Fanfic Blog

They/them mostly. Chronically ill fanfic writer. 30

[buckets-and-trees]

I just had a random thot about Viking!Steve and how he really would make a good (and believable) mobster. He just has that scary!hot demeanor and the intelligence and calculation to get what he wants and outwit his rivals. How do you imagine he would be in a mob AU? I think he could really fall into that only soft with you category 🙂‍↕️

Okay...

Okay, okay, okay...

I see the vision here.

You've laid it out very beautifully yourself, here, but our Viking Warrior King Steven would certainly make for a cunning, formidable, powerful, and intimidating mobster.

TW: DUBIOIUS CONSENT AHEAD - IF YOU KNOW ABOUT THE VIKING AU, YOU KNOW IT DID NOT START WITH CONSENT

It would be interesting if instead of instead of being the new bride of the son of the village chieftan and prima-nocta plucked away from that fate...

Maybe your dad and his brother own a modest but nice and reasonably sized shipping facility in a port off the beaten path. They're not a big operation, and with inflation and tariffs (or no tariffs or tariffs back on again and idk maybe now they're not), it's really ruined the stability. To save the business, your dad made a deal the boss of a smaller mafia in the area. It was supposed to be a business deal only. But the next day there's an additional demand added to the contract - you marrying the boss's son to ensure proper loyalty incentives. For life. The devil your dad made the deal with already owns the bank and will call the business loan due, etc, and your dad says he won't force you, he'll find some other way out, but you know there's no way out. There's illusions of ways out, but all roads will lead only back to this plan and the boss will get what he wants.

Your dad is a good man who's fallen on hard times. He's always given you everything, sacrificed more than you're sure you even know about so you grew up happy and well-provided for. You can do this for him. Aside from being the son of this mafia boss and a mafia man himself, the man you're set to marry honestly isn't that bad. He's a little distant, but nice enough. He's not riddled with bad habits, doesn't have a notorious reputation, no public body count to speak of. You get along.

It could've been a nightmare, but honestly? He's not insanely different than the types of guys your friends and the other girls in your town set their sights on.

The turnaround time for the engagement and wedding are really quick.

Steve attends your wedding.

Your husband's dad invited some of his associates and rivals - it's customary to invite anyone who isn't an outright sworn enemy (show off, potentially curry new favor/interest for alliances).

It's an afternoon wedding with plans to go straight to the wedding dinner and reception.

Steve was invited, but he doesn't attend the ceremony.

You've just made your grand entrance into the reception hall at the seaside hotel/resort that's been bought out exclusively for the wedding when Steve's and his men descend on the scene.

It's not a full bloodbath, but there's fights, chaos, danger, shooting, all the guests are scattered.

You're snatched by some of Steve's men and taken to some side room.

Once everyone is cleared out and dealt with, you're brought back into the reception hall, all the flowers and decorations and tables mostly still intact. There's champagne spilled across the floor, some trays of food spilled here and there as there had been cocktails and appetizers circulating when everything went down.

Steve's men march/escort you to their boss who's standing at the table where you and the rest of the wedding party would have been seated. He's polishing a gun that he holsters when you're deposited at his feet.

He tsks at the men that there's no reason to treat you harshly.

But you hardly register that because just beyond Steve, the man who just became your father-in-law only maybe two hours ago at this point is in a crumpled heap, his blood spilled out around him.

He has two of his men clear the old mafia boss out while your husband is brought in - he wants the heir to see exactly what he's done so he knows Steve's serious about business.

All the while, Steve watches you too closely.

It makes you shiver.

In fear, yes, but also with something else because this man is more man than you've ever encountered in your life. You know he's dangerous, you know it, but you can't help this pull he seems to have.

They throw your husband at Steve's feet, too, and he's tied up, but Steve doesn't seem to care so much about that.

Steve explains that it's simple business. Steve wants the port. Steve was already looking at the port and wanted the port before your dad made the deal with the other mafia boss. He tried to undercut Steve. Thought he could get away with it.

Steve wants to be very clear about how wrong it was to underestimate him.

He says this as he steps far too close to you, and draws his fingers along the neckline of your wedding dress.

He says you would both do well to think of your family and friends and their safety as you consider business tonight.

He has you put your hands on the table, then lifts your dress up around your waist, admires your pretty garter, the pretty lingerie, traces it with his fingers, then fucks you from behind while he makes your husband watch.

And you hate it for feeling so good. You're panting and grasping and wanting. And he makes you cum embarrassingly quickly in front of the other man. And you slump down and bury your head on your arms in humiliation.

