#krirebr

[biteofcherry]

Lloyd was just so perfect for that wicked, deviant side mixed with lollipop sweetness and sort-of care 🤭

Viper's snare

naga!Lloyd Hansen x female reader

summary: You doubted any of the people visiting Scaretale did it because of their anxiety. There was therapeutic exposition and then there was this mad stupidity to serve yourself on a platter for brutal monsters to consume.

warnings: naga!Lloyd; dark!Lloyd; monsterfucking, but no bestiality; heavy dub-con; bondage (of snake tail sorts); constriction; snake venom causing paralysis; oral (f receiving); two cocks; double penetration; cockwarming; unprotected sex; smidge of degradation; praise; symptoms of anxiety;

word count: 4.3k

Author’s Note: I thought I wouldn't write anything more hot and monstrous than Ari or Steve in the Scaretale universe, but Lloyd took me by complete surprise 😳I was not prepared for him. And you are definitely not prepared for him, either. Rip all our holes.

You paused right on the steps of the Scaretale. Breathe in. One, two, three, four. Hold it. One, two, three, four. Breathe out. One, two, three, four. Hold it. One, two, three, four. 

Feeling a little bit anxious before entering a club full of various monsters was completely normal and understandable, you told yourself. You had no idea what exactly awaited, how many there would be, how big and scary. 

It was a success you made it this far without cowering and running back home. But you were determined. Scared, but determined. 

Or maybe you were just fed up with the constant disappointment and judgment you got from most human men. You didn’t want to generalize, your dad was good and understanding, but the guys you dated (so definitely your father didn’t count in that pool) let you down in that one, vulnerable aspect. 

You would maybe get it, if you had some hardcore kinks they were too scared to fulfill. That wasn’t the case, however.

Honestly, you were pretty boring and average in that department. You liked missionary. You liked cockwarming; oh, did that count as kink? You didn’t think so. Prone bone was great, too. 

Any position where the partner would crush you down. 

If it was limited only to sex, maybe your exes would roll with it and never withdraw. The thing was, that need stretched beyond only sexual encounters. 

Your therapist said that you had the mental brain part of anxiety reined in - you learned and used all the techniques, you bravely disconnected from using cognitive avoidance strategies, you understood your anxiety and even chilled out with the bitch. However, there was also the biochemical part of the brain responsible for that reaction. 

It was that messy chemistry in your brain, which sometimes made your body shake and feel too tense. Being tightly held was the instant relief. 

Which is why you loved your weighted blanket; why you slept wrapped in a duvet like a burrito; why you wanted your partners to hold you so tight they could suffocate you. That exact part appeared to be a burden worse to bear than if you asked them to slap you around. Because you didn’t just need a sweet cuddle. You wanted that hold to be really, really tight. 

Despair, or maybe it was logical thinking, led you to the Scaretale. If human men couldn’t provide you what you needed, maybe a huge, muscly monster would. With the size and mass of some of them, perhaps their regular hug was the vice you needed to feel. 

But it was still scary, entering the mysterious club. Would you find yourself disappointed, if only some gentle fae was interested in you? Then again, maybe they had better drugs, which would help instead of deadly cuddling. 

The composition of softest sounds that greeted you upon entering, was a surprise. A combination of very hushed tones, melodic tinkling of glasses, an echo of Pan’s flute hanging in the air. It reminded you of the ambient music you often listened to. 

The club was filled with dimmed, glowing light. Jewel tones on the walls, floor and ceiling felt like an expensive, cozy duvet. It would appear one of the most comforting of spaces, if not for the chill that crept beneath your skin. Usually you’d blame it on your anxiety, but there was something more to the sensation now. As if your instincts weren’t just exaggerating, instead awakening a very primal self-preservation mode. 

The space felt safe, but what awaited you wasn’t. 

Swallowing nervously, you wrapped your arms around yourself and looked around. A few curious gazes were taking in your form, but they weren’t the ones who tickled your survival instinct. 

You’d still be wary around that charmingly smiling merman - who had his human form on, but you recognized his species by the pointy ears, a shimmer of delicate scales framing his cheekbones, and a necklace of seashells and amber. He had the looks of a handsome, sweet guy you’d meet-cute in a grocery store, or a library, but who’d sweep you into the depths of his secluded cave and devour you. Maybe even literally. 

Though his gaze followed you as you stepped through the club, it wasn’t his attention that started that quivering in your fingers. To be honest, you were becoming really scared of finding out who caused that. 

There was therapeutic exposition and then there was this mad stupidity to serve yourself on a platter for brutal monsters to consume. 

Deciding it was the peak of your bravery, you promptly turned on your heel to run away from this place. But there was no door to exit through. 

Or maybe they moved somewhere, because all you had in front of you was a round alcove lit up with drops of glowing light so unlike the rest of the lamps in the Scaretale. Not a soft yellow, but almost red. Like heating lamps. 

There was no booth, or a sofa, or chairs, but pillows upon pillows upon pillows. On which rested a shimmering black coil of enormous reptilian tale. 

Its very tip was easily the size of your forearm. As it stretched upwards the size of it thickened, surpassing the size of human hips. Where said hips should be, the curve of the snake’s tale gradually transformed into a male’s belly and chest. His abdominal muscles were so well defined; his biceps were thick and big, too, even as he had his arms lazily spread on the pile of pillows. 

He was a naga, you realized. 

While most naga were said to have green or gold coloring of their tails, this one had black. Though each scale seemed to have an iridescent effect, fascinating the gaze with a dark rainbow of colors catching light. 

Your eyes slowly moved over his terrifying form. You were so damn scared of snakes! 

It was that fear freezing you in place that held you captive. At least at first, before your eyes finally reached the monster’s face.

He was handsome. In a lethal kind of way. Mustache was never a feature you found attractive, but on him it looked good. Sinister, but good. Hair on the sides of his head were cropped short, but the middle part was a coif of silky dark strands. 

Then there were his eyes. An opalescent kind of dark blue. With the black pupil in a reptilian vertical shape. 

That pupil seemed to widen for a split of a second, before narrowing and your own gaze felt somehow caught by it. You were unable to move your gaze away. Time seemed to slow down, reality around you melted away. But it was still just a second. One that stretched into eternity as you stayed mesmerized by the naga, but which was enough for his ultra fast moves. 

His tail snapped towards you, coiling around your legs and snatching you forward to him. 

A scream left your lips, but no one in the club reacted. 

He drew you into the alcove, weaving his thick tail around your body; including trapping your arms at your sides. You felt warmth seeping into your skin, relaxing and comforting your muscles. Was it from the heating lamps glowing above, or from his proximity, you weren’t sure. 

“Please, let me go.” Your voice wavered on a hushed whisper. 

“Shh.” He cooed, tightening his snare. “It’s okay, little mouse. I saw you trembling with fear and just wanted to help. Give you a reassuring hug, you see.” 

His sympathy was a wicked mockery, but there was something more terrifying to it - the unexpected realization that his hold around your body was actually providing said reassurance. 

You were scared of him, of how he could hurt you, but that shivering your brain tended to induce was subsiding faster than when you snuggled under your weighted blanket. 

“Such a pretty thing.” He mused, tightening and releasing the muscles in his tail which gave you a sensation of it rubbing against your body. “What’s your name, Mousekin?” 

You answered, looking up at him with teary eyes; pleading for him to release you. He didn’t seem to be interested in even acknowledging that issue. Holding you still in his crushing grip, he reached his hand to caress your cheek.

