands reach out automatically to grab her, pulling her closer.

"Shut up," he mutters, his voice low. "You're driving me crazy in there, doll."

"Well you better finish what *you* started" she dares.

He lets out a low growl, his eyes narrowing at her words. "Oh, I will," he mutters, his hands gripping her waist.

He pushes her back into the bathroom, shutting the door behind them.

[dadddybangtan]

‘And There Were Three’ | (m)

pairing: sylus x zayne x afab/fem reader

contains: smut mdni, loosely l&ds based plot, unprotected sex, threesome, dom sylus, service top zayne, docile reader, mentions of abortion, strong language, short violence, sleepy sex, multiple orgasms, choking, daddy/kitten/doctor, established relationship between reader and zayne, big dick zaddy zayne, shlong slinging sylus, filthy unapologetic smut, slight zayne x sylus

word count: 3.5k

a.n. wow we’ve only known sylus for less than a week and my brain already went wild. before sylus came, i was very loyal to zayne, now i romance both of them and i couldn’t be happier with the game. and yes, that’s my avatar in the cover lol

my pronouns are he/they and i usually make afab/gender neutral smut to align with my own preferences. but i use she/her pronouns for the reader here to have continuity with the game’s canon.

anyways! tell me what you think of this threesome and if i should continue writing more (this definitely feels like part one to a bigger smut story…)

READER POV

Sylus was finally beginning to drive on some streets I recognized. My anxiety only worsened when I realized he was on the street of my own house. How does he know where I live?

"You're taking me home?" I asked.

"You won't resonate with me because you're uncomfortable with me," His dark voice said, "We should get to know each other in the place you're most comfortable."

I swallowed a lump in my throat. He was so focused on modding my Evol, it made me sick. When he parked in front of my house, I saw the lights on inside. Zayne was home from the hospital already and it was only ten o'clock at night.

"It's not good to leave the lights on."

"I-I didn't..." I stammered, "My boyfriend's home from work."

"So that's why you don't like me," He chuckled, "You've got your heart set on someone else. I guess I'll just have to give him a little greeting."

He grabbed his gun from his hip and reloaded bullets from his chest pocket. Assuming his plan, I swung the passenger door open and jumped out. Only for Sylus to catch me by my arm.

"You think I'm just gonna go in guns blazing," He asked but I remained silent, "This is just in case he tries anything with me. Self defense, kitten. Not like you'd know anything about that."

He let go of me and I was out of the car. He followed me to the front door and watched my shaky hands unlock it. Once inside he looked around for Zayne, but he wasn't reading on the couch like usual.

"Doctor Zayne?" I called, "I'm home."

"You call your boyfriend doctor?"

I ignore this and headed up the stairs. I could hear his loud footsteps behind me.

"Stay down here."

He took a step back and crossed his arms. His face made a cocky smirk that annoyed me, but I continued up the stairs and to my bedroom.

"Zayne?" He was no where to be found.

I took off my jacket and tried to settle in before going back downstairs. As soon as I caught my breath, I heard a sudden gunshot from the distance. I darted out of my room and down the stairs. I ran into the kitchen to see Sylus pointing his gun at Zayne.

"Sylus, what have you-." I paused, finally noticing the bullet frozen on the ground.

"You didn't tell me he had an ice Evol."

"Who is this man?" Zayne said calmly.

"Zayne, this is Sylus. The leader of Onychinus."

"And what is he doing here."

"I'm here to get properly acquainted with your girlfriend so we can resonate."

"Excuse me, [Reader], you're letting him do this?"

"We made a deal. I have to." I said weakly.

Zayne stepped forward, over the bullet on the ground. He wore the shirt I love him in, glasses and barefoot. He was comfortable. I felt horrible for bringing this mess home with me.

"Sylus, is it?"

"Doctor Zayne," He coos lowly "You're really a doctor?"

"Heart surgeon," He said with a stern voice, "Judging by your pale skin and red eyes, you're a vampire. Would I be correct?"

"You're smart," He looked over at me, "How did a ditz like you get someone like him?"

With that, Zayne froze Sylus' hand to his gun and pushed him against the wall.

"Don't talk about her like that."

"Or what, Doctor Zayne," He asked rhetorically, "If I can't insult her, what should I say? That she'd make the perfect fuck doll and she'll need you to patch her up when I'm done with her."

My heart pounded. How could he say that out loud to my boyfriend of all people?

"Arguably, I'd say that's worse," Zayne hissed, still holding the man against the wall, "Sylus, I think you should leave before you cause any more trouble."

"Ah, come on, Doctor Zayne. You can't tell me you've never looked at her and didn't want to tear her apart."

Sylus cracked the ice on the wall, put his gun in the holster and grabbed Zayne's face. He forced my own boyfriend to look at me. My heart beat only increased.

"I mean look at the way that top hugs her breasts. And how tight her pants are. Those hips would be perfect to grab onto as you rail her from behind."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you wanted to sleep with her."

"And if I didn't know any better, I'd say you got hard just by looking at her," Sylus sneered before fixing Zayne's gaze to himself, "Or was it the sound of my voice?"

"That's enough," I said, trying to separate the two, but they were both much stronger than me and neither of them budged, "It's one thing to objectify me but it's another to seduce my boyfriend. What are you trying at?"

"I'm just playing a little game, kitten."

"What kind of game?" Zayne asked, I felt his shoulders relax and heard his voice soften.

"How about I make you a deal," Sylus said, finally using his strength to push Zayne off of him, "I need her to be comfortable with me to resonate with her. How about we make her cum-fortable?"

"You think I'm going to let you screw around with my girl?"

"As much as I want to, and as much as your cock wants me to," He said, snickering at Zayne's twitching bulge, "I had something else in mind."

"And when were you gonna ask me?" I interjected.

"Kitten," He growled as he brought his cold hand to my chin, "Can daddy help Doctor Zayne make you cum?"

I was appalled. But I couldn't lie; I was intrigued. And judging my Zayne, he seemed to be intrigued too.

"Zayne, why are you okay with this?"

"I'm not asking him, I'm asking you like you wanted. So answer me."

"You're not gonna hurt me, are you?"

"Not unless you want us to."

"You're not gonna hurt Zayne?"

"I promise I won't hurt Doctor Zayne."

I think on it a bit more. Zayne isn't protesting and he's managed to retain his erection in his sweatpants. This must be something he was into for a while, but hadn't told me about.

"Under one condition." I say.

"Yes, kitten?"

"Leave all of your weapons on the counter."

"As you wish." He says, releasing my chin and unloading his gun, tasers, and pocket knives onto the kitchen counter.

Zayne grabs my hand and leads me to the couch. He sits down and puts me on his lap.

"You didn't answer my question," I say, "Why are you okay with this?"

"To help you with your deal."

"That's not all, Zayne." I said, palming his clothed bulge.

"You already look so beautiful with one person treating you," He said as his hand gently snaked up my back and to my neck, "I've always imagined what you'd look like with two."

I knew it.

"R-really?" I asked, my body became hot, "How come you never told me?"

"The desire was never that extreme to ask a prude to engage in a ménage à trois. Plus, I've never had a third candidate in mind until now."

"Prude? You're bi?"

"You ask too many questions, kitten," Sylus said from behind me, startling me, "It's not that he's bi, it's that he wants to see how fucked out you can actually be."

"And if I was bi?" Zayne asked, looking up at Sylus. I'd never seen him look so submissive.

"You couldn't handle me, Doctor Zayne," He chuckled, "Besides this isn't about your pleasure, it's about hers. Don't be selfish."

Sylus snuck his hand under mine and prompted me to stand up. He turned me towards Zayne and stood tall behind me, silhouette engulfing my boyfriend. His presence was so daunting, intimidating. I always knew Zayne was strong but Sylus' strength is superhuman... Vampiric. I thought he was joking earlier.

I felt his cold hands hovering over my shoulders. They reached down my chest to the collar of my shirt.

RIP

I gasped, looking down at my bare breasts. To my surprise, Zayne doesn't struggle to look me in the eyes.

"Her tits are down here," Sylus propped my tit up in his hand while his arm supported the other. It was like he was presenting them to Zayne, "Perform your oral, Doctor Zayne."

Only then did Zayne's eyes wander downwards. He leaned in and let his tongue play with my nipple. I saw one of his hands come to my side and the other to his core. His mouth felt so good on my body.

We didn’t have sex often due to our work schedules. So when we do got time like that, I was always blissfully reminded of how good my lover feels.

Sylus hummed in my ear and it genuinely sounded both devilish and heavenly. The deep richness was born in hell. But the smoothness and seductiveness made it heavenly.

His free hand went down to my waist and the button on my pants. He was an expert, it seemed. He unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans with ease.

"W-what're you doing?" I moaned.

"I'm not gonna finger you, that's Zayne's job."

Sylus pressed his middle and ring finger on my clit from the outside of my panties and slowly toyed at the nub. Am I already about to cum? Is it because I don't orgasm often?

Regardless, the pleasure made me throw my head back on Sylus' chest. I knew he was attractive, but how was he so hot even from upside down.

"Fuck." I whimpered as my I felt my underwear become wet with cum.

"Our kitten came already? We're nowhere near done with you."

Sylus let go of me and I fell into Zayne's lap again. Zayne kissed my neck as he inches my pants off. Sylus took off his pants too. Even in his underwear, his cock was huge.

Without a word, Zayne readjusted me so I would sit directly on top of his dick. It slid inside me easily. He used his knees to separate my legs. My pussy seemed to be on display for Sylus. That prompted him to throw his underwear down, making his cock spring up and hit his stomach. With Zayne thrusting into me and watching Sylus play with himself, I felt a bit overstimulated.

"Look at yourself." Sylus eyed my pussy as Zayne slid in and out of me.

I looked down to see what Sylus was on about; Zayne's cock glistened with my slick. I don't know what turned me on more. Was it watching Zayne disappear inside me or was it Sylus watching Zayne disappear inside me.

Sylus stepped toward me, thick, hard cock staring directly at me. I could tell he wanted me to put my mouth on him, but I refused. I knew Zayne well enough to know he'd get jealous if I gave another guy a blowjob.

As Zayne continued to thrust inside me, his hand went under my arm and to my neck, lightly choking me. I remember asking him for this months ago, but he didn't understand why I wanted him to do something like that. What’s gotten into him? Whatever it is, I love it.

I looked back at my boyfriend and caught him staring lustfully at Sylus' member. He was so focused and I could feel him twitch and throb inside of me.

Sylus lifted his leg onto the couch, bringing his dick dangerously close to my face. Zayne's firm hand on my neck prevented me from pulling away. Just when I thought Sylus would bring his dick to my lips, he put his hand on the back of Zayne's head and forced his dick into his mouth. I’d never seen Zayne like that before. It was shocking, but it was so hot.

I stared intently at Zayne’s mouth as it stretched to Sylus’ size. I saw him wince and moan everytime his tip hit the back of his throat. His eyes began to water behind his glasses and when the first tear fell, I felt his grip on my neck tighten.

“You’re fogging up his glasses, kitten.” Sylus moaned.

He decided to give Zayne’s mouth a break as he carefully removed his glasses and dropped them onto the far end of couch.

“Why’d you stop?” Zayne groaned lowly.

“You didn’t look like you could handle it, Doctor Zayne,” Sylus said, taking his foot off of the couch and sitting next to him, “Taking me is not for the weak. Isn’t that right, kitten?”

I struggled to protest. Zayne felt so good inside me and his grip felt so erotic on my throat. I couldn’t find the words to assure Zayne that I’ve never fucked him.

“You’re not weak, are you, [Reader]?” Zayne whispered into my ear.

“N-no.” My moan was cut off by the strong pulse I felt in my core. I closed my eyes to focus on the feeling.

My clit was pulsating and my walls were closing in on Zayne’s member. The feeling was so intense, I couldn’t control my legs from shaking. I clawed at Zayne’s strong arm, but I didn’t want him to take his hand off of my neck.

“Fuck…” Zayne moaned softly. He never cursed in front of me before, “Can I fill you with my cum, baby.”

Before I could answer the question, I felt his warm seed coating my insides. And my legs only shook more violently. I opened my eyes and glanced over at Sylus who just was watching us and stroking his cock.

Zayne lifted me off of his dick and I saw his cum pour out of me and onto his pelvic mound.

“Look at you whimpering and shaking like a leaf,” Sylus chuckled, “Are you sure you’re not weak.”

“I’m sure.” I said, trying to catch my breath.

I lied back on Zayne’s chest. I wasn’t weak, but I was tired. I had already orgasmed twice at the end of a long day. I wasn’t sure I could take anymore.

“You’re nearly drifting off to sleep,” Sylus got up and scooped me into his arms, “Doctor Zayne, show me to her room. I think we should finish her off in the bed.”

My boyfriend led Sylus to the bedroom upstairs with me in his arms. Zayne lied on the bed first and Sylus put me down softly. Zayne snuck his arm under my head and cuddled me from the side. He spread my legs and rested one of them on his thigh.

Through my eyelashes I saw Sylus remove his sweater, and revealing his insanely muscular body. He was completely naked, staring at me and eating me up with his eyes. He then climbed onto the bed and on top of me.

“Even when you’re weary, you still look scared of me,” He said, “Don’t worry, you can handle it.”

His tip flirted with me dangerously. Sylus ever so gently pushed his member into me. My eyes widened at the girth as he stretched me out so much. Zayne is big but Sylus is bigger. He’s not even all the way in. I felt my face contort in reaction to his size.

“Oh my god.” I whisper against my will, I didn’t want Zayne to hear me.

“Look at yourself,” Sylus said, glancing down, “You take me so well, kitten.”

When I looked down, I saw a lump in my lower stomach from his cock. I let out a shaky breath from the sight.

“You’re doing so well.” Zayne said.

With that, I melted into his voice and my body melted onto Sylus. He pulled out just enough to let his tip remain inside then slowly trusted into me. He kept that rhythm, letting me feel every inch of him.

Zayne caressed my face and lovingly kissed my forehead and cheek. But I was needy. All this fucking and not a single one of them kissed my lips. I angled my lips to Zayne’s and he kissed me back passionately.

“That’s cute. Kissing your boyfriend makes you cream all over my cock.”

I didn’t realize my body reacting to that sensation. But hearing him say that brought me close to another orgasm. I moaned into Zayne’s lips and he kissed me harder, letting his tongue play with my lips. Sylus kept his pace steady and I felt my walls closing in on his cock, same way I did with Zayne.

“Come on, kitten, cum on daddy’s cock.”

I bit down on Zayne’s lip. He slid his hand down my torso and massaged my clit. My legs started shaking again.

“You can do it.” Zayne said into my ear.

“Cum for me.” Sylus demanded.

“You’re almost there.”

“Good girl.”

All of my senses muted as I fell into a deep sleep.

3rd PERSON POV

Her body lied limply on the bed as her orgasm put her to sleep. Once Sylus pulled out of her, Zayne closed her legs to give her some decency. Then he took his arm from under her head and went to the bathroom attached to the bedroom while Sylus sat on the edge of the bed.

He came back with a warm, damp towelette and began cleaning her up as she slept peacefully. He used the towel to soak up the fluids from around her core so she can sleep more comfortably.

“You didn’t cum inside her, did you?” Zayne clarified.

“Not even close. It takes a lot more than that to get me off.” Sylus said as he reached over to grab the towel.

“I can do it.”

“I believe you, Doctor Zayne, but you missed a spot,” He said, quickly correctly him, “Besides when I do cum in her, trust I have the means to take care of it.”

“As if I’d let you touch her again. As if I’d let you raise her baby.”

“When I say ‘take care of it’ I mean abort it. A ditz like her can’t raise a child.”

“What did I say about talking about her like that.”

She began stirring in her sleep. Both Zayne and Sylus remained silent until she settled down, refusing to take a breath. Once she was still again, Zayne moved to properly take off her ripped shirt.

“I assume you have the means to replace this then.”

“Tenfold,” Sylus chuckled darkly, “Y’know, it’s funny that you hold such animosity towards me since my cock was down your throat just a minute ago.”

“Sylus, is it? The only thing we have in common is [Reader],” He said, covering her naked body with the blankets on the bed, “I only did that to help her.”