Steve states plainly that he's taking over the deal. He will have the port.

If the heir agrees to the deal without a fuss, Steve will spare his life, his mom, his sisters. Steve gives him the choice of swearing loyalty or relocating.

He says they'll relocate and he wants no repercussions, and for $25 million, he'll willingly give Steve all the books and connections.

Steve agrees, cuts him loose. Says he's not going to hold him accountable for the sins of his father, especially when he's amenable to resolving this so smoothly.

Your husband moves to reach for you, but Steve is quick to step in his way.

"We agreed that I'm taking over the deal for the port. That includes her."

Your eyes go wide. The man you just married opens his mouth and closes it again.

"You're dismissed," Steve commands, flexing his jaw and taking a wider stance in front of you/blocking you completely.

The other man nods, then walks out.

Neither of you watch him.

Your eyes are on Steve, and Steve turns back to stare at you while the other man leaves.

When the door closes behind him, Steve sweeps you up bridal style without another word and takes you to the honeymoon suite.

There he rips off your dress and has his way with you and all your holes until you pass out from exhaustion. You were thoroughly used, many times pleased despite your fear and the reluctance you know you were supposed to have but couldn't seem to fully muster while he touched you.

In the morning, he hands you the annulment papers to dissolve your unconsummated marriage, and replaces the ring you had with something bigger and better and the promise of a wedding later this afternoon in front of his friends and family - and whoever you want, they can arrange to be there, too.

He assures you this is going to be an infinitely better deal for everyone involved. Steve gets use of the port. He lets you know he's going to pay your father double what his other deal had been (a deal that was going to unfairly pay him only enough to barely keep his shipping operation afloat).

"And it will be so much better for you, too, little bride," he says as he runs his fingers along your slick folds and into your aching cunt.

*blinks and fans self*

um

Siri, I hope you're pleased with yourself for throwing me down a rabbit hole! (I certainly went very happily, didn't I?)

[abby1600]

Is there more tho because holy shit

[buckets-and-trees]

For the King & Conqueror

viking au

A remarkable but insignificant woman in your village, your life changes irrevocably and in frightening ways the day you wed the son of the village chieftain. Your nuptials were unknown to the fierce viking warrior and king Steven and his men the day they landed on your shores, but he is not unhappy about the opportunity that presents itself in claiming the bride.

Content Warnings: [check individual parts for their respective warnings] DARK STORY, invoking prima nocta, non-consent/rape, stealing of virginity, explicit smut, rough sex, use of pet name (little bride, little wife), human tribute/trade, kidnapped wife

↠ So Black the Darkness Hums ↠ Ceremonial Rituals ↠ Once More at the Shrine ↠ Fierce Affirming Sight of Sunlight Steven's POV ↠ Come Down from Battle ↠ The Rumble Where You Lay ↠ Fervent Flickers of Flame ↠ It Rises with the Fall ↠ more coming soon

What if this Steve were a mob boss instead of a Viking King?

Commentary: an ask about whether or not his queen would consider divorce

[biteofcherry]

As a kid, you and your best friend make a cute promise to marry each other when you're adults. It's sweet, not fully understood by either of you.

Unfortunately, his family moves to the big city and you lose contact.

Life goes on. You have your high-school sweetheart, then a few college romances. Two longer relationships after you move to the city that fall apart. Then at work you meet Nate and it grows into a steady engagement.

The year before the wedding is a bit chaotic, lots of strain and small conflicts between you two. Some of those regard Nate's penchant for gambling, but thankfully he gets his head back on and pays off the potentially dangerous men who loaned him money.

Pity it meant you had to cut some things from your dream wedding.

Honestly, you kind off just want to get over with this thing and enter the next stage of your life.

On the day of the wedding rehearsal, the preparations are suddenly interrupted as a bunch of dangerous looking men with guns fill the place.

Then another man walks in.

A silhouette that cuts through the space like a heavy blade that's stunning in its ornamental bladesmith craft.

He strides. Confidently and with lethal purpose.

There's something about him that feels vaguely familiar, but your brain can't put the pieces together as your heart pounds in fear.

Your first thought is "What the fuck did Nate do this time?!"

It scrambles as a pair of cold blue eyes settles on you, not on your fiancé. So familiar, as if they haunted you in your dreams.

But they couldn't be. No, if you had dreams about this man they'd be inappropriate. Dark, sticky, branding.

