Latest Posts by tsalyani - Page 2

As a writer I need everyone to know that whenever I write "exchanged glances" my intent is this

letters to milena

sleepy sex when you're both too tired to keep your eyes open and every stroke feels like heaven mhmmmm

Virginia Woolf, A Writer’s Diary, August 1921

Churches got a whole new appeal

Sanctuary

Pairing: Robert Pronge x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2,265 Summary: You weren't seeking refuge because you almost died, you were seeking refuge because of him.

Warnings: AU. Explicit language. Explicit sexual content. Demon!Robert. Soft!dark elements. Paranormal elements. Dub con. Sex in a church. Vaginal fingering. Telepathy. Unprotected sex. Lots of cum, sorry not sorry lol.

A/N: I want to try to get out some spooky/supernatural fics this month, so let's start by revisiting Deal with the Devil!Freezy, shall we?

You were never much for religion, but after your attack, and the way you had almost died, you found yourself sitting in the small, dimly lit church on the end of a rundown city block within walking distance of your apartment quite frequently.  

It wasn't some kind of subsequent faith that you now had after you survived that led you here, it was because you had survived, and the way in which you did.

It was because of him.

The stranger who had saved your life. 

You remembered the satisfaction in his dark, inhuman gaze as he had tasted your blood before drinking from your lips.

You remembered the unnatural flavor of sulfur that had lingered in your mouth for days after the kiss.

And you couldn't seem to escape the way he kept appearing in your dreams, reminding you that you were his now, that you owed him.

You weren't sure what that debt could possibly be or lead to, but you were certain that you didn't want to find out.

So you weren't paying homage to a miracle whenever you came to church, you were a terrified survivor seeking refuge.

Tonight was no different as you sat a few pews back from the church altar, tugging at the gold cross pendant around your neck as you stared off into the distance without seeing, enjoying a few moments of quiet, solitary sanctuary.

And then he spoke from behind you.

"If you were hoping you could hide from me here, sweetness, sorry to burst your bubble."

His voice was rough–almost ragged somehow–the gravelly sound making all your hair stand on end as you went rigid in your seat.

He leaned forward, his breath warming the nape of your neck before he suddenly snuffled along your skin, his nose dragging up the arc of your throat until he was inhaling along the delicate hollow just behind your ear, making you whimper.

You went to launch yourself from your seat, but one heavy hand of his on your shoulder, his fingers curling hard enough to make you whine in pain, kept you in place and enduring the way his teeth nibbled on your earlobe. 

Tears gathered in your eyes, and you were trembling so hard that you dropped your purse. Your head dipped to follow its descent, but suddenly a big, rough hand was gripping your throat and tipping your head back until your cheek was sliding against the stranger's and you shuddered at the soft scrape of his facial hair along your skin.

"What do you want from me?" you whispered, a few tears finally escaping as you stared up at the church ceiling.

A husky laugh rushed past your cheek before he spoke his reply against your ear, "Think I can come up with something."

Between one blink and another, you were gone from your seat and suddenly in one of the dark, empty back hallways of the church. You were far away from the main space, from other people, your frantic mind trying to comprehend how you got here without moving, and so quickly, too.

Those thoughts were lost to you as the stranger pressed you against the wall, his body sinking flush against yours as he gently mouthed along the side of your throat, pausing at your pulse point and dragging his rough tongue over the fluttering spot.

"Please," you choked out, turning your face away and squeezing your eyes shut, not wanting to meet that unnatural gaze of his that had been seared in your brain since that night.

"Already did you one favor, honey, you sure you wanna make it two?" he teased.

As silence stretched on between you, his hand dropped along your body, shifting your sweater up and out of the way until he could thumb at the raised scar on your stomach, the mark that had been with you ever since that night in the alley.

It was instant, the way the warm drag of his skin over yours had a flash of agonizing pain shooting through you, the contact stealing your breath away completely as you went rigid and clenched your teeth against a scream.

"Promise what I want will feel much better than that," he husked against your ear.

He pulled back to watch the terror flashing in your gaze as you stared at him in horror like it was his favorite TV show, a wicked grin curling his lips as he basked in your distress. 

He held your gaze the entire time he worked open the front of his pants before doing the same to yours. When you struggled just a little, trying to shove him away, he encircled your throat in his massive hand and squeezed hard enough to cut off your airflow, his teeth bared in a sneer and his eyes twinkling with victory as you whimpered and went still against him.

As you surrendered to him and his dark desires.

You jerked at the first touch of his fingers to your bare cunt, your panties and work slacks bunched around your knees as this terrifying stranger pet along your most intimate parts like he had every right to.

"I do," he murmured. 

He smirked as your eyes went wide at the way his words were in reply to your thoughts.

Then he slowly sank two fingers into you as he husked, "I told you the cost of saving your life that night, that you're mine now." He licked at your parted lips as his fingers plunged deeper and rubbed. "And so is this cunt."

You couldn't help the sound that fell past your lips, the love child of a moan and a whine, and you weren't sure if was because what he was doing–how he was touching you–actually felt good, or because your body was betraying you by growing so sinfully wet at his wicked touch.

"There you go, sweet girl," he breathed against your lips, his fingers railing you harder. "Feels good, doesn't it?"

You tried to turn your face away instead of answering, but his grip on your neck just tightened, keeping you in place–trapped in his gaze–as he played with your pussy until your insides began to flutter and your thighs started to quake with your impending orgasm.

Just as you felt the first wave of your release cresting, his fingers retreated from your greedy hole, and a disappointed whine got trapped in the back of your throat.

He winked at you before gripping his hard cock in the hand he had just used to work you over, humming as he smeared your juices down the long, curved length of him.

You stared down between your bodies, feeling your cunt clench at the sight of his cock - you'd never seen one so big before, and curved like that, white droplets of pre-cum oozing from the crown as he slowly stroked and squeezed himself in preparation.

When he took a moment to yank off your panties and pants entirely, taking your ballet flats with them as he kicked everything a few feet away, you didn't even resist, in some kind of lust-addled state and desperate to know what that big, thick cock of his felt like inside of you.

"You're about to find out, sweetness," he laughed. 

His free hand dropped to your leg, gripping your thigh and hitching it up around his waist, opening you up for him as he took his weeping cock in hand and slowly filled you up right there against the wall. 

Your hand shot out to grip his shirt, your fingers fisting in response to the slow stretch and burn that was his cock plunging its way inside you for the first time, until your eyes were rolling back in your head, and your back bowed at the invasion.

"Mmm, fuck, that's it," he purred, giving a few rocks of his hips until he was bottoming out and you were gasping sharply at just how deep he was inside of you. 

Dazed, you blinked at him, a distant part of you registering the way his eyes were entirely black now as he gazed at you, and you weren't sure if you clenched around him hard in fear or excitement that someone was looking at you like that.

Like they could not wait to fucking eat you alive.

Another husky laugh fell from his lips as he said, "Oh, honey, that's the understatement of the century."

And then he started to move.

The first retreat of his cock was slow–almost careful–that inhumanly dark gaze watching you avidly as he departed just enough to leave the mushroom head of his cock stretching your hole before sinking back into you slow and deep enough to take you up to your tiptoes.

You squeaked at the invasion, your thighs already trembling, and he grinned at you. His pace picked up until he was gripping the undersides of each of your thighs in one of his hands as he fucked you against the wall hard enough to have you gasping and whining and whimpering with every snap of his hips.

And it didn't go unnoticed by you, how every single time one of those noises escaped you, you could feel his cock throb inside of you. 

The latest round of this sinful give and take made you moan as you clutched him closer and started rocking against him just as hard–just as desperately–as he was moving inside of you.

"Fuck," he laughed breathlessly, amused by your enthusiasm as a glimmer of red flashed through his eyes. "You may just be my favorite indebted yet, sweetness. Haven't felt a cunt this good in a long time. And you're so fucking into it too, you sweet little slut. Really hit the jackpot with you, huh?"

Whining at his words and the way they had your insides clenching and pulsing, you dropped your head back against the wall, feeling the peak of your pleasure closing in quickly.

"Oh no, honey, keep those pretty eyes open and fixed on me, wanna see that fucked out look as you cum for me."

Your eyes blinked open, glassy as you fisted his shirt tighter, your breath catching in your chest as that tightly wound coil deep inside of you finally, blessedly snapped.

You gave a sharp cry of pleasure as your body went taut before your orgasm rushed through you, gasping and moaning as you rocked against his cock, wanting to feel him even more than before, deeper and harder and owning you completely.

"Mmm, I can do that," he purred, dropping his forehead to yours, gripping your thighs tighter, and hammering into you without relent as you rode out your first orgasm before quickly descending into your second.

"Oh god," you cried, slinging an arm around his neck to hold on for dear life as he let loose and started going at you even harder, like a man possessed. 

"Not quite," he panted, splitting you open with one hard, deep rut of his cock after another. "Not even close, actually."

And it was the raspy, wicked husk of his laugh that had you cumming one final time, your body trembling and clenching, rattling with another powerful wave of ecstasy as your pussy rejoiced to be so full and so thoroughly, thoroughly fucked.

"Mmmm, god, that's it, fuck me," the stranger groaned, the next thrust of his cock going impossibly deep and lingering as you felt an unnaturally warm bloom of heat within you. 

Another soft gasp fell from your lips as his next thrust had another hot wave flooding your insides, and you could feel it, the unnatural heat and volume of his spend as he continued to pump you full of it with one eager rut of his cock after another. 

Just when you thought he was done, he sank against you, his face burrowing against the crook of your neck before you felt the sharp pierce of his teeth and a white hot flash of pain as he bit you, just hard enough to draw blood that he could lap at as he rode out his own orgasm with a few final snaps of his hips. 

The unexpected pain had another small orgasm rocking through your pussy, and he laughed against your neck as he felt it, groaning as you milked his cock and sent some of his cum leaking out of your overstuffed cunt and dripping down his balls.

Once his breathless pants died down, he pulled out of you with a satisfied hum, guiding you back to your feet and smirking at the way you wobbled and sagged back against the wall, your sweater rucked up your stomach and his ample amount of cum leaking down your thighs.

He watched you as he slowly redid his clothes, seeming unbothered by tucking away his still messy cock before shooting you a wicked grin. He stepped close, eyes sparkling as your breach caught and you stared up at him in a mixture of fear and awe. 

"You can keep coming here if you want, sweetness," he murmured, gently stroking your warm cheek with his knuckle. Then he leaned in close, so his next words filled your ear, "But really, at the end of the day, and especially after this, you should be worshiping at my altar."

Grinning, he pulled back and stole an obscenely thorough kiss from your parted lips. Then he shot you a wink, disappeared before your eyes, and left you standing there half-naked with his cum cooling on your thighs and the copper tang of your own blood staining your tongue.

WAIT. I KIND OF LOVE THIS?? 

Please take a moment to comment and share your response/reaction/the status of your panties 😘

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by ilonaramona

ok, because i just saw a terrible take, i feel compelled to say that there is no "fic market" to "oversaturate" in fandom. good gravy.

This is beautifully written but the audacity of this man?

Promise Not to Promise Anymore

Pairing: Andy Barber x reader

Warnings: Drinking, mentions of cheating, angst

Word count: 2448

A/N: This is an idea that I’ve been struggling with for a while, I’m so glad I’ve finally been able to get the words to sort themselves out. Special thank you to @krirebr for helping me so much with the process. Without you literally nothing would ever be posted here 😂. (Yes I am aware that I barely post…I’m working on it!) Any feedback that you could leave would be really appreciated. ❤️

The day had been uneventful, boring, normal. But something about the day had your skin crawling. You weren’t sure what had set you off, and yet here you were pacing. Something you only did when you were anxious.

Your phone chirped with another notification, probably one of your socials. Your anxiety had you reaching for it immediately. Seeing the name of your ex pop up on the screen had your stomach dropping immediately. Neither of you had reached out in months. The man who had blustered out of your life as fast as he had blustered in was texting you.

You threw the phone onto the couch without reading the notification. Sure you could find out immediately what he wanted if you actually read the text, instead you screamed into the throw pillow. Your mind began to run with all of the possibilities of why this man would choose now to text you. Did he want money? Was he dying? Was he texting just to let you know how little you meant to him?

The last one, it was definitely the last one.

You stood from the couch and glared at the small black rectangle that had ruined your otherwise boring day. Your phone chirped again, and you physically recoiled from the sound. Deciding a drink would help with whatever it was your ex wanted you dazedly walked to the kitchen. When you opened the fridge, your gaze immediately found the bottle of wine you had bought on a whim on the weekend. Something the lady at the grocery store had recommended since you looked so lost in the wine section. Grabbing the bottle and bypassing a glass was the best way to handle this conversation you decided.

You sat on the couch, taking a long pull from the neck of the bottle before reaching for your phone. Taking a deep breath to calm your nerves you unlocked the phone screen and tapped on the messages icon. There was his name in big bold letters: Andy. You hesitated as your finger hovered over the message, you could see his second message clearly Are you too busy to talk now? Maybe you could just not read it. Or read them and never respond. Or read them and respond later.

You hated every single one of those options, because you knew as soon as you opened these messages you’d be responding immediately. You took another long pull from your bottle, and placed the phone back down beside you. You needed your mind to stop. The thinking, the over-thinking, it was too much. You flipped on the TV to distract yourself and curled up like a cat. Your phone chirped again from under a throw pillow, and you pointedly ignored it.

You weren’t ready to deal with Andy. You had thought when he ended things that you would never hear from him again. Devastated. That was the only word you could use to describe how you felt after he left. You still didn’t even understand why he had ended things, only that he clearly hadn’t felt as strongly as you did about him.

There was another chirp that had you sighing and grabbing for your phone. You had to deal with it, or he wouldn’t stop. That was Andy. You pulled up the messages anticipating at least a double text, but completely unprepared for all the messages he had sent you,

I know this is out of the blue, but I need to speak to you.

Are you too busy to talk now?

Please Honey, I need to talk to you.

It’s important.

Honey…

Of course, the man could double text you, but would refuse to supply what he actually wanted to speak to you about. You typed out several potential responses before deciding on something polite but to the point.

Andy, I can talk. What’s going on?

You didn’t have to wait long for Andy’s equally to the point response.

Can I call you?

You stared at the message for a moment. You knew you couldn’t hear his voice, it would take you right back to where you were. All those months ago when he broke your heart. All the hurt, and the anger, it would be right there.

As you debated what to say, your phone began to ring. The man had absolutely no patience. You stared at his name, and without thinking answered the phone.

“Hello…” You sat and waited for him to say his peace, how bad could it be.

”Honey, I’m sorry.” You shuddered as Andy’s voice came through the phone. You forgot how his deep timbre had always made you feel comforted, and safe, and warm. “How are you doing? I know I shouldn’t be…I don’t…Are you okay?”

You hesitated before you answered. Months ago you would’ve known exactly what to say to Andy to make him feel better. Now it felt like you were talking to a stranger. “I’m fine Andy. Why are you hammer messaging me?”

Andy chuckled lightly, and you smiled at the lilting notes. “You haven’t changed.” Your eye twitched at that comment. “I just, I needed to hear your voice, Honey.”

”So you messaged me repeatedly?” You could hear the annoyance in your tone, which meant that Andy could hear it ten times louder.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done this…” Andy trailed off and sighed. You huffed and pulled the phone away from your ear for a moment so you could murmur your annoyance to yourself.

”Just say it Andy, why did you reach out? Why are we on the phone?” You pulled at the threads on the throw pillow under your arm.

“I miss you.”

You felt the air leave your lungs. You couldn’t have heard him right. He missed you? No, no he was dying, or broke, or literally anything else.

“You-what?” You spluttered out the only thought that came to your mind.

Andy chuckled nervously, “I miss you. I miss your smile, and your laugh. I miss the way your forehead pinches when you’re focused. I miss the way you would take care of me. The moment I ended things? I knew I had made a mistake, and so I told myself that it was kinder to you, to just move on.”

You sat there in silence, shocked at his sudden declarations. “Why, why did you end things? What happened? Andy, I loved you so much, and then out of nowhere you just up and ended things.”

You heard Andy sigh on the other end of the phone. You could picture him scrubbing his hand down his face and scratching at the beard hairs on his chin. His nervous habit. “I got scared, I think.” He chuckled again, “I know it’s not a good excuse…”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s a terrible excuse Andy. What scared you? That I loved you? That I wanted to be a part of your life? Please tell me, what exactly scared you so badly that you ended the best relationship I’ve ever had?”

You slapped a hand over your mouth. You hadn’t meant to let all of that out.

There was a long drawn out silence. “I think it was how strongly I felt about you. I was…scared of what that meant. Before I met you I thought I knew what love was. I was sure I had felt it. But once that feeling truly hit me? I couldn’t actually function.” Andy sighed again, “This isn’t coming out right.”

You took another long pull off of your bottle of wine. You let Andy’s words roll over in your mind. Could he actually be telling the truth? His love for you was so strong that he got scared. It just didn’t seem right, there was something else, there had to be.

“So what you’re saying is, our love was too much for you?” Your tone rang with annoyance and a little bit of desperation. You remembered any time you had tried to get something out of Andy that he didn’t want to tell you, how carefully you’d have to tread, otherwise he would shut down. As much as you wanted to tell him off, end the call and block his number forever. There was still a part of you that needed to know the real reason, so before Andy could respond you continued. “Andy, as much as I love this game of cat and mouse we’re playing, where it’s like pulling teeth to get information out of you,” You heard him softly chuckle on the other end of the line, “I just need the truth, maybe it will hurt me, maybe it won’t but I need it.”

There was a long silence on the line. Although it made you nervous and want to say something to fill it, you sat and sipped on your slowly warming wine while you waited for his response. Your bluntness would have one of two effects: either he would fold and tell you what you wanted, no needed to know, or he would shut down and it would be months, if ever, before you heard from him again.

His heavy sigh preceded his response, “You’re right, and wrong.” He paused as if he was gathering his thoughts. “It is true that the feeling of love between us scared me, but it’s also that it scared me so much that…”

”That what?” You knew what he was going to say, felt it deep within your soul. Your heart was about to be broken by Andy Barber once again, and what was worse, you had practically asked him to do it this time.

”I slept with someone else. It only happened once, but it was before I ended things.”

“I see.” It was all you could get out. You could feel the twisting in your chest again, the anger burning behind your eyes, the tears welling and choking you with their strength.

”I’m so sorry Honey. As soon as it was over I knew I had fucked up. But I also knew if that I couldn’t be with you still, it wasn’t fair to you.” You could hear the pleading in his voice, and it only made the anger burn stronger. Like his words had lit a match and poured kerosene over top.

“So you called me now, to…what? Make yourself feel better?” Your breathing was hard, almost panting in your anger.

”I don’t know why I’m calling. I just know that I’ve regretted that decision ever since. I miss what you brought to my life: the pure joy, the love I could feel down to my core.” Andy’s voice was strained. It was only then that you realized he was crying.

”Are you drunk Andy?” It was the only time you had ever seen him cry, when he had one too many with the boys after work.

”No, I swear. I promise Honey, I haven’t had a drink tonight.”

You took another sip of wine. Contemplating the truth in Andy’s words, the burn of his betrayal. This was just too much.

“Well I’m glad you’ve finally told me the truth Andy. Even if it is months later.” You hugged your throw pillow to your chest as you prepared yourself to say the words that you knew would hurt him as much as they would hurt you. “I can’t forgive you, for any of it. Please, just leave me alone.”

Before you could second guess your decision, you hung up the phone. You stared blankly at the TV screen, not even remembering what you had put on in the first place. What shook you from your reverie was a dull thud from your door. Like someone had just planted their forehead against it.

You stood and quickly crossed the room to check what the noise was. It was only once your hand was on the handle you knew: Andy. You unlocked the door, and twisted the handle slowly, knowing the man who had destroyed you not once, but twice was standing on the other side.

When your eyes connected with his, you could feel all of the love, joy and affection come flooding back. It took everything within you to not jump into his arms and sob until you had nothing left. Instead you gripped the doorframe like it was the only thing holding you up.

”Honey…” Andy’s voice was just above a whisper, so quiet that you weren’t even sure you heard it. His hands reached out and thumbed at the tears quietly streaming down your face. “Oh Honey, I’m so sorry.”

With that he pulled you against his chest. You could smell the high end cologne he wore to work, and the underlying scent of pure Andy. The warmth of his chest and his arms wrapping around your back had you losing all control. You sobbed with abandon into his neck, no words leaving your lips. Andy scooped you up and walked you both into your apartment. Using his foot to shut the door behind him.

He sat down on your couch, with you tucked against his chest and began murmuring quietly to you. You couldn’t make out most of it, but did catch the odd word. “Shh Honey.” “I know, I’m so sorry.” “Just let it out, okay?”

When you finally felt like you could cry no more, you pulled your face from Andy’s neck. You could feel how swollen your eyes were, in fact your whole face felt puffy. “I still don’t forgive you.”

Andy let out a full belly laugh at your meekly spoken words. To which you glared at him and crossed your arms across your chest.

”Okay, okay.” He wheezed in a breath, “I’m sorry Honey. Please just give me a chance to make it up to you. Even if that means I don’t get to feel your love again, let me just try to make this right.”

You reached out and stroked his cheek. Feeling his soft skin contrast with the roughness of his beard. You could see the dark circles under his eyes, see the grayness of his skin. “I need time Andy.”

He sighed, and let his eyes flutter shut. “Of course Honey, whatever you need.”

You reluctantly stood from his embrace, “Please leave Andy, I’ll call you when I’m ready.”

He nodded solemnly. Andy stood, he moved to hug you, but you took a few steps out of his reach. He nodded again before heading for the door.

”Honey?” His back was still to you.

”Yeah?”

”I still love you, more than anything. And I promise to do everything I can to show you that.”

”Andy, maybe we should both promise not to promise anymore.”