“Lovely. I’m Lloyd.” He introduced himself. “Seems to me like you’re a woman who enjoys a good cuddle.” As if to emphasize that, he squeezed you tighter, almost constricting your lungs for a brief moment. “Ain’t that just perfect that I enjoy it, too?” 

His eyes sparked with dark mischief, his lips curving in a sinister smirk. 

Your cuddling preferences and his weren’t on the same spectrum, far from it. Yet the strength with which he crushed your fragile body gave you that sense of safety and comfort, after which your body so often longed like a drug addict in withdrawal. 

“I don’t-” you wanted to politely excuse yourself from the situation, because as much as your body liked the feeling of being held tightly, you knew it wasn’t safe for you to let it unfold further.

“Why don’t I help you relax more, huh?” Lloyd spoke, as if you didn’t utter a single word. 

His hand, which stroked your cheek, moved to cup your chin. His grip tightened, rending your face immobile. With his thumb and forefinger he pressed on a particular spot in your jaw, forcing you to open your mouth. 

With eyes widening in fear, you watched him lean closer. His lips parted and white, shiny teeth appeared. One of his teeth elongated and a drop of shiny, golden liquid gathered on its tip. 

Some snakes were venomous. Was he going to kill you?

Lloyd pressed his lips to yours; not kissing you. Your mouth tingled where his touched it, but otherwise there was no sensation. Until that drop from his fang fell down onto your tongue. The substance coated your appendage with burning sweetness. That sensation spread rapidly, taking over your whole body from the inside. 

He pulled back, with a grin observing as realization dawned on you. It wasn’t visible on your face alone, since all your muscles deliciously relaxed, but your beautiful, big eyes shone in fear. 

His venom paralyzed you. Only the muscles which could get in his way, before he managed to break you into sweetly compliant. Some day in the future he won’t need to drug you to have you boneless and accepting of whatever he did to your body. 

“There you go,” he cooed, running his hands down your limp arms. “All soft and lax. And so warm from within, ain’t you, my cute Mousekin?” 

You felt that burning effect of venom melt into heat that spread through each of your limbs, filling your abdomen with tingling warmth. Your pussy fluttered, wetting slightly as the neurotoxin messed with your brain. 

“Let’s help you out of those unnecessary constrictions.” Lloyd hummed so sweetly, turning his actions into more sick and twisted as he started unbuttoning your flowery dress. 

You wanted to protest, but your throat was able to produce only a tiny, barely audible whimper. Your tongue laid unmoving. You couldn’t move a single part of your body, though you felt it responding to Lloyd’s ministrations. 

Your nipples hardened when he exposed your breasts and a gust of air grazed them. The way his eyes were greedily mapping out every inch of your body pooled more wetness between your thighs. 

He eased the grip of his tail only enough to peel your dress away. Then the scales brushed against your naked skin, evoking a completely new sensation that zapped through your pliant body; straight to your clit. 

“What a stunning, sweet Mousekin I have caught.” Lloyd sighed in not-entirely-fake admiration, as he took your naked form in. 

“Let me take a good look all over.” Something darker flashed in his eyes and his tail coiled around you tighter. Then your body was being lifted off the floor. 

Holding you in the air, Lloyd drew your body closer to his torso. His tail shifted, more of it winding around your upper body, while leaving your bottom half exposed. Your legs were limp, they parted so easily when he used his hands to grip below your knees and spread them wide. 

“Ohh,” he licked his lips hungrily, “such a moist, tasty snack.” 

He brought his mouth near your center, scenting along the juncture of your thigh first. Then his tongue flicked out; longer than human and forked at the end. 

A cry wanted to rip out of your lungs, but stayed buried within, when Lloyd swiped his tongue between your folds. If not for the paralysis, your entire body would violently shake in response to the surge of pleasure. 

When he flicked the tip of his tongue against your clit, you felt the jolt bring tears to your eyes. Most overwhelming, happy tears. Because his forked tongue teased both sides of your swollen pearl at once, providing a stimulation nothing else ever came close to. 

Slick poured out of you in a thankful gush. Which Lloyd greeted with a chuckle, then smashed your brain into a pulp slithering his tongue into your dripping hole. 

It was softer than any toy, or finger, but moved with a maddening wiggle. 

Your pussy spasmed. Perhaps, it was for the best that your vocal cords were switched off for the moment, because the sounds you would make from that stimulation had to be inhuman.

“Delicious.” Lloyd licked his lips lewdly as he slowly lowered your body down. 

Inwardly, you felt as if your body was twitching, edged with unbearable pleasure; though you were aware not a single finger of yours moved, still under the influence of his venom. 

Holding your legs wide apart, Lloyd moved your pelvis back and forth against the thickest part of his tail. Right where you’d expect… 

Air stuck in your lungs, a strangled sound bubbling out of your open mouth when you felt a defined hardness slipping between your folds. You haven’t seen his cock before when you looked over his body, but the shape of it pressing into your most intimate part was unmistakable. 

There was just one thing not right about it. 

Because you felt the thick, veiny length spreading your folds to rub against your clit, but also felt the same shape nudged between your buttocks. 

“Ah!” Lloyd tutted, caressing your cheek with the back of his hand. “You’re not familiar with naga’s anatomy, Mousekin.” 

He traced the outline of your lips with his fingertips. Your tongue could now move a tiny bit, only minimally, and it responded when his fingers slid into your mouth. Just a twitch. Lloyd tugged on it gently, drawing your tongue out to rest on your bottom lip. Saliva pooled down it, slowly dripping onto your chin, then lower still: onto your chest and Lloyd’s tail. 

“We-” his warm breath puffed against your open mouth- “have-” his tongue flicked against yours- “two-” he rocked you against his hardness- “cocks.”

Your pupils widened. More drool dribbled out of your mouth as garbled sounds bounced against the roof of your mouth. That’s why he was so obscenely grinding you back and forth against him, so that your slick coated two dicks.

“Exciting, right?” Lloyd chuckled; his tail increased its constricting pressure on your body. 

“Two cocks for your two, tight holes.” 

Slowly, he pulled you down. 

The strength in his tail was beyond what you could physically fight even if you had the full mobility of your body, so it held you down easily. Lloyd’s big hands dug into the soft meat of your thighs. His own muscles constricted as he rutted up into you, forcing his cocks into your holes. 

Your pussy opened easier, though it was still a stretch considering his girth. Your rim resisted, but Lloyd was merciless. A choked cry vibrated in your throat when his dick breached in.   

He didn’t pause once, continuing a firm stroke. Shamelessly, Lloyd groaned out loud his pleasure as he filled you. His sounds were nearly pornographic the deeper he went and the more your walls struggled. 

When he bottomed out, he moaned, tilting his head back. Veins on his neck throbbed. As did the cocks inside of you. 

“So good, Mousekin.” He praised, returning his gaze to you. “You’re so hot and tight around me. Just like we both like the most.”

His tail slithered around your torso, giving you a tighter squeeze. You hated how much your body enjoyed the constriction. You were overwhelmed with being impaled, stretched and filled; being taken against your consent; but you still felt comfort and safety in the way he was holding you. 

“You’re a perfect cocksleeve,” Lloyd cupped your face with both hands and leaned in.

With your tongue poking out and muscles still mostly numbed, you couldn’t respond to his obscene kiss. But you felt your lips tingling and your tongue twitching as Lloyd’s forked one swiped against it, before plunging into your mouth. 