Yet it seems you're the one to blame for the threat of bloodshed as the man says your name. He says it like he knows you - and he does, even if you don't yet realize it's the boy you promised your hand to first.

He says your name like he has all the rights to you.

And he will make his ownership of you true.

_____________

Who is he?

[abby1600]

I would love a Lloyd Hansen for this omg

[witchywithwhiskey]

Dear Molly! For your sweethearts game. Can I please request

Lloyd Hansen- Bite Me! 😍

taste so sweet

pairing: brother's best friend!lloyd hansen x female reader

summary: you've been staying with your brother's best friend while you look for a new apartment, and when he gets on your last nerve, the dynamic in your relationship takes a sudden, sharp turn toward the filthy.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, oral sex (f and m receiving), vaginal and anal fingering, anal play, spanking, light pain play, light sadism/masochism, biting, bdsm dynamics established on the fly (including safe words and check-ins), very brief daddy kink, sir kink, praise kink, light degradation, pet names (a bunch), aftercare, sweet ending, kinda roommates to lovers

word count: 5.0k

a/n: i think i can safely say "bite me" was the most popular prompt y'all chose for this game since this is the third one i've written with it 🤭 i've had a lot of fun coming up with different scenarios that it makes sense in, and with Lloyd...well of course he's going to actually bite you 😏 anyway thank you for playing my sweethearts game, i hope you enjoy ♡♡

sweethearts game masterlist

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

The dulcet murmuring of the yoga instructor on the TV was rudely interrupted by Lloyd Hansen, whose voice was equal parts eager curiosity, impolite teasing and vulgar innuendo. 

You couldn’t see your brother’s best friend-slash-temporary roommate’s face from where you were positioned on your yoga mat. You were facing the TV in the living room of his apartment, while the front door was at your back. 

Somehow, though, you could still see the smug grin on Lloyd’s face, framed perfectly by his stupid mustache.

Lloyd wasn’t supposed to be home so soon! You thought you were safe to do your morning yoga routine in the living room instead of the cramped guest bedroom without commentary from the man who couldn’t seem to resist annoying the shit out of you—which had only gotten worse since you’d moved in.

After the lease on your last apartment had ended and you hadn’t been able to find a new place in your price range, you’d had to take your brother up on his offer to stay with Lloyd for a bit while you continued your search. You’d never liked Lloyd—he was an undeniable douchebag and, again, always seemed hellbent on annoying you—but you hadn’t had much of a choice. 

It was just your luck that Lloyd was the only person in the city who had the luxury of a spare bedroom. Your friends were all crammed into tiny places with roommates or significant others, and your brother lived too far outside the city to be a reasonable commute in for work. So you’d sucked it up and moved in with Lloyd. 

For the most part, things had been fine. Mostly because you’d been avoiding your brother’s best friend as much as possible, especially since the first week. You’d accidentally caught a glimpse of Lloyd wearing only a towel as he’d ducked from the bathroom into his bedroom while you’d been eating breakfast. 

You’d nearly dropped your spoon and spilled oats and yoghurt everywhere. The sight of Lloyd’s muscled chest, bare and glistening with droplets of water, was such a shock to your system, you’d stared after him for a long time, your brain unable to process the undeniable truth of what you’d witnessed. 

Your brother’s best friend was hot. 

Ever since then, you’d been unable to stop noticing things about Lloyd, like the softness of his pink mouth beneath the bristles of his mustache, and the spark of humor that seemed to be ever-present in his bright, blue eyes. He actually had a handsome face—though, in your opinion, he would be hotter if he’d shave off that ridiculous mustache. 

But even the mustache was growing on you. Which told you that you were getting in way too deep.

And to make matters worse, Lloyd seemed to have noticed that his lewd and flirty comments flustered and annoyed you the most, so he’d started making them more and more. You knew he didn’t mean anything by them, that he was just pestering you because you were your brother’s little sister, but you’d started to enjoy it far more than you should.

It was the main reason you avoided doing yoga in the living room. The positions the yoga instructor led you through had you bent over on your hands and knees, ass sticking up in the air, and you could just imagine the things Lloyd would say—and the way your body would warm, as if welcoming him to follow through on his empty threats—and you didn’t want to deal with it.

But now you had to. 