“Sure.” He smirked.

Zayne swallowed hard and went to the nearby dresser. He retrieved a pair of night pants and a hoodie before throwing both at Sylus.

“Cover yourself,” He said before getting his own pair of pants and sliding them on, “If you’re going to spend the night you should be comfortable.”

“I don’t need these. And I don’t need to spend the night.”

“You’re [Reader]’s guest. You should say a proper goodbye before you leave. And you’ll do that when she wakes up in the morning.”

“I suppose a proper goodbye would make her trust me enough to Resonate with me.”

“Precisely. But surely there were other ways to get her comfortable with you, hm?”

“Of course. This was just much more fun.”

Sylus slipped on the clothes that were surprisingly a good fit. Zayne gestured him downstairs and Sylus followed.

“You can help yourself to anything in the kitchen, although we need to go grocery shopping. If you’d prefer to order something in, you’re more than welcome to. You can sleep on the couch tonight.”

“I must admit, your hospitality is admirable. Especially considering how the night began.” Sylus said, looking over at the bullet with a melted ice puddle beneath it on the floor.

“It’s for her, not for you.”

“Sure.” He said again, sitting on the couch.

“Goodnight, Sylus.”

“Your glasses, Doctor Zayne?” He said, holding up the specks with a small smirk on his face.

Zayne grabbed them but Sylus didn’t let go.

“I can tell that you don’t trust me around her. But you have my word when I say, I’d never try anything funny without her permission or without your knowledge.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“I didn’t become the leader of Onychinus by being a liar. My people trust me because I never gave them a reason not to.” He said, finally letting go of the glasses, “Goodnight, Doctor Zayne.”

[lmaowhatt]

utterly obsessed? - four

summary: actress y/n I/n has recently skyrocketed into stardom after her breakout film 'castaways' alongside sarah cameron, kevin hart, chris evans and chris hemsworth. weeks after the movies premiere, she drops her debut single, further cementing her place in the spotlight. as millions of people around the world begin to idolize her, and as she struggles with her own demons, she catches the attention of rafe cameron, who doesnt shy away from becoming utterly obsessed in what seems to be the cutest way possible. however, not everything goes as smooth as they both would've hoped.

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youruser

liked by kiekie, sarahcam, cleopatty and 967k others

youruser me and my girls🤍

jjmay my ask to be invited being rejected was not appreciated in the slightest

➯ kiekie youll live

*liked by creator*

sarahcam before christmas eve wasnt smart at all

user her and cleos smiles are so pretty im jealous

kiekie love you babe💗

user holy hecks

user one chance🙏🏽

cleopatty we take good pictures drunk tbf.

user come over already😫

user jorking my shit to this

➯ youruser real

user rafe come get ur girl

➯ user theyre not together??

➯ user in my eyes they are

➯ user go get them checked then💀

jj constant nagging hadnt stopped since the two of you had gotten into your car and had started route to sarah and john bs house, where the rest of the pogues—plus rafe—were meeting for a christmas eve dinner. "jj, shut up," you told him as you made a right turn onto sarahs street. "but why do i have to go," he groaned, throwing his head back onto the headrest of the passanger seat.

"because, sarah invited both of us." you stated as you parked on the side of the road opposite sarahs house. "i didnt get a text," the man furrowed his eyebrows, removing his seatbelt and crossing his arms over his chest. "well- you were invited through me. sarah said jb wants you there or something." you shrugged, removing your own seatbelt and stepping out of your car.

jj sarcastically threw his hand up in the air, "well in that case." you laughed, shoving his arm as he cracked a smile. the two of you approached the front door, sarah having given you the code for the gate at the front. "well? knock." jj ushered you forward slightly, "well- you knock." to this, jj furrowed his eyebrows.

"hell no, you were actually invited. knock," he insisted, raising your hand to hook your finger on the small ring on the wooden door. reluctantly, you knocked, stepping back shortly after. it only took a couple moments for john b to yank the door open, both he and jj smiling brightly as they embraced eachother in a bro hug.

you rolled you eyes with a smile as he approached you, "save the best for last," he whispered as a joke, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you wrapped one around his mid back in a side hug. "obviously," you laughed as he led the two of you in.

once the two of you walked in, you noticed only pope and cleo were missing, presumably running late. you laughed as sarah ran up to you, embracing you in a hug, kie shortly behind her. "my girls," you beamed. "healed from the hangover?" kiara mentioned as she shooed sarah away, embracing you.

"barely," you pulled away with a smile. "your 'mans' constant talking didnt help," you raised your eyebrows at her, glancing at jj. "he tends to have that effect on people," she joked, patting your shoulders as as she walked to him, the two embracing in a hug with a small kiss being placed on her cheek.

you turned with a polite smile as rafe approached. you opened your arms for a hug, which he gracefully accepted. "howve you been?" you asked as the two of you pulled away. "ive been good, you?" he looked down at you, craning his head down slightly to hear you better. "good, nothing really happened in the three days since weve seen eachother," you laughed quietly, smiling as rafe let out his own chuckle.

"im gonna go get something to drink," you excused yourself as you walked with jj and kie to the kitchen area. sarah oohed quietly, lightly shoving rafes shoulder. john b was heard laughing in the background, rafe immediately knowing sarah had probably told him everything. "shut up," he grumbled, flicking her forehead and walking to the living room where his niece, noelle was.

cleo and pope had shown up only moments later, and now, a few hours had passed. the evening had gone smoothly, with dinner being a success and most of the conversation revolving around upcoming jobs and ideas for future hangouts between the group. it had settled into the kind of night where the conversation flowed easily, despite the untold secrets between some.

the clock in the living room had just barely ticked past 9 p.m., and everyone had moved from the dining room to now being sprawled out across the living room. the guys were sitting on the floor, their attention split between each other and the football game humming softly in the background. their eyes darted across the screen, watching intently as the game played on.

you and the girls were lounging on the couch, glasses of wine in hand. "sarah, seriously, stop," you muttered, feeling slightly flustered as she continued exaggerating kissy faces in your direction, teasing you and rafe, the latter of which was completely unaware. she could only laugh, completely unfazed. "it’s funny," she said with a grin. "well, to me, anyway."

her eyes shifted over to the guys, landing on noelle, who was curled up in rafe’s lap. half of her body hung off, looking relaxed, while rafe absentmindedly played with her blonde hair. "he loves that girl, i cant get over it." sarah mentioned, causing your eyes, along with the girls, to shift towards rafe. "its adorable, honestly." cleo said as her eyes landing on the pair. "hes a girl dad at heart," kie joked, erupting small laughs from you and the other girls.

jj tapped your lap from his spot on the floor. "we gotta go, you’re gonna miss your flight," he whispered, careful not to distract the other guys. you quickly glanced at the clock on the wall before turning back to him, nodding. "yeah, alright. let’s go," you said, loud enough for sarah and john b, the hosts, to hear.

everyone took their time getting up, with sarah being the first to approach you. "please don’t go," she joked, giving you a playful pout before pulling away. you smiled, feeling a little guilty. "i know, but my parents flew back to england for the holidays, and we promised to meet up." you explained as you started making the rounds, hugging everyone goodbye.

when you finally let go of pope, the last person you hugged, you approached noelle, who was propped up on rafes hip. "cant forget the princess, of course." you smiled, planting a small kiss to her cheek, erupting a giggle from her. then, you slipped on your winter boots and waited for jj to finish saying his goodbyes. "text me!" kie called out as you and jj made your way toward the front door.

"i will," you called back as jj closed the door behind him, the two of you now walking toward the car. once inside, with jj behind the wheel, you groaned. "i should've booked the flight later."

"you’ll live," jj teased with fake sympathy, to which you offered a sarcastic laugh. "yeah, ha ha. my flight’s at eleven. it takes at least nine hours to get to london," you said, clearly frustrated. jj nodded, suppressing a laugh at your complaints. "then! it's another almost hour to get home," you added with a groan, running a hand two your hair as you let it out of its simple updo.

jj furrowed his brows as he turned onto another side street. "which means?" he asked, looking at you like he didn’t quite get it. however, knowing him, he clearly did. you stared at him in disbelief. "i’ll get there like at four!" you exclaimed, smacking his shoulder. "hey, don’t touch the driver," he laughed, looking only mildly offended as he noticed your broody frustration seeping through.

you sighed dramatically. jj shrugged, his usual caring tone now replaced with playful teasing. he bit his bottom lip to suppress a laugh. "dont laugh," you warned. "trust me, one day ill drag you to england and watch you suffer with the jet lag."

jj held a hand to his chest, gasping in fake offense. "dont threaten me with a good time," he joked, only to realize his words barely made any sense. you brought your lips to a thin line, "i bet you thought that was a good joke, huh?" you rasied your eyebrows expectantly, jj now approaching the packed airport. "wasnt my best work," he shurgged as he pulled into a very surprisingly empty parking space.

he shifted gears into park, shutting the car off as the both of you removed your seatbelts and exited the car. "got everything?" he shoved his hands into his pockets as he watched you grab your backpack from the backseat, then moving to lug your suitcase out of the trunk. "think so," you mumbled. "no funny business at our apartment, alright?" a light smile made its way to your face as you pointed a stern finger at him, pulling a smile onto his lips as well.

"of course not," he pulled you into a hug, "love you, call or text me when you land alright?" you pulled away with a laugh, nodding with a small look of deja vu at his protectiveness over you, "and here i thought moving across the country would get me away from my overprotective brother." you tilted your head at him with a smile. he threw his head back with small laugh, now fully pulling away "had to take over y'know?" he smiled. you took hold of your suitcase, waving a hand at jj as you walked away, watching as he waved back and got into your car.

youruser added to their story

youruser & jjmay

liked by jjmay, kiekie, popeh and 1.0 million others

youruser my first album ft. my city 💗 besides the many excuitating hours in the studio, both me and @/jjmay really enjoyed creating this all for you, so we really hope you enjoy!

jjmay you crushed it! so proud of you.🤎

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➯ youruser got the brown heart from a certain someone i see but thank you j 💗

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➯ jbr ditto.

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user the most supportive friends i love them.

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taglist: @xoxo-ada

psa: anyone else who has requested to be added to the taglist, im so sorry but ive tried and it will not let me tag you guys! i suggest to try and mess around with your settings to see if it is that and let me know!

a/n: this was a shorter chapter but im in love with it, hope you enjoy!

[genandguice]

── 𝜗𝜚 blue flower 𝘫𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘬𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘺

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ summary: 𝘫𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘳 & 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘳. 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘫𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘹 𝘪𝘵

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ warnings: 𝘥𝘳𝘶𝘨𝘴/𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭, 𝘥𝘶𝘣𝘤𝘰𝘯, 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘦𝘹𝘩𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘮, 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘱

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ wc: 1.2k

“hey!”

the voice nearly makes you trip over your porch steps. any man’s voice calling out after you in the dark would stall your heart, but this one baits, hooks and reels it with less than a syllable. deep, velvet baritone, laced with permanent dejection, desperate for affection. begging, the same as his eyes beg when you turn to greet him.

he lived in the house beside you, just as rundown as yours, just as cheap to rent. he lingered on his own stairs, cigarette in hand, watching you with eyes so blue they glowed in the night. you didn’t know him, not much anyway. you knew his name was james, you knew he worked on cars, that he was at least 10 years older, that he sold you pot, & that the wrinkles on the corners of his eyes made your cheeks heat.

“haven’t seen you in a while,” he says, drinking up the sight of your big, pure eyes.

he had been thinking, maybe it’s good that you weren’t coming over to buy as much anymore. maybe you were on a better path, as far away from him as possible. a little girl as sweet, smart and beautiful as you didn’t need his poisoning.

but then he saw you.

hobbling down the street, just drunk enough to feel safe walking alone so late and vulnerable. he’d seen you hobbling up his stairs the same way so many times before, always in your prettiest little outfits, needing that soothing high after a night out. those eyes looking up at him as you giggle, bashfully asking him to roll it up, tipsy fingers too clumsy to do it yourself.

taking a seat while he rolled inevitably led to him offering another drink, which inevitably led him to learning you were a chatty drunk, in great contrast to your usual reserved, cop & hop manner. which inevitably led to him growing fond of you.

you were dolled up nice tonight. hair cut. curves silhouetted by the street light.

how could he stop himself?

“c’mere,” james tilts his chin up, beckoning you over with the hand that lifts to bring his cigarette to his plump lips. your heart pounds as you cross the small distance, throbbing quickly surging between your legs as you come before him, towering over you, his eyes raking over your body. the rum flowing through your veins does no help; heating your body and lowering your inhibitions. that little voice in the back of your head that normally told you he was dangerous growing quieter until it was nowhere to be found.

“come closer. what, you scared’a me?” the accent that coats his words somehow coats his laugh too. you can’t keep your shy smile down as you join him on the stairs, avoiding his eyes, breathing in the smell of his cigarette and his sweat. his dirty, calloused hand comes to your chin, lifts you up to meet his eye.

“you’re quiet tonight.”

you can’t trust yourself to speak. your mind is filled with him, neurons, synapses, receptors all lit up and flashing at his touch on your skin. and then it’s gone, he steps away, scratching his head.

“you still smoke?” he asks, his eyebrows raising in annoyance at your silence, but the way his eyes glint, you see that same pleading in them you always had, searching for the cure to some cruel curse of perpetual tragedy, and found the true source of his annoyance.

“yeah,” your voice comes out soft with the new weight of the ache in your heart, competing with the ache in your core. “sorry i haven’t been around. i’m broke,” your slightly slurred words, laugh, and bluntness confirm your activities for the night, and manage to break a smile from him.

“well you know,” he licks his lips as he contemplates his next words, “you’re always welcome to come hang out and smoke with me. free of charge.” he says, hand coming to rest on the railing behind you, intoxicatingly close. your pussy strains as if you were magnets just out of reach of each other.

even up close he towers over you, makes you feel delightfully vulnerable. he could snatch you up and carry you inside with ease. whether you liked it or not.

“that’s a big investment,” you giggle, and the lilting tune strikes him right in the gut, snaps something inside him.

“we could work out a deal.” he says, voice dropping and slowing, rumbling from his throat like a vintage engine. he doesn’t hide the way his eyes scour your lips, your cleavage, visibly darkened when they meet back up with yours. “down payment type situation,” his hand comes to caress and rest on your waist, smoothly drawing you closer to him.

“james,” your eyelids flutter as you find yourself close enough to smell the beer on his breath. “what- what do you mean?”

“you know exactly i fuckin’ mean,” he says, gripping your waist to keep you close as his other hand leaves the railing to slide up the back of your thigh, disappearing under your skirt. he leans to speak lowly in your ear, “don’t play stupid, girl,” he kisses you there as his rough hand pushes your panties to the side, soaking up your gasps at the way his finger spreads the wetness leaking from you.

“see,” he chuckles against you, “ohhh, you want it,” he groans as he slides his finger into you, holding it there, feeling the way you clench around him, shuddering a curse under his breath.

he strokes your walls, fondling you purely for his own pleasure, and it makes your legs weak.

“god you’re so fucking wet,” james tributes, dick swelling and twitching in his pants. his free hand slides down your waist to grip your ass, grinding his erection into your hip, his finger quickly becomes less than enough.

“that’s why you’re so quiet, huh?” he laughs in your ear as his sticky finger slips out to rub your clit. “can’t think of anything except how badly you need to be fucked?” you whimper at his words, gripping the sleeve of his shirt, his public assault on your throbbing bundle of nerves quickly powering up your electric crash.

he groans as you gush around him, feeling how your creamy arousal drips down his hand. “so what do you wanna do, baby?” he asks, as if it were a real fucking negotiation, as if you weren’t sliding your cunt on his sloppy finger. “wanna fuck me for a half pound?”

when he’s met with only crescendoing whimpers, his hands retreat.

“fuck!” you cry, barely able to brace the first searing wave of having your orgasm suddenly ripped away before james is aggressively lifting your chin, hand tight on your jaw, your needy whines shooting straight to his stiff cock.

“tell me you want me,” he pants, those pleading eyes locked on your pure ones, voice softened, before he harshens again- “and mean it. tell me you want me to fuck the brains right outta ya pretty little head.” you know what he needs.