When he withdrew, more of your saliva dropped down onto your torso. Where your breasts swell with arousal, heavy roundness resting atop the snake’s tail that weaved around your ribs.

Lloyd’s fingers danced down the column of your neck and lower. He smeared around trickles of your saliva, rubbed it into your stiffened nipples, then pinched. Your walls clenched in response.

“I’m going to get addicted to the way your walls hug me.” He groaned in delight. “Will have you cockwarming me for hours, mousekin. Keep you tied to me, so that your fragile, anxious body can fully relax and focus on being filled.”

You hated how right he was. For the past long minutes not once has your mind ignited with fear of being killed, or maimed, but all the focus was on basic primal sensations. How intense, but good it was to feel him deep inside of you. How lax and lazy your usually tense body was. 

“Let’s use you whole, my little cocksleeve,” Lloyd hummed and his tail brushed against your naked skin as he stretched his coil further. 

His tail moved up around you, weaving around your shoulders and the back of your head. Until the very tip tapped your cheek. 

Then it slid right against your open mouth. 

It was too wide to force itself into your mouth, but Lloyd stroked it back and forth over your tongue that was sticking out. 

At the same time, his hands slid up your thighs. With his thumbs, he brushed your parted, swollen folds. Touched you where one of his cocks speared into your cunt. Then his thumbs pressed on both sides of your clit and your insides constricted. 

Garbled sounds bubbled in your throat, gaining in vibration as venom slowly lost its power. Lloyd’s tail moved vigorously, in contrast to the unmoving cocks snug deep inside you. His thumbs rolled across your clit - left, then right, then left again. When he pinched your nub, your arousal peaked and snapped.

A long, faint whine reverberated against the tail resting across your tongue. Your pussy and ass squeezed tightly, making Lloyd groan. 

“ ‘Atta girl,” he praised softly, still teasing your pulsing pearl with a featherlike touch, prolonging the aftershocks. 

Tip of his tail eased down, dropping across your chest where it rested between your breasts. Your mouth was wet, saliva smeared all over your cheeks and chin. But you were finally able to move your tongue, drawing it back inside your mouth. You swallowed and then let out a ragged breath, your voice croaked. 

You were still unable to move, though you could curl your toes and wiggle your fingers a bit. Then again, the naga’s tail was still firmly wrapped around you, holding you in place as he filled you. 

Heart pounded in your chest. Not out of fear, but from the rush of orgasm and the growing hunger for another one. 

Your body, the betraying bitch, liked how Lloyd made it relax. 

Through heavy eyelids, you peeked at Lloyd. He eased his upper body back, resting against the pile of soft pillows. Arms once again thrown broadly to the sides, a nonchalant prick. With a smug smirk curving beneath his mustache, he watched your body straddling him. He enjoyed every fucking detail about the display - his black tail around you, slivers of your skin peeking between the coils, your breasts shiny with your drool, your thighs spread so wide that your pussy was fully exposed and he could see his cock disappear into your tight hole. 

You stayed like that for long minutes: your body still fully at his mercy, slowly regaining the ability to move and speak. There was no further stimulation as Lloyd simply stared at you and basked in the way your walls enveloped him in your heat. 

Cockwarming for hours, he said. It appeared he meant that literally. 

A part of you melted into the idea. There was something comforting, completely void of anxiety, to be filled and held and not caring about anything else. 

There was another part, too. A primal, needy part, as overactive as your anxiety-prone brain parts. It grew a little restless, itching to be brought to that edge again and promptly tipped over. 

Dam it, you wanted another orgasm. 

“P-please,” your voice was still weak, but you managed to whisper. 

“What do you need, mousekin?” Lloyd asked, though the way his smirk broadened into a grin, he knew damn well what your body craved. 

You wanted to blurt out that you needed him to let you go, that you wanted to go home. You came to the Scaretale with some not well thought through fantasies of finding a nice monster, who would hug you tight and could become a future partner. You weren’t prepared for the evil turn of events and being ensnared by a deviant naga. 

Who hugged your body better than any weighted blanket, but breached any boundary and used you for his pleasure. 

“Home-” you dared to beg, hoping to hear (even if he laughed first) that you would be allowed to return home after he was satisfied with your holes warming him. 

“Aww, sunshine.” Lloyd cooed, resting his hands on your knees and giving a soothing squeeze. “We’ll go home soon enough.”

You jerked in his hold as a terrifying realization dawned on you. He would never let you back to your own place. He wanted to keep you. You shook your head as much as you could, which wasn’t much. 

“You’ll like it, mousekin.” He continued. “It’s so warm. In a very sunny area. A classy stone finish, so that so many surfaces gather heat and are pleasant to rest on. And I own the lands around it, so it’s quiet and void of any unnecessary stimuli.” 

He let out a dark chuckle, drawing his hands higher up your thighs.

“But you’ll get all the stimulation from me, mousekin.” 

His tail gripped you tighter anew, making your breath hitch in your lungs as he constricted your ribs. He pulled you up slightly; his cocks dragging along your fluttering walls. Then he pushed you back down, bottoming out again. 

He grinned as you mewled. 

“That’s a good cocksleeve.” He gradually increased the pace. “Sheathing my cocks so perfectly. So warm and wet and fucking tight.” 

“You’ll take my cum so well, too.” Lloyd’s voice turned raspy, his own need growing urgent as he fucked you harder. “You’ll love it, mousekin. It will feel so burning hot and tingling.”

“When I fuck you on our stone patio, you’ll be warmed by the sun and by my cum filling your belly.”

He laughed when your body responded with an unexpected orgasm. It was building from the friction and his dirty words, but the way it suddenly burst was a screaming surprise, which you couldn’t fight off. 

One more orgasm rocked your body (which finally got to twitch and jerk in its full capacity; well, as much of it as the naga’s tail wrapped around you allowed), before Lloyd shamelessly shouted out his own release and spilled inside you.

He held you still as his cocks throbbed, pumping spurt after spurt of cum. Your gasp transformed into an almost pained moan as you felt that burning hot sensation fill your orifices. Just like he mentioned, his cum was hot and carried that tingling, almost numbing feature his venom had. 

You didn’t feel any paralysis, even partial, taking over. Yet your body sagged in most pleasant comfort; like when after a long, exhausting day you got to take a hot shower and then snuggle under fresh, clean sheets.  

Though this was more lewd and soiled. 

Your breath was heavy. Every few seconds your lips parted on a short moan as you felt that pulsing heat flooding your belly. 

The tail around you loosened its grip, slowly weaving down. He let go of you fully, resting the heavy, lower half of his body on the pillows below. Still, you didn’t move from where you were straddling his hips. You didn’t even attempt to.

Because it felt too fucking good, how completely boneless and brain-dead you were. 

“Good girl, mousekin.” Lloyd praised as you braced your hands on his chest and leaned down to rest your cheek against his sternum. 

You didn’t move your hips, keeping his cocks nestled in your pussy and ass. 

“What a perfect, sweet cocksleeve,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around your back and simply holding your spent body to him. Tightly, just as you liked.

“Don’t worry,” he kissed the top of your head, “we’ll get rid of those anxious thoughts of your silly human life when they resurface. I’ll fuck it right out of you. Until you fully settle in your role as my heated sheath. My little cockwarmer.” 

[paperweight91]

🔥

My love, the one the only JOHNNY STORM.