Taglist: @stargazingfangirl18 @krirebr @rebeccapineapple @precious1610 @bval-1 @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @thezombieprostitute

Dammit I was hoping I was wrong and Bunny would actually have someone that wouldn’t betray her

The Ties That Bind 1

Pairing: Ari Levinson x Fem!Reader x Mike Weiss (the Mike stuff will be brief) Word Count: 13,510 Summary: Your whole life, all you wanted was to be part of the Devil’s Advocates inner circle, but you were relegated to a tagalong, often forgotten unless someone needed something from you. You were invisible, to everyone, well, everyone except him. Warnings: Biker AU. Explicit language. Explicit sexual content. Soft!dark Ari if you squint. Mike is a bad friend (all the DAs kind of are). Reader is on the periphery of the DAs and kind of just…forgotten 🥺 Reader is sweet, shy, & socially awkward; she’s also sensitive & struggles w/anxiety. Mentions of drug use, addiction, almost dying from an overdose, & Narcotics Anonymous. Caring for a parent with Alzheimer’s. Verbal abuse. Attempted assault. Mentions of a size difference. Panic attack. Gaslighting, manipulation, & attempted blackmail. Angst. 

A/N: Oh hoe hoe, my dear friends. This is the Devil's Advocates storyline I've personally been waiting for. It's been living rent free in my mind for ages, and I am just so stoked to share it with you. I couldn’t resist submitting this first part for my Birthday Bonenanza 😊 I think this story will likely be a few parts at least, and SHOCKER: there’s only a hint of smut in this first part, so we are starting hard with plot and setup, for once LOL. I hope you enjoy this, and I can't wait to hear what you think. Enjoy! ❤️

Prompts: Biker AU + Shy!Reader + Surprise plot twist!

Your attention was pulled from the spreadsheets filling your computer screen when you heard the rumble of a truck engine outside, then the crunch of gravel beneath tires as a vehicle parked in the lot beside your small office building.

Perking up in your seat, you smoothed down the front of your new blouse. Well, new to you, since it was from the thrift shop, but you still liked it and took a second to make sure it was neatly tucked into your skirt as you straightened your spine and smiled as the front door opened and your boss, Mike Weiss, appeared.

Mike was so much more than your boss though. 

He was your life-long friend. He was a Devil's Advocate. And he was your crush.

It was silly, you knew that, to still carry a torch for him after all of these years, but you just couldn't help it. 

His father and yours had been close, an older generation of the DAs biker gang, so Mike had been a fixture in your life for as long as you could remember.

You may have grown apart over the years, but staying local to Newton helped, as did applying for the job as his administrative assistant at his small accounting firm.

Over the years, your role had grown to being an admin for all of the Advocates' legal business, not just the accounting firm but also Frank's Auto Repair and Everett Construction. You even helped with the backend for Jo's Pub, since both Andy and Curtis were partners with Jo on that establishment, too.

You couldn't ride a motorcycle, and you weren't an "old lady" to one of the crew (yet!), but you helped and were involved in your own small way. 

Even if it was overlooked more often than not.

Shaking that ungrateful thought from your mind, you smiled bigger as you greeted Mike, watching as he juggled his briefcase, a to-go cup of coffee, and his cell phone that was buzzing with an incoming message. 

"Morning, pip," he shot you a small smile.

You tried not to grimace at the nickname. Pip, short for pipsqueak, which Mike and some of the others used to call you when you were children because you were younger and smaller than all of them.

It wasn't the most flattering nickname, but it was yours, and from them, so you shrugged it off, quickly rising from your seat to take Mike's briefcase and coffee from his hands.

"Thanks," his smile grew bigger in gratitude as he followed you into his office. 

Rounding his desk, you set down his things and lingered to see if he needed anything. 

Mike took a moment to type out a quick reply on his phone before setting it aside, unbuttoning his suit blazer, and dropping into his seat with a sigh.

"So, what's on the agenda for today?" he asked, reaching for his coffee and taking a drink.

"I'm almost done with the data exports for the monthly P&Ls," you told him. "No meetings though, so it should be fairly quiet."

"My favorite kind of day," Mike grinned. "Maybe we'll both be able to clock out early, but shhh, don't tell the boss."

You giggled at his joke, your eyes soft as you watched him for a moment. 

He was looking much better these days, his pallor healthier, the bags beneath his eyes not so dark. Even at his worst, addiction wise, Mike was always a very good looking guy. 

You resisted the urge to sigh a little, stuffing down the anxiety that bubbled up in your gut as you looked him over, trying to spot even a hint that he was using again despite his promise that he was attending his daily Narcotics Anonymous meetings and clean for the first time in years.

You had been the one who found him when he overdosed six months ago, right here in this very office, and you didn't want to miss the signs again.

That awful moment would forever be ingrained in your brain, when you walked in and found Mike passed out on the floor, pale as a ghost and barely breathing as he laid in a pool of his own vomit.

You remember thinking he was dead and being more scared and devastated than you had ever been in your life.

"Anything else?" Mike's voice pulled you back to the present moment.

You wrung your hands, trying to shake out the sudden bout of anxious energy as you mustered a smile and shook your head. "No, but let me know if you need anything." You hesitated before asking. "You're…good?"

There was a flash of something in Mike's eyes at your trembling tone, something that let you know that he got your meaning, knew what you were really asking, and his smile faltered for a beat, even as his features softened. 

"I'm all good. Really."

"Okay, good," you nodded, swallowing nervously and blinking back the sudden wave of tears burning at the back of your eyes.

You weren't sure why you were feeling so emotional all of the sudden. Maybe because you loved Mike and just truly wanted him to be okay, to be happy and healthy, to thrive.

That's what you wanted for everyone, but especially Mike.

"I mean, I'm always good when I have you by my side, pip. We both know I couldn't function, let alone run this business, without you," Mike teased.

You shot him a shy smile, murmuring a quiet, "I don't know about that," before turning on your heel. You got as far as Mike's open doorway before his voice made you pause.

"How's your dad doing?" he asked. 

You slowly turned back to him, touched by his question. Then you tried not to be disappointed when you realized he was only half-paying attention to your answer as he scooped up his buzzing phone to reply to another text message.

But you knew Mike was a very busy man, and yet he still took a moment to ask about your father.

To ask a very loaded question.

Your dad's Alzheimer’s had progressively gotten worse, especially over the past year. You barely even recognized him anymore. His mood swings and the hurtful things he said to you…

It was a lot, and so very difficult. But you knew it wasn't really him saying those things. He was barely him most of the time anymore, and it was heart-breaking to watch–especially as a daddy's girl–the way someone you loved so much was diminishing more and more each day, right before your eyes.

"Uh," you hesitated, deflating when you realized Mike was all but ignoring you at this point anyway. "He's okay, thanks for asking."

"Huh?" Mike blinked up at you, then caught up to the conversation, smiling, "Yeah, of course! You know I'm here if you need anything, pip, anything at all."

You nodded before quickly darting from his office, your face warming as you imagined actually taking Mike up on his offer. 

Expressing your need for him. 

And maybe not the kind he was expecting, not at all. 

Not from you.

Eyes going distant for a moment as you imagined him sweeping you up against him in his office, gently cupping your face with his big hands, staring into your eyes as he slowly inched closer, until his lips were hovering right over yours, until–

You startled as your office phone rang, feeling more warmth rush through you at your ridiculous fantasy. 

Shaking your head at yourself, you pressed your cool hands to your hot cheeks before you answered the phone with much more pep in your voice than you actually felt.

"Oh, now I can run some errands before the post work rush," Amelia, your father's home caretaker, smiled at you, clapping in excitement as she rushed to gather her things. 

Mike had made good on his promise to let you leave early after a pretty quiet work day, so you had stopped at the grocery store to grab a few things so you could make your father's favorite dinner before returning home.

You smiled as Amelia stopped before you, reaching out with her soft, weathered hand to cup your cheek. She was much older than you, almost as old as your father, but you would never know it because she had such youthful energy. 

Over the past few years, she had become so much more than your father's caretaker, she had become a dear friend, and you appreciated her so much. You loved her like family.

"You sweet, beautiful girl," she cooed, tugging you close and pressing a kiss to your forehead. Her voice lowered as she glanced across the living room to where your father was sitting in his recliner, watching TV. "He had a pretty good day today, was more lucid than he's been in ages."

You brightened instantly, your smile growing hopeful as you glanced between Amelia and your dad. "Really?"

"Mmmhmm," she gave you a soft smile, patting your cheek before stepping away. "I'll see you tomorrow, love."

"Thanks, Amelia, have a nice evening." 

You walked her to the door, giving her a final wave and smile before closing it behind you and turning toward your dad.

You moved closer, hovering beside his chair for a moment. Your father looked so frail these days. Sometimes it was hard to believe he used to be a big, strong biker, a Devil's Advocate.

Your hero.

Blinking back the moisture in your eyes, you smiled, "I'm gonna make your favorite for dinner, baked ziti, how's that sound?"

Your father blinked, slowly pulling his foggy gaze from the TV, his eyes lighting with warm recognition as he looked up at you. "Sounds good, honey. You take such good care of me."

He reached for you and you offered your hand, feeling a lump swell in your throat as he gently patted your hand between his with a sigh. 

"You're such a good girl."

And then his eyes returned to the TV and glazed over once more.

Inhaling a shaky breath, you made your way into the kitchen and got started on dinner. 

A few hours later, you were seated at the small dining table in the corner of the kitchen, picking at your dinner when your father suddenly slammed his glass down hard on the table.

"This isn't right!" he growled. 

Startled, you glanced up from your plate and gaped at him, confused. "W-what–?"

"Can't even follow a simple recipe, huh? This isn't how your mother made it," your father sneered down at his plate before flipping it off the table and onto the floor. 

"Daddy!" you gasped, leaning over in your chair to frown at the mess of pasta, cheese, and broken bits of ceramic now littering the kitchen tile. 

"You can't do anything right!" your father gritted, heaving himself to his feet. 

He planted his big hands on the table and leaned across it, until you were cowering in your seat and watching him with big, tear-filled eyes.

"I told you to carve your way into the inner fold, keep up my legacy with the club, but you're so damn worthless. You're invisible, to all of them."

It took you a moment to even follow his chaotic train of thought, from dinner to the Devil's Advocates. You processed his hurtful words, some of which were ones you had often thought to yourself, especially in those moments of suffocating loneliness when you had no one to talk to, no one to lean on as you struggled to buckle under the weight that had been thrust upon you.

"I-I'm not," you trembled at last. "They're my friends."

Your father's snort was derisive. "You don't have any friends, and we both know it. Pathetic."

You flinched at the insult–and the truth of it–watching as your father spared you one final sneer before shuffling from the kitchen. You heard the creak of his recliner as he took his preferred seat, and a moment later, the TV was blaring with some evening sports show. 

Sniffling to yourself at the sudden, awful turn the night had taken, you slowly rose from your chair. You scraped your dinner into the trash bin before cleaning up the mess your father made. 

Your hands trembled as you covered the baked ziti tray with some foil and stowed it in the fridge. You moved to the sink and did the dishes on autopilot for a few moments before you suddenly glanced up to the window over the sink.

You stared at your sad, teary reflection in the glass.

All alone.

Trapped in your childhood home with a warped, broken shadow of your father. 

You wondered suddenly what Mike and the others were doing.

They were probably at Jo's, where they spent most nights together. Having dinner and drinks. Playing pool. Together. All of them. Like a family.

Without you.

Feeling your lower lip tremble, you sniffed back more tears, trying your best to focus on the dirty dishes that needed cleaning instead of feeling sorry for yourself. 

No matter how much it was warranted.

You were just starting to wrap up your work day when the front door opened and Curtis filled the doorway of the office.

"Hey," he greeted you with a small smile, which grew bigger when his fiancée, Peaches, poked her head around his bicep and waved at you. 

"Oh my god, I haven't seen you in a million years!" she grinned, stepping around Curtis to move toward you and sweep you up in a hug. "How are you?"

Overwhelmed by the sudden attention–and their unexpected arrival–you just smiled stupidly for a moment before you processed her question and gave a flustered response. 

"Oh, I'm, I'm okay, thanks. Congrats on the engagement," your smile was more genuine now as Peaches flashed you her ring before giving a dreamy sigh. 

"He did good, didn't he?"

"He did," you laughed, glancing over at Curtis who looked torn between embarrassed and soft as he watched Peaches with figurative hearts in his eyes.

And god, what you wouldn't give to have someone look at you like that.

A certain someone even…

Shaking yourself quickly, you glanced between the two of them with curiosity.

"So, what brings you by?" you asked, clicking into business mode despite the late hour. 

"We just wanted to pass off some tax paperwork and receipts before I lose them," Curtis gave you a wry grin as he passed over a large, brown envelope. 

"I'm whipping him and his business into shape," Peaches smiled proudly as she hugged Curtis' arm and shot him a wink. 

Laughing, you stored the envelope in your desk drawer. "I'll go through and file everything tomorrow." 

"Is Mike still around?" Curtis asked. 

"Oh no," you shook his head. "He had an off site meeting and said he likely wouldn't be back before I closed up."

"He'll probably head straight to Jo's," Peaches hummed. Her eyes lit up as she glanced at you. "You should come, too!"

Your mouth actually dropped open at the invitation, even as your tummy swooped with excitement. "Me? Really?"

Peaches' smile softened. "Yeah, of course. You're always welcome, you know that."

Your wide gaze nervously shifted from her to Curtis, but his smile was just as soft as hers, his eyes just as warm. 

"You should come," he confirmed. "Dinner will be my treat."

"Oh no, you don't have to," you immediately started to decline his kind offer, but Curtis waved away your words. 

"It's a done deal." 

"Yay!" Peaches was already bounding toward the door, but Curtis lingered, waiting for you to gather your things before he stepped closer. 

Your brows furrowed as he pulled another envelope from his inner jacket pocket, this one smaller, white, and thick. 

"Should I put that with your tax paperwork?" you asked. 

"No, this is for you." Curtis handed over the envelope.

Confused, you peeked inside, eyes widening as you spied a stack of hundred dollar bills. "What…I–"

"I know things must be difficult with your father and the care he needs, so I…we," he corrected. "Just wanted to help."

"Curtis," your voice quavered with emotion as you kept your watery eyes on the envelope of cash, too embarrassed and overwhelmed to meet his gaze. 

You didn't think any of them knew just how hard it was, how you had drained all of your savings for your father's care and to continue to pay his mortgage and living expenses on top of your own.

How the financial aspect of it wasn't even the worst part and how you would sell everything you had–even your soul–to make him better again if you could. 

"I can't take this," you finally whispered, the idea of being a burden to anyone, to the DAs especially, making anxiety churn in your gut.

"You can and you will." Curtis' big hand came into your line of vision and he gently took the envelope from your shaking fingers before tucking it securely in your purse. "Hey."

You glanced up at him from beneath your lashes. 

"You know you can ask for help when you need it, right?" he ducked his head, hands squeezing your shoulders as he gave you a serious–bordering on stern–look. "We take care of our own, you know that."

And the thought that Curtis, at least, thought of you as one of them–thought of you at all–made something warm and fond bloom in your chest, just for him.

You resisted the urge to hug him as you nodded instead, trembling out a quiet, "Yes, of course. Thank you." Sniffling, you laughed at yourself as you batted away a stray tear. "Thank you, Curtis, really."

He gave you a small smile, squeezing your shoulders one last time before the front door was swinging open again and Peaches gave you both the stink eye. 

"Excuse me, but I am starving, and if you both don't get your asses into gear, I am leaving without you and eating both of your dinners in addition to mine."

Huffing a laugh, Curtis grinned at you. "She will, she's a bottomless pit when she's hangry."

"You love that about me," Peaches scoffed before shooting you a wink.

Laughing, you felt a stir of hope and comfort rise within you, especially when Curtis wrapped an arm around your shoulders, tugged you into his side in an almost hug, and led you from the office.

You took another sip of your cocktail, still on your first drink despite the way Peaches had been trying to get you drunk. 

Your lips quirked at the corners as you set down your glass on the table and glanced across Jo's to where the rest of the group had gathered around the pool tables at the back.

Peaches and Andy's girl were playing their significant others in a game of pool as Mike and Jensen watched. The banter between them all flowed so effortlessly, even with Andy's girl, who was the newest to the group but seemed much further enmeshed in the inner circle of the Devil's Advocates than you.

You thought of how you had stuttered out responses during dinner as you caught up with the others, overthinking every reply before you gave it and so very flustered under the attention of the group.

But still, you were here, with them, included at last, just like you had always wished for, so you tried your best to focus on gratitude rather than overanalyzing every little thing.

Rather than being sad that they had all wandered away, as if they had forgotten your presence altogether.

The front door opened, and a towering figure stepped inside, breaking you from your train of thought as your eyes were instantly drawn to him from where you were hidden away by yourself in one of the larger booths against the far wall.

He was big, and thick, his shoulders broad and testing the seams of his worn denim button up. His jeans were dark and fit him like a glove, causing your gaze to dip to the prominent curve of his ass without your permission, before darting back up. 

The stranger was painfully handsome, giving all of the DAs a run for their money in the looks department. His skin was golden, his hair brown and curling around the collar of his shirt, perfectly matching his thick, neatly kept beard. And his eyes–two deep pools of dark blue–were fixed right on you.

Your own gaze widened at being caught ogling, and just before your eyes dipped to the table top, your cheeks already on fire, you got a glimpse of the beautiful stranger shooting you a wink and a sinful grin before he was sauntering further into the bar.

You only dared to glance up again when you heard Mike whoop his delight, greeting the brunette with a big grin and one of those guy hugs that was more slapping each other on the back than an actual embrace.

"Guys, this is Ari, my buddy from NA that I mentioned…" was all you could decipher before Ari was welcomed into the fold and handed a cue stick as Mike ushered him over to the unoccupied pool table in the back. 

You startled as your phone buzzed from within the dark confines of your purse, fishing it out to read Amelia's reply to your earlier text thanking her for staying later than usual with your father so that you could enjoy a night out.

Of course, honey, you enjoy yourself, for once. You deserve it.

Smiling, you tucked your phone away, head shooting up as you heard Mike call your name. Perking up, you quickly slid from the booth before hesitantly making your way over, trying not to appear too eager or pleased with his attention at last.

"Hi," you greeted him softly, your eyes flickering across the pool table to Ari.

He was grinning at you as he leaned over the pool table, lining up his shot. He took a moment to allow his eyes to dip from your face, over the rest of you, blatantly checking you out and chuckling quietly as you immediately began to fidget and your gaze darted away.

Part of you wished you had worn something better than your simple shirt dress and flats today, and you wrung your hands together before you, dazedly returning your attention to Mike as he moved closer to you. He smelled so good and was so warm, you had to resist leaning into his personal space as he began to talk.

"Hey, pip, do me a favor and go get us a fresh round of beers," he requested, fishing some money from his back pocket and shoving it into your hands, not bothering to wait for your response before he was circling the pool table to take his turn.

Your smile dimmed as you realized he had called you over to assist him, just like you did at work all day, instead of engaging you like the others, like you were a real friend.

"Sure," you murmured, swallowing down your disappointment as you turned on your heel and made your way to the bar. 

"Hey, sweetie, are you having a good time?" Jo greeted you with a warm smile as she stopped before you on the other side of the perfectly polished wood counter.

You mustered a genuine smile for her, nodding your head before ordering beers for Mike, Ari, and Jensen. You climbed up into one of the empty stools to patiently wait for their drinks, unable to help it as you spun in your seat to glance over at the gang. 

You froze as you watched Mike step away from the others for a moment, overly nonchalant as he dug his hand into his pants pocket as he approached his jacket. You saw him fiddle with something and then felt the acidic burn of bile at the back of your throat when you caught sight of the small baggie of white powder in Mike’s hand. He slipped it into his inner jacket pocket, and as he turned back to the others, you quickly looked away, not wanting to be caught staring.

Witnessing.

Sickness washed over you, roiling deep in your gut at the realization that Mike was using again. After everything. 

After almost dying.

And just like before, you had no idea. You probably spent more time with him than anyone, shut away together in the office all day, and still, you hadn't realized.

How could you not have realized?

Again.

"You Mike's girl?"

You jerked at the unfamiliar husky voice, straightening in your stool as Ari pulled up beside you and leaned against the bar so close that you could feel his body heat rolling off of him in waves. 

It took you a moment to register his words, so startled were you by his sudden appearance and proximity. Once you did, your eyes widened before your gaze dropped down to your lap and you twisted your fingers together.

"Me!? Oh gosh, no, I'm just…he's…we're just…friends," you muttered, peeking up at Ari because it was hard to keep your gaze away from him. 

He was so beautiful, especially up close.

His eyes twinkled at you as he gave you another leisurely onceover, grinning as you squirmed in your seat in response. "Well, maybe we can become friends, too, sweetheart."

Your belly swooped at the pet name and the way it was spoken in that deep timbre of his, and you could feel a wave of heat warm your cheeks as you fumbled for something to say.

Because you had never been hit on by someone that looked like him before, and you spent half the night by yourself as the rest of the group had a good time–without you–and it was nice to have someone to talk to, even if you didn't quite know what to say to seem interesting.

"We uh work together, too," you managed at last, meeting Ari's attentive gaze for a quick beat before you were looking away again. "Grew up together, my dad was a DA like his and the others’ so…"

"So I bet you know a lot of insider information, huh?"

Despite the teasing lilt to Ari's voice, there was something that flashed in his gaze, something intense that you couldn't quite place, but it had you squirming in your seat again as you frowned and shrugged, unsure of how to respond.

Because the truth was, you really weren't an insider at all, despite how much you longed to be, but that wasn't exactly something you wanted to admit, let alone chat about to a complete stranger.

Especially one who was showing what seemed to be genuine interest in you. 

You glanced down the bar to where Jo was still filling other drink orders, nervously fiddling with the hem of your shirt dress as you glanced back at Ari, then froze, your eyes going big because he was so close now.

You couldn't suppress your squeak of surprise, and Ari's face lit up in delight at the sound as he laughed quietly at how flustered you were.

"You're real sweet, huh?" he hummed, shifting even closer, until he was so close that you could feel the warm wash of his breath against your face as he continued, "I like sweet. I could just eat you all up."