“I didn’t take you for the yoga type, cupcake,” Lloyd drawled when you didn’t immediately respond to his question. He set something down on the table beside the door, toed out of his shoes and padded further into the apartment, coming to a stop at the foot of your mat. “I never thought you’d paint such a pretty picture, pumpkin, with your head down and ass up…”

Lloyd’s voice trailed off, his tone thick with suggestion, and it took every ounce of self-control in your body not to tremble. You wanted to lower your shoulders, press your cheek to the mat, and present your ass to Lloyd, but your pride would never allow it. So instead, you spit out two words designed to make him leave you alone.

“Bite me.”

You’d turned your head to look at Lloyd while you said it, so you knew he wasn’t even looking at your face. He was just staring at your ass. 

But at your words, his eyes flicked to yours, humor and hunger sparkling in their blue depths, and he grinned widely. Something low in your belly clenched tight with anticipation, but you forced yourself to roll your eyes at him and turn back to your video. 

The yoga instructor on the TV was using her melodious voice to encourage you to inhale into cow pose before exhaling into cat pose. The movements meant you had to arch your spine toward the mat and then round it toward the ceiling, all while Lloyd watched.

Your body warmed when you dropped your belly and looked up, assuming cow pose, the position practically offering your ass up on a platter for Lloyd. 

Despite this, you couldn’t help but keep your breath in your lungs, holding the position longer than normal as you wondered what Lloyd was going to do or say. Thankfully, you didn’t have to wait long to find out. 

“Don’t mind if I do,” Lloyd muttered, his voice low and gruff in a way you’d never heard it before. 

You only had a second to puzzle over the meaning of his words before he was falling to his knees behind you, his hands grabbing hold of your hips. A second later, you felt his teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your ass through your leggings. 

If you’d been asked, before that moment, what your reaction to someone biting your ass would’ve been, you would’ve answered confidently that you wouldn’t have enjoyed it. You’d assume you would shriek in surprise or kick backward to dislodge the person biting you. But your actual reaction was very different.

A low, obscenely filthy moan slipped from your lips, and your arms gave out. Your upper body sank down to your elbows on the mat, just like you’d imagined, and you pushed your ass right into Lloyd’s face. 

It just felt so good—the slight sting of pain simmering into a burning heat of pleasure that had heat gathering quickly between your thighs. 

It was only when you realized your response was just as inappropriate as Lloyd biting you that you reached an arm back and pushed against his shoulder. 

“What are you doing?” you asked, ignoring the breathlessness in your voice and the way it sounded like you were panting for more, not begging him to stop. 

Lloyd lifted his head from your ass enough to catch your eye over your shoulder. “You told me to bite you, so I did,” he said simply, an unrepentant grin on his stupidly handsome face.

You huffed an annoyed sound, turning around and burying your face in your arms, refusing to let him see how turned on you were. But then Lloyd pulled one of his hands from your hips and slapped your ass hard. 

Your body rocked forward from the force of the spank, and you bit so hard into your arm, you thought you might draw blood with the effort to hold in your moan. But you couldn’t stop your hips from pushing back instinctively, as if asking for more.

The brazen movement only made Lloyd chuckle, the sound low and devious and far hotter than it had any right to be.

“And it looks like you liked it—do you like a little bit of pain, princess?” Lloyd teased, an undercurrent of knowing in his smug, patronizing tone. 

“That’s none of your business,” you spit out, forehead pressed to your forearms. You were unable to look at him, lest your brother’s best friend read it all over your face that you very much did like the little bit of pain he was giving you, that it heightened the pleasure, and you desperately wanted more.

Lloyd paused, and for one brief devastating moment, you thought he might pull away, that things might end there and you almost rushed to tell him not to stop. But before you could, he spoke, his voice calmer and more even.

“If I ask you ‘red, yellow or green’, do you know what that means, sunshine?” he asked in a serious tone. His hand was lighter and more soothing as his palm skimmed over your lower back, no longer touching you anywhere that was inappropriate. 

“Yes, I understand,” you rushed to say, arching your spine and pushing your ass back into Lloyd’s lap, sucking in a gasp when you brushed against a thick bulge. “Green—green, Lloyd, please.” 

It was easier to beg him this way, with a vague statement of consent, so you didn’t have to put into words everything you wanted. That you wanted him to push your head into the mat and spank you hard enough you’d be feeling it for days, to pull down your leggings and shove his cock into you, pounding against your smarting ass until he made you come undone.

Lloyd chuckled, the sound so self-satisfied and condescending, it made your slit grow wetter, your arousal dripping into your panties. But then his hands grabbed you roughly again, his strong fingers kneading your ass mercilessly through your leggings. 