Sorry I got so far behind on this the words were there…they just wouldn’t come out!

The Heat of the Moment, Showed in Your Eyes

Pairing: Johnny Storm x reader (Cutter)

Warnings: makeout sesh, discussions of hunting people.

W/C: 751

A/N: the next in our line of teases for We’re All Monsters! I’m kind of in love with these two! Please send me all the feedback! Reblogs and comments are a form of love ❤️

You filed your nails and huffed one more time as you sat in the passenger side of the blacked out SUV. Cole sat beside you rolling his eyes.

“Is there a particular reason why we are sitting in the middle of a field, in the middle of nowhere Cutter?” He was squinting as he looked over at you.

“Maybe you should ask less questions, and do more of what you’re told, huh?” Why had Steve made you take Cole? Anyone else would have been better than him.

You checked your watch. He was late…again. Of course those wolves never had any regard for your time, your life. Sure you were undead, but your time was still precious.

Before you could pull your phone out to call and see what was going on, you distantly heard the rev of a sports car. You sighed and went back to filing your nails.

“It’s like he’s trying to draw attention to himself, Jesus.” You mumbled.

Cole stepped out of the SUV and you followed, you couldn’t let him interact with Ari’s crew too much. They would see him as a weakness for Steve. As soon as you stepped out you felt your fangs drop. The scent of fresh blood hung in the air.

Johnny stepped out of the bright red corvette, a smirk on his face and a wink to you.

“Hey Dollface, Ari said you guys would just love these two.” It was then you saw a few other wolves from Ari’s pack that you vaguely recognized pulling two humans from one of their blacked out SUVs.

You recognized them both on sight, and heard Cole give a small whimper. You rolled your eyes and licked your lips. These two hunters had been after Steve - and by proxy you and Cole for years. A few years ago they had almost got Cole.

“You make it sound like you’re doing us a favour Storm.” You glared at Johnny, your hands on your hips.

Johnny simply smiled and motioned for the two other wolves to place the humans in the back of your SUV. “Cutter and I need to sort out what our payment will be. Wait here.” Johnny winked at you and turned to walk towards the tree line nearby.

You glanced at Cole and growled out a “Stay here.” Before following after the hot headed man.

Once you both were out of eyesight and earshot, the air around you both changed. Johnny had you pushed up against the nearest tree, his thigh between yours. You moaned and ground down against him while searching for his mouth.

He tsked and pulled further away. “C’mon now Cutter, you know we actually do have to talk about payment here.”

You rolled your eyes, “how bout I suck you off and we all go our merry ways.”

Johnny huffed, “I’m sure Ari would love to know that.” You smirked and ran your nails down his back just how he liked. “He wants Steve to give him open hunting on the East Coast for this.”

Those words stopped you dead. You knew Steve would never agree to that, not ever, and certainly not for Ari. “So your boss has completely lost his mind.”

Johnny gave you a sad smile, “I don’t know Cutter, I really don’t.”

You twisted your mouth thinking about what Steve’s counter would be. “Steve’s offered payment is an open hunting for the next week, in the Boston area.”

At that Johnny extricated himself from you fully. “We already have open hunting in the Boston area, babe. Ari’s not gonna go for it.”

You shrugged and slipped your knife from your inside pocket. “That’s his offer, take it or leave it.”

You played with the point to distract yourself from Johnny’s gaze. “You gotta be able to sweeten the deal at least a little?”

When you glanced up you saw Johnny giving you his puppy dog eyes. You admired him for a moment, from his barely there hair, to his bright blue eyes, down his slender nose to his plump lips. “Fine, the East Coast for the next week. But only the next week, after that you’re all back to your farm fresh diet.”

Johnny beamed and pulled you into his arms. The two of you stood rocking to a song only you both seemed to know. Johnny kissed the top of your head and murmured an “I love you” into your hair. You sighed and whispered an “I love you too” into his neck.

[navybrat817]

KRIS. When I tell you I would be his queen in a second, I wouldn't hesitate. I might pretend to be miffed. For a moment. "I have to marry King Arthur? Oh, no!"

I'll wear nothing but a tiara while he makes me ride him on this throne.

Please.

Love and thanks! ❤️

[bigtreefest]

Ooo, can I please hear more about Intimidation Game?

Oh course you can! Intimidation Game is gonna be a Ransom fic based off a convo I had with @brandycranby a little while back. This was asked by both you and @biteofcherry 👀🫡

The basic premise is Ransom trying to be intimidating, and everyone else knowing to stay away, except for reader. They’re the only one who challenges him. And to be honest, he’s a little bit intimidated by them, too. So it’s semi rival-y, until Ransom traps reader in a doorway, you know that thing where he braces his arm above you so you’re semi-trapped and it’s kinda hot and makes your heart race? That. 🥵🫠 and he leans down real close, nose to nose. Is that a kiss op?🫣🤷🏻‍♀️ someone may get tackled with a demand for ending this dance, the tables could get turned…😏

WIP Ask game

[biteofcherry]

I totally get the Reader. I'd probably faint on the spot seeing him like that 🥴

He's ridiculously beautiful and hot and wet, it's unfair!

random hoeing:

Steve catching you in the rain, his white shirt completely soaked and transparent

Ok, this has to be Neighbor Steve.

Warnings: explicit language, more fluff than I normally do, completely unedited, 18+ - MINORS DNI

After Steve caught you ogling him during the heatwave, the tone of your conversations when you run into him in your building has gotten decidedly flirtier. But for whatever reason, that's where it's stopped. As much as you've tried to send signals that you are very open to more, he's never taken you up on it. Which is fine. It's fine. Totally fine. You are very cool with it. The thought of it definitely doesn't make you shrivel up inside. You are so cool.

All of that is the furthest thing from your mind right now, though, as you and your dog run through the rain. It'd been such a nice day, but as you hit the halfway point of your usual longer route, the sky unexpectedly opened up and you and your poor dog were hit by an absolute downpour. Now, finally home, you're both completely soaked and desperate to get inside and dry.

After some fumbling, you get the door to your building unlocked and opened. Just as you're about to get inside and let the door close behind you, you hear your name ring out. You turn around to see Steve hurrying up the path. "Hold the door!" he yells.

You freeze, doing as he asked. Holy shit. He's just as soaked as you, but while you're sure you look like a drowned rat, he very much does not. He– Well. He– He's wearing that damned white t-shirt again. Except it's not white now, it's translucent. You can see everything – that tattoo you spotted before, and a few more to go with it, an incredible set of abs, nipples. Holy shit.

He quickly ushers you inside, thank god, because you can't move on your own, your eyes still stuck to his chest. "Fuck, that came out of nowhere, huh?" he chuckles.

The moment you're out of the rain, your dog proceeds to do her best to shake herself dry, as if the three of you weren't already dripping all over the entryway. "Oh, shit," you mumble, reaching for her without really knowing what to do.

Steve just laughs. And then does it himself, shaking out his golden locks. Part of his hair flops down over his forehead, and you do your best to hold in your gasp. Really it's just so unfair that he could get caught in a rainstorm and come out looking like that. What the actual fuck? you think to yourself.