The nervous giggle was falling past your lips before you could stop it, your insides clenching hard–especially once you caught sight of the way Ari's teeth were sinking into his bottom lip as he eye fucked you–and then you were startling again as Jo chimed your name, arriving with the three beers you had ordered. 

You immediately slid from your seat and gathered the beer bottles, then you turned and nearly walked right into Ari's chest, chirping in surprise before pulling up short. 

"You need some help, sweetheart?" he purred, looming over you and making your core throb with that warm, playful tone of his. 

"N-no, I'm good, thank you." 

"Well, since one of those are for me," Ari plucked a beer from your hold, giving you a panty-melting grin as you just stared, noticing how much bigger his hands were than yours as he took a deep drink. "Thank you," he winked at you.

"You're welcome." You shot him a nervous smile before carefully stepping around him, getting a whiff of his musky scent before you were scurrying back to the others to deliver their drinks. 

It wasn't long before you were back at the group's booth, all by yourself, but not minding too much as you were growing sleepy and eager to get home. 

It also gave you the opportunity to watch Mike, and it didn’t take long at all before he was turning away from the others, making like he was drinking his beer, but you saw it, the way he shook two white pills loose from his pocket and knocked them back along with the rest of his drink. 

Your stomach flipped, sourness filling the back of your throat as you watched Mike glance back at the others, as if to confirm he hadn’t been caught taking God knows what, before he was smiling and sauntering back over to the pool table. 

You just…couldn’t believe him.

After everything, after nearly dying, he was using drugs again.

Tears welled quickly as you recalled that day, finding him in the office, toeing the line of death from his overdose.

Shaking your head as your stomach roiled in protest at this new discovery, you grabbed your purse and shimmied from the booth. Scurrying across the bar, you made your way down the dark, back hallway toward the restrooms. You ducked into the tiny restroom that was the size of a closet, shutting and locking the door behind you before turning toward the sink and small mirror that hung above it.

You looked as devastated as you felt, your lower lip wobbling as a few tears spilled over. Sniffing hard, you wiped them away, turning on the cold water and splashing some on your face before patting your skin dry with some scratchy paper towels from the dispenser. 

You would just confront Mike in private, at work next week when it was just the two of you in the office. Maybe you had just misinterpreted everything. Yeah, perhaps you were just jumping to conclusions and being hyper-vigilant based on his history. 

Mind made up, and your stomach feeling a little more settled, you quickly used the restroom and washed your hands before ducking back out into the hallway, intent on calling it a night. 

You gasped as you collided with another. “I’m so sorry,” your words faltered as you looked up and met the dark, glittering gaze of Bryce Langley. 

Trying not to grimace, you eased away from him, noticing the way his hands lingered on your arms. You didn’t know Bryce well, as he was the youngest of the DAs, even younger than you, but from the few stray occasions you had interacted with him, he made you uncomfortable. 

Bryce was not a nice person despite the way he could turn on that charm of his to try to get what he wanted, and his ever-present cheshire smile did little to stop all the internal alarm bells from ringing in your head whenever he was in the vicinity. 

Especially now, when you were alone with him and out of sight and earshot of anyone else. 

“Um, sorry, Bryce.” You gave him a tentative smile as you tried to skirt around him. “Excuse me.”

Instead of allowing you to pass, Bryce shifted to block your retreat, leaning his shoulder against the wall and cornering you between him and the bathroom door as that slow, lazy smile of his unfurled across his lips.

"Haven't seen you around in a long time, pip,” he drawled. He was shameless in the way he gave you a long onceover, his tongue sneaking out to wet his lips as he purred, “And my oh my, you've certainly grown up, huh?"

All of your hair stood on end as he shifted closer, making you back into the wall as you instinctively recoiled from him, which was a mistake as you suddenly found yourself pinned to the paneled wood behind you as Bryce loomed close enough for his body to brush against yours. 

"Oh, uh, yeah, I guess…" you quavered. You tried to hedge sideways, away from him, but Bryce’s hand shot out and planted against the wall, keeping you in place. 

That same hand touched your hip next, drifting low enough to pluck at the hem of your shirt dress as Bryce hummed, "You know, I'm not sure why the buttoned up little secretary look is doing it for me, but it really is."

You tried to laugh, like his observation–his come on–was a joke, but the sound was anything but amused, more like you were choking on air as you jerked at the feel of Bryce’s fingers on your bare thigh. “Bryce–”

"Come on,” he cut you off, giving you that megawatt grin that just oozed charisma and wreaked of manipulation. “Let's sneak out back and have a little fun."

The alarm bells in your head rang louder as Bryce gripped your wrist and yanked you against him. His free hand circled your waist, skimming along the curve of your ass as he started to walk backwards toward the back exit across the hall, taking you with him.

"I um…that's not really–" you started, but once again Bryce spoke over you.

"I'm just dying to know what kind of sounds you make when you're stuffed full of cock." There was a mean and hungry tilt to Bryce’s smile now, his eyes so dark they looked black–and evil–as he pulled you toward the exit.

“No, please, I was just about to leave.” Your voice was higher pitched than usual, tinged with alarm–with fear–as you tried to shove Bryce away from you.

“You can leave when I’m done having some fun,” Bryce cooed. “Besides, you should feel honored that you're even getting a scrap of attention in the first place.”

You winced at his barb, and the truth of it, feeling a new wave of tears building behind your eyes. “I said no,” you raised your voice as you renewed your struggles, yelping when Bryce flung you around and slammed you into the metal back door hard enough to hurt.

Your purse fell to the floor, the contents of it scattering around your and Bryce’s feet as he held you to the door with one hand on your throat and used the other to grope your chest hard enough to make you whine.

“Maybe you just need to be warmed up–” he started, but then his words turned into a surprised grunt as he was violently yanked away from you. 

You watched with wide eyes as Ari slammed Bryce into the opposite wall, his big hand circling the younger man’s neck and squeezing hard enough to make Bryce’s eyes bulge and his face turn beet red as he clawed at Ari’s hand. 

“I catch you touching her again, hell, I catch you so much as looking at her, and I will fucking end you, you piece of shit, do you understand?” Ari snarled close to Bryce’s face.

His hand squeezed harder, giving Bryce a rough shake to drive his point home. Looking almost purple now, Bryce nodded as best as he could, wheezing and coughing for breath when Ari’s hand finally fell away from his throat. 

Shaking in your spot a few feet away, you watched as Bryce hunched over and coughed and gasped for breath, Ari standing over him with a look so dark, it had you cowering when he turned your way. 

His features immediately softened, his brow furrowing with concern as he murmured, “You okay, sweetheart?”

You nodded, giving Bryce one last glance as he staggered down the hallway and out of sight. Your relief at his departure–and at Ari’s appearance–was a visceral thing, and you sagged against the door, touching a hand to your chest and feeling the way your heart was still hammering away as it processed the last dregs of your fear and the adrenaline that came along with it.

“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Ari asked, his gaze fretful as it glanced over you. 

“No, I’m okay. Thank you.”

You watched as Ari crouched at your feet and began to gather your possessions, carefully putting them back in your purse. You sank to the floor to help, feeling embarrassed for some reason and avoiding looking at him as you reached for your compact and lip gloss. 

When you went to return them to your purse, you froze as you caught sight of Ari’s big hand holding the envelope of money Curtis had given you earlier. 

“This is a lot of cash to be carrying around,” Ari told you. His eyes were shining with curiosity, and a new wave of worry, as you met his gaze.

“Yeah, I don’t usually, it was…unexpected.” For some reason, you felt like you owed him an explanation, so you babbled, “It was…a gift? From Curtis, and the others I guess.” You gently took the envelope and safely tucked it into the inner pocket of your purse. “My dad, he’s sick, and I’ve been taking care of him, and things are just…a little hard, you know? And expensive, everything’s so expensive, so…” 

More tears burned at the back of your eyes, everything finally catching up with you at once and warring with the deep-seated exhaustion you were always so good at ignoring for the sake of everyone who relied on you.

“So every little bit helps,” you tried to chirp, sniffling and mustering a small smile as Ari placed the last item back in your purse.

“I’m real sorry to hear about your father.” He truly looked it as he met your gaze. “It’s a good thing what you’re doing, taking care of him, but I’m sure it can’t be easy.”

“I make do,” you said as you rose to your feet.

Ari did the same, making you feel tiny in comparison as he stood before you. "I…I think it's time for me to go. I’m really tired.”

"Did you drive here?” Ari asked. When you nodded, he offered, “I'll walk you to your car.”

"Oh no, you don't have to,” you were quick to assure him, to avoid being an inconvenience.

"I want to,” he gave you a small smile, gesturing toward the other end of the hallway. “You wanna say goodnight to the others first?"

The others who were busy enjoying the company of each other while ignoring you for most of the night. 

The familiar hurt of always being on the outside looking in, always being left out, of being so forgettable, gnawed at you now more than usual after what had just happened, but you tried to stuff it down, down, down. 

You were here at least, and that was something. 

You should be grateful.

You would be grateful.

"Uh, no,” you smiled, shrugging like it was no big deal. “I don't want to bother them. It's fine."

Ari watched you for a beat, quiet as he observed you, his eyes shining with knowing and making more humiliation rise up as you curled your shoulders and hugged yourself tightly.

Could he tell, just by looking at you, how pathetic you were?

“Alright, let’s get you home then,” he eventually murmured.

You nodded, grateful as Ari motioned you past him but stuck close as you made your way toward the front exit of Jo’s and outside into the cool evening air. Your old-but-miraculously-well-operating car was tucked away at the end of the small dirt parking lot, and you stood beside the driver’s door now as you glanced up at Ari. 

Your smile was much more genuine as you told him, "Thank you, for handling Bryce. He can be kind of…"

"A dick?" Ari supplied.

You laughed, a real laugh, your belly fluttering as Ari grinned in delight at the sweet sound, his eyes looking warm as he watched you. 

"I was going to say ‘a lot,’ but yes also that,” you said. 

The two of you just stood there for a moment, and as shy as you were–as you felt–you couldn’t help but sneak peeks at Ari every couple of seconds because he really was beautiful. 

Something about the pure size of him, how big and thick he was, especially compared to you, had butterflies rising in your stomach and invading your chest. Had something warm and wanting sparking to life deep inside of you for the first time in a long time.

Your cheeks burned when your eyes met Ari’s and found an amused kind of knowing there, like he not only knew exactly what you were thinking and feeling but enjoyed your admiration. 

It struck you quite suddenly, that as much as you liked Mike, loved him and always would, you hadn’t actually felt it–this way–about him in quite some time.

But here you were now, painfully and instantly attracted to Ari despite having just met him, and you thought–and maybe hoped more than that–that he was attracted to you too, just a little. 

At the very least, he seemed to notice you when no one else did–you weren’t invisible to him–and that was something at least, and enough to make excitement bloom within you, hope, too.

"Well, you have a good night, sweetheart,” he husked. His gaze flickered down to your mouth for a beat, making your belly do a wild kind of somersault, but then he was tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans and taking a step back. 

"Yeah, you too,” you wisped, shooting him one final smile before unlocking your car door and slipping inside. Once you started the engine and rolled the window down, you whispered, “Goodnight, Ari,” your greedy gaze lingering on his handsome face before putting your car in reverse.

As you eased out of your parking spot, you heard Ari’s faint, "Goodnight, sweetheart,” and you couldn’t help but steal a few more glances of him in the rearview mirror as you started your drive home.

You were jittery with nerves as you sat at your desk, the work day almost over. 

You had spent most of the weekend trying to reaffirm to yourself that it was the right thing to do - confront Mike about what you had seen, make sure he was okay. 

He was your friend and you cared about him. You loved him.

And good friends took care of each other. 

Nodding to yourself, you quickly closed out of the remaining apps and your work email on your computer. Your belly turned topsy-turvy with another bout of anxiety just as you rose to your feet.

At the same moment, the front door to the office swung open, and there stood Ari, looking just as strikingly handsome as the first time you had seen him a few nights ago. 

Today, he wore another pair of faded jeans that fit him like a second skin, emphasizing the thick muscles of his thighs. His plain white t-shirt clung to his broad chest, doing little to hide the firm muscles that lay beneath, let alone his bulging biceps that were testing the white cotton for all it was worth. 

“You okay, sweetheart?”

Ari’s concerned voice snapped you back to reality, and your face flamed in mortification as you realized that you had been full on ogling him and got caught doing so, again.

“Huh?” you replied dumbly.

Ari’s dark blue eyes sparkled at you as he sauntered closer, until he was looming on the other side of your desk. 

“I asked how you were doing and you were like a sweet little space cadet, total blank stare and everything.”

“I’m sorry,” you breathed, trying to stomp down another wave of embarrassment as your gaze dropped and you started to ramble to try to come up with an excuse for your behavior. “I’m just tired, it was a rough night with my father last night, and I guess it’s caught up to me, so…yeah.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

The sadness in Ari’s voice made you feel even worse, so you tried your best to deliver a bright smile as you waved away your depressing overshare. “It’s okay! Um, are you a new accounting client of Mike’s or–”

“No, he’s here to meet me,” Mike answered your unfinished question as he emerged from his office, looking ready to leave for the day. 

“We were gonna head over to Jo’s for some dinner and pool,” Ari explained. “You should come with us.”

“I should?” you replied at the same time Mike asked, “She should?”

Ari shot him a disappointed frown that had Mike clearing his throat and shooting you an abashed grin. 

“Yeah, you totally should, pip. You’re always welcome to tag along.”

You flinched at “tag along,” your face warming once again as your eyes dropped to stare at the top of your desk.  

“I’d really like you to come with us,” Ari told you.

You blinked in surprise to find him standing right beside you now, throwing off an intense body heat and a faint woodsy scent that had your nipples pebbling beneath your blouse and your thighs pressing together beneath your skirt. 

You had never responded so viscerally to someone before, and it was throwing you for a loop so much, making it difficult to think straight, let alone string together an actual sentence, but you managed as much as you could. 

“I don’t want to impose,” you whispered. 

“You’re not, I invited you,” Ari’s smile was more of a pleading pout. “Come on, sweetheart, you deserve a little fun and to unwind after a long day, too.”

It was so funny, because Amelia, your father’s home caretaker, had told you something similar this morning before you left for work. 

“I’m here to lighten your load so you can live life a little, too, honey,” she said. “Let me help you; you don’t need to do this all on your own.”

“Okay,” you answered hesitantly, your eyes flickering to Mike, who was busy texting on his phone and not paying attention to your and Ari’s conversation in the least. Your gaze shifted to Ari’s. “If you’re sure?”

“Very sure,” he winked at you. “Let’s go have some fun.”

Belly fluttering at the way he was watching you–with so much warmth and hope that you’d never had aimed your way before–you could only smile like a dope, quickly gathering your things and trying not to swoon too much when Ari ushered you outside and walked you to your car.

A little while later, your belly was full from a good meal, and maybe a drink or two, and you were bent over one of the pool table’s at the back of Jo’s, your tongue sticking out in concentration and one of your eyes closed to try to improve your aim as you clumsily lined up your shot.

You were never very good at pool, but it was still fun to play. Luckily, Ari seemed to have the patience of a saint and didn’t mind playing you once Mike had wandered off to hang out with Jensen and Andy instead.

Pulling your cue stick back, you let it surge forward, pouting as the tip of it glanced off the cue ball before sending it weakly spinning aside, and nowhere near one of your striped balls. 

“I’m so bad at this,” you muttered, your cheeks burning as you took a step back and stumbled into Ari. 

His hands caught your flailing self by the arms, steadying you on your feet and grinning down at you as you stared up at him with big eyes and parted lips. 

Because you hadn’t realized that he had been standing so close, and right behind you.

“Can I give you a few pointers?” he asked, nodding at the pool table. 

“That would be very nice. Probably pointless, because I’m hopeless at this, but still very much appreciated.” 

“You’re funny,” Ari hummed, his voice a husky rumble as his eyes danced at you.

“Not often, I guess you just bring it out in me. Also maybe the alcohol helped.”

He laughed. “Well, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind for next time.”

“Next time?” you asked in surprise. “You’d want to hang out with me again?”

Ari’s smile dimmed, a furrow forming between his brows as he ducked lower and told you, “I would. You’re not just a tag along to me.”

It was instant, the way your belly fluttered and bloomed with joy. Your breath hitched as you hugged your pool cue to your chest and blinked back a surge of happy tears at the thought that someone wanted to spend time with you, by choice, and just because.

“Come on, let me show you how to take a shot that actually progresses the game,” Ari teased.

You giggled as he winked at you, all too happy to have him lead you back to the pool table and give you some tips to help improve your game. 

And it actually helped! Within a few minutes, you could actually hit the other balls, and you even pocketed a few before accidentally doing the same to the eight ball and instantly losing. 

Ari just shot you a grin and a, “Maybe next time,” instead of teasing you mercilessly like the others would have. Then he insisted on getting you another drink before he sauntered over to the bar and you stared after him and enjoyed the view.

You couldn’t stop smiling as you watched him, as he glanced back over at you as he waited for your drinks and shot you another flirtatious wink. Your belly swooped as you turned away, resisting the urge to cup your face between your hands and squee. 

So caught up in your exchange with Ari–at happily being under his undivided attention–you nearly walked right into Mike. 

“Whoa, watch it, pipsqueak,” he huffed. 

“Oh, sorry!” you quickly apologized. 

Mike just hmphed, looking irritable as he moved past you and toward his jacket, which was draped over the stool in the corner near the pool table. You watched him without trying to be obvious, your anxiety from earlier beginning to lap at you as Mike dug through his jacket pockets. 

You caught a glimpse of a small plastic bag filled with white powder, and then he was pocketing it and hurrying toward the restroom and out of sight. 

Stomach instantly sinking, you stared after him, dread and disappointment washing over you, because you knew. You just knew that he was going into the bathroom to snort whatever was in that baggie. 

The confirmation of one of your worst fears coming to fruition–Mike using again, potentially overdosing again, maybe dying this time–and the devastation that came along with it–hit you like a freight train. 

It was so sudden, the way you couldn’t quite catch your breath, your eyes blurring with tears as you touched your chest, and then clawed at it as your heart rate skyrocketed and felt like it would beat right through your chest.

You just needed a moment to calm down, you kept telling yourself as you dropped your pool cue on the table and staggered down the back hall, hastily pushing through the back door. 

You teetered on your feet for a beat, stumbling a few yards away from the exit as the constriction in your chest grew more noticeable–more scary–slowly crawling its way higher like some creeping dangerous thing, until it felt like there was something lodged in your throat and you truly couldn’t breathe.

You whimpered as the tightness in your chest began to overwhelm you. It was like there was no air to breathe as you sagged against the wall, clawing at your chest as you sank down into a crouch, quiet, choked sounds of fear spilling from your lips.

Dizziness swept over you as the sound of your slamming heart thundered loudly–deafeningly–in your ears, drowning out everything else around you. 

Just as blackness began to dance on the periphery of your vision and had you squeezing your eyes shut to avoid it, just as you thought that you really were going to pass out, warm hands gripped your shoulders and a deep voice called your name.

You blinked your tear-filled eyes open to find Ari crouched in front of you. His handsome face was twisted in concern as he reached for your hand and pressed it to his chest.

“Breathe with me, sweetheart,” he encouraged. “Deep breath in,” he inhaled deeply, slowly, before exhaling just as slowly. 

You focused on the way his chest expanded and contracted beneath your palm. The way a silver chain peeked out from the collar of his shirt. Then, at last, you focused on the warm, hard mass of him, mesmerized as you unconsciously began to mirror Ari’s slow, calm breathing pattern. 

After a couple of moments, the real world flooded back into focus, your heart beat returned to normal, and you could fill your lungs with ease once more. 

You whimpered, collapsing onto the ground as a few tears slipped down your cheeks. You pulled your knees to your chest, pressing your forehead to them as you curled in on yourself, terrified by what had just happened and mortified that Ari, of all people, had been there to witness it.

“Hey, you’re okay, sweetheart.” Ari smoothed a hand over your head. “You’re okay now.” 

“I’m sorry,” you wobbled, sniffling back more tears. “I don’t know what happened.”

“Looks like you had a panic attack.”

You were shaking your head before you even processed Ari’s observation. “But I don’t…have those.”

“Did something happen?” he asked, his eyes flickering between yours. “While I went to get our drinks?”

You thought of Mike pocketing the white powder then hurrying off to the bathroom, your stomach flipping unpleasantly as you swallowed against the burn in the back of your throat. 

You should say something, right? You should tell someone, shouldn’t you?

But Mike had met Ari through Narcotics Anonymous, so that meant Ari was probably a recovering addict himself. What if this triggered Ari or upset him?

So maybe you should tell one of the others then? Curtis or Andy? But wouldn’t that be betraying Mike? 

He would hate you forever if you ratted him out. Maybe even fire you.

Because when it came to the DAs, the only thing worse than being invisible was being a rat.

You were in a lose, lose situation, and you didn’t know what to do. You felt so sad and scared and overwhelmed, and it just consumed you entirely as your panicked mind spiraled deeper and deeper.

“Hey, don’t cry, you’re okay now,” Ari soothed as you choked on a sob. He reached for you, gently rubbing your arm and giving your shoulder a squeeze on every ascent.

“I’m sorry,” you whined, covering your face. “I’m sorry.”

“C’mere, honey,” Ari said, gently tugging you against his chest and into a very firm embrace that felt like safety incarnate. 

His hands were slow and gentle as they smoothed up and down your back, and he shushed you softly as you wept against his chest, not easing up on his embrace until your crying had faded to sniffles and you finally straightened and pulled away. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, wiping a few stray tears from your face. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be embarrassed. Hey,” Ari gently gripped your chin and tipped your shy gaze up to his. “You have a lot on your plate, you don’t need to apologize for being overwhelmed or upset. Unfortunately, feelings are a part of being human. That’s what you get for not being a robot.”

Your giggle was watery as it spilled past your lips, and the dread in your belly eased when Ari gave you a big, warm smile. 

“Come on, why don’t we call it a night and get you home?

You nodded, not resisting when Ari pulled you to your feet before him. The exhaustion hit you once you were standing on solid ground, your shoulders hunching beneath the weight of it.