“please, james,” your hands grasp his biceps, doe eyes welling up, pussy fluttering with your orgasm still on the horizon. “i need you.”

[novashelby]

Nothing Comes for Free-Jonathan CranexReader

Kinktober Day 1

Pairing: Professor!CranexStudent!reader

Word Count: 2,406

Warning: Dub-con, slight non-con, blowjob, coercin, degradation, and humiliation.

Summary: Dr. Crane gives one of his students a ride home and teaches her a valuable lesson: nothing comes for free.

Please enjoy, reblog, and comment! MDNI | 18+

He wasn’t really a sexed man. Truly, he wasn’t. In fact, he could go months without even so much as touching himself, nevermind fucking a girl. So, what he was about to do was shocking. Fucking, stupid, honestly. But it was her. “Irritating,” he sighed to himself as he pulled out of the campus parking lot, spotting her under the dim street light. With a flimsy, half bent umbrella, she was attempting to shield herself from the rain. 

Jonathan slowed down the car, pulling over to the side. He glanced at his watch, and hummed before doing a look around. Buses in Gotham ran sparse after a certain time. Barely putting the foot on the gas, he rolled forward and stopped. She couldn’t make out who it was through the rain spotted window. Part of her felt an ache in her core. Her hand reached protectively for her safety whistle. Jonathan thought it was cute at best, but he humored it. The window rolled down and he offered a wave.

“Dr. Crane?” she asked, shielding her eyes and squinting. Who else? It was hard for him not to roll his eyes, but he kept his composure; calm, professional, and kind enough. She was in his low level Intro to Psych for Non-majors. The one every one has to take and the one every professor has to teach. It was fucking mind numbing. She closed her umbrella, fighting with it until she decided to leave it in the trash. “Useless piece of junk-”

“Would you like a ride?” he offered, clearing the passenger seat of his black briefcase. “Let me just put this back here.” He tucked it behind him between the back seat and front, cursing when it landed a certain way. 

“Really? Are you sure?” 

He cocked a brow her way. “Why would I ask if I wasn’t sure?”

“Right,” she nodded, giving him a small smile before opening the door. He was able to get a better look at her, noticing her clothes were soaked through. Including the white blouse she wore. It was a button up…hardly fit. You never fucking wear clothes that fit, he sighed to himself in thought. After buckling in, she thanked him. “The bus is awful here…It wasn’t due for another thirty minutes.”

She wasn’t a particularly smart student, in his professional opinion. Perhaps to other professors. She did fine, alright, but to his standards…subpar. But she was nice to look at. For some odd reason, he always felt himself drawn to her. Maybe it was that she was average. So many women her age tried so hard. But her? She was nice to look at because her looks were comforting. Not busy. A real simple beauty. Never trying to stand out. A quiet girl in many aspects. Observing her, he noticed her lack of confidence around her male counterparts. 

As he started the car and pulled out into the road, he glanced over. She was resting her head against the cool window, staring out into the road. “Let me put the heat on. You’re soaked through.”

She looked over, nodding. “Thank you, Professor.” She gave him the address and he commented on how it wasn’t too far. 

“I live in the apartment complex right down the road from you,” he added. “Why don’t you live in the dorms?”

“Can’t afford it-”

“Are you not on any scholarships?” he asked, but immediately regretted it. Truthfully, he didn’t care. And she could tell, and therefore simply told him not enough. The car ride was silent for the most part except for the gentle tap of the rain and her occasional hum. It made everything so easy. His eyes kept having a mind of their own, stealing glances. They skimmed over her body twice over. Each time she hummed, it vibrated through him, sweet and delicate. How would it sound moaning? 

His trousers became slightly tighter. Cursing to himself, he looked down, noticing the more prominent bulge. It was stupid, he knew it. Soliciting a student for a sex act. But he was adored at the university and a lead doctor at Arkham ... .A true model citizen. Out of the thousands of students, interns, apprentices, and colleagues, she’d be a single grain out of many. Who would believe her? Right? 

No, no…he couldn’t possibly coerce her into sucking him off. 

But couldn’t he, though? 

He settled with, “do you have a boyfriend?” 

She was taken aback by this, turning to him. “I’m sorry?” Of course she wasn’t offended. It was a simple question. He was an adult, she was an adult. Why couldn’t he ask that? He repeated the questions with a bit more strain in his voice. “Oh, um, no. I just want to focus on studies-”

“Have you had a boyfriend before?” he asked. 

She countered, “you’re a curious pro-.” When she abruptly stopped mid-sentence, Jonathan knew. He felt her eyes look over him. Silent. He watched as she shifted in the seat and continued looking out the window. She was almost home, anyway. But Dr. Crane had a favor of her…well, a bill, really. Nothing in life came free, he settled. It’d been too long since he felt a mouth wrap around his cock. Right before her duplex, there was a shopping center. It was empty, being a late Thursday night. He pulled in and parked in the far right corner under a half dead tree. The lock clicked when she reached out for the door handle. “Dr. Crane-”

“Shhh,” he said, calmly. He turned the car off, leaving them in darkness. Nervously, she shuffled around in her pocket for her safety keychain, but he placed his hand over hers. “You’re going to be okay, I’m not going to hurt you…merely suggest something-”

“I’d like to go home-”

“And I will take you home, but,” he started, shifting himself to be more comfortable. “I drove you home in the pouring rain. I’m not a taxi service, you understand?” She wasn’t a stupid girl. She knew exactly what he wanted, noticing the bulge push up at his trousers. Scared, she kept pulling at the handle, backing herself against the door. 

“You’re my professor!” she accused, voice strained. 

Chuckling, he took off his glasses and folded them neatly. “And I won’t force you-”

“Then there is no need to ask. Take me the fuck home!”

“Surely you can walk from here then, right?” he asked. “In the pouring rain, in the cold…Gotham isn’t safe at night, you know? Didn’t you hear on the news about the man?” She cocked a brow. “Hmmm…mhm, yes. The serial rapist.” He could tell from the look in her eyes she was assuming he meant himself, but he laughed. “No, no. Not me. I’m not a rapist. Truly. I’d get no joy holding you down. I prefer my women a moaning mess” 

“What rapist?” she asked, hardly having time for this nonsense. 

He pointed up the road. “Raped a girl, just up theere behind dumpster. Abused her poor body until it was so limp-”

“Liar-”

“Hardly. Now, I will give you an option. Walk and risk getting your insides rearranged,” he said, grinning. “Or you can suck my cock as a thank you.” She felt like she was pushed into a corner with no escape, swallowing and looking at the bulge. It’d be quick, right? It was a bit since she last sucked a cock. Jonathan reached over and tickled under her chin, causing her to flinch and pushed away his hand.

“Don’t touch me-”

“I was going to tell you,” he sighed, catching her hand in hand, holding it tightly. “I was going to be nice…tell you, you can spit it out. But for that, I may just pinch your nose and cover your mouth. Unzip my pants.” Towards the end of his stream of words, he lost his kindness. He talked more strained and curt. Giving in, she reached over and played with his zipper. “Easy now.” Her hands were trembling, unable to grip the small zipper. But he wasn’t going to help her. Perhaps it was humiliating for her to fight with such a small, but intimidating thing such as a zipper. Humiliation was a beautiful thing, he thought. Especially on her. It was a nice color. 

When she finally managed, she looked back up at him with hesitant confirmation. When he nodded, she pulled out his length. A nice size, really, but she hated thinking that. It was long, but not an uncomfortable long, but the girth was…it was tempting. She couldn’t even wrap her fingers around it. He let out a soft whimper as she twisted her hand while rubbing up and down. “You must be a little closet whore,” he complimented. “There is no way you’ve never fucked.” She didn’t answer him. He liked to think it was because she didn’t have to. They both watched as her thumb rubbed at the tip, smearing the leaking precum about.That’s when he rubbed some on his finger. “Come here,” he said, but didn’t give her a chance to let the words sink in before he was iron gripping her jaw. “Taste.” She looked at it for a moment, mouth agape before sticking her tongue out, swirling it around his finger. “Suck it off.”

Moving her head back, she looked at him. Unsure and a bit disgusted, feeling that pit of guilt. But where was she going to run? Backed up into some metaphorical wall. She swallowed, diverting her gaze off to the side. The saltiness felt like sin on her tongue. “Dr. Crane, I don’t think you and I should be doing this-”

“Because you don’t want to?” Amused, he kept his hard on with soft, gentle strokes. His words were laced with uttered moans of need and want. He wanted her. It would have been pathetic not to fuck her after he exposed himself. “Or because you’re scared to?” Jonathan leaned in, matching her gaze. “Hm?” It was the tease in his voice that made her feel so small. “Because no one will know. It’ll be a secret.”

“Are you sure?” She didn’t want to be one of those girls.

“Who would I talk to?” She supposed he was right and placed her hand back on his cock, mimicking his pattern. Little drops of precum formed at his tip, and she just knew he would ask her to taste it. To please him, she swiped her tongue across the tip, eyes fluttering up at him. “Good girl.” Needing more, he thrusted his hips up to silently guide her. Blow jobs weren’t exactly new territory, per se, but giving car seat blow jobs wasn’t really her forte. She took his tip in, giving soft, teasing sucks; dragging her tongue along the curve.

He leaned back, relaxing in the black leather driver’s seat. Wondering why he hadn’t done such a thing sooner, he rubbed at her warm cheek. Warm and soft, her sucks were like heaven. So timid, but not in the way she didn’t know what she was doing. Cause she knew…she definitely knew. The way she worked around his sensitive, throbbing tip, lapping up the precum as it came. He dropped his hand from her cheek, and met her hand as the base. “Stroke me.” She needed no guidance, but he found great joy in showing her. Being a teacher. Being a leader. Being her superior. “L-like this,” he managed, closing his eyes. Low whimpers building up. “Keep doing-doing t-this-”

Nodding, she took over. Interrupting him, she said, “yes, Dr. Crane.” Her hand twisted and wrapped around his cock the best it could, rubbing up and down in an addicting rhythm that drove him mad. Closing his eyes, he relaxed into it, feeling the pleasure rise in his body. It wasn’t often the doctor allowed himself a release. Rolling his hips in synchronized motions to meet her movements, his whimpers grew to moans. The car vibrated with his hums and pleas. Shamefully, she felt a bit of pride in herself. Sinking back down, she took his tip back in her mouth. Bobbing up and down, swirling and flicking her tongue, she was in complete control. Whether either of them understood that was unclear, but he was at her mercy, enjoying every moment of it. 

“S-shit!” His mind was so lost. Doctorate what? PhD, huh? He only understood what he wanted at that moment. She took him deeper into her mouth, sucking and swallowing him in. To excite him, she played along with his moans. Her throaty whimpers and groans vibrated against him. Especially when she started to leak spit from her red, puffy lips. Her hands spread it along the exposed bit of his cock to his balls, massaging them.

“Mmmm,” she moaned, fluttering her eyes open to watch his blissful expression. He was leaned back, eyes closed, mouth agape. Out of his mouth was a spew of mmmhm, mmmm, ooooh, s-shit, and f-fuck. It urged her to go faster, taking him deeper. Feeling him hit the back of her throat, she choked. Fuck, when she choked.

He felt it rise within him. “Fuck,” he groaned out, reaching for her hair as he thrusted back into her. Not one ounce did he care that she gagged and suffocated on him. Her nails dug into his hips the rougher he got. “That’s it, good girl!” His hand rested on the back of her head, holding her in place as his hips twitched. “F-fuck! Swallow it, swallow every fucking drop, understand?” Breathless, he felt himself come undone, filling her pretty mouth with his cum. She made a face as the load was thick. Taking two swallows, she managed to take it all. “Show me.”

Sticking out her stock, she sang, “ahhhhh.” 

As if she was his common house pet, he pat her cheek and breathlessly said, “let’s get you home, you have an exam for me in the morning-”

“I thought this would-”

“W-what?” he laughed, amused, pinching her chin. “No, no…if you want to start slacking in my class, you’ll have to do a lot more than just suck me off.” Blushing, she looked off to the side. “Let’s make an arrangement,” he cooed, playing with her rain stained hair. “Hmm? Better for your grade because you’ll fail it tomorrow anyway.” A tiny smirk pulled up at her lips, and she looked at him in agreement. “Do you live alone?”

[quizzicalwriter]

dally Winston x reader smut

Reader is a lightweight and gets too drunk at a party and her friends drop her off at dallys but she is rllly horny

Heaven

Pairing: Dallas Winston x Fem!Reader

Summary: You’ve never handled your liquor well, good thing you have Dallas there to deal with your drunken stupors.

Warnings: Smut. MDNI. Tipsy sex (consensual!), fingering, slight degradation and rough themes.

A/N: Thank you for the request!

Word Count: 2.6k

It was supposed to be a small get-together. That’s what your friends had assured you when you’d all walked the near-mile trek to a random guy's house. Surprise, surprise - it was not small. Cars lined the street outside the multi-level estate, music loud enough to be heard the street over. Your friends didn’t seem to sense your apprehension, either that or they simply didn’t care, all of them giggling and pulling you in after them.

You’d partied, sure, but this was way out of your realm of comfort. People you didn’t recognize flooded the house, the air thick with the scent of marijuana and an absurd combination of cologne and perfume. Usually, whenever you partied you’d be with one of the guys, always with Dallas by your side at the minimum - but tonight it was just you and your friends.

“C’mon!” Shouted one of your friends, her hand firm on your wrist as she tugged you toward the kitchen where a man you didn’t recognize poured a clear liquor into a plethora of solo cups. Your friends scrambled for cups, one of them handing you one, all of you clanking the plastic together before tossing it back.

Vodka, that was vodka. You could feel the burn encompass your throat as you choked down nearly four mouthfuls, your stomach wordlessly cursing you to hell and back for even attempting to drink on an empty stomach. You’d never been known for smart decisions when it came to alcohol, it was something that bonded you with the guys and irritated Dallas to no end whenever he’d have to hold your hair back after hours.

“Fuck-“ You coughed out through a laugh, slamming the now empty plastic cup down on the counter, the motion soon followed by your friends. It would be the first of many drinks if any of you had a say, but in all honesty, you didn’t feel comfortable getting flat-out drunk without Dallas by your side. You trusted your friends more than words could express, but Dallas was like your own guard dog, it’d have been stupid for you to test fate on the one night he wasn’t by your side.

Your closest friend of the group, Connie, looped her arm around yours, pulling you toward the center of the living room where everyone seemed to be dancing to the music that blared overhead - or attempting to, anyhow. You both danced together, laughing loudly at those around you who were too inebriated to walk away from the massive crowd. It wasn’t long until you felt the liquor you’d chugged earlier working its way through your system, glossing your vision over and slurring your words together.

Time went muddy as you danced, the liquor doing its job ensuring your inability to formulate coherent thoughts or hold a conversation that didn’t end in bounds of laughter. The only thing you hadn’t accounted for was your tipsy mind realizing you didn’t have Dallas by your side, and you didn’t like that in the slightest.

It was nearly three in the morning when Connie pulled you out onto the front porch of the house, striking up a match to light the cigarette she claimed she desperately needed after dancing for hours. You moved to sit on the front steps, sighing loudly as you looked out to the lawn, mind convinced if you thought of him hard enough he’d appear.

“I miss Dal.” You whined, looking back to Connie who only laughed, taking a lengthy drag off her cigarette before moving to sit beside you, arm wrapping tight around your middle as she rested her head against yours.

“I’ll take you to his in a bit, just let me finish my cigarette.” She replied, flicking off built-up ash from the end of her cigarette. “I’m going to tell him that you haven’t stopped talking about him for two hours, by the way. You’re lucky you’re my best friend, I’d have put tape over your mouth earlier if you weren’t.”

You leaned against her side, silently thankful that you hadn’t done more shots alongside your other friends and had instead chosen to dance with Connie until your feet were sore. The scent of her perfume calmed you, the same one she’d worn for years, it reminded you of your early teenage years and how the two of you would get into countless amounts of trouble together.