“You’re wrong about it not being my business, cupcake,” Lloyd rumbled, his voice warm even as it was patronizing. “As long as you’re living under my roof, everything about you is my business.”

The possessiveness in his words did something to your body, your belly swooping and your heart flipping in your chest, none of which you were ready to admit to Lloyd. 

So you huffed a noise that you hoped sounded annoyed and sarcastically muttered, “Sure, dad.”

Your intention had been to mock Lloyd, who’d sounded like an overbearing father unable to give their child the freedom they deserved. But your words only seemed to heat the air between you and Lloyd, your brattiness bringing out something blazingly hot and deliciously volatile. 

The quiet of the apartment, save for the yoga video still playing softly on the TV, was broken by the sharp crack of Lloyd’s hand coming down on your ass. You could feel your soft flesh jiggle, and it added a wonderful contrast to the light, stinging pain of the slap, which sounded worse than it had felt. 

A low moan slipped from your body and you lowered your upper body further to the mat beneath you, arching your spine and presenting your ass just a little bit more for Lloyd, almost as if asking for more without words. But you should’ve known your brother’s best friend better.

“Is that what you’re into, filthy girl?” Lloyd asked, his big hands kneading your ass roughly through your leggings, making you wish he’d pull the fabric down and touch you for real. “Do you like to call the guys you fuck ‘dad’ and ‘daddy’—or am I special?”

Lloyd’s hands must be magic, it was the only explanation you could come up with for how good they were making you feel. But you weren’t distracted enough to not mouth off at your brother’s best friend.

“Who says I’m going to fuck you?” you shot back haughtily, turning your head and catching Lloyd’s gaze. You quirked your eyebrow at him in what could only be described as an insolent look.  

Lloyd’s eyes darkened at the challenge in your tone. In a swift movement, he dropped his head to your ass, sinking his teeth deep into your soft flesh. 

Even through your leggings and panties, you felt the sharp sting of his bite, and your eyelashes fluttered while another moan spilled from your lips unbidden. 

The pain was at once reprimanding and playful, and your mind spun with the headiness of it. You could hardly believe Lloyd had bit you the first time, but a second time… Your heart was racing in your chest and your pussy was throbbing between your thighs and you needed something. 

“You are,” Lloyd growled, dragging your attention back to the conversation you’d been having. His voice was smug even as it was thick with lust, and it took you a long moment to process his words. 

Lloyd gave you a short reprieve, one of his hands sliding up your spine to wrap around the back of your neck. With his grip firm on your head, he lifted you up enough to make sure you maintained eye contact while he spoke. 

“I’d prefer if you called me ‘sir’ instead of ‘daddy’ or anything like that,” he said, his tone as serious as it had been when he’d asked you for a color. His gaze held yours, and you knew he expected a response, but for a moment all you could do was look back at him. 

There was something weighty about the moment that stole your breath. Lloyd wasn’t just messing around with you, he wanted you to know his preferences, he wanted to make sure you felt safe with him. He’d made sure you had a way of telling him to stop while you kept playing your game and now he was telling you what he liked. 

It was freeing and terrifying at the same moment, so you responded the only way you knew how—like a brat. 

“Noted,” you said in the same serious tone as Lloyd had used. Then you tossed your head and murmured blithely, “But I’m not gonna fuck you, sir.” The honorific was spit from your lips with as much impertinence as you could muster, and you were gratified by the way Lloyd’s expression darkened.

“You’re right, sunshine, I’m the one that’s gonna be fucking you,” Lloyd countered, giving you little time to process his words before he was ducking down behind you. 

A second later, you felt his hot tongue press to the curve where your ass met your thigh and drag upward, licking you so close to where your slit was dripping into your panties, but not touching you there. It was such a tease that another obscene moan fell from your lips. 

“Oh god,” you groaned, canting your hips and pushing your pussy closer to his face, but Lloyd just repeated the motion on the other side of your pussy, ignoring your slit entirely. “Lloyd.” His name was a frustrated huff as he licked closer to your cunt.

“You sure you don’t want me to fuck you, pumpkin?” Lloyd asked teasingly, using his big hands to spread your ass so he could drag his tongue closer to your pussy. “I could fuck you real good with my mouth and make you cum on my tongue—ya just gotta ask nicely.”

You wanted to keep being a brat, you wanted to see how far you could push Lloyd before he’d snap, but the more he tortured and teased you with his tongue through your clothes, the wilder it drove you. 

You were so worked up, you thought Lloyd might be able to make you cum without even taking off your leggings and panties, but that thought left you cold and bereft. 