“I’ll drive you home.”

“But my car’s here,” you started to object.

“Mike and I can drop it off at your place later tonight so you have it for work tomorrow, okay? We drove here together, so it’s not a problem at all,” Ari told you.

“But–”

“Please,” Ari interrupted you, gripping both of your shoulders and ducking his head so your gazes aligned. “Let me do this for you. Let me take care of you in this small way.”

And that nearly set you off all over again. 

Because people didn’t take care of you. You took care of them. It’s what made you useful, of value, worth their time and attention on the rare occasions they gave it to you.

“Why?” you couldn’t help but ask him, your voice breaking on that one, simple word.

Ari’s face softened, more of that sad knowing shadowing his gaze as he watched you. “Because I want to, and you deserve it.”

You glanced away from him as your eyes filled with a fresh wave of tears, biting on your bottom lip to quell its trembling as you tried to rein in all of the big feelings stirring within you. 

“Come on,” Ari murmured. 

You didn’t object as he curled his arm around you, pulling you into his side as he led you down the alley and across the parking lot. In fact, you sank against Ari more fully, greedily absorbing his warmth, and his comfort, too tired to do more than follow where he wanted you to go as he urged you past your car and to his own instead.

“Hey.”

You startled, your eyes wide and your heart racing as you pulled your gaze away from the spreadsheet you had been so diligently working on to find Ari towering over your workspace.

“Hi,” you managed, feeling an embarrassed kind of heat wash over you. 

Because the last time you had seen Ari had been a few nights ago, after your unexpected panic attack. 

“I’ve been thinking about you,” he murmured as he circled your desk and sat on the corner of it.

“You have?”

His lips tilted into an amused smile at your obvious surprise. “I have. How are you feeling?”

“Better,” you answered, your gaze falling away shyly as you squirmed in your seat. 

What did you say to someone who had seen you in such a vulnerable state? 

Someone that you liked so much even if a small part of you thought that you shouldn’t.

Things like drugs and crime had been on the periphery of your life as long as you could remember, but it came with the territory of your dad having been a Devil’s Advocate, and now working for Mike, Andy, and Curtis. 

Still, you were pretty far removed from all of that, so the idea that Ari was likely a former addict made you nervous. 

You didn’t think any less of him–or Mike, for that matter–but you were definitely outside of your depth when it came to that kind of stuff, and well, you just couldn’t help but wonder if maybe you shouldn’t like him so much? 

If maybe he was even bad news, or potentially dangerous?

“You did it again, zoned out on me,” Ari huffed a quiet laugh. “I really gotta up my game if you find me so boring.”

“No!”  You squeaked instantly, reaching for him and gently touching his hand without thinking. “You’re not boring at all! I’m so sorry–”

Ari’s big hand turned over beneath yours, his sudden, unexpected grip on you causing your words to taper off into a startled gasp.

“Stop. Apologizing,” he admonished, and there was a grit to his voice that made your insides clench hard, especially with the way his gaze was so focused on you, so intense.

“I’m sor–” you started, and then abruptly snapped your mouth shut.

Ari laughed again, gently playing with your hand, so gently, in fact, that it was kind of mesmerizing and making your body perk up and tremble with a kind of anticipation you had never experienced before.

“Um, were you looking for Mike?” you wisped. “He’s gone for the day, but if you want me to give him a message or something, I can.”

"Actually, I was looking for you."

"Me? Why?"

"Come out with me,” Ari said, his thumbs brushing along your knuckles. His gaze lifted from his touch to your wide eyes, and he smirked. 

"Uh, what?"

“Why are you always so shocked that I want to spend time with you?” he asked.

The ever familiar heat of embarrassment was back as you squirmed in your seat, your shoulders hunching up to your ears as you shrugged. “I’m just not used to people seeking me out, recreationally, I guess.”

"Well, get used to it,” Ari replied, giving your hand a soft squeeze before releasing his hold on you and pouring himself to his feet. “Come on, I'll buy you dinner. I heard the diner’s good but I haven’t tried it yet. I'm new in town, and I don't really know anyone besides Mike, so, you’re kind of stuck with me and might as well get a meal out of it.”

You laughed, feeling shy once more under Ari’s attentive gaze. 

And the fact that he genuinely wanted to spend time with you. 

You.

“Okay,” you breathed, shutting down your computer and reaching for your purse. “Just let me text my father’s caretaker and let her know I’ll be a little later than usual.”

“Sounds good, and I’ll drive,” Ari offered. “So we can spend more time together on the way over. I can drop you back off here to get your car after dinner.”

“Sure,” you agreed easily, still smiling as you grabbed your things and tried not to combust from giddiness as Ari corralled you in front of him and ushered you outside.

“How’s your father doing?” Ari asked as you sat across from him in the diner booth enjoying your meal. 

“Oh,” you covered your mouth as you finished chewing, waiting to swallow before continuing. “He’s doing okay, I guess. He has Alzheimer's, and it’s been getting progressively worse as it does. I think he may need to go into a care facility soon, but the thought just…guts me,” you whispered, “So I want to hold off on that as long as possible.”

“It sounds like a very sad situation. Are you and your father close?”

You took a sip of your drink before responding. “Yeah, I’m definitely a daddy’s girl,” you grinned, shrugging bashfully at Ari’s soft smile. “My mom passed away when I was twelve, and it was just us against the world, you know? He always tried so hard to give me a good life, so the least I can do is return the favor now that he’s the one who needs looking out for.”

“You’re such a pleasant surprise,” Ari said.

You blinked at him, unsure if his words were a compliment or not.

He must have been able to easily read your uncertainty, because he chuckled. “In a good way,” he promised. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, Mike and the other DAs seem great, but I’ve never met someone so…pure in this kind of inner circle.”

“I’m not really part of their inner circle,” you confessed.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Ari countered. “They seem fond of you. You work for them, spend time with them, your dad was an Advocate, I mean, you’re in the fold, sweetheart.”

Feeling suddenly uncomfortable at the topic of conversation, and how far off from the truth Ari was, you stared down at your plate, fiddling with one of your fries before picking it up. “I guess,” you murmured before taking a bite. 

Once you were done with dinner and dessert, because Ari had insisted you deserved it, you found yourself back in his car, enjoying his quiet company as you started the drive back to your own car.

You were enjoying the quiet alongside Ari so much that it took you a few moments to realize he was driving in the opposite direction of the office and where your car was parked. 

“Oh, I think you got a little turned around,” you said as you perked up in your seat. “You’ll want to go back the other way to get back to the office.”

“I know exactly where we are,” he shot you an easy grin. “Just thought we could enjoy a drive for a bit, spend a little more time together before you head home.”

“Oh,” you sank back against your seat, your belly fluttering as you tried not to smile too big at the fact that Ari wanted to spend even more time with you. “Okay.” 

A few minutes later, he pulled into the empty parking lot facing one of Newton’s public parks. It was desolate this time of day, and you couldn’t help it as your nerves kicked up as you sat in the dark car beside Ari, just the dim light from a nearby streetlamp softly illuminating the area. 

“You spacing out on me again?” Ari teased.

“No,” your gaze shot over to him, your cheeks warming at the sinful smile he was aiming your way. “I’m just…nervous.”

“Nervous?” Ari tutted, shrugging off his seatbelt and turning his big body toward yours. “Don’t be nervous.”

Your breath caught as he reached over and undid your seatbelt, leaning more in your personal space than was probably necessary as he gently guided the recoiling belt away from you and over your shoulder. 

When his hand touched your face, fingers tickling beneath your chin to turn your eyes his way, you swore your heart stopped. And then it was kicking into high gear again and hammering away in your chest as you struggled to meet Ari’s penetrating stare. 

“Is this okay?” he asked, trailing his knuckles along your warm cheek. 

You nodded, words failing you entirely as Ari’s thumb dragged along your bottom lip and a quiet grunt at the softness of you caught in the back of his throat. 

When his hand moved to cradle your cheek and hold you still for his approach, you sucked in one shaky inhale as your wide eyes met his before Ari’s lips were touching yours and your eyes fluttered shut. 

He was so gentle as he kissed you. His lips soft and plush and warm as they pressed against your own. He tilted his head, knocking his nose against yours, and when you gasped in response–made a soft mewl of surprise–you could actually feel his grin before he was kissing you with more intensity this time around.

By the time Ari deepened the kiss, and his tongue swept into your mouth, you were pressing as close to him as possible with the center console between you. Your fingers curled into the denim of his button up as you relented to the very enthusiastic onslaught of his mouth and tried your best to keep up with every eager press of his lips, every sinful stroke of his tongue. 

When he finally pulled away and allowed you to catch your breath, his big hand descended from your cheek to cup the side of your throat, his thumb brushing over the wild pulse fluttering just beneath the surface of your skin.

Then his hand descended lower still, his touch grazing your breast and making your breath hitch as he stopped to test the weight and feel of you. He groaned when you keened in response, leaning into his touch and not objecting once his hand was back to gently cradling your throat as the other snuck between your thighs.

Your glazed eyes met Ari’s as his fingers teased along the front of your panties, his lips curling into a roguish grin when you squirmed and rocked against his touch, spreading your legs wider for him.

"Ohhh, sweetheart, you're trouble,” he murmured, watching with a sinfully dark gaze that harbored a hint of pleasant surprise as you dropped a hand to his wrist and encouraged the pressure of his touch against your cunt.

“I’m not,” you denied, your free hand clinging to Ari’s shoulder as you subconsciously stared at his kiss-swollen mouth and licked your lips. “Please.” 

You wanted to kiss him again, and again, for a good, long while. You wanted to memorize his taste on your tongue, and feel more of his warm, firm body beneath your touch. You wanted his fingers filling your cunt and making you cum until you couldn’t think straight, and then you wanted to bask in the feeling of being wanted, of being desired by another.

By him.

Your foggy mind was spiraling out at the very idea–and your need for more–so it took you a moment to absorb Ari’s next words. 

"Yeah, you're a good girl, aren't you?” he cooed, giving the front of your panties a final caress before his hand retreated, and his grip on your throat grew firmer. “Which is why you're gonna tell me everything you know about the Devil’s Advocates, about Andy Barber and Curtis Everett, all of them. You're gonna be good for me and do exactly what I tell you to do."

When his words finally sank in, you recoiled from him as if you’d been slapped. 

It actually felt like you had been, you were so jarred by what he said. By the way he was looking at you now with steely determination in his eyes, no warmth and amusement to be found. You felt fear spark inside of you and shuddered as a chill raced up your spine. 

"What?” you blinked, your lashes fluttering as you pressed yourself against the passenger side door and stared at Ari, trying to determine if maybe he was joking? Was he just trying to be funny and it fell flat?

You tensed when he leaned closer, but all he did was reach past you, popping open the glove box. You struggled to swallow against the dryness in your throat when you caught sight of the black gun and the shiny, silver police badge beside it.

"You're a cop?" Your voice wobbled, tears blurring your vision and something inside of you wilting at the realization that this was why Ari had been paying you so much attention. 

He wasn’t really interested in you, he didn’t care about you, he didn’t want you. 

He was just trying to get information out of you, he was just using you, like everyone else.

"A detective, actually,” he said, not sounding apologetic in the least as he closed the glove box, leaned in close, and murmured, “You're willingly involved with a gang of criminals. I can't even count the number of accessory charges we can tack on your pretty little head. So, you’re gonna tell me everything you know, and you’re gonna start with the murders of Neal Loguidice and Robert Pronge from the East Street Gang.” 

You shook your head, your mind still reeling and your brain struggling to process the turn your night had taken, how stupid you had been. 

“Focus,” Ari gritted, giving you a little shake and aiming your cloudy gaze his way. “Tell me about Loguidice and Pronge. Who killed them? Were all the DAs involved? Was it premeditated? Was it Barber? Everett?”

The names Loguidice and Pronge didn’t ring any bells for you. All you knew about the East Street Gang was they were a rival gang of the DAs and they had taken Andy’s girl months ago and tried to hurt her. And the only reason you knew that was because you had accidentally overheard Mike on a phone call the night it had happened before he rushed out of the office without an explanation. Then Andy’s girl had gone off the grid for a while before only emerging with Andy and the others again a month or two ago. 

Ari huffed your name, impatience coming off of him in waves, and it was so unlike how he had treated you up until now that you couldn’t help it as your chest hitched with a muffled sob and a few tears finally broke free.

"I-I don't know anything. I don’t know those names. They don’t tell me that kind of stuff, I just work for them and–"

"Bullshit,” Ari snarled, his grip on your throat tightening as he collared your neck and aimed your gaze at his. “You grew up with them. You see all their books. You're a fly on the wall and invisible to all of them, so you know much more than you think you do and you're gonna be cooperative, my eager-to-help confidential informant, or I'll make sure you rot in prison beside all of them.” He leaned closer, his nose nearly touching yours as he whispered, “And you won’t be able to take care of your father from there, sweetheart, so you better start talking.”

It was painful this time as the sob caught in your chest, more tears streaking down your cheeks as you met Ari’s hard gaze and trembled beneath his harsh touch. 

You couldn’t believe what was happening, that he was threatening such horrible things, to take you away from your father, who needed you so desperately. 

“Please…why are you doing this?”

“Because Loguidice wasn’t just a rival gang leader. He was my cousin’s fiancé, and she was fucking gutted over his murder and has been a shell of herself ever since. I owe it to her to solve this case and put violent scum like the DAs away for good.”

Distantly, despite your own shock and terror, you felt a pang of sympathy for Ari’s cousin and the loss she was dealing with, but it was shaken away when Ari gave you another rough jostle. 

“So, you’re gonna sing like a fucking bird for me, or else.”

He leaned over once more, opening the glove gox and rifling through it, and something about the sight of his phone and watching him click into the voice recorder app–knowing his expectation of you talking and being a rat against the only family you had ever known–finally had your fight or flight instincts kicking in.

Reaching behind you, you yanked on the door handle, falling out of the car and hitting your ass on the ground hard before you scrambled to your feet and took off across the park for the nearby woods.

“Goddamnit,” you heard Ari hiss behind you, then the sound of his car door opening before his heavy footfalls sounded on the pavement, in hot pursuit.

You cleared the last swing set, your flats sliding along the overgrown grass as you gasped for breath and tried to ignore the stitch in your side as you ran. All you could think about was getting past the line of trees and to the entrance of the woods that could possibly give you cover because you knew them better than Ari from growing up in Newton, from playing in this very park, and tagging along with the DAs in these very woods.  

A small sense of elation filled you once you cleared the tree line, and leaves and twigs crunched beneath your feet, and then you were tackled from behind and choked on a scream as you went down hard.

You were so discombobulated from the fall, from the adrenaline surging through your system, that you didn’t even fight him as Ari rolled you over onto your back and pinned your hands above your head. 

His big body was heavy as it sank against your own, settling between your sprawled legs and trapping you beneath him as you stared up at him with wide, terrified eyes. He didn’t seem furious at your attempt to flee like you expected; he seemed almost…excited.

His handsome face had a pink flush to it, his eyes so dark they looked black, and his broad chest heaving as he stared down at you with a smirk curling his lips. 

“Gotta give you credit, I didn’t think you’d actually try to run away from me, just like a sweet, scared little bunny, huh?” There was a husk to his laugh that had your cunt clenching, and shame filled you at your body’s reaction given your current circumstances and what he wanted from you.

"Please, I don't know anything and…” you swallowed, your words more truthful than defiant as you told him, “I wouldn't tell you even if I did. They’re my family.”

"Mmm, you're braver than I gave you credit for, too, bunny,” Ari sighed. “And more stubborn. I dunno why you're so eager to protect them when they could care less about you.” 

He watched as you flinched at the truth of his words, taking no joy in saying them or their effect on you as you looked away from him as a few more tears streaked down your cheeks and you quietly sniffled. 

“Maybe I went about this the wrong way,” he hummed, watching you thoughtfully as you squirmed beneath him. “Maybe threats and scare tactics aren’t what you need. It’s okay though, I can be persuasive in other ways.”

You gasped when Ari suddenly rutted against you, your stunned gaze shooting to him and drinking in the wolfish glitter in his eyes, the sinful satisfaction. “D-don’t,” you trembled, trying to shove away from him.

“Don’t try to play hard to get now, sweetheart, I know you want me,” Ari purred as he ducked close and nosed along your jaw. “If I didn’t come clean about being a cop back in the car, I would have had you riding me within minutes of showing you some soft attention.”

You shook your head, words to refute his claim failing you because you both knew he was right.

The pit of shame–of devastated disappointment–widened within you, and you couldn’t help it as you started to cry. 

“I-I’m not like that, I thought you liked me,” you quavered.

“I do like you,” Ari cooed. He pressed a kiss to your tear-stained cheek. “Everything I said to you so far has been the truth. You are a pleasant surprise, and not who I was expecting to encounter at all when I went undercover for this case, which is why I want what’s best for you, and the DAs aren’t it.” Sighing, he shoved away from you, rising to his feet before bending to grab a hold of you and pull you up as well.

His hands were shameless and lingered as he gently swept the dirt and leaves from your clothes. He framed your face between his hands, holding you and your gaze captive as he watched you for a long moment. 

“I think I have an idea of how to make you cooperate–”

“I won’t,” you whispered, trying to recoil from his hold. 

“We’ll see,” Ari countered. He tugged you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his gentleness belying the looming threat of who he was and what he wanted from you. His lips tilted into an almost smirk when you stilled and didn’t try to push him away. “But we’ll save that for another day. For now, let's get you home, bunny,” he hummed, smoothing a big hand over your head before corralling you close and leading you out of the woods. 

“You’re gonna keep this between us,” Ari spoke sternly as you reached his car. Turning you to face him, he pressed you back against the passenger side of the vehicle. “If I find out you made a peep and blew my cover, I’ll have Weiss locked up so quickly, your head will spin, got it?”

All you could do was nod, hugging yourself tightly as you sniffed back more tears, your mind whirling out of control and your body exhausted from everything that had happened tonight. 

How quickly, and thoroughly your life had unraveled. 

That the DAs were in serious danger. 

And the fact that Ari was behind it all.

He snapped your name, and you blinked back to reality, glancing up at him in question from beneath your lashes. 

“Say it, that you understand, that you’ll keep your mouth shut.”

“I understand,” you whispered, more tears gathering as you promised, “I won’t tell anyone.”

A glimmer of that familiar soft warmth sparked to life in Ari’s gaze as he watched you surrender to him in this small way. 

“Good girl,” he purred, eyes twinkling as you shivered at his words, at his praise.

Then he turned you toward the car, and gave your ass a gentle pat of encouragement, watching in satisfaction as you hopped to and slipped back into his vehicle without any resistance at all. 

AHHHHHHHH, YOU GUYS. I AM SO LAIWJEFOIFJWOEIFJ OVER THIS. THIS STORY HAS BEEN LIVING RENT FREE IN MY MIND FOR YEARS AND I AM SO SO HAPPY IT IS FINALLY COMING TO LIFE AND SEEING THE LIGHT OF DAY.

PLEASE OH PLEASE TAKE A MOMENT TO DROP ME YOUR FEEDBACK, REACTIONS, ETC. I NEED TO SPIRAL ABOUT THIS LIKE YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW LOL. ❤️

—

I no longer do tag lists, but if you'd like to be notified when I post new writing, follow my side blog @‌sirisshamelesshoelibrary​ and turn on notifications to get pinged when I drop some new hoe fuel 😘

Please note that I do not give permission for my work to be translated, reposted, or published anywhere other than my Tumblr. Reblogs are most welcome and encouraged though! ❤️

Jawbreaker

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky put a mouthy rookie in his place. Word Count: Over 800 Warnings: Established relationship, mention of injury, misogyny, punching, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes defending you (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: I'm dedicating this to @whisperlullaby , who got to read this in advance, because she deserves this man (along with the rest of you). ❤️Written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

A small part of Bucky felt bad as he idly wiped his hand with a towel. A very small part.

He didn’t want people to fear him because of his past and he refused to let it define him. That meant that he tried his best to avoid violent tactics unless absolutely necessary.

But today, well, fuck that. The fucker had it coming.

Steve stood in front of him, his blue eyes narrowed as he waited for his best friend to acknowledge him.

Oh, Bucky expected some sort of reprimand, but he was sure Steve would change his tune in a minute or so.

“You gonna ask me what happened, punk, or glare at me until I talk?” He asked, tossing the towel away.

The blonde huffed out a laugh, but he didn’t look amused. “Why did you break that rookie’s jaw?”

Bucky tilted his head. “What’s the phrase? He fucked around and found out.”

You would’ve been proud of him for that reference.

Steve shook his head when Sam burst out laughing a few feet away. “Sam, please,” he begged, though his mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile. “What did the guy do?”

A bitter taste flooded Bucky’s mouth as anger coursed through his veins again. He inhaled as he thought of your sweet smile and soft touch before he exhaled, the storm inside of him calming.

“Buck, you gotta tell us something,” Steve urged, needing some sort of information to try and do some damage control.

The brunette straightened up to look his friend in the eyes, wanting him to see the fury beneath the cold mask. “He told my girl to throw an apron on and get back in the kitchen when she went to spar.”

You, one of the most capable agents Bucky had ever known.

You, who had shown nothing but kindness to everyone, even when they didn’t deserve it.

The person Bucky was lucky enough to call his other half. His better half.

And some asshole rookie had the gall to treat you as if you didn’t belong there with the rest of them.

Sam was no longer laughing. Steve’s jaw clenched in understanding.

Bucky swallowed, that fury threatening to surface again as he remembered the hurt that filled your eyes at the comment. “You know I’d support anything she wants to do, whether that’s working or staying at home. It doesn’t give some prick the right to make her feel bad for her decision.”

“You know I don’t like bullies, but breaking his jaw?” Steve questioned. The guy deserved it, but did the punishment actually fit the crime?

“When she walked away, he said to come back when she was ready to see what a real man could do for her,” he said, the words coming out like a snarl.

The way you tensed up, fear and disgust flickering on your face, he didn’t think. A switch inside of him went off and he swung.