“Ready?” You asked after a few minutes, having passed the time by peeling chipped paint from a nearby banister. Your question brought another scoffed-out laugh from Connie, who simply motioned to her half-smoked cigarette, but as soon as she saw you pout she rolled her eyes and moved to her feet. You moved beside her, a giddy smile on your face that made her irritated facade crack, knowing she couldn’t stay frustrated with you for too long.

“He lives-“ You started, quickly being interrupted by Connie as she covered your mouth with her free hand. “I know where he lives, dammit.”

You chuckled into her hand, pushing it away as you two continued down the sidewalk and toward Buck’s bar. With each step, the sound of the party grew fainter, until all that surrounded you was the sound of nearby crickets and the train yard. You’d taken up kicking a rock, whenever it’d steer too close to the road Connie would kick it back.

The walk had helped you to sober up, the cold air causing goosebumps to cover every inch of exposed skin. You’d’ve given up on the trek twenty minutes ago if you weren’t so determined to see Dallas, your fingers fumbling with his necklace that hung snugly around your neck, occasionally placing the cold silver against your lips.

Buck’s place was packed, as it usually was on a Saturday night. Connie begrudgingly helped you through the hoard of cars, cursing under her breath whenever you’d tumble over your own two feet and inevitably slam into the side of some beat-up pickup truck. As soon as you two entered the bar Buck looked over to you, laughing to himself before motioning toward the back staircase.

Connie’s arm looped around your middle, all but holding you up as you made your way upstairs. On the walk there you thought you’d sobered up completely, but the stairs slapped that confidence right out of your mind. If you hadn’t had her holding you up you probably would’ve passed out on a couch downstairs, but she helped you to the best of her abilities.

You could tell Dallas wasn’t awake, the lights were off and the door was shut tight. Whatever peace he’d had while sleeping was abruptly snatched from him when Connie kicked the door open, causing the man to nearly jump out of his skin as he looked to the door.

“Delivery.” Connie stated, nodding her head to you as you smiled over at Dallas, waving like a child who’d seen a cute cat on the street.

“Hi, Dal.”

Dallas looked to Connie, aggravation written clear across his face as he moved up from his bed, walking over to you two before scooping you up.

“Couldn’t have knocked?” He asked over his shoulder, earning him a snorted-out laugh from Connie who’d already begun making her departure. “You wouldn’t have answered.”

He couldn’t argue with that, instead giving Connie a goodbye under his breath as he helped you into his bed. You were being incredibly touchy during the whole ordeal, hands moving to cup his jaw, to splay against his chest, before somehow weaving them underneath his shirt and against his abdomen.

“Quit.” He grumbled, pushing the bedsheets down as he began taking off your shoes. But, as always, you didn’t listen. You kicked your shoes off, narrowly missing his knee in the process, causing him to glare up at you. Although he couldn’t stay mad at you, not with you flopping back onto his bed and lifting your hips to shrug off your jeans, kicking the fabric to the floor along with your underwear.

“Doll-“ He started, averting his gaze to the nearby window as you peeled your shirt off. He took in a shuddering breath, hands fumbling with the fabric of his boxers as you moved over to him, staring up at him through your eyelashes like a siren amidst a bay of water.

“What?” You cooed, one hand smoothing down between his thighs as the other held you upright on the bed, a coy smirk upon your lips. “Missed you all night.”

He cleared his throat, eyes fluttering as your hand made contact with his cock. Even while tipsy, you still knew how to touch him. You brushed your fingers along his shaft, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as you waited for his reply.

“You’re drunk.” He responded, gently pushing your hand away as he looked over at you, moving forward only to press a kiss to your forehead. He moved from the bed, grabbing your legs to push them underneath the covers, moving to lay beside you after.

You pouted, clearly not happy about not getting your way, so you turned over to face him. He immediately sensed your rebellious attitude, his brows furrowing together as he looked down at you, wordlessly scolding you.

It didn’t work.

Your hand wove down his front, resting over his hardening cock as you kissed along his throat, humming against his skin. Sure, you were tipsy, but you knew what you were doing and you damn sure knew what you wanted. Dallas groaned, head falling back against his pillow as his hips pressed up to meet your touch, cock twitching against your palm.

“Want you-“ You murmured against his skin, nipping against his pulse point, causing him to whine as his hips twitched. You smiled to yourself, slinking your hand into his boxers, gently curling your hand around his cock. You could feel his precum dripping down his shaft, coating your fingers as you slowly pumped him.

Any resolve he’d had faded the moment your thumb swiped across his tip. With a quiet groan of your name, he moved over you, lips finding yours in a heated kiss as his free hand moved between your thighs, fingers finding home against your soaked cunt. You kissed him back, savoring the faint taste of tobacco on his tongue as he sunk his middle and ring finger into you, plunging the digits in and out as he sucked at your bottom lip.

“Dal-“ You whined, brows screwing together as your cunt squeezed around his fingers, pulling a groan from deep within his chest as his eyes focused on yours. “Need you inside of me.”

He swore under his breath, almost toppling over you to push himself upright as he all but tore his shirt off. You spread your legs before him as he pushed his boxers down, kicking the fabric to the floor before positioning himself between your legs.

His hands smoothed up the underside of your thighs, coming to rest against the back of your knees as he shifted himself closer to you. You looked up at him, clenching around nothing as he pressed your knees to your chest, his free hand moving to grab his cock. The position was exposing, leaving you spread and on display for him, something he couldn’t help but admire with a satisfied grin on his face.

“You’re dripping.” He murmured, moving his hand from himself to trail his index finger between your slick folds, causing your hips to twitch. You watched with bated breath as he brought his finger to his lips, gaze meeting yours as he sucked the digit clean. A groan reverberated in his chest as your saccharine taste coated his tongue, leaving him craving you in a manner so carnal it felt like a sin.

“I’d make you cum on my tongue-“ He drawled out, words sighed halfway as his hand grasped the base of his cock, slapping his tip against your clit. “But you were so needy. So desperate.”

Your lips parted in protest, the words cut off by a sharp moan as he slipped his tip between your folds, pushing into your soaked cunt with a harsh thrust of his hips. You felt as though you were being split apart, his girth dragging along your walls in a way that left you grasping at his forearms for mercy he wouldn’t grant.

“Wanted this-“ He grunted, eyes focused on your flushed face as he fucked you, only adjusting himself a fraction to circle your clit with his thumb. His cock pounded into you, the lewd, slick sound of your cum coating him with each thrust echoing throughout the room. “So fuckin’ tight.”

You could only manage a strangled-off moan in reply, cunt squeezing around his cock with his relentless pace. Every movement forced air from your lungs, leaving you breathless and dizzy, mind reeling from his thumb expertly circling your clit as you tried to focus on the way Dallas stared down at you, grunting out words of praise intermingled with degradation.

“Drunk on my cock?” He asked through a laugh, loving how fucked-out you looked. Your appearance was flushed, hair plastered to your forehead, lips parted as drawn-out moans fell from your lips. He nodded, answering for you with a hissed out, “Yeah, yeah you are.”

“I-“ You whined, nodding as you babbled. “I am.”

Each word was interrupted by a short gasp, a desperate attempt to fill your lungs as he pressed himself down onto you, practically folding you in half. The closer he got, the deeper he felt. You could only whimper, feeling your cum dripping down your inner thighs and onto your ass, surely wetting the sheets beneath you.

You could feel your orgasm building in your stomach, your eyes conveying the feeling in a way words never could. He watched you, his thumb continuing to circle your clit as he fucked you. Every roll of his hips brought you closer and left your thighs tightening as his tip brushed against your cervix. You gave yourself over to the feeling with a broken cry of his name, eyes squeezing shut as your cunt spasmed around his cock.

“Good-“ He grunted, hardly able to finish his sentence as he fucked you through your orgasm, relishing in the feeling of your cunt twitching around his cock, coaxing him deeper inside of you. His hand moved to your waist, grasp so tight it’d surely left bruises in its wake. You watched on in oversensitivity-fueled abandon as he chased his release. “So fuckin’ good.”

His chest heaved as he pulled out of you, short groans leaving him in droves as he fucked his fist, cum spilling over his knuckles and onto your lower stomach. From his furrowed-together brows to the way his cock twitched in his hands, you couldn’t help but clench around nothing at the sight.

“Fuck-“ He panted out, bending over the edge of the bed to grab his discarded shirt, wiping his hand clean before shifting to wipe your lower stomach. “You alright?”

You nodded in response as he moved to lay beside you, arm encircling your waist. You’d both need a shower in the morning, and a fresh change of clothes, but you’d deal with that later.

“Stop goin’ to parties without me, doll.” He murmured against the shell of your ear, placing a kiss on your shoulder. “Or at least tell me when you’re goin’, pain in the ass.”

His words pulled a laugh from you, his protective nature shining through even in the afterglow of sex. Knowing he was being genuine, despite his crude nature, you replied with a quiet, “Alright, Dal.”

“Thank you.” He huffed. “Now go to bed, drunkard.”

A/N: Whoever requested this, I am so sorry for making you wait so long! I promise I’m getting to all of my requests, sometimes they just take a bit - I swear I haven’t forgotten or abandoned any! I hope this made up for the wait, thank you guys again for the support you’ve shown me and my work - I appreciate you guys so so much!! As always, you can find my work over on my AO3 under the username, “Unscriptural.” Thanks again!!

[laneywrld]

things lost and things found | Lewis Hamilton

part one

word count: 9.2k

warnings: smut, smut, more smut, fluff.

There's no way for a friends-with-benefits agreement to fail when both parties understand the rules.

"Do you ever get tired?" 

Lewis turns his head to look at her inquisitively.

"What do you mean by that, Clem?" He chuckles.

Clem turns over onto her side, propping her head up in one hand.

"Do you think about having a life of your own without racing but with a family, a wife, and kids? Do you ever want to go home and stay home?"

Lewis stares Clementine in her dark eyes before he turns and looks back up at the blank ceiling.

"I don't know." He whispered into the air. "I don't have much time to think about things like that, serious relationships and such." He winces as he says the words.

"You're not hurting me, Lew, I know what this arrangement is. I was just curious." Clem chuckled, plopping back onto her back. She pulls the covers up to conceal her bare chest.

They lie in silence again, and Lewis is left to think about what she'd just asked him.

He spent a lot of his time in a serious relationship, and immediately after that ended, he was in his single bachelor phase; somehow, as the years went on, it never ended. That's how he's gotten Clementine in his bed.

Of all the girls he chose to spend his time with, Clementine was easily his favorite. She wasn't artificial or an ass-kisser to him; she was simply herself. And Lewis wasn't used to coming across women like that, given his status and all.

Clementine was actually the complete opposite of every other girl in his rotation. She was younger than him, yes, but she was also smart and had dreams she wanted to achieve on her own. He liked to joke that everything about her screamed old lady. Clementine liked that. 

What's cooler than an old lady? 

"I'm going to take that as a compliment. I can't wait to get old; there's beauty in knowing you've lived; I know I'm going to spend my life fulfilling my potential. It'd be cool to be an eccentric old lady, just happy and peaceful. Content with life."

It was entirely by chance that he ran into her at all that night two years ago. He had been taking a late-night walk in the streets of New York when he first saw her. 

Initially, her style caught his attention, but the closer he got to her, the more noticeable was her smile and then her voice. God, she had the voice of an angel. She had that classic American drawl, so sultry and sweet like she was straight out of the fifties but with a twist. 

Then he realizes that he's seen her before, and he stops in his tracks, trying to pinpoint where exactly he'd recognized her gorgeous face from.

"Do I know you?" Lewis questions confidently.

Clem halts, her lips puckering in as she squints at the unfamiliar man. "Sorry, Sir. I don't think so."

She surely doesn't recognize him.

And then it clicks, he snaps. "My photographer, Timothy McGurr!"

"Oh wow," she smiles. "I love Timmy. You said he's your photographer?" 

"Yes, for the last four years."

"Wow, four years." She marvels, "You model?"

"No." He laughs, shaking his head, "I race cars."

"Nascar?" She wonders, tilting her head to the side.

"Formula One." He corrects, and she hums, impressed.

"I've heard serious things about you guys over there. Anyhow, it was nice meeting you," she trails off, allowing him to introduce himself.

"Lewis." He sticks his hand out, "Lewis Hamilton."

As she shakes his hand, her phone lights up with a notification just as a black SUV pulls in. "That's me. It was a pleasure meeting you Mr, Hamilton." She smiles kindly, and then she slips into the vehicle and rides off into the night. 

Lewis stands there for a second. He doesn't know why, but he feels drawn to her for some reason.

The very next morning, he called his photographer for her details. Lewis has always been rather bold, so he isn't nervous when he dials her number. "Hi, Clementine?"

And the rest was history.

Lewis has learned one specific thing about Clem since their rendezvous began. She was an intense person. She liked to talk about any and everything. Lewis didn't mind it, though. It was nice to unpack with someone he knew wouldn't judge him.

She had a way of making anything she asked feel deep. Lewis was both enamored and intimidated by that.

Just as she was intuitive, she was equally as open. Lewis knew he could always bounce the question back to her, and she'd give him the most well-thought-out and theoretical answer. 

He loved listening to her talk just as much as he loved fucking her. 

"Do you ever get tired?" He ricochets.

"All of the time, and it's sad because I'm still so young, but I often wonder if any of this is even worth it. Is slaving away so hard going to be worth it in the future if I've spent my glory days basking in trying to find glory."

"I have faith in you, Clem. You're already lightyears ahead of the rest of us with that mind of yours."

She chuckles, and they bask in the comfortable silence for a while longer, both looking up at the ceiling of his New York penthouse like they're staring out into the galaxy.

"Do you feel like you have enough glory?"

"No," he answers honestly, "I won't be content until I reclaim my eighth." 

From the corner of his eye, he sees her head lull to the side and stare at him. Lewis doesn't get uncomfortable when Clem stares at him like he does when most people do. The idea of her reading into him is flattering more than unsettling.

"If you weren't a driver, what would you want to be?"

"A designer of all sorts, really. Music, fashion, you name it." He lists off, and she lets out an mhhm sound. 

"I can actually see that. You have a very creative mind." She praises.

"What about you? What would Clementine Russell be doing right now if she wasn't an actress?"

She chuckles, "Well, for starters, I wouldn't be naked in your bed. I'd probably be somewhere in the middle of nowhere, like Montana." She gasps, "Yeah, Montana! And I'd have a farm full of animals that I'd never eat, and I'd go out and sit and paint or write more stories that no one would ever see. If I could go back in time, I'd just write my stories, not play in them. I would hike the same mountain every day and watch the sunset. Yeah, I'd sit and watch the sunset every day and admire how beautiful everything becomes. "

For some reason, that statement holds a more significant sentiment than she intended.

"You sure do have a way with words."

"I try." 

Silence falls over that pair again until she breaks it.

"Do you think I'm annoying?"

"No, never." Lewis reveals, "I actually like having you here to talk to; why do you ask?"

"Sometimes I feel like I talk too much and ask too many questions."

"I think you make people feel seen when you ask questions the way you do." He hums. "Do people ask you questions?"

"No, not really." 

"Do you wish people asked you questions, Clem?"

"Yes."

That's when Lewis realizes that all that glimmers isn't gold. Clementine Walker had the life of a star. She could do anything she wanted at any given time. Yet she wasn't content with her life. She was actually rather lonely. 

"I write scripts for myself to act out when I want to talk about something." She chuckles dryly. "That's pathetic."

And suddenly, Lewis feels terrible for not asking the woman more questions. He feels like a shit person for receiving her and giving her nothing in return. Clementine was better than therapy for him; who gave therapy to her?

"What if we lay in bed after every meetup and we just talk? I consider you to be a friend Clem. I like listening to you. I like hearing about you, too."

"Okay."

"We can start now?"

"You first." She has a giddy smile on her face as she turns over to face him.

"Why do you think you feel everything so deeply?"

She hums, her eyes casting downward as she allows the question to ruminate. 

"I expect everything to be meaningful. I have a hard time seeing anything objectively. Everything has to mean something to me, and if it doesn't, what's the point? If it has no purpose, how am I supposed to accept it? I feel so deeply because every word, action, and situation has to mean something; there has to be a reason behind it. I've never had someone tell me that things weren't that deep; I wasn't taught to brush things off; I was taught to feel and to try to understand everything and everyone."