When you didn’t say anything, Lloyd chuckled at your stubbornness. His hot breath ghosted over the wet spots he’d left on your leggings, making you tremble violently, your thighs quivering as they struggled to keep holding you up.

“C’mon, don’t you wanna be a filthy girl for me, princess?” Lloyd coaxed, his voice low and smooth and so entreating you wanted to give in already. “Don’t you wanna cum all over my face, sunshine, make a mess of my mustache?” 

He dragged his face back and forth against your ass, making you feel the coarse bristles of his mustache, and you nearly howled with need. Desire was blazing through your body, your need for his tongue was throbbing in your pussy to the same beat as your racing heart. You could feel your resolve crumbling. 

“Just ask me nicely, cupcake, and I’ll make you feel so good.”

“Please,” you cried, the word half sob and half prayer, wrenched from the depths of your soul. “Please fuck me with your tongue, sir, please make me cum—please!”

“Atta girl,” Lloyd crooned, yanking your leggings and panties down in one harsh move, and burying his face in your cunt from behind. He groaned loudly into your damp flesh, sweeping his tongue from your clit to your ass, tasting every inch of you. “Fuck, you taste so sweet, pumpkin.”

Your thighs were trapped together by your clothes, which Lloyd had only pulled down far enough to get to your pussy, but that didn’t stop you from pushing your hips back into his face. One of your hands reached back blindly, sinking into his soft brown hair, slick with just a little bit of gel, and twisted in the strands, holding him close.

“Lloyd,” you cried out, your body trembling as he licked deep into your slit, his mustache brushing against your heated, oversensitive skin. It made you sob with pleasure at the contrast of his hot tongue and the rough rasp of his coarse hair. “Lloyd, oh god, oh god, yes!”

Without pulling his face from your cunt, which he kept eating voraciously, Lloyd brought a hand down sharply on your ass. It surprised you enough that you let out a little shriek, your body shuddering and your pussy dripping even more onto Lloyd’s tongue.

“What did I tell you to call me, princess,” he rumbled into your soft, wet cunt. “If you want me to keep eating this pretty pussy, you call me ‘sir’ and you use your words to tell me exactly what you want.”

“I want to cum,” you whimpered, your pleasure already twisting overwhelmingly in your core. You were so close, so close, so close. “I want to cum all over your face, sir—please make me cum, sir!”

Lloyd chuckled, nipping playfully at your folds. His hands kneaded your ass, holding you right where he wanted you while he feasted on your pussy.

“I’m gonna make you cum, pretty girl, don’t you worry,” he purred, pausing only to nuzzle his mustache over the tender flesh of your soaked cunt, laughing huskily when you trembled and whined for him. “Gonna make your cunt cream all over my mustache.”

“Oh god, yes, sir, want it,” you moaned, your fingers twisting tighter in Lloyd’s hair and pulling his face into your body. At the same time, you pushed your hips back, until his groans were muffled as he ate you out. 

His fingers worked your soft curves, groping you roughly and delivering sharp spanks whenever you reverted to calling him Lloyd, making you gasp and moan in equal measure. He gorged himself on your pussy, licking deep into your hole, sucking on your clit and nipping at your sensitive flesh until you were a writhing, moaning mess.

When he had you squirming and begging beneath him, Lloyd’s thumb trailed down the seam of your ass, brushing against your little rosebud. You squealed when he pressed lightly against the tight ring of muscle, your body shaking violently under the strength of your pleasure. 

Lloyd paused only long enough to ask for your color and when you gasped an enthusiastic, “Green!” he dipped his thumb into your pussy, coated it in your slick arousal, and pushed it into your ass. 

All the while, he used his soothing voice to coax you into relaxing for him, to letting him in, and when you did, you moaned loudly at the feel of him inside you. It was so depraved and delicious and you loved it.

“You’re so fucking perfect, cupcake,” Lloyd growled against your pussy, shoving his tongue deep inside you to feel the way you fluttered for him. “Now cum on my tongue, princess,” he ordered, his voice rough and demanding, “Wanna taste your cum, give it to me—cum for me, filthy girl.”

Lloyd’s growled command and the way his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking mercilessly on the bundle of nerves while his thumb was buried in your ass, had you shattering apart with a scream you tried to muffle in your yoga mat. It was a desperate, aching cry as your pussy convulsed and gushed with your release.