The fucker was lucky that all he got was a broken jaw. He could’ve done so much worse.

And it wasn’t that you couldn’t defend yourself because you could, but you shouldn’t have to put up with garbage like that.

A cracking sound echoed in the room before he realized he crushed the armrest of his seat. “Fuck. I’ll pay for that,” he mumbled, kicking a bit of the broken piece with his boot. “Can you just tell me how much trouble I’m in so I can get back to my girl?”

He didn’t care if he they suspended or even fired him as long as he got back to you.

The room stayed silent before Sam mused, “Technically, what the rookie did counts as harassment.”

Steve nodded. “And I’m sure Nat can persuade him not to sue for the injury he received,” he added, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We’ll take care of it, Buck. Just. No more breaking jaws, okay?”

“When it comes to my girl, I make no promises,” Bucky smiled, his heart racing at the thought of you. “And maybe he’ll think twice before he opens his mouth again.”

“The damage you did, I don’t think he can open his mouth at all,” Sam mumbled.

Bucky’s phone went off before he could comment, his heart swelling as he read your text. He had to bite back a groan, too.

“Thank you again, Jawbreaker. I love you and I’ll be on my knees waiting for you.”

You wanted to thank him not just with words, but with your body and heart. It all belonged to him, like he belonged to you.

And he didn’t need to tell Steve and Sam what the message said since it was just for the two of you. “Love you, too, baby. Nothing to thank me for, but I’m on my way. Be ready.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Maybe we'll see how you "thank" Bucky down the road. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

👀unhinged just like I like my fictional men

Hold You Tight: Part 1

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Series Masterlist | Part 2

Chapter Summary: You encounter an unexpected visitor in your home.

Chapter Word Count: Over 2.8k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, breaking and entering, stalking, coercion, threats (not against reader), creepy and unhinged behavior, flashback, possessiveness, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: Welcome to the Turn It Up AU! Thanks to @starlightcrystalline for helping bringing this unhinged Bucky to life and @targaryenvampireslayer and @tavners for the support. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You yawned as you flipped on the light switch in your apartment and set the keys on the table. It was early, but you were ready to settle in for the night after a busy shift. Maybe you could make a cup of tea and curl up with a book to unwind after dinner. Or maybe even a nice, hot bath and a glass of wine.

If only Addison could hear your thoughts now. She’d tease you for not living it up and enjoying the single life. Nothing new.

Your mouth fell open as you walked into the living room, but no sound came out as you skidded to a stop. Your heart nearly burst out of your chest and plummeted to your stomach at the same time as your phone fell from your hand. It was like you couldn't breathe. Because a man was sitting on your sofa.

And you lived alone.

“What…” you exhaled, no louder than a whisper.

The man didn't speak as he stared at you. He didn't even blink. The staring contest gave you a moment to take in his appearance. Intimidating even though he was sitting, his dark suit looked tailored to perfection on his broad frame. Dark brown hair framed his face and matched the stubble on his face, with the exception of a few gray hairs. The dangerous glint in his hard blue eyes did little to put you at ease, but there was something soft there as well.

In any other circumstance, you would've said he was handsome.

You bent down to pick up your phone before he let out a tsk, a subtle warning for you not to try anything. “Who are you? Why are you in my home?” You asked as you straightened up, hoping your tone didn't betray how terrified you were.

Nothing looked out of place. If he was there to rob you, there wasn't much worth taking. While you weren't struggling, you were far from rich.

He smirked and leaned back further into the cushion, his eyes roving over your body. You hadn't noticed right away, but the hand draped on the back of the sofa appeared to be metal. Or was it a glove? He didn't have to stand for you to know he was larger than you. If things got physical, you wouldn't stand a chance.

“Okay…” If he wasn't going to give you any sort of answer or clue as to who he was or why he was there, you’d just leave. You could go to a neighbor’s place or Addison’s to call the cops. But he didn't seem to like it when you took a step back since he pinned you with a glare and crooked his finger, beckoning you to go to him.

Your legs wobbled with the first step, but you righted yourself as you continued to move forward. If he noticed your misstep, he didn't acknowledge it. You swallowed, worried that bile would rise to your throat from how sick you felt when you stopped in front of him. That feeling only grew when he leaned in to grip your waist and roughly pulled you toward him.

A scream escaped this time around, but his hand clamped over your mouth to smother the sound. The cold fear that trickled down your spine would stick with you for days to come as he pulled you onto his lap and shook his head with another tsk. There was no mistaking the evident lust in his gaze as his eyes bore into yours.

What was he going to do to you?

You put your hands on his shoulders to push yourself away, but the hand on your hip held you tighter. You squirmed in his lap before you brushed against the outline of his cock, your body stiffening when he let out a low groan. With wide eyes, you decided moving wasn't a wise decision.

“Keep moving your hips if you want, but don't scream again,” he warned, his deep voice rumbling from his chest as you breathed through your nose. “There’s time for that later.”

Blood rushed to your ears as your heart pounded faster. You wished you could've stopped the tears from filling your eyes, but you weren't that strong. Was he going to hurt you? Kill you? If so, why?

The brunette cooed as a tear slid down your cheek. “I’m not going to hurt you, okay? But I will gag you if I remove my hand and you scream again,” he promised, his tone lighter than a moment ago. “Blink once if you promise not to scream.”

You blinked, another tear falling from your eye.

A pleased look crossed his face when he removed his hand and you complied. “Good girl,” he whispered and you ignored the new kind of shiver that rolled down your spine. “I didn't mean to startle you, but I couldn't wait any longer to see you.”

You exhaled as he used his thumb to wipe the tears away, your body still stiff as you focused on trying to stay calm. Couldn't wait to see you? You had never seen this man before in your life. “Who are you and what do you want?”

“My name is Bucky Barnes. And don't worry. I already know your name.” He smirked as he rested his hand on your cheek. You managed not to flinch at his calloused touch. “Did you have fun at my club?”

Confusion flickered in your gaze. “What?”

“My club, The 107th. I own it. Did you have fun?” He asked again, looking at you expectantly.

The 107th was the most luxurious and expensive nightclub in the city. Chic and glamorous in design with a friendly staff who waited on people hand and foot, you felt like royalty as you hung out in the VIP section. The upscale venue wasn't one you frequented often. In fact, you had only been once.

For Addison’s bachelorette party.

“Y-Yeah,” you replied, still confused as to what he wanted. “It’s a nice club.”

He hummed, his thumb brushing across your trembling lip. “I’m glad to hear it, but you didn't seem to have as much ‘fun’ as your friends. Did you?”

You nursed your drink as you gazed out at the dancefloor from your seat. The place was packed, the strobe lights flashing over the crowd in various hues as they grinded to the beat. You adjusted the hem of your short black dress as you debated going out to dance. You decided against it since you weren't looking to hook up.

“Come on! Another shot!” Addison yelled, adjusting her tiara on her head. She was lucky the “bride to be” sash was still on straight. “Shot, shot, sh-sh-sh-shot!”

You giggled as she plopped down beside you. “I did a shot. I'm fine,” you hollered back.

Your best friend grumbled something you couldn't make out as she put her head on your shoulder. “But you aren't even driving.”

“I don't want to deal with a hangover tomorrow,” you argued, thanking the server as she brought another bottle.

“Ugh. If you won't drink, at least get laid,” Addison whined a little. “You're wearing a slutty black dress and everything.”

You looked around at the group. Addison was the only one in white since she was the bride. Everyone else wore black. They looked great, but you weren't dressed to get any sort of attention.

“Yeah! Get fucked!” Dana shouted.

“Is that encouragement or an insult?” You teased, glancing at the small blinking light in the corner of the VIP section. You didn't notice it before.

“Raise your hand if you think our girl should get laid!” Addison announced, raising her hand high and spilling some of her drink on the seat. “Whoops.”

The group raised their hands as you attempted to clean up the small mess. “I’m not hooking up with anyone tonight,” you said to their disappointment. “This night isn't about me and my love life.”

“Your love life? Babe, it doesn't exist!” Addison grabbed your left hand and held it up to stare at your bare ring finger. “I don't get it. You're the only one not engaged or married yet. And you're, like, the sweetest one in our group. And you're so pretty! It’s not fair that you don't have a man. You deserve one.”

“And sex!” Dana chimed in. “You deserve lots of sex!”

You gently pulled your hand away and pushed down the sadness that surfaced at the reminder that you were the only single one left of your friends. You didn't know why you hadn't met the right one yet. It wasn't like your standards were too high and you were a good, loyal partner. You wouldn't say you were supermodel gorgeous, but you were pretty. You knew how to have a good time.

Right?

Addison's lip wobbled when she saw the look on your face. “Hey, hey, hey. I’m sorry. I didn't mean anything by it,” she rambled, hugging you from the side. “I just want you to have what Brady and I have. I want someone to love you.”

Guilt crept in before you shook your head and flashed your best smile. You know she wasn't trying to make you feel bad and you didn't want to ruin her night. “And one day, I will. Someone will love me the way Brady loves you and I’ll love him, too,” you assured her, giving the other girls a shrug and wishing they'd stop with the pitying stares. “Shots?”

“Shots!”

Your eyes briefly went back to the blinking light before you put a small smile back on your face. Addison was having fun and that was what mattered. You could worry about yourself and your feelings tomorrow.

“I’m sorry, but did my friends and I do something wrong?” You asked, dodging his question. You booked and paid for the section well in advance. Your group danced around in the area, and behaved overall and kept to yourselves. The server got a nice tip at the end of the night.

So what was the matter?

“Not at all,” he said, tilting his head. “I’m just sorry I couldn't introduce myself to you that night.”

“I don't understand. You broke into my home just so you could introduce yourself to me?” You asked as he traced small circles on your hips, the motion making your head spin a little. “How do you even know where I live?”

He chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling, before he got serious again. “I have my ways. And I can be a little intense and forward at times, but you’ll get used to it,” he said, your eyes wide again. What was wrong with this man?

“Okay, Bucky,” you said slowly, seeing something wicked flash in his eyes when you said his name. “Being intense and forward doesn't excuse breaking into my home. And since my friends and I didn't do anything wrong at your club and you formally introduced yourself, I think it's time for you to leave.”

A second passed before he shook his head. “No, doll. It’s time for you to get the love life and man you deserve.”

Fingers brushed your throat as you struggled to take your next breath. “What did you say?”

“I'm going to take you out to dinner tomorrow so you can get to know me and you’re going to wear the dress I bought for you,” he explained as if he didn't hear you, nodding toward the hall. “It’s waiting for you in your bedroom and, yes, it’s your size.”

How did this man have the nerve and how long had he been in your place? “You went into my room? You-”

“And I bought you that perfume you recently ran out of. I know how much you love it. I know everything about you,” he continued, running his nose along your neck as your blood ran cold. “Oh, we’re going to have so much fun together.”

You moved back, desperate to get away as your stomach twisted. He didn't let you get far, easily yanking you close again. How did he know anything about you? How did you catch his eye?

The blinking light in the corner of the VIP section …

“And if I say no?”

Bucky pulled back, his eyes calculating as he studied you. “I’m not going to force you into going out with me. It’s your choice to say yes or no, but I want you to think carefully about that choice.”

Dread pooled in your gut. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I obviously know where you live and I can get in and out undetected,” he pointed out. You wondered now if this was the first time he had been in your place. “I also know where your friend Addison and her fiancé, Brady, live.”

A wounded sound escaped at the thought of anything happening to your friends. “Please, leave them alone.”

“And the shop you work at, I know where it’s located. Those floral arrangements you make are stunning. Your boss even gave you a raise recently. You should be proud,” he smiled.

Your eyes watered again. The man was certifiably insane. Maybe this was a sick joke or a bad dream. Soon you'd wake up in your bed.

But the iron grip on your body reminded you that this was very real.

He waved a hand dismissively. “But we both know you’ll make the right choice because you're a good girl… a smart girl,” he said like he hadn't just threatened your friends or livelihood. “Just take the night to think it over. Have a glass of wine and draw yourself a nice bath while you do.”

He surprised you by moving you from his lap to the sofa. His hands and eyes lingered on you momentarily before he released you and stood up. Towering over you, he gave you a tender smile as he buttoned his jacket.

“I’m going to lock the door behind me when I leave and I’ll be back tomorrow at 7pm so you can give me your answer. And if you try and tell anyone I was here tonight, I’ll know about it,” he said, grasping your chin when you tried to look away. “It’s taking all of my control not to drag you to bed, but I can wait a little longer.”

Fear prickled the back of your neck as you tensed up. “You couldn't just ask me out like a normal person?”

You almost regretted asking when he narrowed his eyes, but he huffed out a laugh. “Where's the fun in that?” He winked as you shrank back in your seat. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. I won't hurt you. And you know what? I just thought of something. You still need a plus one for the wedding. I’m free. I’ll get a suit to match your bridesmaids’ dress. We’ll look perfect together. And Addison will be so happy that you aren't going alone.”

His tone was light and happy like it was a suggestion and not an order, but the ferocity in his gaze had you trembling. “Why are you doing this?” You asked above a whisper.

“Because I want you and I get what I want,” he said as a matter of fact, releasing your chin. “Like I said, it's time for you to get the love you deserve. And I know you'll give it to me in return.”

It was like your spirit floated out of your body as he bent down to kiss your forehead. You couldn't move or speak. Was this what shock felt like? Or was it complete and utter fear?

You stared ahead as he picked up your phone and unlocked it with your passcode. He knew that, too? “Can’t leave without giving you my phone number,” he smiled, putting his information in before he set the device down. You didn't respond. Once he was gone you could scream and cry. But you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of breaking down in front of him. “I’ll be back tomorrow night, 7pm. Get some rest. You'll need it.”

Even as he left you alone and locked the door behind him as promised, you didn't move from your spot as tears streamed down your cheeks. You didn't dare go to your bedroom to see the gifts he left for you, your hand shaking as you wiped at your face. The scent of his cologne lingered, as did his touch. It was like his shadow covered you, leaving you cold and afraid. Your home was no longer safe.

You weren't safe.

With his subtle threat looming over your head, you’d have no choice but to go out with him. Maybe he’d get bored of you quickly and move on. Or maybe not. You had no way of knowing. All you knew was that your average life was upheaved by the owner of The 107th.

And you were going to be his girl whether you liked it or not.

Bucky isn't wasting time. Where is he taking you on your first date? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

HOLD STILL

written for @punkshort's AU August Challenge

RATING: Explicit (18+) PAIRING: Bodyguard!Dave York x f!Reader WORD COUNT: 3.4k CW: Dave's filthy mouth, pwp, smut (cockwarming, unprotected piv, creampie, sorta soft-dom!dave but really he's just bossy, sorta praise kink, a couple pussy pronouns don’t look at me), and one nonsense tense switch just for the hell of it I guess.

SUMMARY: On your last night together, Dave agrees to compromise.

read on ao3 | almostfoxglove masterlist

You want him, but he won’t fuck you. Not once, not even quickly, not even with just his hands. Dave York—ever stoic, unflinching—insists on doing his job and his job alone. And you, as he so enjoys reiterating, are not his job. Protecting you is. 

For three weeks you’ve smothered the calendar hung on the kitchen wall with another red X each morning, whittling the days until you give your polished testimony and say goodbye to him for good. Now the court date looms heavy on the horizon—it’ll rise tomorrow with the sun. 

In the meantime—these last, dwindling hours—you roam the grand rooms of an apartment rented for your protection, your anonymity, at the very skirt of the city where you’d surely have lost your mind if not for him. Stationed diligently at your side, hand never more than a twitch from the grip of his gun. So many hours spent alone you've memorized his form: how he looks scanning the curtained windows for any whisper of danger. How he's never complained when you choose cheesy reality shows from the TV guide. Teaching you how to play Spades with a deck of cards soft and worn—from his home, maybe, though you never ask—and letting you win the first hand, lips quirked when you call him out on it, then unapologetically wiping the floor with you for the rest of your isolation. 

Yes, you know him, though only in image. Broad and sturdy, shirts each neatly ironed and squarely tucked. The hard line of his jaw and the fullness of his bottom lip. His hair always swept neatly from his face, even when you know he’s recently woken up. Never scruffy, never stubbled. Clean shaven and the smell of nice hotel shampoo.

It’s wrong, how you try to prod him to no avail. No matter your efforts, he says nothing of the way you adorn your body: lacy slips and satin sets at night, hugging silhouettes during the day, hair always done, lipstick never out of place even though you can’t leave the apartment or stand too near the windows. Dave is the only one who sees you, save for the days or hours when he leaves you his clumsy understudy to step down from his post.

He must know you do it for him.

It’s wrong, but you asked once, early on. Tonight? 

And Dave’s mouth pinched into a flat, polite line. Unreadable, his face drained of its emotion. His declination drawled deep and heady, a voice that curled your toes and more than once kept you panting alone in your bed that’s not yours at all, just two doors away from his, fingers needy and swirling. No, honey. Not tonight.

Repeated in your mind until it warped like an overplayed tape.

No, honey.

Honey.

Honey.

Not tonight.

Tonight.

Tonight, he is gone—your last together before the trial—leaving you in the hollow apartment with his proxy, stung. Same dark clothes, same holstered gun, same little piece nestled in his ear, but not half of what you want. You want Dave: a man as solid as he is driven, immutable as he is tempting. Assigned to protect you until you deliver the account that’ll send a monster away.

Perhaps you’ve liked the game—how he watches you, but never gives in—but now it’s lost its shimmer.

Lights dimmed for the evening, all black curtains drawn, the vaulted ceilings of the kitchen feel miles high as you perch on a barstool at the breakfast counter to stare at the calendar taunting you across the quiet room. Beyond the pristine halls you’ve lapped all day like an anxious dog, the city serenades you. Traffic squealing through streets, sirens singing in the distance, the occasional shout of someone walking by outside, eight floors below. 

You are not, at night, permitted to part the curtains, lest someone get a glimpse of your illuminated face, but you long to open one now, see if Dave is out there, returning to your little castle turret one final time. Because it’s possible he won’t come back at all—that his coworker will escort you between lobby and truck, between truck and courthouse, between courthouse and whatever comes next. Maybe home. That you’ll never see Dave again, let alone throw caution to the wind and ask once more, tonight?

And then, just then, as your stomach begins to sink with disappointment, you hear the sudden crack of the front door unlocking and the creak of its surrender. You’ve conjured him, somehow, past the stroke of midnight. Then low, rumbled whispers, the unmistakable tone of Dave’s voice mumbling to his understudy. Your heart speeds as the door closes again and his stand-in retreats into the hall. How dizzying, the sound of locks settling into their rightful places, turned by Dave’s unerring hands. 

When he appears in the dining room behind you, bomber jacket hanging from one arm, he tucks a tiny apology into the twitch of his lips—or maybe it’s meant to be a smile. “It’s late,” he says, as your eyes drink him in. Polished as ever, despite the hour, not a stitch out of place. “Should be in bed.”

You shrug, hoping you might appear indifferent. “Couldn’t sleep,” you say, aware of how the satin of your robe slopes off your shoulder with no intention of righting it.

Does something darken in his face then, or do you imagine it? You can’t be sure, not in this umbra, at this time of night. Jaw ticking, Dave strides cautiously toward the dining table, drapes his jacket over the back of one glossy chair, and sinks into the seat at the head of the sleek table, same as usual. A quiet kind of reign, his claiming this position, always, for every meal. He scratches his cheek, slips the gun from the holster at his belt to rest on the table, and as he leans back you indulge yourself—how can you not—in the slight buck of his hips as he shifts to stretch out his legs. 

“Need your rest,” Dave chides softly. No edge to his tone.

Sighing before you can stop yourself, disappointed all over again as his gaze draws off you to the windows and drapes. On duty, still. On duty, always. Not you. Not tonight. “S’the last night,” you reply, staring at the calendar again. One little red X to go. “You weren’t here.”

Behind you, his deep and measured breath. The shiver of that unflappable restraint, you hope, but you don’t yet dare to look back. He might spook.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

You don’t budge. Don’t move.

“You hear me?” Voice a little harder now, solidifying. When he speaks to you, you always look him in the eye—or you always have before.

Electric, your heart. Revving just a breath faster, just a hair harder, at the sound of him huffing in frustration. Your lips tick up in one corner, hidden, a secret meant only for you. When Dave says your name, your whole body purrs and you at last turn your head enough to let him glimpse your profile, still withholding your gaze.

“Pouting,” he scolds, this time meaning it. “That what this is?”

“Avoiding me,” you counter. “That where you were?”

Dave hmphs, darkness fading and softness returning to his tone. “Course not, honey.”

You look at him now, properly. Barstool spinning as you push off the counter to face him. Under the dusk of dimmed pendant lights over the dining table, Dave glows. In the time you’ve looked away, he’s unbuttoned his shirt one button lower than it’d been when he walked in.

One button lower than you’ve ever seen him wear before.

“Said I’m sorry,” he says again, head tilted. His foot comes out to nudge the leg of the chair beside his, angling it in your direction. “Come here.”

He means for you to sit, maybe play a hand of Spades, but as you slink off the barstool you have no intention of taking the seat. Warmth flushing in your chest, cool, conditioned air greeting your bare legs and collarbones, all the skin not covered by your sleekest sleep set. You swear he drinks the sight of you, for once, as you cross the kitchen toward him. Eyes dark not only from shadows, from the time. Or else you hope, as you come to a stop between Dave’s knees, that the way he’s not yet blinked means what you want it to.

Lips parting, a breath from speaking when you beat him to the punch and ask, “Tonight?” Your chin lowered and eyes searching his. It’s the last night. Might as well show your hand while you still can, before he slinks back into the underbelly of a city where you know he’s lived for years but you’ve never once glimpsed him, and not just because it’s busy.

Because invisible is what he’s paid to be, what he’s good at. Unseen until the fist of him is needed, the gun.

Pink striping his bottom lip, a swipe of his tongue, eyes boring into you. The slightest shake of his head, clean-shaven cheeks sharked in the shadow and golden light. “Honey.” Not a no, honey. Not a not tonight. Just honey, like you’ve imagined.