"I think that's beautiful. You're such a gracious being, you know that?"

She whispers a quiet thanks as she thinks over what to ask him.

"What's one thing you lost as a kid that you wish you could get back?"

"I had a remote-controlled big Homer car when I was a kid, and I used to drive it in the park every day. I got distracted one day and left without it; when I came back the next day, it was gone."

"Who gave it to you?" Clem inquires, and when Lewis turns onto his side to face her, she looks so intrigued by what he has to say. He doesn't think anyone has ever cared so much for what he has to say if it wasn't involving his career.

"My dad, for my sixth birthday. We were poor, so it meant a lot to me; I really cherished it. Felt like I took it for granted, I loved that car so much, but I left it. How could I forget something that important to me?"

Naturally, Lewis opens up to Clementine.

"You can love something and still lose it, which illustrates how much you adore it in the end. You never really know how much you appreciate something until you no longer have it." Clem enlightens.

Lewis wonders how her brain can process such complex thoughts in mere seconds.

"What have you lost?"

"A letter from my dad." Clem hums. "When he was in prison before things got bad with my mom and he stopped reaching out, I was turning eight, and he sent this beautiful card. It was Clementine orange, and when you opened it, a three-dimensional cake popped out with like a million yellow candles. I remember it saying these candles don't compare to the light you brought to the world on this day many years ago." Clem chuckles as she describes the elaborate birthday card. She picks at Lewis' sheets as she speaks.

He sees her lips pressed together, and she turns to face the ceiling again. She doesn't seem like she intends to keep talking.

"I'm listening, y'know. I'd love to hear more." Under the covers, his hand travels down until it catches hold of Clems. 

"I-um, He wrote his message in like really elegant cursive, and I was a kid at the time, so I had my grandpa read it to me over and over, like every day, until I had fully memorized it. I had never seen my dad in person. I had never heard his voice, not even over the phone. I had never even gotten a letter from him before. Still, the things he wrote in that letter were beautiful. I remember feeling a little less lonely as if he loved me unconditionally. There were dried tears embedded in the paper material. I knew he cried as he wrote it, and that made me feel like, damn, this is a man who means what he says, feels exactly what he writes. I don't know when I lost that letter or how I just knew when I went for it again. It was nowhere to be found. I'm forgetting the words he wrote to me."

"Have you heard from him since?"

"Once but not directly. When I turned fifteen, he was released. He felt like he wouldn't know how to be a father when he got out. Which I understood. I can't force anyone to have a relationship with me. It must’ve been hard going in when your child is an infant and coming out to her fully bloomed. He cried on the phone to my grandpa every time he argued with my mom. She'd say nasty things to him, like how he'd never be a father to me and how I was better off. I figured when you're locked in a cell, and all you can think about is going home to your child, it must’ve been hard to hear that you would never account for anything. I believe he gave up. Not everyone is strong enough to take on that kind of mental battle."

Even as Clementine describes how fucking sucky her childhood was, she is still showing grace to the people who ruined her innocence.

"He never asked to speak to me during these calls. My mother always kept him at a distance when he was in prison. If he had written more letters than the one he sent to my grandpa, like he wrote that he did, I never got them. She was good at telling him that she didn't want him in my life. I don't blame her either; neither of them was ready to be parents. I got a call on my eighteenth birthday. It was just breathing on the other side for a while. I had a feeling it was him, so I didn't hang up, but it was a gravely voice on the other end and he sounded a little choked up. Said the exact same line from my birthday card, I'm not sure if you like cake, but eat a lot of it today princess. Happy birthday. And then the call disconnected. Kind of fucked me up a little bit because I think I was just getting to a point where I was finally okay with not having parents."

"I'm sorry." Lewis solaces. 

"It's cool, builds character." She jokes dropping her elbow and lying completely on her side.

"I pride you on your gracefulness, truly."

"My grandpa always told me that if you can find grace in failings, life becomes more beautiful. If you can find grace in every situation, eventually, those graces will catch up to you. Everyone deserves to have grace; who am I to hold something above someone else because of how it made me feel? You never know what made someone act the way they did. In the end, it may have affected them more than me, but as long as I'm gracious and I consider these kind of things to be a possibility it makes it easier for me."

Lewis thinks back to all the times he handled situations without grace, when he allowed himself to blow up over small things, and how, in the end, it made situations worse than they needed to be. He internally hums at the realization.

"Shit." 

She is shuffling from his bed, sheets clutched tightly against his chest. 

She gracefully moves around his room, the sheets fitting her like a gown. Lewis props himself up on one arm, watching her gather her belongings. 

When she tosses the sheet back onto the bed, he watches as she pulls on her pants and steals his button-up to throw over her thin tank top.

She sits on the edge of his bed, throwing on her worn Adidas sambas. 

"It's been a blast, Sir Hamilton." She bows, and he softly launches a pillow at her. She catches it with a sweet grin and places it at his feet. "I have to be on set early tomorrow. My assistant sent a car for me."

"I'll call you when I'm back in town," he suggests, and she nods, letting out a noise of agreement as she saunters over to his bedroom door. 

"Be safe out there on the track." She blows him a kiss, and then she is gone, and he hears his front door close gently. 

Lewis likes spending time with Clem. She has a way of taking every ounce of stress from his bones.

Lewis wasn't a relationship kind of guy, and he liked that Clem understood that. She wasn't trying to force a relationship on him or was convinced she could change his mind. 

Clem was there for the great sex and the even better conversations. The two of them had made great friends out of each other, and they were both content with the status of their association.

Lewis never told Clementine this, but he liked watching her work. He liked how she could put out art, and he could resonate with it. Lewis thinks that Clem is the most emotionally intelligent person he's ever met, which is why everything she puts her hands on just works.

And it shows. Clementine is the kind of person whose words sound like they're straight from classic literature. She has a way of speaking that instantly captivates every person in her proximity.

Clementine was a Jill of trades. She liked to act, but she was an even better writer. This is why she was awarded co-director of her award-winning show after helping to direct only three episodes. He knew she had a knack for all things creative. She liked to draw, paint, and read, and she had a thing for tattoos just as much as he did.

Clementine was actually so fucking cool.

People loved her naturally; she only had to be herself, and it made people gravitate towards her. 

Being around Clem was like having the hands of an angel on you. It was impossible to feel troubled, even if you were going through the most unfortunate or stressful circumstances. If you had Clem, trust you'd feel nirvana.

Her words echo in his mind. I write scripts for myself to act out when I want to talk about something.

He switches on his television and clicks on the Netflix app. It's the first option under his 'continue watching' category, and he presses resume. 

Lewis loved her show, though he never admitted it. It was artsy and different than what was new and hot now. Clem channeled all of her favorites to make this show. He remembers her describing her obsession with Jim Carrey and The Truman Show. Her favorite movie of all time was Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind, and her favorite character also shared her name. 

He knew that Clementine cried when she read Tuesdays with Morrie, just like she did when she watched Requiem for a Dream. She had an odd obsession with The Joker movie and was even more obsessed with the lore of how each Joker is portrayed differently. She always saw herself in Charlie, from the perks of being a wallflower.

She rewatched What's Eating Gilbert Grape at least once a week. If you asked her, Tim Burton was the best director in the world, and she had a special connection to Edward Scissorhands. She also loved anything with a narrator.

She was right. It makes you feel each character a little bit more to hear their every thought.

He now knows that she likes to narrate her own show because she likes to talk about what she feels. No one asks her how she feels.

Everything that Clem likes is so deep and complex, and it fits her perfectly. 

He must admit that he had never heard of any of these shows, movies, or books before meeting Clementine. But seeing how passionately she described them had him desperate to enlighten himself. He sees the inspiration of it all in her show. 

Every episode starts with a question. Clem appears facing away from the camera, an oversized Carhartt denim jacket adorning her frame. He sees that she is sitting on a mountain, a camera held to her face, taking pictures of the most scenic view he's ever seen.

Her voice emerges through the speaker, yet her mouth is unmoving.

"You can go anywhere in the world under one condition. You'd have to stay there forever, everything unchanged and nothing new will ever come. Where do you choose?"

The camera is still panned out but moves to the side, where he views her relaxed frame from the side. As the camera zooms in she breaks the fourth wall, turning to face the camera. The sky is oddly vividly blue in the background and the clouds are all weirdly perfect. 

"Probably here."

As the sun sets, the sky adorned in perfect warm hues, she sets the camera beside her and folds her hands in her lap. She turns to face the beautiful view, and she looks more content with life than she's ever seen.

Her voice rings through the speaker again as the camera pans out, and her body begins to look smaller and smaller against the vast sky.

"You can still see the sunset even on the darkest of days.”

-

The next time Lewis sees Clem is at her the Cannes movie festival.

She is obviously the lady of the hour, and he's had a hard time catching up with her. 

When he finally does see her, his breath hitches as she maneuvers through the crowd and away from the red carpet in a very elaborate gown. She looks like a princess.

Like she can feel his eyes on her, her head turns and she sees Lewis standing amongst a group of other celebrities. 

There are three people surrounding her. Zeus, her bodyguard, SK her assistant and finally her publicist Nia.

She approaches him, ready to greet him with a wide grin; Lewis has a grin of his own covering his face as he steps ahead of the group.

"Lewis, Hi!" She pitches, raising her arms to hug him; he happily accepts her embrace, wrapping his own around her frame. 

"Can't wait to see you on the big screen." He boosts, and she smiles up at him, ready to reply, when a hand clamps down over her wrist and begins pulling her away, "Sorry, got to keep going, Clem."

She offers him a rushed smile, lifting her dress so that she can exit with speed. Lewis has never once felt like the fan in a situation until it came to Clem.

"So the movie is going to be about cannibalism?" His friend asks, looking through the pamphlet.

"No," Lewis combats. "I mean, yes, but it's deeper than that, the flesh represents..." and he drones on describing the lore of her new movie, Bones and All.

His description is almost word for word the way you described it to him after he asked the same exact question.

"So it's a movie about eating people?"

Clementine laughed, shaking her head, and moved to sit against his headboard. Her skin was still flushed from their previous actions, and her mouth was dry. 

"Cannibalism is just the placeholder for many different vices. Everyone has their vices. By using something that damn near everyone looks down on, the symbolism of just how serious these issues are get understood tenfold. Think of it like this, you get mental illness from one parent, and the other denies that you have it. They believe you're perfect, nothing is wrong, but deep inside, there is this illness growing in you and festering out of control that you can't get help for, that won't be accepted."

"Imagine being homosexual, imagine not being able to express that, especially in the eighties; it becomes a bliss you have to satisfy in private. Something you must keep a secret, or something bad will happen to you. Some vices are passed on, like alcoholism or addiction, and even trauma can be passed on, like mental illness; it's about how you have to hide it all, how it catches up to you, and how it ruins you. If you watch it, think about that, Lewis. Think about what each character represents. What is the flesh they're eating?"

Lewis cries during the movie. He sees that he is not the only one as the lights illuminate the cinema, and there are no dry eyes in sight. Lewis would never understand how Clem was able to have such a complex mind and also make it so simple and still artistic to the point where anyone could understand.

Lewis usually hates being forced to attend film festivals. He especially dreads the standing ovations that drag on and on. But he graciously stands for the entire seventeen minutes that her movie receives. 

He's always told Clem that, at a certain point, she'd have to let that humbleness go. Lewis was a humble person, there was nothing wrong with it, but he didn't like that Clem thought she didn't deserve praise for her work. He wanted her to know she was the shit. 

He feels his heart swell with pride as she marvels at the cheers, whoops, whistles, and applause. 

He places his fingers between his lips, letting out a whistle of his own. It dominates the space, and she turns to face him like she knows it is him.

Clementine's grin grows impossibly larger, and she lifts her arm to wave at Lewis. He spreads his arms out in front of him and bows at her.

Clementine chuckles, shaking her head at him. 

Although she attends the film festival every year, this was her first time presenting her work as a director. This was a huge deal to her. Not only was she the star actress in the film, but this was hers. Her work, her words, her art, and people loved it and understood.

As two more dreamy minutes pass on and the cinema falls into an air of collective chatter, she folds her hands over her heart and speaks to her fellow costars. 

"Holy fucking shit," Timothee curses, "do you understand that we just got a nineteen-minute standing ovation?" He places her head between his hands, pulling it towards him and placing a kiss in her hair. "Fuck, Clem. You're a fucking creative genius, you know that?"

-

When Clementine finally got used to people she realized that she actually does like parties. Here she was being celebrated by people, some she knew, some she didn't all the way in France. 

She is in a mansion in France, fresh off the red carpet, throwing back shots with every pat on the back. There is a thrill in being praised, and with each pat on the back or congratulatory kiss on the cheek she gets, she feels herself levitating.

When Clementine first got the idea for the movie, she stayed awake for twenty-four hours, holed up in her bedroom, typing away at her keyboard as she planned and created rough drafts of a proposal. 

If you asked Clem, she doesn't think that she's a creative genius like everyone else believes. She thinks that she materializes how she feels into forms of art that people will understand. She doesn't sit and think long and hard or even look for targeted things to express. She just knows. 

Clem wanted to write a movie for those she felt had been denying themselves. For the kids confused about their feelings and things they can't control. From alcoholism, sexual identity, mental illness, addiction, and all the way to feeling lonely and navigating life on your own. She wanted to make a movie that materialized how it feels to come of age without understanding the purpose of life. And she'd done it.

Clem wouldn't say she was particularly close to any of the people here at the afterparty, minus Timothee. They had grown very close since filming together. 

Clem actually wouldn't say she was close to many people at all other than her small, tight-knit group of friends and, of course, Lewis. Which is ironic because their entire relationship is built on the basis of sex. 

She can't lie; when she first met Lewis, she was instantly attracted to him. He had a certain kind of charm about him that just screamed, You're going to respect me.

Clem liked that Lewis stood ten toes behind what he believed, always. She liked that he was genuinely a kind person and not just pretending for the media. What he put out was actually who he was, and Clementine wasn't used to seeing that in the celebrity world. 

Lewis fully intended to be friends with Clementine when he called her that first night, but the longer they were in each other’s presence, the more obvious it was to sense the lingering sexual tension between them.

Clem wasn't offended when Lewis admitted that he wanted to sleep with her and keep her around without the formalities of a romantic relationship.

In fact, she was fine with it. 

She didn't judge him when he explained how he wasn't a relationship kind of guy. She listened intently when he described how demanding his job was, and she even hummed along in agreement when he concluded that sex can sometimes just be fun.

It'd been two years since she first met Lewis; she was older and more mature. More demanding of herself. 

She was learning to let things go as the days passed and let things come when the world felt. 

She feels like she's gotten to know herself better, and she owes a lot of that to the nearly 40-year-old driver who has taken the time to unravel parts of her that no one else bothered. 

So when she sees Lewis walk through the grand entrance now dressed in a far more casual outfit than the black Louis Vuitton tuxedo that adorned his frame earlier, she can't help the way her smile makes her eyes crinkle.

She rushes from the bar, slipping past the guests, crowding the home, and speeds up the stairs as fast as her heels can take her. 

She lets her dress fall at her feet as she tosses on her own less formal outfit and descends the stairs again in search of her friend.

He sees her first, perched on the stairs with a concentrated face, and he chuckles at just how focused she looks. Her eyes are scanning the crowd, and he waits patiently until her eyes catch his.

When they finally meet, he raises his hand in a cool wave, and she grins, skipping down the stairs. He raises his brows when she finally makes it to him after being stopped time and time again by other partygoers.

"Lady of the hour, huh?" He jokes, pulling her into him. 

"I don't even know these people," she whispers, smiling softly and offering a wave as a drunken man passes by and calls out her name. She turns back to Lewis with fogged eyes, "Timothee wanted to throw an afterparty, so here we are."

"You have been celebrating?"

"I've taken a few shots or so." She smiles, "Can we get out of here?"

Lewis nods, "Yeah, of course."

His hand travels down and takes her own, leading her from the full house. "Where do you want to go, love?"