Except, judging by the way his head whips around to look at you, maybe you didn't think it. Maybe it was more out loud than you'd meant. Oh god. You immediately start babbling, which is unfortunately just as uncontrollable as the initial slip-up you're trying to make up for. "Oh, god, I'm so sorry. I just– I mean– Look at you!" You throw a wild gesture at him as he just stares at you with his mouth open, trying to take in your ramble. "It's cats and dogs out there and you look like that?? While I–" another wild gesture, at yourself this time. "I just– How is it fair that you're so beautiful??"

"You think I'm beautiful?" he finally manages to interject.

"Huh?" And that's when your brain finally catches up. Oh dear god. What is wrong with you?? You cautiously glance at him to find him staring at you, not upset, but like he's trying to figure you out. Fuck it, you suddenly think. You've already embarrassed yourself. You have nothing left to lose. "You wanna get dinner with me sometime?"

You swear that the smile that blooms on Steve's face is bright and warm enough to dry you both off. "I was starting to worry I was reading your signals wrong. Yeah. Yeah, I'd love to."

Your answering smile is strong enough to push all the clouds away.

☔

Thanks for the fun prompt, Eva!

Tag List

@stargazingfangirl18 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @roxyfan14-blog @darkserenity24 @midnightramyeoncravings @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @ronearoundblindly @brandycranby @steviebbboi @missaprilt23

[foxgloveprincess]

Soooo.... I saw that you're working on a Curtis story. I'm sure you've gathered that I'm such a whore for him. 🙃 Any thots/details that you're willing to share?? 💜💜

Kris, I 👏🏻 got 👏🏻 you 👏🏻

So, you remember this little blurb? Curtis and the club?

The story I’m working on has sort of become a prequel to it. How Curtis and his reader got to the point where they’re so intoxicated by each other, addicted to each other’s touch. At this point, Curtis has got his curvy reader over his shoulder in the club and is carrying her off. 🤭 Also, in my WIP at this point, he calls her Smush.

[thezombieprostitute]

Dropping in to pay you back with your own round of FMK. That's right, it's Fanta, Mountain Dew, and Kool-Aid! 🤣🤣 So which toxic soft drink are you sharing with

Bucky Barnes

Jake Jensen

Jonathan Pine

Bonus points if you can give us specific flavors 😘

Oooo! I can't remember the last time I had Fanta or Kool-aid so I've gotta think about those two for Barnes and Pine.

Because, let's face it, Mountain Dew with Jake just makes sense. It's "gamer fuel"! I like plain Dew best and would happily share some with my cute gamer.

I'm gonna cheat a little here and use Orange Fanta and mix it with vodka to make Creamsicles to share with Jonathan. I don't think he's ever tried one before but he's the type to be a good sport and, at least, try it for me.

He's also actually susceptible to the alcohol, unlike Bucky, so it could lead to some fun.

I'd have to share blue raspberry Kool-aid with Bucky. Why? Because when I say, "this tastes like blue" I want him to have some frame of reference. He's a little out of touch on contemporary food stuffs and flavors and "blue" is definitely one of them!

[veltana]

Hi Cate! 31 and 42 for the weirder asks, please!

From this

31. Old rock music like Iron Maiden's early stuff and Queen but also fun Disney songs! 😂

42. I play a game called Merge Cartoon and I accidentally got my partner and brother-in-law hooked on it too. I play that a lot! 😅🙈

Thank you for playing ❤️

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Happy birthday, Caplan!!! 🎉🎉🎉

ilysm <3 thank you so much <3

[darsynia]

Oh my gosh I'm so running around in circles in my mind all excited!! I'm so glad you like this so far! I'm super proud of this story (it goes places that are supported but unpredictable, we'll say), thank you so much for reading! Your kind words absolutely buoy me up and I'll be floating all night! Eeee!! don't mind me, i'm just making sure I get the most out of my exclamation mark subscription before it renews

Me, driving to the next chapter:

Just Right | Ch 1

(Steve Rogers/F!Reader, post-Ultron multi-chapter)

gif by @dailystevegifs

Summary:

You've been in love with Steve Rogers for at least a year, but he treats you the same way he treats every other member of the team-- with respect, but nothing more. It takes an inter-dimensional mistake and a whole second, more assertive, actually interested Steve for you to realize that you don't want just any version of Steve Rogers-- you want the one you've been pining for all this time.

Length: 2,998

FIC MASTERLIST | NEXT CHAPTER | MCU MASTERLIST

Ok so the thing is, I adore @ronearoundblindly, and I decided to write her this. The idea I got also very happily fits with my Avengers Bingo square of 'Is it permanent?' It's not my first Steve fic, but it is my first Steve/Reader! I hope you like it Ro.

Reader's nickname 'Dine is pronounced 'Dean.'

Chapter One

You simply can’t believe this is happening.

Fifteen minutes ago, while you were going over proposed alterations to Sam Wilson’s Falcon suit, a person who looked exactly like Steve Rogers walked through the wall right beside you.

“Oh my God!” you’d immediately said. “Do not tell me that Stark created some kind of matter splitter that lets a person walk through walls, please? I live here. I don’t want to put alarm lasers in my bathroom, but I’ll do it!”

Steve had looked behind him at the solid wall and seemed surprised. “I’m sorry miss, but just a second ago, that was a doorway.”

“If you two are trying to distract me out of noticing that the controls for Redwing are different, it’s not going to work!” Sam said, his focus remaining on the sketch you’d mocked up for him.

You’d looked back over to Steve, and that’s when you noticed that something was… off. First of all, you hadn’t designed that uniform, but he did have a few vintage ones still floating around. Second of all, his hair was longer than it had been the previous day at the monthly midday meeting.

The third difference was the way he was looking at you. Admiringly. Something he’d never done before-- you would have noticed. 

Sam asked a question about one of the altered features, and as you went through your explanation, you’d kept an eye on the way Steve was wandering through the large room. He seemed to be growing more and more confused, picking up an item to frown at it, walking around one of the free-standing computer terminals, and generally seeming lost. More than once, you’d caught him looking over at you in confusion.

With alarm bells going off in your head, you had made a decision. “You know what, Sam, I think I just caught a problem with this. Can I fix that and have you go back over it tonight, after the dinner thing?”

“Sure, ‘Dine. How many wings did you sign up for?” Sam had said challengingly.

“Oh no you don’t! That’s confidential information. Not as many as you, that’s all I’ll say.”

“You know it. See ya, Steve,” he’d said on his way out. You’d walked along with him, and once Sam was through the door, you hit a very specific button on the panel next to it.

“I think you know I could probably break through any one of these walls,” Not-Quite-Steve said from across the room. He sounded regretful.

“I mean, you could try, but this room is fortified. We test prototypes here, and not every invention behaves as expected,” you’d replied, a little proud of your deliberate double meaning. The button had sent an alert to just Stark, for now, but it also turned on a live recording of the whole room, displayed in certain spaces all throughout the complex.

“That’s why there are no windows,” Faux-Steve observed calmly. “Basement of the tower?”

You had willed yourself not to react to that. After the disaster with Ultron, after losing Bruce to fury and almost losing Stark to guilt, they’d all moved upstate, away from the bad memories. Was this Steve from their past or a whole other future? Was he really Steve at all?

“What were you doing right before you came here?” you asked, walking slowly over to the locker area. You’d probably fit into a few of the things there, if you had to.

“Arguing with Tony over something I thought he shouldn’t be doing.” He’d offered her a thin smile and slipped his hands into his pockets, like that would make him seem less dangerous. You knew better. “Look, whatever it was, it sent me here, and this ‘here’ isn’t my here.”