Emboldened, you caress of your fingertips across his shoulder, tracing the seam of his crisp, pale blue dress shirt. So handsome, always so handsome. A man who takes care of himself, who tidies and cleans without your needing to ask. Spotless, always. Reserved, always. Killing you, always, with every brush of his gaze. 

You draw your fingers towards his shirt collar.

“Can’t,” says Dave, softer still. Breathy, almost. You pet the knife-cut of his pressed collar, the button just below it, and his Adam’s apple bobs slowly in his throat. Again, he shakes his head so slightly it looks more like a twitch. A reflex to say no. Not a desire to. “Can’t fuck you, honey. Wouldn’t be right.”

You bite your lip, brows drawing together, not lifting your hand from the button placket of his shirt. “Just tonight,” you breathe, and bat your eyes a little.

At last Dave’s dark eyes drop from yours, scanning the length of you above him with searing precision. Consideration. You slant your head to one side as his gaze slides back up, hesitating on your silk-draped chest, and you suck a sharper breath before it returns to meet yours. He cuffs your wrist with his hand to halt your teasing as he shakes his head once more, licking his bottom lip again with greater meaning. A glint in his eyes, lust finally flaring. 

Pride swirls in your stomach, honeyed and wanting. Then he tugs you by the hips with such reflexes you hardly register the movement of his hands before you’re on him, straddling him in the chair, your thighs framing his hips. Held. Your robe fanning behind you, over his knees. Heart pounding dangerously close to a cardiac event.

Dave tsks softly, smirking when you whimper, trying to roll your hips over the heat of his crotch. Those careful, deadly hands lock them in a vice as he clicks his tongue. “Not gonna fuck you,” he murmurs, and you lean in to kiss him but he pulls his head away. “Not gonna kiss you either. Not right.”

You don’t care about right. Now you pout for real, forehead wrinkling, staring at his upturned lips. You feel the unmistakable twitch of him growing hard against you and your cunt throbs in reply, needy and slick. You try to wiggle again but Dave pinches your hips in warning. “Look at me,” he repeats, that edge to his voice that curls your toes, and your eyes snap to his.

“Good girl.”

You moan quietly, made liquid by the tender swipe of his thumb over the satin of your sleep shorts. Your eyes fluttering at such a tiny stroke, not even the meeting of skin. 

“You can’t move, okay? Only allowed to sit.” When you don’t answer, too lost to the throb of his cock against your begging core, Dave pinches you again, voice gravelly in a way you’ve not heard before. “You hear me?”

Nodding, you hum. Can’t quite get out the word. 

“Need to hear you, honey. Gonna hold still for me?”

“Mhm,” you whine, fighting your every instinct to grind down against him as you meet his lust-blown eyes. “Yes. Only allowed to sit.”

Dave puffs a hot breath out that sends a wake of goosebumps across your chest. “Good girl,” he coos, and your brows pinch at the praise. “Soaking me already, honey. Can’t sleep like this, can you? Just need to turn your brain off, hm?” The movement of his hips below yours is so slight you might imagine it, that tiny grind as his cock grows. You nod, whine softly, and both his thumbs stroke your hips gently before stilling again.

“Show me, honey.” So quiet. So little air between you, and yet too much.

You scan his face until he offers a small nod. Those brown eyes hooded by dark lashes, devouring you without need for the press of his mouth. It’d be soft, you’re certain. The caress of his lips. Maybe the rest of him is hard and deadly, but those would be tender, careful—they’d take you apart, breath by breath. With the same precision with which he darts between shadows and cleans his gun and beats you at cards and tucks your hair behind your ear when you’re falling asleep on the couch, he’d dissolve you kiss by kiss with a kind of grace.

It’s his lips on which you pin your gaze as you let one hand drift between your legs, dipping easily between silk and skin—your body made jelly so quickly and by so little contact, already wet. You pray you don’t imagine the sharpness of his breath when your knuckles accidentally graze against his slacks as you slip your fingers between dewy folds. Then: your hand rising in the dim light, shining, honeyed. Dave watching them, the corner of his mouth cracking just a little. Tensing into his cheek.

He grunts, good girl, and then he’s lifting you just enough to peel down the zip of his slacks, flick open the button, but when your eyes fall hopeful for a glimpse of him he tsks, hooks one finger beneath your chin to tilt your face up, whispers a soft eyes on me, honey as he pulls himself out where you can’t see.

As his knuckles brush against the wet gusset of your shorts, nudging them to the side. Finding no panties to move.

As the head of his cock—plush, warm, weeping—nudges against the ache of you, the thrum of your longing.

He grins, wicked.

Then pressure, a moan lost to the air you’re hardly conscious of and the stretch of him, the slow press in and the ache of your cunt swallowing his girth inch by inch. You whimper, eyelids shuddering like old film, catching only still frames of Dave’s expression as he lowers you gently, burying himself in your drooling heat until you come to rest at his base, flush and full.

So full. Light-headed, sparkling. Your hips must rock because he squeezes your waist. “Hold still, honey,” he coos. “Remember?”

The terms of his touch sounded alright just a breath ago, but now you can’t imagine how you ever agreed. How you’re supposed to stay still with him throbbing inside you like this, heavy and sweet, exactly what you need. A flicker in his eyes like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, how he’s scrubbing out every thought in your head. Cocky, yes. But earning it.

“Dave,” you sigh, breathy and desperate. Your cunt clenching and squeezing and pushing out slick, probably ruining his slacks but he won’t let you look down, just tilts your head up gently every time it hangs slack. “Please.”

His breathing catches for a beat, then it’s steady again. “I know, I know,” he murmurs, keeping his finger under your chin to keep your eyes on him—but he hardly needs to. You’d swear the whole world drained away the second he slid into you. There’s nothing else past your bodies, past this one dining room chair. Everything else disappears like magic. The trial, the dread, the drone of city noise. The slow leak of your heart knowing this is goodbye—all of it. Gone.

You’d have sworn it impossible to come like this, with no movement at all, but you will. You do. And months from now—safe in the swaddle of your actual apartment that for weeks has stood hollow and dusty, plants withering sadly on their windowsills—you’ll lie in bed longing, missing, remembering. Trying to recreate the swipe of his thick thumb on your clit as you replay this moment in your head. How you whined, wanna take care of you when Dave still wouldn’t let you move, even when you were close, just swiped and swiped his thumb until you were something more than alive, transcending.

How his pupils had set ablaze with your whispered plea. How you’d realized that was the point, for him. The begging and the not giving in.

How he’d growled, “Taking care of you is taking care of me. You don’t think I’m gonna come the second this pussy strangles my cock? ‘Cause I am. S’all I need, honey, just give it to me—”

His voice the thunder to your body’s crackle and lightning.

“Let her take care of me, that’a girl, that’s it, just like that honey, she’s so tight—fuck—so fuckin’ tight around me, just squeezin’ me, gonna come when you do, pretty girl, let me have it.”

How it hit you like a white bolt of heat and light, every cell in you tense and flaming, then melting, boneless on his lap as he murmured sweetly, grunted, tried to lift you off him just in time and you’d finally, finally touched him—lucid in an instant, hands slammed down on the muscle of his shoulders. Mumbling amidst your aftershocks, inside, inside, inside. Eyelids stuttering again, back to picture frames as your cunt seized and begged in tandem.

The snarl of his upper lip.

His knotted jaw.

Tongue sucked against his front teeth, resolve crumbling.

The allowance granted to your hands to stay right there, fisting his shirt collar as his locked your waist in a bruising vice. His hips bucking only once, grinding the head of his cock deeper, deliciously, almost too good to take. 

“Fuck, fuckfuck—yeah, that what she needs, honey? Needs me to fill her up?”

You’ll remember your own reply as you near a second-rate heaven in the nest of your duvet at home, all frantic hands and thrusting digits and eyes slammed shut, repainting him in your head. Golden in that gloomy light, hair straying out of position across his misted forehead for the first time. Yes. Please. Dave. Yes. Inside. Please—and his grunt, dark and sweet as caramel, as burnt brown sugar. That tiny grin dragging at his soft lips, pleased. You’d pleased him, surprised him maybe. 

That can make you sparkle now, to remember.

“Okay, honey. Okay—shit—gonna give it to you, hm? Gonna give you all of it, baby—she’s squeezing me so goddamn tight, fuck, wanna stay here all night—”

Then the granting of a wish, the heat of him spilling into your cunt, the unmistakable slide of slick leaking between your thighs and onto his; you didn’t have to look to know. You could feel it, that wholeness overflowing. You can almost feel it now; three fingers might be a poor attempt at recreation, but you fall off the cliff all the same, his name on your tongue, a cry in the night, all the curtains dark and drawn as you come down breathless and drowsy, your whole body limp and spent as it’d been that night with him—when he’d tucked himself away and petted your hair back from your face, so gentle with you, cooing that you did so good, honey. Such a good girl. Gonna get you into bed now, hm? Need your sleep, honey. Come on. 

Carrying you into your not-real bedroom, tucking you in so tenderly, like he hadn’t just taken you apart at the molecules. And Dave’s lips were just as plush as you’d imagined when they grazed your forehead, his big hand petting your cheek once more, then turning out the lights. That deep timbre whispering from the doorway, goodnight. The door clicking shut. All of it perfect. How you’d known you mattered more than a job for just one moment in time.

dividers by @saradika-graphics - tag list & some mutuals <3

@ak-vintage @thethirstwivesclub @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @hediondoamor-blog @harriedandharassed 

@burntheedges @la-eterna-enamorada29 @goodgirlwannabe @guiltyasdave @for-a-longlongtime

@littlemisspascal @luxurychristmaspudding @tonysopranosrobe @evolnoomym @sweetpascal 

@spacelatinos4life @sweetpascal @biggetywitch @wannab-urs @jolapeno 

@pedgito @pastelpinkflowerlife @jessthebaker @rav3n-pascal22 @sixhours 

@noisynightmarepoetry @clawdee

This was so good!!! I need more

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

summary: the world crumbled before you could experience the touch of another. Joel does his best to keep you innocent for as long as he can.

pairing: Jackson!Joel Miller x afab virgin!reader.

warnings: 18+ mdni. established, undefined relationship. PUSSY RUBBING. fluids galore. just the tip. perv!joel. unspecified age gap. fingering. dirty talk. overstimulation. male masturbation. FEELS. Joel is a conflicted old man. reader is able bodied. no Ellie. w.c. 2.9k

an: i watched a porn clip and instantly went rabid thinking about jackson!joel.

-> follow up to a glimpse of heaven but it's not necessary to read the first part.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐬 ⋅ 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

Like most of Jackson, the house you share with Joel is quiet and calm when night falls. Rain softly patters against the window as you lie in bed, wide awake. Another night of fruitless sleep under your belt.

You huff irritatedly, your hand collapsing against the mattress as you bitterly kick your bedspread onto the floor. Your oversized shirt clings to your body, your skin dewy from the exertion, and you're close to crying. Your limbs are wrought and overworked after hours of touching yourself with no orgasm to show for it.

Your hand won't cut it; it isn't enough. It can't reach all those sensitive spots that make you float among the stars.

Warmth pools in your abdomen as you think of one that's the perfect size.

A hazy hue of yellow light pours under your bedroom door as it spills from the room across the hall.

Joel.

It takes a long time to get to know someone, but they tend to meld with your soul once you do in one way or another.

From the start, Joel was intimidating. He was so frayed around the edges that you were afraid he'd completely unravel in the middle of your journey. He didn't seem to care for your company as the two of you traveled across the plains to Jackson, hesitation poisoning every fiber of your being, but you kept on with the strange man since no one else was willing to trek across the states. You desperately needed a new life, a fresh start away from the Boston QZ, and Jackson sounded like the perfect spot.

Over time, Joel opened up, conversing little by little as you drove for miles across the now barren US. Usually, after you had a close call with raiders or the lone gunman, he'd go silent, the weight of protecting someone other than himself sinking further into his soul, consuming that much further.

What you never expected was for him to be your first touch.

Sweltering tension slowly grew like a wildfire. Catching each other's curious stares, lingering fingers, and salacious banter until, one night, he slid a cautious hand into your panties. He claimed your untouched sex when you confessed over a roaring fire and a bottle of whiskey that you'd never been with another. His weathered hands were gentle as he sunk his fingers into your core, watching with rabid fascination as you came for the first time, gasping from his touch.

The following day, as he drove you across the interstate with the sun slowly rising, he made sure you knew that wouldn't happen again. "I'm much too old. Don't wanna waste your time with a mean ol' grump like me."

You didn't bring it up again.

One month after settling into Jackson, picking bedrooms, and deciding who would do which chores, Joel had his first taste of you.

It wasn't supposed to happen.

You chewed your dinner slowly in the modestly sized dining room across from Joel. You were so lost in thought that he was concerned enough to ask what was wrong.

"What does it mean when a man eats you out?" you naively pondered, causing him to choke on his veggies.

Joel had never looked so red before as he took a long drink of whiskey. You instantly apologized, explaining that you overheard a group of women conversing while you tended the communal garden.

He raised a hand, curbing your frantic rambles. "S'ok. Figured you'd be learnin' things. Just didn' think I'd be the one you'd ask."

"But I trust you."

His jaw twitched at your words.  

Later that night, Joel fell to his knees at the edge of your bed and tossed your legs over his broad shoulders. "Never tasted a pussy so sweet," he mumbled against your glistening folds as you ran your fingers through his graying curls. You came multiple times on his tongue, grinding his whiskered jaw while he hungrily lapped at your soaked folds like he was dying of thirst.

You didn't bring it up again.

It's warmer in Jackson now. The sun hangs longer in the sky. Snow boots and jackets are stowed away until the next freeze.

You slink from the warmth of your bed and pad sockless across the hall. Lightening flickers brightly under the starry sky. The night rain storm slowly whirls through the city, soaking everything in its path.

Joel's door is open. A soft smile tugs at your lips; it's his way of saying he's still up. He keeps it ajar while he reads before rolling onto his side and bidding goodnight to the world.

Three soft knocks alert Joel from the guitar-building manual he's currently reading. Dread clouds his mind for a moment, wondering why you'd be knocking on his door at this time of night, but he takes a deep breath and grounds himself in the softness of his bed.

"Yeah?" he calls out. His tone is rough around the edges after a long day on patrol.

You poke your head around the door with a timid smirk. He looks at you over his reading glasses before marking his spot and laying his book on the side table.

You don't say anything as you stride into his room. He notices your oversized shirt swaying at your knees before you climb into his bed and curl against his side like a cat. 

He drapes an arm around your shoulder, unconsciously pulling you closer.

"'Nother bad dream?" he questions with a low rumble.

You shake your head. "Can't sleep."

You nuzzle your face into the crook of his shoulder and feel him nod, understanding the endless struggle for a night of peaceful sleep. It's improved since moving to Jackson, but the dreams never end.

Silence fills the bedroom except for the soft pitter-patter of rain against the roof. Joel leans against the headboard, sighs through his nose, and lets his thoughts drift. He's content to sit with you in his arms for as long as possible, even if that makes him selfish.

He wonders if you hope to find someone to settle down with, someone less ridged and mentally maimed, someone less him.

The thought drives a stake through his heart.

He'd be crazy to say he didn't love being around you. Your laugh and lopsided smile took the first brick out of his impenetrable fortress when you spied a deer and her calf frolicking in an open field in Kansas. From then on, it became easier for him to let his walls down.

When you came to him with those big doe eyes and urges about wanting to know what it's like to be touched and desired, he gave in each time despite his reasoning.

He would masturbate each time after getting his hands on you, also thinking about the early days when he'd catch glimpses of you changing or the time he first saw you naked while showering at the YMCA. 

He's still trying to figure out what to make of you. Friends? Lovers? He certainly didn't mean to fall head over heels. Love had no place in his heart, but he'd be a fool to say he wasn't extremely fond of you.

"Can you make me feel good again?" your lithe voice broke the silence.

Joel stops breathing. Your question doused him like a cold bucket of water. He knew this would come back and haunt him.

His hand curls tight around your shoulder as he wrestles with the devil on his shoulder. "Told ya we shouldn't keep doin' this, Sweetheart," he reasons, trying not to break your heart.

"But I can't make myself feel as good as when you've done it. I've tried!" You whine, burying your face into his chest.

"S'not that I don't wanna," he admits, soothing your soft cries. "S'just, you're too precious to do that wit' someone like me."

You lift your head and brazenly brush your lips against the exposed skin of his collarbone, earning a low groan as he curls a large hand around the back of your neck. He tugs you away from his skin, your lips still forming a tight 'O', and pins you with a stern gaze.

"Joel, it hurts." Your watery eyes and trembling bottom lip are his downfall.

"Lay back, Sweetheart, and spread your legs," he orders with a husky tone.

You don't make a noise; too afraid he'll stop if you do. Your cunt beats against the gusset of your panties as you lay on your back, spreading and bending both legs at the knee, just like he taught you.

A warm breath fans down your face as he shifts down your body before kneeling between your legs and tracing teasing fingers over your covered mound. His nails lightly scratch along the worn cotton, making you suck in a frantic breath. He slips a practiced hand beneath the crotch of your panties and deftly explores your folds, gently rubbing small circles on your clit after wetting his fingers with the arousal that's pouring from your cunt.

"Oh, she's achin' real bad, huh?" he groans as your opening clenches beneath his wandering touch.

"Joel, please, I need-" You gasp, hips wantonly grinding against his hand, desperate for any type of friction.

The muscles in his jaw ache. It's only natural you'd be wanting more.

Before he thinks twice, Joel draws his cock out from his sweatpants. Your stomach cramps at the sight as it smacks against his belly; he's massive.

His cock hangs heavy between his thighs like a solid, dangerous threat. It weeps from the dusky tip, shiny liquid dripping from the crown as he squeezes his hand around the girthy base peppered with dark gray, wiry hair.

"Got somethin' that'll make you feel good, sweet girl." he grits, tapping his cock against the covered crux of your pussy. It thwaps devastatingly against your clit, forcing a gasp from your lips as mind-numbing pleasure races up your spine and leaves you staring dumbly up at him.

"S'that what you need? Need my cock to keep 'er from achin so bad'?" his cock is searing as it lies in wait atop your panty-clad mound. You swear you can feel his blood pumping steadily into his shaft.

He cautiously thrusts his hips, sliding his length along your cotton-covered mound. Your slick arousal seeps thru the material, wetting the thin cotton and creating a sensuous touch as he glides along your cunt.

He shoves your shirt up over your chest, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. He licks his lips, "Such'a beauty."

Your cheeks flame at his words. Having such a man say things about you makes you lightheaded.

Joel groans as your panties practically are now see-through from your combined fluids staining the cotton, "Oh, baby." You whine at his pet name. "I got ya. Keep those legs open, just like I taught ya. S'good girl."

He keeps a steady pace, sawing back and forth over your extremely soaked mound. Your puffy pussy lips stick to the soaked cotton, leaving nothing to Joel's imagination. He glides easily along your slit, your juices smoothing his path until your arching your back and chanting his name like a prayer.

Watching you orgasm under his touch is enough to drive him wild. He throws all sense of logic out the window. He's okay with being selfish again.

"Let's get these off, yeah." He hooks two fingers under the elastic and slides your panties off before his words register in your euphoric haze. "Feel even better without 'em."

He swallows hard at the sight laid out before him. The sheets splay and curve around your naked body, making you look like an ethereal being sent to test his limits.

"Gonna give 'er a kiss, Sweetheart," his deep timbre vibrates your body as he draws close and touches the bulbous tip of his cock to your exposed folds. Blood rushes to your cunt instantly, bordering on the edge of pain. You cry out from the intense contact, and arousal slips freely down your crack as he traces his cockhead up and down your soaked slit.

"How's she feel?" He anchors his head, looking down at you from under his lashes.

"S'nice," you half whisper, half moan. The wanton bliss slowly consumes you the more he rubs against your sticky folds, keeping a hand locked around his girthy base, his crown glistening with your combined arousal.

Your eyes tear open, back arching like a bow, when he cants his hips and taps his cock square in the center of your cunt.

"M'not gonna fuck you, sweet girl, wanna keep you whole," he declares, holding true to his word despite the overwhelming need to claim you.

He can't be the one to sully you. "Ain' much left'a this world that's as sweet n' pure as you."

Your core quivers as his dusky, throbbing crown glides along your glistening seam. He tentatively explores uncharted areas, brows furrowed with concentration, fighting with inner demons who want to claim, corrupt, and mold you for only his touch.

His name leaves your lips with a mess of desperate, frustrated moans, "Please, Joel."

He snaps out of his haze. He's done almost everything he can to keep you safe and protected in this new way of life. He'll be damned if he doesn't grant you anything you ask for.

"S'hurtin' somethin' fierce, huh?" He grunts, angling his hips until his cock lines up with your fluttering hole. "Bet she needs somethin' big'er than fingers to ease 'er throbbin'."

His cock catches on your opening, forcing a hiss through his clenched teeth. As tight as you are, he can't stop from pushing into your warmth. He blocks out any sense of reasoning that's shouting from the back of his mind as he slowly nudges his cock into your weeping, inviting hole.

Joel goes brain-dumb momentarily, watching in immoral awe as your core ever so slowly swallows his fat tip and breaches your quivering hole, forcing a raspy whine from your throat.

So warm, safe, and wet.

Joel's never felt anything like you. He wants to bury himself, slide his cock as deep as he can, claim every inch, endlessly fill you with his cum, and keep you only for him.

You frantically reach for him, hands clutching the air as he rubs a callous thumb over your clit while keeping a steady hold on the base of his cock.

"S'all she's gonna get," he states, returning to his senses and hissing when your cunt tightens. "S'just the tip."

A soft begging whine bubbles from your lips as you extend your arms, needing something solid to hold before latching onto his wrists.

Your hips move on their own, desperate to feel his length completely shunted in your velvet warmth, but brute hands envelop your hips and pin them to the bed.

He shakes his head, salt and pepper curls fraying across his forehead. "Don' be greedy now." He tuts, narrowing his gaze down at you.

A garbled mess of nonsense tumbles from your lips as your fingernails dig into his muscular, hairy forearms.