"Anywhere is fine; just want to be far away from people." She sighs.

Lewis peers down at her, watching as she scours the long driveway.

He motions her to his car and she slips from his hold already pacing towards it. She hops into the passenger side when she hears the car unlock and he plops down into the drivers seat.

"Why are you here in France? You didn't tell me you'd be here." Clem inquires as Lewis places his phone into her lap so that she can play music. He always preferred her music taste when they rode in the car late at night.

"I wanted to see the movie and support my friend." He smirked.

"You have to be in Monaco tomorrow!" she gasps. " You can't do that, Lew. You need rest. When did you even get here?"

"I touched down today after qualifying."

"No." Clem disapproves, "I could’ve just gotten you tickets to the premier. You must be so tired." 

Lewis shakes his head, "M'fine. Besides, I wanted to be one of the first people to see it." Which was a lie because he was totally exhausted. 

"Early flight tomorrow, then?" Clem asks.

Lewis only nods, already knowing her eyes are set on him. Frank Ocean begins to play through his speakers, and he hums along to the song playing. It brings upon his next thought.

"I say you posting in the studio?" He eyes, "Let me find out Clemy girl about to be in the booth spitting."

She laughs shaking her head, "not even, I was just there with Tyler. Did record a few vocals for him though."

"Maybe one day you should, I don't know, release something of your own."

Clem scoffs, "I know you think I can do everything. We're not all great at everything."

"It's true, do you think you can do it all, besides I've heard you singing in the shower; sounds nice."

"So you wait outside of the bathroom listening to me, creep."

He smacks his teeth, removing one hand from the wheel to blindly mush her.

"I'm serious, though. I think you have a beautiful voice."

"Thank you. Maybe one day we'll both stop playing in the studio and do something together." She chortles, "So I guess what I'm saying is, I'll do it if you do."

Lewis smirked, nodding his head. "Deal."

Lewis takes her back to his hotel for the night. He smiles as he watches her from the living room. She is on the balcony, arms spread along the banister. 

He approaches her. Like she can sense his presence, she speaks up, "Beautiful, isn't it?"

He doesn't bother looking out to the view. He keeps his eyes on her. "Yeah, very beautiful."

Sometime in the night, the two of them ended up entangled in his bed, both on their sides, as Lewis thrust into her from behind. One of his arms is outstretched and serving as a pillow for her neck, and the other is wrapped around her waist, holding onto her hand as he moves deeper and deeper into her warmth. 

He knows that when she squeezes around him for that final time, he's as good as done for, sheathing himself as far as he can get; his mouth drops open as he releases himself in heavy spurts. Clem exhales as he finishes, her grip on his hand loosening slightly. 

Lewis doesn't bother to remove himself from her core; the arm nestled between the crook of her neck and shoulder bends until his hand is cupping her jaw and forcing her head back towards him, where he is leaning over her shoulder. He smashes his lips against hers in a searing peck, one after the other, until he holds his mouth against hers. She opens her mouth, and their tongues glide against each other in perfect harmony. 

Finally, they pull apart to breathe, and Lewis pulls out with a hiss. They both fall onto their backs, his taken arm still resting beneath her head and his free arm holding their conjoined hands against his chest.

"It gets better and better every time." She admits, and Lewis lets out his signature boyish laugh, turning to face Clem. She is taking the time to catch her breath, a happy, satisfied grin covering her face as she stares up at nothing.

It's like a scene from a movie. The curtains flowed gently against the wind, and the night sky of Cannes was illuminated by stars blazing through his open balcony doors. Clem's exquisite side profile is the main focus.

He reaches over, pulls his phone from the nightstand, and slyly takes a picture before dropping his phone beside him and reconnecting their hands. 

"I should go," Clem announces with a sigh. "You have an early morning ahead of you."

"You don't have to go." Lewis tested, "It's late."

"It's always late when we're together, Lewis." Clem reminds.

"I- Just stay the night. It doesn't have to be weird. We know what we're doing."

He feels her head turn against his head and knows that she's looking at him with those same endearing eyes. "Okay," she whispers into the air.

"Besides, we haven't talked." Lewis murmurs, and Clem smiles. "Can't break the ritual. You remember when I asked you where you would be if you weren't you, and you said Montana?"

Clem hums in agreement. "Yeah, what about it?"

"Think we should go one day, you and me. See those animals; climb that mountain."

Clem wills back the tears burning behind her eyes. That conversation occurred two months into their arrangement, and two and a half years later, here he was, bringing up small details to a dream she'd told him about briefly. 

"What?" Lewis murmurs, watching her grin.

"Nothing, just surprised you remembered that, is all."

"I remember everything you say to me, Clementine."

"I'd love to go to Montana with you," she whispers after a while. "It's the prettiest in spring." 

"Well, we'll go next spring then." Lewis declares.

Clem smiles against against his arm, placing a peck there. "Deal, if you're not sick of me by then, we'll climb that mountain in Montana."

Lewis turns back towards the celing hoping she can't tell that her simple actions had his face burning and had his blood rushing. 

"You know in eternal sunshine of the spotless mind when they're laying on the ice?"

"Yeah, Clem." Lewis chuckles. "We've watched it a million times."

"That's what it feels like laying here right now with you."

"Thank you." Lewis grins.

"Her hair was blue." Clem points out. "Her hair changed colors to represent their relationship. Why do you think it was blue?"

"They were starting over. Maybe she was still down about erasing him."

"Huh," Clem sighs, "that's a good take." 

"Shower?"

"With you?" She wonders.

"If you're okay with that."

 "I just let you fuck me into oblivion. Why not let you clean me up."

Much cleaning hadn't gone down in the shower. 

clementine

liked by lewishamilton, tchalamet, and 8,898,465 others

clementine the best week, the most perfect week.  

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lewishamilton Amazing movie 🙌🏽 such a deep message.

tchalamet And she's done it again people.

badgalriri Such a beautiful film, queen. ❤️

pharell, You're a literal artistic genius; I look forward to working with you in the future.

user Clemmy + Timmy. The duo we didn't know we needed.

-

As Lewis saunters around the hotel room quietly the next morning, he keeps a cautious eye on the girl in his bed. He trips over his discarded shoe as he focuses on not waking her up. He mentally facepalms himself as she begins to stir.

Clem sits up, dazed and groggy; she clutches the sheets to her chest as she peers at Lewis, who looks like a deer caught in headlights. 

"Good morning," he winces, "Sorry, I was packing my suitcase back up, didn't mean to wake you."

"It's fine," she rasps, reaching over to grab her phone and checking the time. When she sees that it's seven in the morning, she internally groans but slides her legs off the side of the bed to get ready to pack herself up.

"Woah, hey-" Lewis is by her side in an instant. "Where you going, love?"

Clem pauses, still half asleep she examines him through puffy eyes. "Your flight is at 8:30, right? You're about to head out."

Lewis nods but lifts her legs back onto the bed. "Yeah, but checkout is not until twelve." 

When he realizes that she is still glancing at him in confusion, he sits on the bed beside her. "You can stay here, Clem; get some rest before you get on the road. I'll leave the room key with you. Just let them know you're checking out for the king suite."

He laughs as she furrows her brows. "Don't make it weird." he reiterates from last night. 

She lets her head fall back against the pillows, more than happy to return to her slumber.

"How long are you going to be in Monaco?"

"About a week." 

Clem tried not to think too deeply about his big palm spread over her thigh, his thumb caressing it so tenderly.

"Oh." She mutters, "and then Canada?"

Lewis chuckles, his hand coming up to hold her jaw tenderly, his thumb caressing her cheek. "Look at you," he chuckles, "got my schedule memorized, huh?"

Clem feels the familiar burning in her face as she suppresses her shy smile. "Oh, please." she scoffs. "We've been at this for two years. Of course, I remember the times you begged me to hop on your plane and fly to you so that you could get your rocks off."

Lewis smirks, "Look at that, caught a flight to you this time." And he's bending down and smearing his mouth against hers. He dominates the kiss, his large hand on her jaw keeping her in place for him to use her mouth as he pleases. "Mhmm." he groans pulling away. 

"Wanna stay with you here all day, Clem. But I've got a flight to catch." 

He is standing and bending over to press one last unexpected peck to her mouth and then her temple before he is at the end of the bed and latching onto his suitcase. 

"The keys on the table, okay? Go back to sleep, and order yourself some food for me when you wake up. And text me, okay?"

Clem sits up, still mind-boggled from the kiss, and nods her head. 

Lewis smiles, sending her a wave and easing out of the door.

Clementine nearly screams as the door clicks shut, and she hears his footsteps getting farther away.

Casually kissing wasn't a thing between them. Lewis was sweet, yes, but not once has he sat and caressed her and spoken so softly to her. She had never spent the night with him or fell asleep in his arms. And here he was, flipping her entire world upside down and telling her not to make it weird.

It's what she repeats to herself over and over throughout the day as the tender moments with Lewis replay in her head. 

He was just being a friend, of course he would show up to support her, right? Of course he wouldn't want her to be on the road late at night or extra early in the morning? And they've kissed before, only during sex but maybe he was wound up in the moment, they were friends with added benefits, did those benefits now include impromptu kisses?

She groans as she checks out from his room and hobbles into the waiting SUV where her assistant waits with her packed bags. "You had a time last night." SK teases as he takes in his boss' disheveled appearance. 

"Shut up." Clem grunts, buckling herself in. 

SK raises his hands in surrender and then gets back to typing away on his phone. Clem lets her forehead drop against the window as she drives through the beautiful French city. 

"Hey, SK?" When he lets out a noise to signal he's listening, she asks him for a favor. "If I asked you to find something for me and get it sent to Monaco, do you think you could get it there before the end of the week?"

SK smacks his teeth, "Girl, please, do you know who you're talking to? I could have it there tomorrow."

"You're the best, SK." she smiles.

"Don't I know it. What is it you need me to get my hands on."

-

Sure enough, the next morning, Lewis is interrupted by a knock on his door as he clips on his jewelry. 

He saunters over to the door his pants hung low and shirtless, swinging open the door to reveal the butler that the hotel provided. When his eyes travel south he see's the luxurious gift box in his hands.

"For you, Sir Hamilton. Delivered early today, pre-approved by your assistant."

Lewis thanks the man, motioning for him to hold still for a second as he rushes to retrieve some hefty bills from his wallet. 

He pulls the box from his outstretched hand and replaces it with the bills.

When Lewis closes the door and saunters over to the couch, he plops down and sets the box on the coffee table.

He pulls the stock card from underneath the black ribbon and smiles as he reads over it.

thank you for showing up for me, and congrats on yet another win.

- 🍊

He smiles and taps the card against the box a few times before deciding to open it. He lets out a surprised squawk as he lifts the lid and sees a packaged vintage Big Homer super buggy.

Lewis covers his mouth with his hands stuck between letting out a scream that would resemble a child on christmas day or a cry.

Clementine Russell, he thinks, the woman you are.

He pulls out his phone, snaps a picture of the gift, and sends it to her.

-

[diejager]

[a portal opens and i crash onto the floor, looking nauseous. i get up and weakly raise my hand:]

requesting.. your… makarov headcanons… pleaseee- AaHHHH-

[another portal opens and i fall into it, disappearing]

Vladimir Makarov headcanons

Pairing: Vladimir Makarov x reader

Cw: manipulation, kidnapping, obsession, DUB-CON/NON-CON, DARKFIC, mind break, physical abuse, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 854

As I’ve said previously, I doubt that Makarov knows how to love. He can’t love because it isn’t necessary for his cause, to provide him with something useful in his steps towards his purpose. He does not need something useless —something that’s lost its use over the years, that’s why he sees no problem with disposing of his helpers after they failed or disappointed him. 

If he has no use for something, he lets them go. If you plead your case enough and prove to him that you still have some usefulness in you, he’ll keep you for the time being. He has many enemies, much more than allies —those he considers allies. 

He, however, is still a man under his acts of terrorism and infamous image. Makarov might be busy, but he still has time for his needs, especially after spending four years in prison. He, however, has expectations, he likes challenges as much as he likes winning, and he wants something he can control, manipulate and order around. Makarov wants something easy enough to influence and exploit, and who better than a soldier stolen from his enemies —you.

He takes per quality. He prefers quality over quantity for the things he keeps close, for simple soldiers he employs for Konni, it’s all about quantity, a number high enough to overwhelm the people, but qualified enough to work. You’re the only thing that isn’t from the old Soviet Union in his organisation, little you who came from outside his precious Motherland. 

You’re feisty, you bite back like a feral dog he picked up from the streets, unruly yet smart. You see through some of his tactics, but miss others, falling straight at it and ending up skimming under his boot, wounded and yelping. 

He likes hearing you yip and bark, snide remarks turned to tearful mewls. He doesn’t harm you, he leaves that to his men until he comes to stop them, posing as your saviour. He specialises in psychological warfare as well as guerilla warfare done on a grander scale, breaking down the morals of his enemies and causing a break in their mental fortitude with his cruel and sudden attacks with little to no care about citizen casualties. The more chaos he causes, the better.

You power through his manipulation and control of the scenario for a while, seeing through his saviour charade and hissing at him, backing away from his touch. He likes that fight in you, mind overheating like the engines of old cars, working to find the gaps in his plans, the small mistakes you could use against him. But he had none, he accounted for everything to keep you.

Makarov won’t force himself on you, he’s subtle, making you ask for it, making you think it was your idea. It might take a month or two, but he’s a patient man, waiting for your mind to confuse reality and delusions, push you to think that he truly cared for you. Look at what he did for you, he took you away from death, the danger of fighting on the front lines and the danger of men and women who might want to take advantage of you. 

He’s your saviour. He gave you a house to live comfortably, a big bed where he could hold you after being cornered by his men, he handles you so gently and he cares for you. Where are the friends and family you spoke so fondly about? He’ll berate it into your mind that they never came, they thought that you were dead and never searched for your body. You were forgotten, a buried memory that he replaced with another so quickly that it insulted him. 

What he doesn’t tell you is that he faked the body, planted your dog tags on the unidentifiable body and left it for them to find. That didn’t stop them, they were determined to get you back, but he thwarted them at every step, stopping them from finding you and taking his new obsession away from him. He’s a possessive man, he takes care of what he calls his as long as they’re useful. 

And when you let Makarov in, it’s the best moment in years, everything he put into you, the time, the effort and the scheming, finally came to fruition. You’re teetering on the edge of oblivion and subservience, you’d forgotten the world outside of your relationship with him, content with being under his warm body, leaving yourself to his pleasure.

Give it a year and he’d have you eating out of his hand, becoming an asset he could trust to send out and come back home bruised and bloodied, hair matted and bags under your eyes from exhaustion, but you’d be successful, holding the head of your target in hand as proof of your success. 

You were more than just an object of pleasure and assassination, you were his doll, a puppet on strings that he controls. He dictates every step, he chooses every decision and he makes every plan. You are his to control and to own until you lose your functionality. 

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @kaelysia @notspiders

[fashionteahouse]

Love you !!!! A Paul x reader when Paul imprinted on older lady who is also his neighbor. How does he get her attention

<33 u more ! hope you enjoy :)

door - paul x reader

Sitting on the window sill, things didn’t go unnoticed. At least for him. He sat as he watched the moving truck that was in front of the house that he knew was empty for some time.

He watched the figure talk on a phone as movers brought items and boxes into the place the woman could call home.

He watched as you looked around your new neighborhood. Your eyes lock with his for a moment before you turn to follow the movers into your new home.

The following day, the morning was a slight drizzle. Paul slowly walked out of his home to get ready for patrol.

The clack of high heels hitting the concrete made his eyes snap up as he watched the woman, dressed in sophistication, walk toward her car. Your leg muscles stuck out as each step was taken.

The unlocking noise is followed as you then hurried into your car, not wanting to get droplet of water on yourself.

Paul thought it was a nice car. He did his rounds of patrolling. However, he kept you in mind when he pulled his shorts on.

He definitely knew you were someone who had their stuff together. The childish games that he had to deal with from girls were uninteresting to him.

Pushing the door open to Emily’s, she pulls out a fresh hot baked treats out of the oven. An idea pops into Paul’s smart brain.