Natasha had taught you never to give too much away. “Oh?”

“My ‘here’ doesn’t have--” 

Before Fake Steve could finish his sentence, Stark burst into the room completely suited up, and things had gotten chaotic from there. 

You’re on your way up to one of the open office rooms to write down everything you can remember, but as you get closer to the correct floor, you slow down. You have a bit of a dilemma, and no amount of reassuring yourself is helping.

The sticking point is how you realized something was wrong, what first made you recognize a discrepancy. The longer hair thing will probably be enough, but it isn’t the whole truth. You don’t want to reveal the whole truth, because the whole truth involves something you’ve kept to yourself for over a year.

The real truth is you are head over heels in love with Steve Rogers. Your Steve Rogers, except he isn’t yours. He’s never looked at you the way this one just did.

You haven’t let that be a problem, of course. You’re in your dream job; after being in armor fabrication and development at Stark Industries for years, you’d been recruited by Tony Stark himself to work with the Avengers. It’s been a genuine pleasure creating individual designs that are tailored to each fighter’s strengths and weaknesses, instead of the mass-produced stuff you’d worked on for Stark Industries. 

You’d tried hard not to let yourself show any favoritism, after you’d realized your crush on Steve wasn’t going away. You don’t even call him Steve, except in your own head-- but all of that is at risk right now. You’re tuned to indifference, and the open interest you’d caught a glimpse of today is sending your senses reeling.

“Hey, ‘Dine. Tony sent me up to make sure you’re okay, said you looked a little shaken up.” It’s Natasha, and she’s coming your way down the hall. Now you’re even more shaken, because if Stark noticed, Nat sure as hell will.

“I need to write this shit down, but yeah, a little bit,” you admit. “It’s like if instead of Vision, the model in the cradle was Rogers, and they got him 95% right.” With a 5% ‘thinks I’m cute’ flaw, you don’t say aloud.

Nat follows you inside and stands waiting as you busy yourself with finding an incident report and the exact right pen. You handle it right up until you start writing your name and her shadow darkens the rest of the paper.

“Something you need?”

“You’re freaked out.”

“Well, yeah. If an interdimensional version of St-- Rogers is able to stroll into our test room, we’re going to need some equally interdimensional protections for this place, not to mention a thousand thousand other important locations all across the country!” You’d just picked something out of midair to bluff her, but it’s the truth, and now you’re even more worried. You set down the pen and look up at Natasha. “What if they need him, Nat? What if we can’t send him back?”

“If it’s something Tony built, Tony can build it,” she says pragmatically. “One worry at a time.”

“There she is!”

You’re late to the gathering, and you’re going to have to make up an excuse, because the forty-five minutes you spent dithering over your clothing choices had everything to do with the image you wanted to present tonight. You ended up going with something casual, dressed-down, because as much as you’d felt a little thrill at the way Alternate Steve had looked at you, it had been disconcerting and alien. No way did you want to foster more of that.

You look up and smile weakly at Sam-- until you remember something. “Shit, Sam, your thing! I’m so sorry, I didn’t go back in the room after--”

He comes over and slings an arm around your shoulders, comfort bred by familiarity. “No, I get it. Don’t worry, manufacture isn’t set for another week.”

You relax into the hug, slip a hand around his waist and squeeze before both of you let go. “It’s just that I promised--” This time it’s Sam’s expression that interrupts you.

“You know you design this stuff, you don’t have to act like armor yourself, right? You sensed something right away, didn’t you? And you got me out of the room.”

Stark’s loud, defensive voice cuts through your mumbled explanation.

“-veryone’s giving me shit over this, but I’m not the one who screwed up! And I’m the one who’s going to fix it, so lay blame on the correct Stark! Who is, for once, not me.” He’s been making his way over to you to thrust your favorite beer in your hand without asking. You look around for Sam, but he’s gone. “If anyone should be mad, it’s ‘Dine,” he shouts over his shoulder. In a quieter voice he adds, “Don’t tell them I said this, Brigandine, but I apologize on behalf of my bumbling alternate universe counterpart. Who knows what kind of weird traits IMPOST-Steve has that our version doesn’t!”

You already feel sick, and you haven’t drunk or eaten anything yet.

Stark drags you over to the catered wings and fills a plate for you without paying much attention to the cues you’re trying to give him, which is tipsy-typical. Honestly, you’re kind of grateful; with a plate piled high you’ll have every excuse to focus on your meal instead of the cluster around the Steves. Your gregarious boss at least carries it for you, and you indicate the farthest table. This earns you a bit of a concerned look, but you just clink your beer against his and tell him to shoo.

It’s interesting watching the seemingly identical men holding position, holding court, really, as the various Avengers and associated staff ebb and flow around them. It takes a good hour (and half of your plate) for each person to get some time with the newcomer, after which the lights dim a bit, along with everyone’s senses. This is the open-bar payment for the all-hands monthly midday meeting of the day before. Not all the attendees actually live at the compound; you only see the whole team once a month.

With the lights down low, your corner is practically dark, but when a familiar figure approaches, you know who it has to be.

“Have they settled on a name for you yet?”

“Tony seems to favor ‘Major America,’ which is better than I would have expected,” Not-Steve says as he pulls out a chair and settles into it. He turns his head toward you and smiles, the relaxed, almost-flirty kind you’ve always wanted from him. “I get the feeling that if it weren’t for the contrast in uniforms, most of these people wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.”

You make a non-committal noise and finish off your beer. It takes a few gulps, but he just watches, like there’s anything more to see than an anxious, embarrassed woman incredibly out of her depth.

“What about you?” you ask, afterwards.

“Well, we don’t have this complex, which I think I gave away when we met the first time. Tony asked me not to go too deep into the changes--”

“No, no, I get it,” you interrupt. “There could be something we don’t know about yet.”

“And vice versa, yeah. It might have taken longer for me to figure things out if it weren’t for one of the biggest differences. I’ve never seen you before.”

The half-bottle of alcohol hits you just as he says that, and you stare at him.

“Yeah, seeing Sam so comfortable with a complete stranger in a room that strangers probably shouldn’t be allowed in ticked some ‘danger’ boxes for me,” AU Steve says. 

The light from the only nearby lamp edges his profile in yellow, and you decide to call him Gold Steve in your head, because ‘AU’ is the periodic table symbol for gold, and that’s what passes for clever for you right now. You’re so proud of this that you miss the next thing he says, and have to ask him to repeat it.

“I said, how did you know? You knew right away.”

“Your hair is longer,” you say, a little too quickly.

Gold Steve tips his head sideways and regards you with a look that amplifies your blood alcohol content to dangerous levels. “It’s a subtle difference. You noticed that?”

“For all you know, it’s my job to keep everyone up to regs,” you joke. 

His slow, easy smile is familiar enough, but for the fact that you’re alone together in a dark corner. “I wouldn’t mind that at all,” he says warmly.

It’s time to get out of here before your lost dignity is your only legacy here at the Avengers compound. Already the tipsy feeling is fading, but the Steve Proximity Alarm is blaring at full volume.

You didn’t actually know how accurate the thought was until Gold Steve stands and gallantly (bafflingly) offers his arm, and you hear a second familiar voice behind you.

“I don’t think that’s necessary, is it? She just had the one beer.”

Gold Steve reaches up to rub the back of his neck, clearly chastened. “No, of course. Just instinct, I guess.”