Behind you, Lloyd rumbled an appreciative sound, drinking down your juices greedily, tongue lapping up every drop until you were shivering from the overstimulation. Even then, he brushed his mustache over your clit, the delicious rasp wringing one last devastating aftershock from your body as you whimpered pathetically.

When you were done, Lloyd carefully slipped his thumb from your ass, pulled up your leggings and panties, then wrapped his arms around your upper body, easing you up from your bent over position. He sat back and tugged you into his lap, holding you close in the cage of his arms while you caught your breath.

“Did that feel good, sunshine?” he asked in a voice gentler than any you’d heard him use before. There was a level of care in his tone that made your heart thump harder in your chest, even as your body otherwise settled and cooled.

“Yeah,” you said on a delicate exhale, snuggling into Lloyd’s chest and breathing in the spicy scent of his cologne. He made you feel so safe and comfortable, you gave in to the urge to add, “Thank you, sir.”

Lloyd chuckled a little, cupping your cheek in his big hand and lifting your head so he could look you in the eye. “Thank you, pretty girl, for trusting me to make you feel good.”

There was so much genuine affection in Lloyd’s crystal blue gaze that it stole the breath from your lungs. Your eyes dropped to his mouth, traces of your release still glistening on his lips and in his mustache. The urge to kiss him, to taste yourself on Lloyd’s tongue, was nearly overwhelming. 

As if reading your mind, Lloyd leaned in, pausing a hair’s breadth away from your lips. But you didn’t want him to hesitate, you wanted him to kiss you—so you closed the distance and kissed your brother’s best friend for the first time.

Your first kiss with Lloyd Hansen was filthy and messy, and yet also somehow sweet and gentle. His mouth was soft, and firm as he explored yours, licking along your lips and deepening the kiss quickly when you immediately opened for him. 

Though he tasted of your release, reminding you of all the dirty things he’d already done to your body, he was tender as he slipped his tongue between your lips. And he was methodical in learning what made you gasp and moan for him. 

Against your thigh, you could feel Lloyd’s cock twitching, and a renewed heat began to stir in your core, making you yearn to keep going with whatever had begun between the two of you. 

Breaking from the kiss, you took a moment to appreciate the dark heat in Lloyd’s eyes, the slight, smug curl of his mouth. Before that morning, that look might’ve annoyed you, but now it just filled you with heat and excitement.

“Would you like me to take care of you now, sir?” you asked sweetly, dragging your fingers down Lloyd’s chest, delighting in the way his muscles jumped and danced beneath your touch. 

Before you could touch him where he was twitching and throbbing in his pants, though, Lloyd caught your wrist and snatched your hand away. Despite the way Lloyd’s fingers tangled in yours, disappointment crashed over you and you frowned up at him.

“Why don’t you finish your yoga, and then we can talk a bit, figure out exactly what we both want this to be,” Lloyd said in that softer tone of his. It made you feel safe, sweeping away the disappointment you’d felt only a moment ago. “I brought you coffee and a treat.”

Lloyd tipped his head toward the table next to the front door of the apartment, and you looked to see a cardboard tray with two to-go cups. Next to it sat a paper bag with the logo of your favorite bakery stamped on it. 

“You got me coffee?” you asked, tilting your head to the side with confusion. Lloyd never did nice things for you like that. You were just his best friend’s annoying little sister who was crashing with him while she looked for apartments, not someone he’d get a special treat for.

Looking back at Lloyd, you could see a slight pink in his cheeks, and he wouldn’t meet your eye. 

“And a pastry thing with red frosting,” he said, answering your question. When you sat in silence for a beat too long, he finally dragged his gaze to yours, noting your confusion. “Do you not know what day it is?”

You lifted your shoulders in a careless shrug and shook your head. “February…something?” 

Lloyd huffed a laugh. “It’s Valentine’s Day, princess.” His tone was somehow both patronizing and warm, and he rolled his eyes at you for good measure. 

But you were already rolling your eyes right back at him, shoving playfully at his chest. “How was I supposed to know, it’s not like I have anyone—wait!” Your defensive explanation for why you’d forgotten the holiday cut off abruptly as something occurred to you.

Your eyes widened and you looked at Lloyd, studying your brother’s best friend closely. His cheeks were still a little pink with the faint trace of a blush, and the corners of his mouth were flickering like he was trying to hold back a smile.

But it was Lloyd’s eyes that really gave him away. His sparkling blue eyes were glimmering with so much warmth and affection, it made you gasp all over again.

“You got me a Valentine’s Day treat!” 