"I know. S'big, huh?" He lands a solemn thumb on your clit, rubbing tender circles around the tiny bud. "Stay wit' me, sweet girl. Wanna feel you come on my cock."

Your mind spins. It's all too much, and yet, not enough. Your head tosses from side to side, and you're frantic to survive, breathing hard and fast, waiting for the drop to come and, at the same time, never wanting it to come.

"Don't I deserve it? Keepin' you safe all this time." Joel muses, stroking his cock in time with his teasing thumb. His eyes never leave where he's splitting you open. He's barely penetrating you, but it's enough to know if he had, you'd be struggling to take him.

"Come on, Sweetheart. Let go f'me," he urges, his touch growing faster. Severe, tightly drawn circles tease you closer to the edge.

Your stomach flips. A heaviness settles in your throat, your heart lodging in the tight confines, your blood pumping faster and faster. A lithe whine slithers free, escaping into the dimly lit room and burrows into Joel's mind.

His jaw clenches, and a dark growl rumbles from his chest, "Thatta' girl. Make'a fuckin' mess'a me."

Your dripping hole quivers and throbs around his swollen tip as you come with a silent scream, body locking taut, trying its best to engulf his length entirely.

Joel curses, jerking his length with long, steady tugs and rubbing his weeping, cream-covered tip around your soaked folds before his spine goes straight, and he yanks his cock from your core, curling in on himself and spilling his seed all over your belly with a deep, gravelly moan.

You sag into his sheets, spent with a shiny thin layer of dew and white ropes of spend painted across your abdomen.

"Shit." Joel curses, breathing heavily as he holds himself by his hands, which press into the mattress by your head, keeping you locked beneath him.

You hold his studious gaze. His dark eyes ruminate, tinged with mood, as his gaze drills down into your very core, threatening to demolish your soul. You resign that this was nothing special. Just another night you won't talk about again.  

Joel eases off of you with a grunt, his bones aching from the tension despite the brief, pleasurable relief, and tucks his cock back away into his sweatpants. He shuffles to the bathroom momentarily before returning with a damp washcloth.

He wipes the cloth over your belly and between your thighs, cleaning the combined arousal from your skin before chucking the rag into the hamper with a sigh.

"I know," you mutter, grimacing as you roll onto your side and sit up, tugging your shirt down. "I won't mention it again."

A solid, warm hand on your shoulder stops your retreat. "Stay," Joel whispers with soft, yearning eyes. "I wan' you to stay, sweet girl."

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated! follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!

I may like Logan more than I thought 🥵

ROOM FOR RENT

PAIRING: logan howlett x female reader

RATING: explicit (18+) | WORD COUNT: 5.3k

SUMMARY: logan finds a new roommate.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i have logan howlett brain rot and i’m not sorry. big smooch to everyone who let me yell about this to them including @eupheme @pedgito @wannab-urs @chaotic-mystery @kedsandtubesocks @undrthelights and @murder-wife 💕

WARNINGS: post deadpool & wolverine, variant!logan howlett, able bodied reader, reader being picked up (enhanced strength babyyyy), roommates to lovers trope, meddlesome pet cat, a splash of canon typical violence - mentions of blood and knife wounds, wade wilson/deadpool appearances, mild angst, explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact) - dirty talk, pain kink, biting, pet names, praise kink, oral sex - m & f receiving, a little dacryphilia during a blowjob, multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v, begging, size kink. if i’ve missed any, please let me know!

LINKS: masterlists | support for palestine

If Logan has to wake up to Wade's constant yapping for the rest of his life, he's going to go insane. Every morning he's jolted awake by Wade singing in the kitchen. When he notices Logan is awake, the singing stops and the one-sided conversation begins and doesn't end until Logan finally gets up from the couch and leaves the apartment with nothing but the clothes on his back.

Today, with some money in his pocket from a few odd jobs he's picked up, he finds solace in a quiet coffee shop. Sat beside a bulletin board, he scans the postings.

Art show, art show, yard sale, job opening, roommate wanted, art show--

Roommate wanted? Logan tears the paper from the pin.

Room for rent in 2 bedroom/1 bathroom apartment. One cat. Laundry on site.

He folds the ad up and stuffs the paper in the pocket of his jacket before gathering his empty coffee cup and tossing it in the trash on the way out the door, an uncharacteristic spring in his step.

Your phone rings with a number you don't recognize. You consider sending it to voicemail, already exhausted from fielding similar calls about your room for rent, but ultimately decide to answer.

"Hello?"

A man clears his throat on the other end of the line before responding with, "This the number for the rental?"

"Yep," you reply. "Were you interested in seeing it or have any questions?"

"How much is it?"

"Your half would be $950.”

"And it's a whole bedroom?"

"As opposed to a half bedroom?" You laugh at your joke but the man remains quiet and you wince. "I mean, yes. It's a whole bedroom."

"I'd like to come see it, if you've got the time."

"Sure, how's this Friday sound?" You suggest. "What's your full name?"

"Why do you need to know that?" The man's tone grows defensive and alarm bells ring in your head.

"Well, I'd like to make sure you're not, like, a wanted criminal or something," you tell him with an awkward laugh. He's quiet and for a moment you think that he may have hung up on you. "Hello?"

"Yeah, 'm still here," he sighs. "Name's Logan Howlett."

"Logan Howlett," you repeat. You give him your name in return, though he doesn't do much but grunt in acknowledgment. "Alright, well, do you have something to write down the address?"

"Just tell me, I'll remember."

After listing off the address, he ends the call with a rough goodbye. You get to work on your personal research, entering his name into a search engine.

No results.

You refresh the page, thinking that must be an error, but the same message appears.

No results.

You try spelling his name differently.

No results.

You set the phone down, anxiety starting to creep up your spine. It's hard to believe that there's absolutely nothing online about this man, who now has your full address, name, and phone number.

A sharp meow shakes you from your thoughts and you find that your cat has taken up residence on your lap, staring at you intently as his tail flicks back and forth. You run your hand over his head, scratching beneath his chin.

"You'll protect me, right?" You ask.

He leaps from your lap and struts away, fluffy tail disappearing down the hall that leads to your bedroom. You sigh.

Hopefully you haven’t just done something stupid.

Logan's attempt to leave the apartment unnoticed does not go as planned. Althea is sitting on the couch, a re-run of a talk show playing loudly, when he tries to make a run for it. He's distracted, watching her too carefully that he doesn't realize Wade has just returned from god-knows-where.

"Whatcha doin', twinkle toes?" Wade asks, startling Logan, who slams into the kitchen table with a curse.

"Fucking hell," Logan curses, rubbing his hip. "When did you get in here?"

Wade shrugs. "Sometime around the start of your 007 impression."

"My what?"

"Nevermind," Wade sighs. "You look snazzy. Got a hot date?"

"No," Logan grunts.

"A cold date, then?"

Logan pinches his nose. "No."

"Well, care to share, sugar plum? What's got you sneaking around like the Black Widow?"

"The who?"

"May she rest in peace," Wade says, tone suddenly somber.

"He's tryin' to move out," Althea chimes in. Wade's mouth drops open in shock.

"You're abandoning us?!" he exclaims. "After all we've been through?"

"Let the man do what he wants," Althea says. "Damn co-dependent freak."

"Harsh," - Wade places a hand over his chest, -"you know I have daddy issues. And mommy issues. And abandonment issues. And--"

"Enough," Logan snaps. "Yes, alright? I'm looking for a new place. I can't sleep on that couch forever."

"Is it because it smells like old people?" Wade whispers, pointing an accusatory finger to Althea, who flips him off.

"Look, this is your universe. Your timeline. Mine is gone and it's time I start making this whole thing less temporary."

Wade tilts his head and places a hand on Logan's shoulder. "My little Wolvie, all grown up," he says, wiping at a fake tear. Logan shoves his hand away, storming past him for the door.

"Remember to smile! Give 'em the ol' razzle dazzle!" Wade shouts as he slams the door behind him.

You pace your small living room and check the stove clock for the hundredth time in the past five minutes. Logan is due to see the apartment and your nerves have gone from a simmer to a full blown boil waiting for the mysterious man with no digital footprint to show up. Your cat is lounging on the windowsill, blissfully unaware of your inner panic.

Three sharp knocks at the door cause your pulse to skyrocket. You take a deep breath before crossing the short distance to the door, pulling it open with a smile.

"Hi! You must be--“

Your greeting dies on your tongue as you take in the man crowding your hallway. He's wearing a leather jacket over a white tank top that stretches tightly across a broad chest and jeans that highlight thick thighs. His dark hair is cut shorter on the sides than on the top of his head, the ends fanning out in a manner that reminds you of a cat's ears and he's sporting an impressively thick beard.

"'m Logan," he says in the same deep voice you heard over the phone, holding a hand out towards you. You slip your palm against his much larger one and you're surprised by how warm his touch is.

"H-hi," you stutter, shaking his hand. You clear your throat. "Sorry, hi. Uh, come on in."

You move aside to let him through the doorway, not missing the fact that his shoulders practically brush the frame as he steps inside. Your apartment opens up directly into the living room and kitchen with a small dining area set in between and you gesture around.

"Well, this is most of it, to be honest. I know it's not much but--"

"It's quiet," Logan interrupts. "Ain't used to quiet."

"Where, uh," -- you twist the hem of your shirt -- "where are you coming from? Exactly?"

"Kind of a long story. Right now I sleep on a couch in a shitty one bedroom apartment shared by an asshole who doesn't shut the fuck up and a blind cocaine addict."

"Oh," you reply, nodding despite your lack of understanding. "Yeah, it's just me here. Well, and Dumpling."

"Dumpling?"

As if summoned by his name, your cat appears, making a swift beeline for the newcomer. He twists around Logan's legs, butting his head against his shins. You bend down, scooping him up in your arms.

"This is Dumpling. He's cute, but he'll knock over any plants so I wouldn't recommend you take up indoor gardening if you decide to live here." Logan eyes Dumpling warily before holding a hand out. Dumpling sniffs his fingers daintily and rubs head against his palm. "I think he likes you."

Logan huffs, the sound close to a laugh, and it makes you smile. He looks up at you and for a moment you forget that you're complete strangers who have just met. He feels inexplicably familiar, his presence comforting, and you're surprised by it.

"Let's look at the bedroom," you finally say, breaking the moment. You turn, heading for the hall and he follows behind you, steps surprisingly light for such a large man. You take him to the last door at the end of the hall and enter the empty room. "This is it. It's kind of small, but all the rooms in New York are pretty much shoe boxes. It's got a closet and access to the fire escape, though.”

"Better than the couch," he says, looking around the room. "You said $950?"

"Plus half of the utilities," you add. He nods.

"Look, I'll be honest. I'm...between jobs right now." He sighs. "And my schedule can be...unpredictable."

"Oh," you mumble. You think about it for a moment. Renting the apartment to Logan would be a risk but...you can't help but notice that exhaustion in his eyes, how it's clear he's trying to get back on his feet in one way or another. "That's okay. We can work something out."

He raises an eyebrow at you. "Really? You sure about that?"

Were you?

"Yeah," you reply. "I'm sure."

Having a roommate is...an adjustment.

Logan is great. He does his dishes in a timely manner, doesn't leave any clothes on the bathroom floor, and even cleans Dumpling's litter box from time to time.

But he drives you insane and it has nothing to do with his qualities as a roommate and everything to do with how unbearably attractive he is. He could be doing the most mundane activity and suddenly you're more turned on than a faucet on full blast. On top of it all, he's surprisingly sweet for such a gruff man.

Currently, you're watching him pour himself a glass of whiskey. You know he's probably preparing to take the drink to his room so that he can have a cigar on the fire escape, but you find yourself wanting his company.

"Logan?" you ask. He looks at you over his shoulder.

"Yeah, bub?"

"Would you...want to watch a movie? With me?"

He turns to fully face you, leaning against the counter and taking a sip of his drink, dark eyes on you over the rim of the glass. You swallow nervously, prepared to retract your offer and hide out in your room for the rest of eternity, but he puts you out of your misery.

"Sure." He comes over to the couch, taking a seat that's a respectable distance away. "What are we watching?"

"Have you seen The Greatest Showman?"

A musical. He's sitting through a goddamn musical.

"You kinda look like that guy," you say from beside him. Logan tilts his head.

"I don't see it."

"It's the bone structure."

"I'm bigger than him." You mumble something under your breath that he doesn't quite catch, though he thinks it sounded suspiciously like yeah, you are. "You say somethin'?"

"Huh?" You shake your head. "No, nope. Didn't say anything."

Logan relaxes against the back of the couch, settling in. You're curled up against the armrest, a blanket covering your legs and your arms wrapped around a throw pillow. You look relaxed, at ease, a stark contrast to how you had been when he first moved in. You spent more of your time hidden in your room and he's happy to see you're getting more comfortable around him.

It's also torture. You're like a drug that he can't get enough of, a high that doesn't last long enough. He clings desperately to every smile you grace him with and falls asleep with the sound of your voice echoing in his head. He wakes up looking forward to seeing you, even if it's just in passing before you head out for your very normal job as part of your very normal life.

That's what gives him pause. You're not like him, not built for violence, and he would never drag you into that life. He thinks about Vanessa and Wade and the wedge that was driven between them they're working to repair and he can't bear the thought of having you just to lose you.

Logan's so lost in his own thoughts he doesn't realize that the movie has ended and you haven't moved. Your head is angled in a way that has to be uncomfortable, your mouth dropped open as you breathe slowly and deeply. He grabs the remote from the coffee table and turns the TV off, plunging the room into darkness as he stands and quietly approaches you.

He slides one arm beneath your knees and using the other to support your back, lifts you from the couch. You settle your head against his chest but otherwise your sleep remains undisturbed as he carries you down the hall into your room.

It's not the first time he's been in your personal space. One time he woke up to Dumpling clawing at his chest and he marched the animal back to your room for the night, barging in on you while you had been up reading. He remembers the queen sized bed in a wooden frame and a dresser with a drawer that won't shut take up most of the space, the plain white of your walls replaced by a soft blue. You've installed what he first thought were regular shelves but later learned are meant for Dumpling to use for late night acrobatics that he can sometimes hear from his room.

Logan sets you gently on your bed and pulls the quilt up to your shoulders. Before he can think better of it, he reaches a hand toward your face, tracing his thumb over the high point of your cheek. You turn towards the sensation, chasing his touch, and his chest grows tight. He sighs, stepping back and turning for the door.

Dumpling sits in the doorway, flicking his tail. Logan steps around him into the hallway, the cat's gaze following him.

"Shut up," he whispers.

Dumpling meows in return.

You're disoriented when you wake the next morning. The last thing you remember is being on the couch with Logan and watching The Greatest Showman, but somehow you've ended up in your room. You turn over in bed to find Dumpling on your other pillow, curled in a ball.

"Morning, Dumpy," you murmur, scratching his head. "How'd we end up here?"

Dumpling blinks unhelpfully at you before uncurling from his spot and hopping from the bed, leaving through your open door. It's then that you notice that you can hear grunting noises coming from the living room.

You get up to investigate and stop dead in your tracks, mouth dropping open when you find the source of the noise is a shirtless Logan doing push ups on the living room floor. The broad muscles of his back ripple with each movement, each push accompanied by a small grunt that makes your thighs clench together, imagining him making that noise when--

Logan stops, jumping to his feet and you shake your head free of the salacious image it began to create. He turns, giving you an uninhibited view of his thick chest that's covered in dark hair that trails down over defined abs before disappearing beneath the elastic of his sweatpants. You have to say something, anything, but your brain is full of static, unable to operate when he's standing there looking like that.

"Morning," he says.

"Good morning!" you reply, voice pitched higher than usual. You walk past him in a way you hope is casual, heading for the kitchen and prepping the coffee machine. "You got any plans today?"

"Got a friend who needs my help with something. Don't know when I'll be back." His voice is much closer than you expected and you turn from the counter to find him right behind you, a scant few inches of space between your bodies.

"Oh?" you whisper, keeping your gaze firmly on his face. "Is everything okay?"

"It will be."

He drifts impossibly closer, chest nearly brushing yours. Your heart pounds in your chest, a frantic rhythm that's become familiar ever since Logan entered your life. Reaching above your head, he grabs two mugs in one large hand, setting them on the counter behind you before taking a step back and turning to head for his room without another glance in your direction.

You sag against the counter, a wave of lust addled adrenaline crashing over you and leaving you breathless. The last thing you need to be doing is getting involved with your roommate, no matter how tempting he may be.

Dumpling jumps up on the counter beside the coffee pot and stares at you, likely waiting for food, but it feels more like judgment in his green eyes.

"Shut up," you whisper to him.

Dumpling meows, batting you with a paw.

You're sitting on the couch when there's an unexpected knock at your door. Logan is still gone, helping a friend and you're not expecting anyone, so you’re not sure who it could be. You check the peephole before opening the door and see the distorted image of a man in a red suit and mask supporting the weight of your roommate against his side.

"What the fuck?" you ask as you open the door in a panicked rush. The masked man waves his fingers at you.

"Hi there! I've got a very," -- he grunts, adjusting his grip on Logan -- "heavy delivery."

Logan's eyes are closed, head flopped back on the masked man's shoulder. Blood stains his t-shirt in spots that look suspiciously like knife wounds and you gasp.

"What happened to him?!" you shout. "Oh my god, he needs to go to the hospital--"

"He just needs a little power nap," the man says. "I'm Wade, by the way. You mind if I just--"

Wade drags Logan through the apartment, depositing him on your couch with a huff, wiping his hands together. He looks around and you're shocked when the eyes of the mask seem to move, as if mimicking his facial expressions.

"This is a nice place," he says. Dumpling meows and Wade gasps. "You have a cat?! I wish I could pet you, sweet kitty, but Dogpool would put me in the dog house. Ha! Get it?"

"I'm confused," you manage to say. "My roommate is bleeding out on my couch after being dropped off by some wanna-be Avenger--"

"Ouch!"

"And you're saying he doesn't need to go to the emergency room?"

"Nope." Wade lifts Logan's shirt. "See? Good as new."

Despite the blood and tears on his shirt, there's no wounds on Logan's body. He shifts, lifting an arm to smack Wade's hand away as he groans, eyes fluttering open. He glares at the man.

"Get out," he growls.

"Now, now, that's not being a very good host, Logi. What, were you raised by wolves?" Wade replies. Logan roars, a ferocious sound that's more animal than man. His hand curls into a fist and sharp metal blades extend from between his knuckles. "Okay, okay, I'm leaving, no need for the murder mittens." Wade looks at you. "You should come to Sunday dinner!"

"Wilson!" Logan shouts. Wade finally heeds the man's warnings, rushing for the door without another word, shutting it behind him. Logan sags against the couch, blades retracting into his hand. He tilts his head back, closing his eyes.

You stand there in shock, trying to make sense of everything you just witnessed. Logan should be halfway to dead by now, but he doesn't even have a scratch on him. He has claws. How does he have claws?

"Can hear you thinking," Logan says, eyes still shut. "Just say it."

"Say what?" you ask. He lifts his head.

"Tell me to get out, scream, whatever it is."

You sit down on the couch, facing him. "Why would I do that?"

"Because that's what you should be doing."

His hand rests on his thigh and you reach for it, lifting it to eye level for a closer look at his knuckles. You trace your thumb over the smooth skin, up over his strong forearm. He watches you, face almost pained.

"I'm not scared of you," you whisper. "You wouldn't hurt me."

"But I could," he bites back.

"You won't." You're certain of that. You set his hand back on his thigh and stand from the couch, intending to grab him a glass of water from the kitchen, but he stops you with a hand around your wrist. His grip is loose enough that you could break free, but you don't.

Logan looks up at you with an unreadable expression, something close to fear mixed with a conflicting emotion that you think -- or hope -- might be desire. He tugs your wrist, bringing you to stand between his legs.

"How can you be so sure?" he asks.

You place your hand on his cheek, the coarse hair of his beard scratching at your palm. His eyelids flutter and his lips part on a sharp inhale.

"You're a good man, Logan Howlett," you murmur. He closes his eyes tightly and takes a deep breath.

His next movements are quick -- a hand on the back of your thigh, dragging you onto his lap, the other wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you close, his lips capturing yours in a savage kiss. You melt into him, meeting his urgency with your own desperation, tongues tangling together and fighting for dominance.

You pull back to trail kisses across his jaw until you reach his neck, sinking your teeth into the tan skin, just over his hammering pulse. Logan groans, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, pulling you tightly against him as his hips buck into yours.

"Fuck," Logan says, voice a deep rumble that you feel to your marrow. "Do that again."

"Do what?" you tease.

"Bite me," he demands. "Make it hurt."

You obey, biting down into his shoulder with greater effort, sinking your teeth in deep until he hisses from the pain of it and you let go, lifting your head to look at the mark you've left behind. It fades quickly, disappearing without a trace.

"Jesus," he says, pulling you in for another kiss, slow and deep, as his hands find the hem of your shirt. "Let me see you."

You allow him to lift your shirt up and over your head, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. His touch makes you shiver despite the heat of his hands as he traces the curve of your waist up to your chest, his thumbs finding your nipples and teasing them with slow circles. You drop your head back with a moan and he takes the opportunity to kiss your neck, your collarbone, moving down until his lips wrap around one taut bud.

"Logan," you whine, digging your fingers into his hair and holding tight. He hums, the sensation making your eyes roll.

"Thought about this," he murmurs, switching to your other breast. "Every time you'd wear those goddamn tight shirts of yours."

"Really?"

"Mhm."

"Wanna know what I thought about?" You tug his hair, pulling his head away from your chest. "Sucking your cock."

He raises his eyebrow at you and you take the opportunity to slide from his lap, settling on your knees between his spread thighs. You work his belt loose, followed by the fly of his jeans. He reaches past the waistband to free his cock and your mouth waters at the sight. You could tell he was big while you were on his lap, but he's even more glorious than you imagined. Thick, long, with prominent veins and a slight upward curve that you know will hit all the right places.