“This is above my pay grade,” you squeak, and set off toward the door. You’d been looking forward to talking to Clint while he’s here. There’s a containment idea you’d had for some of his more dangerous arrows-- but there’s no way in hell you’re staying around to watch Steve Rogers talk Steve Rogers out of paying attention to you.

As you slip through the door, you hear one of them call out, “‘Dine, wait!” but you have no idea which one of them it is.

The next day brings with it a more detailed plan of what to do with Gold Steve. You’re on the periphery and busy with the planned upgrades to Sam and Clint’s gear, so you only hear about it at lunch. 

From Gold Steve himself.

You hadn’t even planned to go to the cafeteria area, but as always, your minifridge is sadly devoid of take-out when it really matters. The kitchen looks safe when you get there at two PM, late as usual, but in your defense, you were really caught up in the creative process. 

One of the things you love about the Avengers Compound is the random thoughtfulness scattered everywhere. In the cavernous freezer, there’s always a supply of various frozen meals, almost as if you were living back at home and digging in your mom’s fridge to find something she’d made two months ago. They’re made biweekly but eaten any old time, and you score a hit on the back bottom shelf: your very favorite hearty soup.

You’re mid-microwave with it when Gold Steve walks in to rinse out his bowl. Seems he’d made the same exact thing. You wonder who helped him, where that person is now, and why Stark had thought it necessary to design a kitchen with only one way in or out. Hasn’t he ever seen Jurassic Park?

“Oh, hello,” Gold Steve says. You aren’t looking over at him, but you can hear the smile in his voice. You don’t answer right away (because your brain is running through a fragmented list of things to say, and every time you grab one it’s garbled. ‘Soup is for the winter,’ is right out. ‘It’s nice to not expecting to see you here’ makes you nearly abandon the kitchen and push past him out of sheer desperation), and he fills the silence for you. “Oh, that smells familiar, is it the soup?”

You nod, hoping like hell that his version of Tony Stark hasn’t designed telepathy.

“Maybe it’s bad form to joke about it, but I wouldn’t mind taking that recipe back with me. If we figure out how to send me, of course.”

If this was your Steve you would have said something like, ‘I imagine we’d just write it down and put the notecard in your pocket.’ You do joke with the guy, it’s not like you never interact. It’s just that those interactions are as platonic as two houseplants sitting on the same indoor windowsill.

The microwave dings, and you excuse yourself to grab the spoon over near where Gold Steve is standing. After a stir and a taste determines it needs more time, you grit your teeth and start the timer for another minute.

“I’m sorry I make you so uncomfortable, if you don’t mind my saying.”

“You don’t!” you lie, but Gold Steve’s crossed arms lay on the guilt too much to ignore. “I’m… not used to the attention,” you say delicately. His brows furrow, and somehow there are still forty more seconds on the timer before you can be saved by the bell. “She who is seen and not heard?”

“I don’t believe that for a second. Sam Wilson hugged you at that thing last night, you don’t get there by being seen and not heard.”

“Yeah, well, I’m one of the only people who love Redwing as much as he does,” you mutter.

To your delight and horror, Gold Steve comes over and rests a heavy hand on the microwave door, inches away from you. “I cannot imagine being in a room with you and not seeing you,” he says.

The traitorous microwave beeps loudly, startling you sideways into his arm for one shocking second. You back away, saying the first thing that comes to your head.

“Why?” You close your eyes tightly as you realize you’re basically asking for a run-down of compliments from the guy, rushing to say, “I don’t mean that. I mean, I do, but I’m just--” 

You hear the sounds of the microwave being operated, and confused, you just stand there with one hand clapped over your mouth, eyes closed. After two loud beeps and the start button, the microwave runs for a few seconds, beeping loudly again. It’s so unexpected that you open your eyes and see Gold Steve with an encouraging look on his face, one hand held out placatingly in your direction.

“Can we start over?” he asks.

Next chapter...

[biteofcherry]

Hi Eva! I'm very intrigued by Soft Firm 101 👀

Heeee 😁 Soft Firm 101 is a continuation of Your Soft Doll, aka Steve and yours next video content in your dream library nook! It's of course spicy, but also disgustingly cute and flirtatious.

Here's my absolutely favorite moment from what I have so far:

You found it a bit weird that he didn’t greet you at the door, your confusion increasing as you heard him talking to someone as you walked inside. It sounded like a one-way conversation; Steve’s voice soft, if slightly resigned.  As you stepped into the open living space, you realized Steve resigned himself to the fate of a cat’s cuddlepole.  A fluffy, white cat held his forearm hostage, having wrapped all four limbs around it and purring loudly in contentment. Soft, vibrating sound only increased when Steve scratched behind its ear with his free hand. “You really are a pussy whisperer, huh?” You snorted, watching the whole scene in amusement. Steve’s head shot up and he stared at you for a moment, before bursting out laughing.  The sound of it - so deeply warm and infectious - startled the kitty, who let go of his arm and rolled away, only to stare at Steve in confusion.  Your pussy, in turn, was very much delighted by the sound and the sight of Steve. 

_________________

wip name game

[paperweight91]

Ok, Chelsea, what about this?

You just got back from staying with family over the holidays. When you go to make yourself some dinner you realize your cupboards are bare. So you rush out for an emergency grocery run. But oh no! When you get to the register, you realize you forgot your wallet. Luckily, there's a good samaritan in line behind you who offers to pay for your food.

Who is it?

Are they feeling generous or do they make you pay them back somehow??

Breakdown, Aisle 3

W/C:1012

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x reader

A/N: Okay so I had two immediate thoughts pop into my head for this, and in an amazing show of restraint I only did one of them. (Yes I’m patting myself on the back) but I have to say this is such a fun prompt that I feel like it could have gone soooo many different ways. I hope you like it lovely ☺️ comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

Your chest heaved on an exhale as you finally got on the highway. Christmas was always your favourite time of year, but your family was stressful to put it nicely. Knowing that you were just an hour away from home was enough to have you feeling so, so relaxed. You cranked up the radio to keep you awake on the drive and coasted home.

You came into your apartment feeling lighter, but also starving. That ravenous hunger that would only ever hit when you had pushed yourself for far too long without eating. Throwing your purse on the island, where it skidded across and fell off the other side making you huff. That was a later you problem, food first. You turned on a house flipping show for some background noise and started to look through your cabinets. Nothing. You checked your fridge. Not even milk.

Smacking your forehead you remembered why, donating a bunch of non-perishables for the holidays and throwing out your entire fridge before going to your parents maybe wasn’t the best idea you had. You groaned and stomped your foot, why you?

Collecting your purse off the floor you raced back down to the parking garage. You would pick up enough for dinner and something for breakfast before doing full groceries tomorrow. You went to the closest supermarket, a little on the higher end, but it would be fine for one night.

You made a beeline for the frozen food section, letting out a sad noise when nothing appealed to you. Maybe it was a snacks for dinner kind of night. A new plan in mind you grabbed all of your favourite snacks, and a few treats. You also grabbed a nice fresh loaf of French bread something you would rarely get just for yourself. Happy with your haul, you made your way to the barren checkout line.

Unloading your cart, you heard a huff behind you. Glancing up to see a striking man, with only one item. He was clean shaven with bright blue eyes, his hair swept back just so. He was glaring at the conveyer belt, a hand on his hip. You sighed, your hunger could wait for this impatient man, “do you want to go first?” As the question left your lips you heard the beep of your first item being scanned.