“Emily, you mind if I borrow your glass dish?” he asks after he cleaned the entire kitchen for her. Crumbs were everywhere as the other guys munched on what Emily baked.

He raised a small glass dish.

“Sure. But, what are you using it for?” she asks as she knew Paul didn’t do alot of cooking, he mostly came over to eat.

“I want to give someone something.” he says as he eyed the leftover treats.

Emily forms a crinkle in her eye as she helped him fill it up.

“It’s for my neighbor.” Paul stated as he had the filled glass dish in his hand as he had the other hand on her front door.

“I see.” Emily says with a small smile and then goes on to say, “I better see that dish again.”

Paul smiles gratefully but says, “Don’t worry. I’ll bring it back.”

Paul sat in his usual spot on the window sill as he saw your car slowly park into your driveway.

Getting out, you looked tired and had a long exhausting day. Finally glad to be home, you made your way inside.

Paul then took it as his chance to knock on your door. You groan from your spot on the couch. You finally got comfortable.

Opening the door, expecting it to be a salesperson, you froze as you saw a handsome young face staring back you. Your eyes then zeroed in on the glass dish that was in his large hand.

“I live across the street.” He says and you smile as you seen him before.

“Oh that’s right. How are you doing?” you ask politely.

“I’m good. I’m Paul.” he says and you introduce yourself back and suddenly your cradling the dish that he brought to you. You eye at it as it looks delicious.

“You made these?” you ask impressed.

A hand goes behind his neck as he scratched a bit, “A friend of mine did. I’m not a pro at baking just yet.” he admits and you laugh, “I love baking. It’s not hard once you get the hand of it. Thank you.” you say.

“So, you gonna teach me?” he asks and you look down at the dish and back up to him as a hot blush burns across your face.

“Um..Sure.” you say nervously.

“Just knock on my door when you need to get me.” he says.

You watched him the entire way. You watch the muscles on his body stick out as he moves his body towards his home, right across the street from yours. You watch the smirk form on his face as he sees that you’re still standing there watching him close his front door behind him.

[storiesbyrhi]

Part Two: All that is left is ashes

Eddie Munson x Reader Series Masterlist 1375 Words

If the people we love are stolen from us, the way to have them live on is to never stop loving them. Buildings burn, people die, but real love is forever.

Warnings: canon typical violence, references to sexual assault, swearing, drug and alcohol use, sexual references, child neglect, death/grief, references to organised crime

Early Evening, October 29, 1995

Four men barrelled out of Arcade Games and into a Camero. They chanted, “Fire! It! Up!” in unison.

Neil ‘T-Bird’ Hargrove got behind the wheel of the car, pulled out onto the road, cutting off a cab and barely avoiding a collision.

“You tryna kill us, T-Bird?!” Andy screamed from the back. Andy’s street name was Tin Tin because Neil said he had a head shaped like a tin of beans, and about the smarts of one too. He sat behind the driver’s seat, next to Chance. Nobody knew why Chance’s street name was Skank. Not even Chance. 

Riding shotgun was Neil’s son Billy. Billy went by Funboy. People avoided asking why because anything deemed fun by Billy Hargrove was not something they wanted to know about.

There was a moment of silence before all four men in the car laughed manically, returning to their chant. Neil slammed down on the accelerator.

A couple streets away, Steve Harrington had just finished voicing one of his great ideas. He stood in his hotdog stand uniform, nodding to himself. “You know, what this place needs is a good, natural catastrophe… Earthquake,”

“Tornado,” Robin Buckley suggested. She looked marginally less ridiculous in the uniform.

Hopper was watching her make his hotdog. She was, in his opinion, doing it wrong. “No, No. Buckley, come on. You got to put the mustard underneath first!”

“Maybe a flood? Like in the Bible?” Steve thought.

“Hey, hey. Lemme do it.” Hopper pulled the dog from her hands, taking over the allocation of mustard. “How ‘bout some onions?” Steve sprinkled some over it. Hopper looked at him. “What are you- Don’t cheap out on me.”

Neither Steve nor Robin had much passion for hotdog making. Hopper demanding to make his own was fine by them. Less work.

They all heard Max’s skateboard before they saw her emerge from the darkness.

“Hey, it’s Mad Max,” Steve greeted her affectionately.

Max took her usual place next to Hopper.

“How d’ya steer that thing on a wet street?” Hopper asked.

“Pure talent,” she replied sarcastically. “Hey,”

“Hey, kid,” Robin replied, getting a bun from the warmer.

“See, Max here is a genuine hotdogger… You hungry?”

“You buying?”

“I’m buying.”

The four of them were familiar, this scene having repeated over and over. Hargrove’s Camero speeding past them was familiar too, but far less comforting. They watched it screech around a corner.

“Bad people out on the street tonight,” Hopper said, not taking the bait. There was little that would compel him to chase after Hargrove and his gang, for countless reasons, but least of all the fact that they were Brenner’s soldiers.

The men had not been satisfied with smashing their way through Arcade Games, pinball machines, air hockey tables, and Pac-Man becoming nothing more than mechanical chaos. A timer counted down to the final second, then BOOM.

The explosion was loud, the soundwaves shaking the hotdog stand.

“Dammit!” Hopper growled.

“What was that?!” Max stood.

“You stay here. Steve, call it in for me!” and he was off running.

Eddie arrived home. The rain poured down as he looked up at the abandoned building. The crow told him yes, but it felt wrong. Something was wrong. Each rung of the fire escape ladder Eddie climbed hurt; each painstaking step up made him weaker.

It felt like hours, but within the minute Eddie was on top of the building. Trash was piled up everywhere. Sheets of plastic did little to protect whatever was being stored there. Eddie took no notice, just blindly followed the crow through an open door and into the belly of the beast.

There was more trash inside. And nobody home. All the apartments were empty. Each door looked the same, until he reached one marked with garish yellow crime scene tape. Eddie tore it down and walked inside.

There was barely enough light to see by, but Gabriel’s pure white coat shone. The cat meowed, immediately jumping from his hiding place and rubbing himself against Eddie’s legs. “Gabriel,” Eddie managed to croak out. He bent to pick up the cat. Gabriel panicked, forgetting what it felt like to be held. It had been a year and he’d never warmed to Max, though she tried. Eddie dropped the cat when it cried out, the sound reverberating through his skull.

Hiss.

Gabriel’s hiss. Someone had tried to pick him up. The cat hissed, scratched at the man. Dropped. Skittered away.

A smash.

Your jack-o-lantern beneath the huge window, smashed.

It wasn’t Eddie’s memory. He wasn’t there for that.

Still, he saw your face turn to a knock at the door.

You said Eddie’s name, confused why he’d not use his key. Maybe he’d forgotten it. He was forgetful like that. Suddenly, the men were everywhere. There were only four of them, but it felt like they were everywhere.

“Department of housing,” Neil Hargrove announced, holding up one of your petitions. “We’re looking to buy!”

“No code violations! No safety hazards?! Place looks great to me,” Billy announced, a mean grin on his face. “But… Let’s redecorate!”

Photo frames were broken. Sheets of music and poetry ripped. Records thrown against the wall.

The crow watched Eddie fall to his knees, gripping his head like if he held it tight enough, he might squeeze all the bad memories out of it. Because now it was memory; it was what Eddie remembered.

He walked through the open door, calling your name. Then he heard you screaming, struggling. The men all leered over you, tearing your clothes from your body.

They noticed him and quickly, before Eddie knew what was happening, Andy’s knife was thrown through the room and stabbed through his body. It made him entirely fucking useless. He couldn’t move to you. Couldn’t stop them taking turns.

You begged. You repeated Eddie's name so mournfully it sounded like a curse.

Eddie tried to get up, but the men descended. They held him up like Christ on the cross. The bullets didn’t hurt. He couldn’t feel his body. But he was awake. Eddie watched the men in the window as he was pushed backward through it, falling to his death.

Andy. Chance. Billy. Neil. Or, Tin Tin. Skank. Funboy. T-Bird.

Eddie sobbed and with every intention of using that window as a portal to death again, he stood and ran at it.

The crow cawed a command to stop.

Eddie couldn’t halt his forward momentum, but he could grab at the wooden muntin of the window. He swung like a child on the monkey bars, landing back into the apartment with a thud. Eddie’s eyes tracked the movement of the crow. “What do you want from me?”

The crow made a sad sound, and Eddie looked down at his hands. They were slashed open by the broken shards of glass embedded in the muntin. He watched as the wounds moved. For a horrifying moment, Eddie thought something had wormed its way into the cuts, but quicker than he could think that, there were no cuts at all.

Eddie let out a terrified laugh, then stood quickly, dizzy with the insanity of it all.

As Eddie moved to the threshold of the bedroom door, the voice was back inside his skull. You don’t have to do this. Eddie did it anyway. He went into the bedroom and looked around. This place hurts worst of all, doesn’t it? You were closest here.

“She’s not here…” He felt betrayed. The crow was meant to bring him to you, but you weren’t here. You weren’t anyway.

Like sobering up from a night out, Eddie felt woozy and overcome with a sick feeling. It wasn’t stale beer and hotdog in his stomach. It was guilt, distilled and top shelf.

“I should have… Should’ve been able to…”

When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions.

Eddie went back out to the bird. It was perched by the window, eerie and omniscient. They regarded each other, a soul shared.

“This machine…” Eddie said slowly, looking down at his new scars, at his reformed body. Slays dragons, he finished in his head. 

The crow swooped to land on his shoulder, realisation dawning and a plan already forming.

End Note: This chapter is dedicated to readers of the comics. As always, thoughts, feelings, and streams of consciousness are appreciated. xo Rhi

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[hjvi]

Heaven

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo x Fem!Reader

Summary: You’ve never handled your liquor well, good thing you have Chris there to deal with your drunken stupors.

⚠︎ Warnings: Smut. MDNI. Tipsy sex (consensual!), fingering, slight degradation and rough themes.

Word Count: 2.6k

It was supposed to be a small get-together. That’s what your friends had assured you when you’d all walked the near-mile trek to a random guy's house. Surprise, surprise - it was not small. Cars lined the street outside the multi-level estate, music loud enough to be heard the street over. Your friends didn’t seem to sense your apprehension, either that or they simply didn’t care, all of them giggling and pulling you in after them.

You’d partied, sure, but this was way out of your realm of comfort. People you didn’t recognize flooded the house, the air thick with the scent of marijuana and an absurd combination of cologne and perfume. Usually, whenever you partied you’d be with one of the triplets, always with Chris by your side at the minimum - but tonight it was just you and your friends.

“C’mon!” Shouted one of your friends, her hand firm on your wrist as she tugged you toward the kitchen where a man you didn’t recognize poured a clear liquor into a plethora of solo cups. Your friends scrambled for cups, one of them handing you one, all of you clanking the plastic together before tossing it back.

Vodka, that was vodka. You could feel the burn encompass your throat as you choked down nearly four mouthfuls, your stomach wordlessly cursing you to hell and back for even attempting to drink on an empty stomach. You’d never been known for smart decisions when it came to alcohol, it was something that bonded you with the guys and irritated Chris to no end whenever he’d have to hold your hair back after hours.

“Fuck-“ You coughed out through a laugh, slamming the now empty plastic cup down on the counter, the motion soon followed by your friends. It would be the first of many drinks if any of you had a say, but in all honesty, you didn’t feel comfortable getting flat-out drunk without Chris by your side. You trusted your friends more than words could express, but Chris was like your own guard dog, it’d have been stupid for you to test fate on the one night he wasn’t by your side.

Your closest friend of the group, Amara, looped her arm around yours, pulling you toward the center of the living room where everyone seemed to be dancing to the music that blared overhead - or attempting to, anyhow. You both danced together, laughing loudly at those around you who were too inebriated to walk away from the massive crowd. It wasn’t long until you felt the liquor you’d chugged earlier working its way through your system, glossing your vision over and slurring your words together.

Time went muddy as you danced, the liquor doing its job ensuring your inability to formulate coherent thoughts or hold a conversation that didn’t end in bounds of laughter. The only thing you hadn’t accounted for was your tipsy mind realizing you didn’t have Christopher by your side, and you didn’t like that in the slightest.

It was nearly three in the morning when Amara pulled you out onto the front porch of the house, striking up a match to light the cigarette she claimed she desperately needed after dancing for hours. You moved to sit on the front steps, sighing loudly as you looked out to the lawn, mind convinced if you thought of him hard enough he’d appear.

“I miss Chris.” You whined, looking back to Amara who only laughed, taking a lengthy drag off her cigarette before moving to sit beside you, arm wrapping tight around your middle as she rested her head against yours.

“I’ll take you to his in a bit, just let me finish my cigarette.” She replied, flicking off built-up ash from the end of her cigarette. “I’m going to tell him that you haven’t stopped talking about him for two hours, by the way. You’re lucky you’re my best friend, I’d have put tape over your mouth earlier if you weren’t.”

You leaned against her side, silently thankful that you hadn’t done more shots alongside your other friends and had instead chosen to dance with Amara until your feet were sore. The scent of her perfume calmed you, the same one she’d worn for years, it reminded you of your early teenage years and how the two of you would get into countless amounts of trouble together.

“Ready?” You asked after a few minutes, having passed the time by peeling chipped paint from a nearby banister. Your question brought another scoffed-out laugh from Amara, who simply motioned to her half-smoked cigarette, but as soon as she saw you pout she rolled her eyes and moved to her feet. You moved beside her, a giddy smile on your face that made her irritated facade crack, knowing she couldn’t stay frustrated with you for too long.

“He lives-“ You started, quickly being interrupted by Amara as she covered your mouth with her free hand. “I know where he lives, dammit.”

You chuckled into her hand, pushing it away as you two continued down the sidewalk and toward The triplets house. With each step, the sound of the party grew fainter, until all that surrounded you was the sound of nearby crickets and the train yard. You’d taken up kicking a rock, whenever it’d steer too close to the road Amara would kick it back.

The walk had helped you to sober up, the cold air causing goosebumps to cover every inch of exposed skin. You’d’ve given up on the trek twenty minutes ago if you weren’t so determined to see Chris, your fingers fumbling with his necklace that hung snugly around your neck, occasionally placing the cold silver against your lips.

The triplets place was packed, as it usually was on a Saturday night due to the unfathomable amount of parties they'd throw. Amara begrudgingly helped you through the hoard of cars, cursing under her breath whenever you’d tumble over your own two feet and inevitably slam into the side of some beat-up pickup truck. As soon as you two entered the House Matt looked over to you, laughing to himself before motioning toward the back staircase.

Amara’s arm looped around your middle, all but holding you up as you made your way upstairs. On the walk there you thought you’d sobered up completely, but the stairs slapped that confidence right out of your mind. If you hadn’t had her holding you up you probably would’ve passed out on a couch downstairs, but she helped you to the best of her abilities.

You could tell Chris wasn’t awake, the lights were off and the door was shut tight. Whatever peace he’d had while sleeping was abruptly snatched from him when Amara kicked the door open, causing the man to nearly jump out of his skin as he looked to the door.

“Delivery.” Amara stated, nodding her head to you as you smiled over at Chris, waving like a child who’d seen a cute cat on the street.

“Hi, Chris.”

Chris looked to Amara, aggravation written clear across his face as he moved up from his bed, walking over to you two before scooping you up.

“Couldn’t have knocked?” He asked over his shoulder, earning him a snorted-out laugh from Amara who’d already begun making her departure. “You wouldn’t have answered.”

He couldn’t argue with that, instead giving Amara a goodbye under his breath as he helped you into his bed. You were being incredibly touchy during the whole ordeal, hands moving to cup his jaw, to splay against his chest, before somehow weaving them underneath his shirt and against his abdomen.

“Quit.” He grumbled, pushing the bedsheets down as he began taking off your shoes. But, as always, you didn’t listen. You kicked your shoes off, narrowly missing his knee in the process, causing him to glare up at you. Although he couldn’t stay mad at you, not with you flopping back onto his bed and lifting your hips to shrug off your jeans, kicking the fabric to the floor along with your underwear.