You take him in your hand, appreciating the weight of him in your palm as you hold him steady. With your eyes locked on his face, you open your mouth and stick out your tongue to lick from the top of your fingers to the flushed head. He groans, his hand curling into a fist that he presses to his forehead.

"Fuck," Logan hisses. You do it again, this time swirling your tongue around the tip before taking him into your mouth, moving down his length slowly. "God, look at you. Mouth stuffed so full you're drooling, huh?"

He's right. Spit gathers at the corners of your lips and runs down your chin as you use your mouth to pleasure him. The sounds he makes above you are downright filthy, deep moans and filthy praise that have you moving faster, taking him deeper, working to get as much of him in your mouth as you manage without gagging. He cups your cheek with one large palm, thumb tracing your stretched lips.

"Keep going, sweetheart. You can take a little more, can't you? That's it," he says. Tears burn your cheeks with the effort to obey, your throat tightening around the head of his cock. "Fuck, that's a good girl."

You breathe deeply through your nose, maintaining a steady pace and using your hand in tandem with your mouth for what you can't easily take. Logan's hips begin to flex beneath you, his words trailing off into guttural growls. His cock twitches in your grasp and he moans your name before his release floods your mouth and you swallow it down.

You pull off of him with a slick pop, gasping for breath. Before you can say anything, Logan is hauling you to your feet as he stands from the couch, lifting you up with one strong arm beneath your ass and urging your legs around his waist.

"What are you doing?" you ask.

"Just getting started."

Logan kicks the door open to your room, startling Dumpling from his perch. The cat races out the door, disappearing into the living area as the door clicks shut. He sets you down on your bed and quickly rids himself of his boots and rest of his clothing before returning his attention to you.

You're lying there in your little sleep shorts that drive him nuts. The fabric barely covers your ass and there's been more than one occasion where he's shuffled into the kitchen in the mornings to see you in them, all the blood in his body rushing south at the sight. He joins you on the bed, on his knees between your spread thighs, and extends a single claw. Your eyes widen, but you don't pull away. In fact, you start squirming, hips flexing minutely against the mattress.

"Scared yet?" he asks.

"I wouldn't say that.”

He carefully slips the blade beneath the hem of your shorts, inching it up until it peeks out above the elastic waistband before twisting his wrist and slicing through the fabric like it's nothing. Claw retracted, he removes your ruined shorts and takes a moment to appreciate the vision you make, legs spread wide and your dripping pussy on display.

"You're a mess," he says, smoothing his hands over the soft skin of your legs. He lifts one of your knees, pressing a kiss to the inside of it before resting it on his shoulder. "Gonna clean you up."

Logan dips his head to your center, dragging his tongue through your soaked sex, groaning when the taste of you blooms across his tongue. Your fingers curl against his scalp, a sharp point of pleasure-pain as he explores your body. He swirls his tongue over your clit, experimenting with broad circles and sharp flicks until you're writhing beneath him.

"Logan," you cry, hips bucking against his face. He dips his tongue into your cunt, nose brushing your clit as he does, and he hums in satisfaction as your thighs tense around his head.

He looks up at you and drinks in the picture you make, gorgeous skin glistening with sweat and your back arched from the bed, chest heaving with desperate breaths. He wants this exact moment burned into his memory, certain it could chase away the dark shadows that linger there.

Logan presses two fingers to your hole, sliding them in with little resistance. You're so warm and tight, squeezing his fingers beautifully, calling out his name as he curls them when he drags them from your body.

"I'm going to come," you gasp. "Oh, fuck, just like that!"

You pulse around his fingers and he slows his movements to work you through it until you collapse against the mattress with a deep sigh. He carefully removes his hand and sits up on his knees.

"Guess I made more of a mess," Logan says. Your eyes squeeze shut with a breathless giggle.

"I'll forgive you," you reply. You reach your arms up for him and he moves to hover over you to accept your embrace. "God, Logan," you murmur, tilting your chin up to kiss him.

In this position, he's able to drag his cock through the slick mess between your thighs and you shiver beneath him, gasping into his mouth. He does it again, more purposeful this time and it drags a moan from you both.

"Please," you murmur.

"Please what, sweetheart? Tell me what you want," he replies. "What you need."

"Need you to fuck me."

Logan reaches between your bodies and positions the thick head of his cock at your entrance, pushing forward. The stretch of him is unreal, almost too much even with how wet you are for him.

"Relax," he says, holding himself steady above you. "You can take it."

You nod and he pushes forward another inch, letting you adjust, and repeating the process until the coarse hair at the base of his cock tickles your sensitive skin. You've never been so full, no other experience compares to this. No other man compares to Logan, in any way.

He starts moving slowly, dragging his hips back until you're nearly empty before plunging back inside. Each thrust puts stars in your vision, makes the knot of want and need coil tighter in your lower belly, until you're moaning his name and begging him to move faster, harder, deeper.

Logan obeys, thrusting into you with enough force that your head board collides with the wall. He sits back on heels, dragging you up with him until you're sitting in his lap and he's able to thrust up into you.

"Feel so fucking good," he says, lips against your neck. "Need you to come for me, baby."

You nod, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and holding him close, meeting each of his thrusts with a rock of your hips that drags your clit against him, your nerves buzzing with the friction and fullness. While the orgasm he wrenched from you with his mouth felt like a wildfire, this one builds and builds, a wave cresting until it finally crashes and you cry out his name.

Logan leans forward to drop you back onto the bed, reaching a hand up to grip your headboard as he continues to roll his hips into yours, chasing his own release. His thrusts begin to grow more desperate until he presses in deep and you're flooded with warmth as he growls, long and low. The sound of splintering wood breaks through your post-orgasmic haze and you tilt your head back to find that his claws have extended through your headboard, splitting the wood and embedding into the drywall.

"I can fix that," Logan says breathlessly, tugging his hand free, claws retracting. You grin at him.

"Later," you reply, pulling him in for a kiss.

You've got better things to do right now.

Thank you so much for reading! For more of my writing, check out my masterlists!

by laurilohi

Fairy flowers appreciation post

The little shit!!! I loved this

Bed of Roses

dark!Clark Kent x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ only; DUBCON, coercion, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, major size kink, descriptions of size difference, no plot

thanks to @/inklore for the divider

You had come to trust Clark, trust in his righteousness, and more personally, you trusted him to never hurt you.

Not only was he the hero the world needed; Clark had placed his secret in your hands. The least you could do for him was be there to support him in the little ways you could. It hadn't seemed enough at first, because compared to the fires he battled, the heights he flew, what could you dare hope to provide for Clark? But he kept coming back. In time, you overcame the shyness of beholding a hero. But the awe never wore off.

And how could you not grow to love this lonely soul that insisted you were the only balm for the sacrifices he made?

You hadn't been ready that first time, but he had been patient with you. You started out with so much going through your mind; afraid you would disappoint him, afraid that the next stage of physical intimacy would change too much of your relationship.

Then he came in, with a confident touch and encouraging words. There was so much, he was so much that night.

Hungry -- his eyes blazed up and down your naked form; his hands grasped and squeezed firmly so that were you to try and get away, you would have surely failed. His mouth had swallowed down your mumbles, nipped your skin until you felt dazed in submission.

You had been nervous, yet his cooing washed away your quiet words. His unrelenting weight kept you in place beneath him. Kept you secure, just as he insisted you should be. I'll always keep you safe. He could understand you so well, even better than your own mind, it had seemed. You don't let new things scare you off. You're my brave girl. He shouldered the responsibility of Earth's inhabitants, yet, Clark did not hesitate to pay extra attention to you.

"Just the tip, that's it." He cooed, nuzzling against you as your lips parted in mimicry of how he was opening you up. "So good, sweetheart."

He wedged the tip of his cock between the wet lips of your cunt, pressing, splitting, pushing until the bulbous head burst past that tight opening and stayed caught. You gasped, breathing shallow at the impossibly thick intrusion.

He took your hand. He kissed your fingertips, then licked your open palm and guided you, wrapping your little hand around his shaft and leading you in stroking him. He huffed, grunting how good you made him feel.

"Such a good girl for me. Fuck, this pretty pussy can't fit all of me yet, huh? Keep going."

You did your best, eager to please him, eager to be good so he could see how much you loved him being gentle for you. Even with the overwhelming heat of his skin on yours, the press and mix of sweat, you tried following his lead. The initial sting of his penetration had faded and all you wanted was to make him feel good. He had listened to you. When you were hesitant, he had encouraged you to trust in him and in yourself. He challenged you in a good way, knowing you could handle these new touches. Clark had told you he knew what was best for you, and see how he had proven it?

Your heart thundered, but you sped up, gripping him tight. You squirmed as he sucked hard at a nipple, sparking jolts of pleasure through you, making your whine at the way his teeth ran across your softness. He groaned. You felt his muscles under your free hand, contracted with so much pressure like he was holding all of himself back. He tried so hard, all for your sake. You would be good for him.

You felt sore and so tired after, and so safe in his embrace.

He kissed you as you fell asleep. Grateful that you could share this with Clark. He would never make you do anything you couldn't handle.

He held your knees wide apart and gorged himself between your legs. You grew sensitive after his eager mouth suckled and licked you so. When you tried to sit up, uttering his name, he yanked you onto your back and kept taking in your sweet slick. His tongue thrust into you, then one finger pushed in that had you whimpering.

Again, you were at his mercy -- no, you were receiving his love, his passion. He was so good to you. You could be good for him.

You hadn't expected so much of his attention tonight, and couldn't help writhing as he kept at you, kissing your sensitive core raw.

When he sat up, you groaned in relief. Clark dropped soft kisses along your hip, murmuring praise. You would have swooned if you weren't already a puddle of buzzing pleasure.

Tonight, he asked to touch you again just so. He missed you, couldn't get you out of his mind, needed to be close to you. Just the tip again, he said.

Now, you were trapped under him. The tip of his cock had found home in you once more. Just as tight of a squeeze as the first time. You wanted to make him feel good again. Just the tip. You could do it.

He was leaving wet kisses up your breastbone, when you felt another bit of his cock slide in.

You winced.

"You're okay. I got you."

A brief rut had you pressing at the side of his ribs. "...Cla..Ah..."

He licked into your mouth. His big paw captured your hand, holding it down. He flexed his hip and you whined at getting split more and more.

"Feel so fucking perfect," he groaned. He filled you so much now, you sobbed, trying to remind him of his promise, but he kissed you, his gravelly voice unrepentant in your ear.

"Knew you could take it. My good girl."

He drew out and thrust slow and slick into you, again and again. Each time he withdrew you felt your pussy clinging to him and you didn't know how but the heat in your center flared hotter and hotter. There was so much of him to fit in, and he had primed you for it, dripping as you were. But you had not been prepared for this, and there so much, so much of him to take.

Resting his forehead on yours, Clark took up all the space in and around you. He was everything, all that you could feel as his hips met the backs of your thighs.

Your body grew taut, ready to combust. Grinding against you lit up that nub of pleasure and you whined with your release. Seeing you lose yourself in climax drove Clark to a frenzy, hips snapping until you couldn't remember how it felt before he claimed you. He growled into the crook of your neck, holding you tight as he came.

As your mind slowly cleared, he shifted you, laid you out on top of him. You felt his hands all over, stroking down your back, kneading your shoulder, squeezing your bottom. His touch, heavy and warm, lulled you away from how overwhelmed you had felt.

Clark knew all along what was good for the both of you.

-

by elliothawkey

Sweet Amber! I need your thots…

Does Honey like to show her appreciation for Curtis by dropping to her knees?

I just want that man to sucked until he’s within an inch of his life- like he’s not doing anything for the rest of the day- honey sucked him so good 😮‍💨

My love, of course, Honey will drop to her knees for that man! It is one of her favorite services to do for Curtis honestly. It is one of those things that our girl is confident in doing. That man deserves to be sucked within an inch of his life, leaving him gasping for breath and looking ruined because of how good it was. He isn't going anywhere for the rest of the day.

One Way To Say Goodbye

Life Is Short So Make It Sweet Masterlist

18+ Only Blog! It's all Curtis receiving Oral and feelings.

You stretched in his bed with an appreciative moan, even at the early hour. The bed was empty, Curtis already having showered and you could hear him downstairs, meaning he hadn't yet left for work. Old houses like his, it was impossible not to make some kind of noise. But that wasn't what woke you.

No, it was that feeling. Completely fucking satisfied. Curtis had spent half the night worshipping you, even though you assured him that you two could just go to sleep, knowing that although you had a day off, he most certainly didn't. He wouldn't hear of it though.

"Honey, you expect me to ignore you?" He moved his way up from the end of the bed like a predator, stalking over you with very attentive blue eyes lifted towards you while he worked his shirt you were wearing up your body slowly. He took his time with his fingertips, grazing lightly against your skin, making sure not to avoid any stretch marks but when he found those, his head dipped to track the mark with his tongue.

You resisted the urge to push him away from your imperfections, but your breathing got heavier, your body responding with a keen awareness of what Curtis was doing. Your thighs opened slightly without need from him to ease them apart. "Deny myself the chance to be with you, fill this sweet little pussy?" When has anyone ever called you little?

How were you supposed to walk after he finished with you last night? Scooping you into his chest and murmuring soft praises while you still were trying to recover from him? You took a tentative stretch, pushing up to sit on the edge of the bed and grab at his shirt discarded on the floor. You shrugged into the stretched-out ancient tee and headed for the kitchen to at least give him a proper goodbye.

Your version of one.

You found him at the sink, filling his water bottles when he glanced over his shoulder at you. There was still a heated spark, his gaze flowing up and down you like he was checking you out while also checking you out. "I love it when you wear my clothes Pretty Girl. But why are you awake? You should be sleeping in." His brow furrowed at you while he flicked the water back off and set aside his bottle to face you.

"I should be asleep still, you wore me out last night." You bit your lip suggestively while a big grin changed his features from slightly concerned to proud of himself. "Couldn't let you leave without saying goodbye."

You approached him while he shrugged, a bit of red flaring up the side of his neck and mottling his ear tips at your praise. "A man has to be crazy to pass up being with you." You smiled as you reached him, your plan coming all together as you swiftly dropped to your knees, earning you a surprised grunt from Curtis while your face was level right with his crotch. "Honey, you don't-"

"I don't have to do anything, I know." You worked your hands up muscled thighs, even through the jean fabric you could feel him tensing. Your head tilted up to look at him while your fingers worked his belt open, the leather flopping to the side and you snapped his button open while dragging the zipper down. "But I want to... Before you gotta leave for the day, let me just..." You mimicked the way his tongue traced you, inching along the very prominent vein trailing down his belly to under his boxers.

"Fucking hell." He grunted out, clearly still caught by surprise but he grabbed at his jacket lazily stretched on the counter to hand down to you. "Under your knees with his Pretty Girl."

You obliged, although bruised knees weren't about to deter you. Your nose trailed up the bulge in his boxers while fingers curled into the band and worked them down for his cock to bounce in front of your face, smacking a bit in your face till your hands wrapped around him and worked your fingertips up and down his length.

Curtis hissed at the contact, his head tipping back with a bobbing adams apple. His fingers gripped his counter edge, for now, restraining himself from grabbing your hair, for now. You knew it wouldn't last, his fingers would tangle into your strands and take over, giving you that satisfaction knowing he couldn't resist anymore of your teasing.

"You know how you love-" Your tongue wetting your lips before tracing him, pussy achingly familiar with the feel of his throbbing vein on your tongue, the masculine scent of him when your nose brushed against the patch of hair and the distinct salty taste that you would admit you were addicted to. "-worshipping me? Making me cum so hard that I just need to be taken care of while recovering?"

You pressed a kiss against the warm skin of his pelvis, your hands still jerking him but never bringing him further than that yet. ""You make me feel loved and taken cared of." Another flushing kiss against his tip now, your lips spreading a bit around him before glancing up at him, his gaze now following you intently, jaw clenched to keep whatever he was going to say inside for now. "You make me feel seen."

You didn't want him to have a chance to respond, your mouth spreading around him and swallowing him down, with some struggle from his size, but with watering eyes and a slight gag, you took him and he gave a sharp loud yell, almost a roar of your name. His hands found their purchase against your scalp, holding onto you while you pulled back to claim air and spit on him, working on swallowing him again.

"Fuck Y/N! Fuck, just swallowing me without working me in." He stuttered while you bobbed on him, relishing in the tone of disbelief. You loved doing this, his taste filled your mouth, making you drool while trying to get all of him. Silken and hard as he bruised your throat, your moans humming around him while squeezing. "Just keep taking it, Pretty Girl." He demanded, shoving your head back on him, your face slapping against his balls. Your hands grabbed his hairy taunt thighs to steady yourself from the motion.

Your scalp burned as he pulled you away, his hand circling his cock as he jerked his hand up and down the length. "You're so fucking perfect for me, ruined at my feet, right?" You let a hand drop from his thigh, dipping between your thighs and trailing your folds. When you felt your slick coat them, you showed him. Glinting slick catching the bit of light in his kitchen, you managed to whisper out.

"It's where I want to be." Then you took him back into your mouth, your tongue fluttering around him and deep moans escaped you while you took him. Later you might be sore, and have a hard time talking, but right now all that was worth it to witness the shudder rolling through Curtis, his absolute need to finish, and you wanted it. You wanted to give that to him.

When he came, it was quick. A hoarse warning and then you were feeling him shoot his spend in you, making you swallow with difficulty but there was a satisfying groan above you and his touch gentle, cradling your face while you licked him clean, your eyes darting up to witness your work.

Chest heaving and a serene satisfying look had eased his sharp dark features for now. Long lashes swept under his closed eyes for a moment, till they snapped open, dark in a way that made you squeak his name, you weren't nearly ready to be hauled to a stand, your legs shaky underneath you while he held you up against him, his mouth claiming yours with demand. You gave in, a moan escaping while your tongue slipped against his and your hands curled into his work shirt to steady yourself. When you had to pull away for air, gasping deeply, you smiled in between your breaths. "That good huh?"

Curtis half barked a laugh. "Honey, you really are perfect for me." In another move you weren't expecting, he hauled you over his massive shoulder, leaving you swinging down his back, crying out his name. "Curtis! What are you doing?"

Heavy boots thumped out of the kitchen and headed for the stairs. "Taking you back to bed." He exclaimed as he started climbing up, carrying you like you weighed nothing although you knew better. Your hands clutched at his back, keeping yourself steady as you watched the downstairs start to disappear.

"What about work?" The hallway rug was almost dizzying, the way it was moving so swiftly.

"Honey, spending the day with you is far more important than fixing trains." Curtis was gentler as he deposited you on the bed, still messed up from their fun last night. He reached over his shoulder to grasp at his shirt and pull it off over his head.

"What about the guys?" You squirmed up the bed, giving him room to get in. He mimicked his movements from last night, stalking towards you across the mattress.

"They owe me for covering for them both." He informed you. "Now Pretty Girl, you gonna spread those thighs for me? Or am I going to have to do it for you?" His hands were warm and calloused against your thick thighs, squeezing enough to show how badly he wanted to get in between them.

You let them fall open, just for him.

I would sell my soul to enter several of your fics 🥵

How do they kiss you to break your last line of defence?

Andy Barber

Ransom Drysdale

Ari Levinson

Steve Rogers

Ah, I see you woke up this morning and chose violence 😡 Hahaha I looove this ask! I’d happily sell my soul to smooch any one of these babes. Or all of them. At once. 🫠 Okay, now I’m distracting myself lol. Let’s seeee…

Andy is gonna do that thing where he gently—carefully—cups your face between his big hands. He’s gonna duck close so his eyes can lock on yours and you can’t escape his intense, penetrating gaze. So you can see his desire for you shining from those baby blues of his. He’s gonna move slow, too, not only to draw it out and give you a chance to really resist if this isn’t what you want, but because there’s something about the anticipation. He wants to hear your breath catch. He wants to see the surrender in your eyes just before they close as his lips touch yours. His mouth on yours is somehow soft and frantic at once. You can tell he’s trying to rein himself in but as soon as a soft whimper bubbles up from the back of your throat and you’re clutching at his sides, it’s game over, sis, and he switches to devour mode 😮‍💨🤌🏻

Ransom’s move will be a tiny bit similar to Andy’s in that he’s cradling your face in his hands, but it’s nowhere as soft. He’s propelling you back into the closest wall, eyes twinkling at your quiet “oof.” His hands hold you tight because he’s not gonna give you that chance to escape. You’re his and this is happening, and he’ll make sure you like it, that you beg for more. I’m pretty sure he’s gonna throw in a, “You’re mine,” just before his lips close in on yours, and then he’s gonna kiss you fiercely, kiss you breathless, kiss you until your knees are buckling and you’re finally giving him that whimper as he licks his way into your mouth and makes sure his flavor is staining your tongue for a good, long while 😏

Ari is gonna use his considerable size difference compared to you to his advantage. He wants you to be hyper aware of him but at the same time, he’ll have the softest touch ever. Backing you into a piece of furniture and pinning you there. He’s quiet, which is a rarity for him, and emphasizes the intensity of the moment. He keeps his movements slow as he raises a hand to your throat. He doesn’t grip it though, instead he gently drags his knuckles down the smooth column, lips quirking just a bit when you shudder in response. Before you’ve full recovered from that solitary touch, his thumb is brushing along your lower lip, his hungry gaze fixed on your mouth, and then he’s gonna lift his eyes to yours and maintain eye contact as he slooowly closes in until his lips touch yours. That’s when he finally makes a sound, a relieved groan, the kind of deep, carnal sound that makes your pussy clench, and before you know it, you’re kissing him back just as urgently.

Steve is gonna pounce on you in a moment of feral passion. He’s done talking about why this is a bad idea, especially when the thought of it feels so right. He’s gonna sweep you up against him, one thick arm locking around your back as his other massive hand cradles the back of your head and keeps you in place for a thorough devouring. The kiss starts hard, but when you mewl into his mouth and cling to his shoulders—give into him—he slows it down, his touch growing softer at your surrender as he hums against your lips and deepens the kiss until you’re melting into his embrace and proving what he knew all along - you were meant to be his.

(Thank you for cumming to my horny TED talk 😅)