He rolled his eyes, and waved his hand dismissively. “Seems like it’s not an option now.”

Feeling heat in your face, you turned back to unloading as quickly as you could. Of course you would piss off the only stranger you run into in the supermarket. You rushed to bag your items, thankful you at least remembered your bags.

“That’ll be $85.50” the cashier looked so bored, you almost forgot they were there.

You pulled your purse up, rummaging through. Your movements got more urgent as your fingers kept missing the familiar square of your wallet. “No. No, no, no!”

The man behind you huffed again. “Really?”

You turned to him, panic written clearly across your face, causing his expression to morph from irritation to concern. Tears beaded in your eyes as you continued what you knew now was a wasteful search. “My, my wallet. It’s not…” you covered your face with your hands. You were so hungry. The stupid thing must be laying on your floor somewhere.

The stranger sighed this time, passing his lone box of cookies to the cashier, “Add this to the bill.” He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and quickly paid for the entire haul.

“Put the cart away.” His tone was soft, but it was clearly an order as he picked up all of your bags, tossing his cookies on top of on haphazardly. You stood in shock for a moment before he rolled his eyes at you and pointed at the cart. You jumped and quickly grabbed the cart, wheeling it back to the front of the store and putting it back in neatly. You heard a snort behind you.

Turning to glare at the haughty stranger, you found yourself softening as he gripped your grocery bags. You nodded and lead him out of the store towards your car. You popped the trunk, and he placed your bags carefully in the back. “Thank you,” you murmured. “I’m sorry about all that, I can’t believe I left my wallet at home.”

He closed your trunk, and leaned with one hand on the vehicle. He took in your full appearance. Starting from the old running shoes you had thrown on before leaving the house, coming all the way up to your hair, which you had thrown into a quick bun. “It’s nothing.” He said quietly. His petulant attitude seemed to have been left in the store.

“It’s not!” You’re quick to reply, “I just got back from spending the most exhausting visit with my family. And realized I was the idiot who decided to clean out my fridge before leaving. And then you swoop in to save me!”

The man still leaning against your, now has a road grin spreading across his face. “Ransom.” He says only that one word and you realize it’s his name. You give him yours and hold out your hand.

He takes your hand in a firm grasp. Not shaking, just holding. Your lashes flutter as you look up at him. “Would you maybe want to join me for a late night snack?” You’ve never done this before, what were you doing?

Ransom smirks and chortles slightly at your horror at your own words. “Well it’s the least you could do, since I did in fact buy it all.” He winked at you and you felt butterflies take off in your stomach. “Besides, I now need to know why your family is so exhausting. Because mine will make your head spin.” You laughed and reached back into your purse taking out your phone. The two of you exchanged numbers, and you texted him your address.

Maybe forgetting your wallet at home wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

[navybrat817]

Has no one asked about the gambler yet??? If not,

Kris, he's the only one no one has asked about! Let's discuss.

In this universe, Ransom is a gambler. He has money and loves the high he gets when he gambles. Managed to make a living out of it.

Loves giving the guys a hard time, particularly Curtis as he's the most recent addition to the group.

Car of choice: BMW 3.0 CSi, of course

Met you at a casino when you, a publisher, won a round of poker. He rarely loses and you carried yourself with confidence that rivaled his. He was hooked, though he likes to think you fell first.

First gift: Crystal Decanter Set

Favorite lingerie on you until he takes it off: Bustier with Garter Straps

Relationship status: Dating, but getting ready to propose

Another fun one. Love and thanks! ❤️

Silly Boys With Silly Toys

[bigtreefest]

Kris! When you first sent this, I was in a bitter, bitter mood and tbh Andy was making me mad. But now that I’ve slept it off, here are some Andy thots.

- well, first off, I can’t stop trying to read his lips. All I’ve got is “Jacob practically was at _____”

- but his eyes. Ohhh, look at them, there’s a sparkle of something in them. It’s teasing and a little condescending.

- let’s pretend he’s not saying what I think he’s saying, I think the two of you would be hosting a party at the house, and lock eyes across the room as you’re speaking with your respective friends. He grows a small smile with a tinge of mischief, and mouths for you to meet him upstairs. Except, you can’t quite read the last bit, so you just keep mouthing back ‘what?’ Until you accidentally say it out loud and everyone turns their head and looks at you with confusion. “Sorry, I’ve uh, gotta go check that we’ve got enough ice in the cooler. Could be a minute.” So he gets exactly what he wanted, but not nearly as discretely as intended

[foxgloveprincess]

Okay but like why has this got me so flustered????

God, if Lloyd just winked at me I’d be a puddle on the floor.

Thanks for the brilliant wake up, Kris. 😂 You’ve certainly made my day. 💜

[biteofcherry]

I'm working late today in an entirely empty office. I sure would love it if Curtis took me away!!

✨✨✨

It wasn't until you switched off your laptop and grabbed your purse from the cabinet behind you, that you realized the office has gone all quiet and dark.

No, not the office itself. Entire floor.

You were so immersed in finishing that report and scanning through the prospect for the chain of meetings next week, that you haven't noticed how everyone left. One by one.

They each said their usual goodbyes, but you replied mechanically, not fully conscious what was happening in the reality. Time flew, stealing last rays of sunlight and leaving the city submerged in starless darkness.

A chill jolted down your spine as you looked at the dots of light down below, where street lamps provided the only semblance of hope and safety in otherwise dangerous nights.

Thankfully, the metro station was right around the corner and it wasn't yet too late for it to be mostly empty.

As you left the office and waited for the elevator, the sense of uneasiness heightened. It crept up your skin, making the hair on the back of your neck stand.

Swallowing nervously, you looked around, but no shadow moved out of its place. You listened for any unusual sound, focusing on it so hard that the ping announcing the elevator's arrival nearly gave you a heart attack.

You clutched your bag to your side and tapped your foot nervously as the ride to the ground floor seemed to take forever.

Something was wrong. Something was lurking. You just didn't know what, yet.Or maybe it was time to take a break from the crime podcasts you've been listening to lately.

Ground floor was as eerily quiet as the rest of the building. Your heart hammered in your chest, your steps faltering, as you noticed the security guard wasn't there at the main desk.

Curtis, though a man of a few words and very serious about his job, always made you feel safe and a little more light when he exchanged a few words with you whenever you walked out of the building.

A vision of his dead, bloodied body entered your mind. Thankfully, it vanished a few seconds later when a beam from a flashlight caught your attention. Curtis was coming from around the corner. He nodded at you and directed the light of his flashlight at the main entry gate.

"You're not the last one tonight." He called across the hall. "Those lawyers from the twenty sixth floor are still in. I bet they're gonna spend the night."

"Thanks, Curtis!" You smiled at him and walked out with a renewed sense of safety.

Tomorrow, you'd bring Curtis a bag of blueberry muffins as a token of gratitude.

With a smile still softly curving your lips, you cut across the pavement toward the metro station. Until suddenly someone called your name.

Dread washed over you. Worse than what you felt in the mostly empty building mere minutes ago. Because you knew that voice. Soft, soothing, but the more dangerous for it.

You spent months trying to avoid him. Told him no, over and over again. It was as if he didn't listen at all. No matter how many times you ghosted him, or blocked him on social media, he always found a way to return into your life. And no one took your side, because he was so sweet and caring, so why couldn't you give him a real chance (as per your mother's reasoning).

"Cole," you whispered his name in fear.