“Doll-“ He started, averting his gaze to the nearby window as you peeled your shirt off. He took in a shuddering breath, hands fumbling with the fabric of his boxers as you moved over to him, staring up at him through your eyelashes like a siren amidst a bay of water.

“What?” You cooed, one hand smoothing down between his thighs as the other held you upright on the bed, a coy smirk upon your lips. “Missed you all night.”

He cleared his throat, eyes fluttering as your hand made contact with his cock. Even while tipsy, you still knew how to touch him. You brushed your fingers along his shaft, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as you waited for his reply.

“You’re drunk.” He responded, gently pushing your hand away as he looked over at you, moving forward only to press a kiss to your forehead. He moved from the bed, grabbing your legs to push them underneath the covers, moving to lay beside you after.

You pouted, clearly not happy about not getting your way, so you turned over to face him. He immediately sensed your rebellious attitude, his brows furrowing together as he looked down at you, wordlessly scolding you.

It didn’t work.

Your hand wove down his front, resting over his hardening cock as you kissed along his throat, humming against his skin. Sure, you were tipsy, but you knew what you were doing and you damn sure knew what you wanted. Chris groaned, head falling back against his pillow as his hips pressed up to meet your touch, cock twitching against your palm.

“Want you-“ You murmured against his skin, nipping against his pulse point, causing him to whine as his hips twitched. You smiled to yourself, slinking your hand into his boxers, gently curling your hand around his cock. You could feel his precum dripping down his shaft, coating your fingers as you slowly pumped him.

Any resolve he’d had faded the moment your thumb swiped across his tip. With a quiet groan of your name, he moved over you, lips finding yours in a heated kiss as his free hand moved between your thighs, fingers finding home against your soaked cunt. You kissed him back, savoring the faint taste of tobacco on his tongue as he sunk his middle and ring finger into you, plunging the digits in and out as he sucked at your bottom lip.

“Chri-“ You whined, brows screwing together as your cunt squeezed around his fingers, pulling a groan from deep within his chest as his eyes focused on yours. “Need you inside of me.”

He swore under his breath, almost toppling over you to push himself upright as he all but tore his shirt off. You spread your legs before him as he pushed his boxers down, kicking the fabric to the floor before positioning himself between your legs.

His hands smoothed up the underside of your thighs, coming to rest against the back of your knees as he shifted himself closer to you. You looked up at him, clenching around nothing as he pressed your knees to your chest, his free hand moving to grab his cock. The position was exposing, leaving you spread and on display for him, something he couldn’t help but admire with a satisfied grin on his face.

“You’re dripping.” He murmured, moving his hand from himself to trail his index finger between your slick folds, causing your hips to twitch. You watched with bated breath as he brought his finger to his lips, gaze meeting yours as he sucked the digit clean. A groan reverberated in his chest as your saccharine taste coated his tongue, leaving him craving you in a manner so carnal it felt like a sin.

“I’d make you cum on my tongue-“ He drawled out, words sighed halfway as his hand grasped the base of his cock, slapping his tip against your clit. “But you were so needy. So desperate.”

Your lips parted in protest, the words cut off by a sharp moan as he slipped his tip between your folds, pushing into your soaked cunt with a harsh thrust of his hips. You felt as though you were being split apart, his girth dragging along your walls in a way that left you grasping at his forearms for mercy he wouldn’t grant.

“Wanted this-“ He grunted, eyes focused on your flushed face as he fucked you, only adjusting himself a fraction to circle your clit with his thumb. His cock pounded into you, the lewd, slick sound of your cum coating him with each thrust echoing throughout the room. “So fuckin’ tight.”

You could only manage a strangled-off moan in reply, cunt squeezing around his cock with his relentless pace. Every movement forced air from your lungs, leaving you breathless and dizzy, mind reeling from his thumb expertly circling your clit as you tried to focus on the way Chris stared down at you, grunting out words of praise intermingled with degradation.

“Drunk on my cock?” He asked through a laugh, loving how fucked-out you looked. Your appearance was flushed, hair plastered to your forehead, lips parted as drawn-out moans fell from your lips. He nodded, answering for you with a hissed out, “Yeah, yeah you are.”

“I-“ You whined, nodding as you babbled. “I am.”

Each word was interrupted by a short gasp, a desperate attempt to fill your lungs as he pressed himself down onto you, practically folding you in half. The closer he got, the deeper he felt. You could only whimper, feeling your cum dripping down your inner thighs and onto your ass, surely wetting the sheets beneath you.

You could feel your orgasm building in your stomach, your eyes conveying the feeling in a way words never could. He watched you, his thumb continuing to circle your clit as he fucked you. Every roll of his hips brought you closer and left your thighs tightening as his tip brushed against your cervix. You gave yourself over to the feeling with a broken cry of his name, eyes squeezing shut as your cunt spasmed around his cock.

“Good-“ He grunted, hardly able to finish his sentence as he fucked you through your orgasm, relishing in the feeling of your cunt twitching around his cock, coaxing him deeper inside of you. His hand moved to your waist, grasp so tight it’d surely left bruises in its wake. You watched on in oversensitivity-fueled abandon as he chased his release. “So fuckin’ good.”

His chest heaved as he pulled out of you, short groans leaving him in droves as he fucked his fist, cum spilling over his knuckles and onto your lower stomach. From his furrowed-together brows to the way his cock twitched in his hands, you couldn’t help but clench around nothing at the sight.

“Fuck-“ He panted out, bending over the edge of the bed to grab his discarded shirt, wiping his hand clean before shifting to wipe your lower stomach. “You alright?”

You nodded in response as he moved to lay beside you, arm encircling your waist. You’d both need a shower in the morning, and a fresh change of clothes, but you’d deal with that later.

“Stop goin’ to parties without me, doll.” He murmured against the shell of your ear, placing a kiss on your shoulder. “Or at least tell me when you’re goin’, pain in the ass.”

His words pulled a laugh from you, his protective nature shining through even in the afterglow of sex. Knowing he was being genuine, despite his crude nature, you replied with a quiet, “Alright, Chris.”

“Thank you.” He huffed. “Now go to bed, drunkard.”

A/N: Hey everyone! Thank you so much for taking the time to read my fic—it means the world to me! With my three-month break from real estate school, I’ve had more time to focus on writing, and it’s been such a rewarding experience. Hopefully, I’ll be able to share more drafts with you soon! I truly hope you enjoyed this story, and I’d love to hear your thoughts or suggestions for future fics. Your support keeps me motivated, and I’m so excited to keep sharing more stories with you. Thanks again for being here—it really means a lot!

taglist: @swagalicious260@watercolorskyy@coquettechris@lovesturni0l0s@christmastreecake@ellbowmacaroni@blog-luvdance@sophand4n4@meg4-matt44

[ohworm-writes]

Just thinking about veteran and or retired neighbor Price right now *sighs dreamily while twirling my hair*

Like, okay - imagine having a house next door to Price situated in a small, cozy village up somewhere in Northern England, surrounded by nothing but green, grassy plains and dense forests with a stream that runs through the small village. I see him living somewhere cozy... quiet. Away from the loud, noisy environments that he'd been so used to, finding somewhere calm to settle down.

I see him having a pet. Maybe a lazy dog or a farm cat, something that'll follow him around and take a nap with him after a long day, either laid across his body or beside him. But, at the same time, maybe he'd like a pet that has a bit of energy - you can take a man out of the military, but you can't take the military out of a man. He still has so many traits and habits he's picked up from the military, and if you know anything about older, retired men, it's that they always need something to do and busy themselves with.

RANDOM THOUGHT but I feel like he wouldn't retire unless Laswell grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and forced him out of the military, likely for his own good. If it were up to him, he'd stay in the fight until he died, so I'd think that him getting close to it was what pushed for the decision to be made for him to retire - maybe he was injured to an extent that it wouldn't be smart for him to keep going or something of the like - I could totally see him with an amputation of sorts (like, twinning with Alex lol).

I think he'd like to keep to himself for as much as he could. I don't see him as one of those super friendly, "oh, let me help you with that" type of neighbors unless the situation is right, or, rather, unless he's called upon for help. Like, he's grumpy and stoic, but only until somebody comes to him asking "hey, sorry to bother, but can you help me with something" and he'd soften up - begrudgingly, it seems, but, really, he's happy to offer some assistance. It makes him feel useful.

God, imagine moving in next door to him and struggling to unload your car of all the boxes and things that are haphazardly packed inside of it, and him walking out of his house, seeing the way that you're struggling, and letting out a heavy sigh - just like "welp, suppose I know how I'm spendin' my mornin' now" and coming over to offer his assistance, a little awkward at first, but that quickly melts away as he settles into comfortable conversation with you.

*slamming fist against the table repetitively* BRINGING HIM FOOD OR TREATS AS A MEANS OF THANKING HIM FOR HIS HELP! A little reusable container held between your hands, to your chest, walking over to his place and knocking on the door, outstretching it towards him and being like "thank you - for your help... I wanted to show my appreciation, you know? so, I made you this" and giving the container to him.

AND WHO IS HE TO SAY NO??? (He tries, believe me, but that sweet, eager look on your face, wordlessly begging for him to take it... he can't deny you). AND HIM RETURNING TO YOUR PLACE A FEW DAYS LATER WITH THE CONTAINER IN HAND, BEING ALL GREATFUL AND STUFF. God, someone let him be real, pleaseee.

Becoming comfortable neighbors with him, spending rainy afternoons over at his house, or, in contrast, him at yours, sat on the front porch with a cup of tea or coffee or hot chocolate in hand, gossiping about some of the neighbors that live within the houses along the street, the both of you sharing your own life stories here and there, him divulging about his time in the military without shame.

Okay, I know a lot of people like to think that he wouldn't ever share or talk about it, but I can't see that. It's not like he's ashamed of his time - he's proud of the work he did, if anything, and it's all behind him now, so why should he be shy to share about the things he did? Of course, I don't think he'd go into gruesome detail about it or share about everything he's seen, but he'd totally be like "yeah, I've been all over the world - did a few OPs in X, Y and Z countries, took down terrorists, et cetera" and answer any questions with pride.

Him totally being The Man™ who you can go to if you need help with anything. Need help with a leaky sink? Give him a few minutes and he'll be over with a toolbox. Want to do an oil change on your car but have no clue where to start? Don't worry, he's got an oil pan, jack and a few rags around somewhere, he's sure - he'll be over in a few. Want some simple, good ol' company? He's outside the door already.

He'd be more than happy to give you a tour of the village if you ask, pointing out which neighbors to trust and which to be wary of, telling you about his favorite pub that's posed all the way on the far side of the town, but he promises you that the food, drinks and atmosphere are like nothing else. Walking with you down the stone pathways, footsteps clacking against them, taking in the sights with you and answering every question you may have, or, simply settling into a comfortable silence with you. At peace. Comfortable.

I'm so *laying on my bed on my stomach and kicking my feet slowly in the air behind me* I need him.

[socks-nb]

“I saw someone comment how ford was forcing himself to hate stanely bc the moment he got burnt, ford immediately asked if he was okay as a reflex”

POOKIE (hiii POOKIE <<33) Sent me a comment on a tiktok video that had me sobbing at work and I’m not letting this character analysis get lost to the void because god dammit stan deserves so much better than the fucked up cards he was handed in life.

Ford definitely had to force himself to hate Stanley. Every time he started writing anything positive about him in journal 3 he’d immediately cross it out. I think that if he put any thought into it hat happened between them and his part of what he’d done it would have broke him. Because really what did he expect to happen to his brother after he got kicked out at 17? He knew it would be nothing good, but if he wasn’t angry he’d have to feel bad instead and that anger was a lot more palatable than the alternative.

Stan’s entire life has been nothing but living for and loving ford. As kids it was him who protected him from the other kids. It was Stan who was always so proud of him when their father couldn’t give a shit. It was Stan who after 10 years of being homeless. 10 years of being ignored. 10 years of his other half seemingly not caring where he was dead or alive. 10 years of horrors that “I had to chew my way out of the back of a car!” can only elude to. 10 years of either being chased out or chased down. But when he got that post card from Gravity Falls? He dropped everything and went straight there in the middle of winter. He had to travel several states to get there with what little money he might have had, gas alone must have been a nightmare. It was cold, his jacket was old asf, the Stanmobile couldn’t have been in the best of shape, and neither was Stanley himself. But he still came. And after all that he was just?? What? Threatened with a crossbow, immediately told to fuck off again, and then branded for fucks sake?

(Who else thinks about the fact that Stan probably never went to a hospital to get it treated so he had to deal with the infection on his own 😍🔫)

I’m surprised he didn’t have an even bigger crash out than he did in canon tbh.

And then when all was said and done, this highschool drop out spent the next 30 YEARS teaching himself quantum physics with a third the notes he needed, filled with ramblings of a paranoid lunatic, all to bring the only person who made his life worth something home.

Not just bring him home but making sure Ford had a home to come back too. Yeah he converted part of it to the shack but who does ford think was paying the electric bill? His mortgage? All of it was Stan. And what did he get in return? A fist to the face before later being told that at the end of the summer he’d be back on the streets. A 60 year old man, who’d lived in gravity falls, lived in the shack, for longer than he’d ever lived anywhere. Longer than Ford had even lived there. The first and only stable place he’d had since glass shard beach. He’d be back where he was all those years go, accept he wouldn’t have what he had the first time. Specifically, he wouldn’t have his youth, and he wouldn’t have his reason. The only thing that kept him going all those years was the thought of his brother and a blatant refusal to die. 60 year old stan has a hearing aid and cataracts, and is also legally dead. He wouldn’t have made it out there. Stan would have died.

Stan never got to have a life of his own. His life is and always has been his brother. Sure Ford didn’t get to go to the college he wanted, but he had a life and a pretty damn good one at that. He was never even guaranteed to get into that school in the first place.

As smart as Ford is, a perpetual motion machine is impossible. Physically and mathematically it can not happen. It was never going to happen. It would have never worked. Weather Stan was there that night or not, it would have stopped eventually.

Ford went to college, made a best friend, got 12 PHDs, got a large enough grant that he was able to move states again and build his own custom home from the ground up AND STILL ended up studying what he’d always dreamed too. And with bill he got to experience shit that he assumed no one else ever had before. His life really only god fucked up after bill showed his true colors.

Yeah, pushing ford into the portal was a fuck up. A MAJOR fuck up. But Ford acts like he’s not the reason fiddleford fell in, another person he had to lie to himself about and convince himself that they were the problem. He never even checked on fiddleford afterwards and Ford ruined his life. He took a father away from his wife and child, he made Tate grow up watching his father slip further and further into madness until he was unrecognizable. His mind was so fucked not even bill could handle being there. Or he acts like he doesn’t understand how easy the roles could have been reversed. How easy it would have been for Stan to fall through the portal instead of him. After going through the portal I don’t believe for a minute he didn’t run into at least one portal stan.

They both fucked up, but the difference is that Stan spent his entire life trying to atone for what he’d done, and Ford spent his entire life blaming Stan for everything that had gone wrong in his life, (which was practically nothing before he decided to make a deal with a demon because he thought he knew better than anyone who had ever met bill before) for a mistake he made when he was 17, like he everything Stan did for him before that point meant nothing. One fuck up was all it took for him to look at Stan the same way their father did.

I think allowed himself a minute to think even for a minute about the situation in its entirety he’d break. Being angry is easier than being hurt and afraid. It’s easier to deal with than guilt and regret. It’s so much easier than looking at yourself and having to question where you went wrong and acknowledging than you fucked up and hurt someone. But Stan spent his entire existence doing just that. Looking at himself and knowing that he fucked up and had no way of making it better. Feeling guilt and regret for a fuck up anyone could have made. Because he was a teenager and afraid of losing the only person he had, and he had t even meant to touch his project!! He hit the table and that was enough to make fords machine explode into nothing???? That always seemed strange to me. I genuinely believe that even if Stan hadn’t been there it would have broken anyways. Not that it makes it right what happened. Stan should have told Ford when it all went down. But Stan didn’t deserve what happened to him for the next 40 years after than.

These old men own my entire soul. All of it. I love their relationship so much despite how bittersweet and tragic it is but god I could talk about them for hours. I don’t know what I would have done if they didn’t get their happy ending.