At your pronouncement, Lloyd tossed his head back and laughed. Your eyes snagged on the long line of his throat, staring greedily and wondering if Lloyd would mind if you paid him back for all his teasing by licking along the corded muscle there. 

When Lloyd finally lowered his head and caught your eye again, there was humor and desire shimmering in the depth of his gaze. 

“I thought it was time we finally do something about all the sizzling chemistry between us,” Lloyd explained, giving you a playful wink. It was on the tip of your tongue to protest—your mouth even opened to deny it—but Lloyd just gave you a hard look. “I’ve seen the way you look at me, cupcake, don’t deny it.”

The memory of Lloyd ducking out of the bathroom in only a towel and striding to his room popped into your head unbidden. Since then, you had been looking at him with much more heat and desire than you ever thought you’d feel for your brother’s best friend, but you’d thought you’d kept it under wraps. 

Apparently not, since Lloyd was giving you such a knowing look. All you could do was scoff and roll your eyes. 

“Fine,” you said, crossing your arms while you huffed and puffed and pouted up at him. “Can I have my treat now?”

“Not until you finish your yoga,” Lloyd said sternly, patting your ass as he helped you slide off his lap. You shot him a bratty glare, which only made his eyes darken; his hand slapped your ass a little harder. “Finish your yoga and then you get your treat—and you can play with my cock.”

“Oooh, okay!” you said more eagerly, quickly stretching yourself out on your mat and pulling up the video that had long since finished. You found the spot where Lloyd had distracted you and got back into position before you hit play.

Lloyd gathered the cardboard tray and pastry bag from the table, then sat down on the couch, sipping his coffee while he watched you move through your yoga positions. You knew he watched you the whole time, because you could feel his eyes undressing you, no doubt thinking of other fun ways to interrupt your morning yoga in the future. 

Once you were blessedly done with the yoga routine, you bounced up from the mat and went to Lloyd, who pulled you into his lap before you could sit beside him on the couch. He handed you your coffee and the bag with the pastry. 

While you ate and drank, the two of you discussed what you wanted from a relationship, both inside and out of the bedroom, and whether you’d tell your brother before or after you moved out of Lloyd’s apartment. 

Lloyd promised to help you find your own place, revealing he’d been doing some digging already and had a couple prospects for you to look at. 

After you were done with your coffee and pastry, you slid off Lloyd’s lap, kneeling between his parted legs and begged him to let you have your other treat. Lloyd helped you get his pants down enough for you to pull out his cock. 

You licked him from base to crown, swirling your tongue around the hot, leaking tip and humming in delight when you tasted his salty precum. Looking up at Lloyd from under your lashes, you smiled at him. 

“You taste so sweet, sir,” you purred, before lavishing his cock with all the attention of your warm, devoted tongue. 

Lloyd groaned, mumbling something about how perfect you and your mouth were while you worshipped his cock, teasing him just as much as he’d teased you. When he finally came, it was with a nearly feral growl, his hands pushing your head roughly down on his cock as you swallowed his cum greedily. 

The rest of your Valentine’s Day was spent curled up with Lloyd Hansen, looking up apartment listings in between talking and getting to know each other better. He may have been your brother’s best friend when you’d moved in, but you were both determined that he’d be your boyfriend by the time you moved out. 

sweethearts game masterlist

[love-stucky]

bucky uses his strength on you

pairing: beefy bucky barnes x f!reader

warnings/tags: 18+ MDNI, smut, oral sex (f receiving), strength/power play (bucky lifts reader up. he's a super soldier, what can't he lift?), strength kink? praise kink, multiple orgasms (implied), overstimulation, pet names (doll, baby, good girl, sweetheart)

jazz yaps: back with another horny idea graciously bestowed upon me by @buckybsdoll! also marvel not giving us a shirtless beefy bucky scene remains one of history's greatest crimes 😤 at least the red henley exists.

wc: 1k

You came down to the home gym at the Avengers compound with Bucky, expecting to get a workout in like usual.

But the second he starts his set your attention shifts straight to him.

The room fills with the clank of metal plates and the steady rhythm of his breathing, and somehow you end up just standing there watching instead of doing anything productive.

He’s beneath the bar with more weight loaded onto it than most men would dare attempt, his vibranium arm catching the bright fluorescent light every time he pushes the bar upward.

A thin sheen of sweat coats his skin, tracing the thick muscles of his neck, sliding over the wide expanse of his chest, and disappearing into the defined ridges of his abs.

Each low grunt he lets out as he pushes the bar sends a jolt straight to your core, his biceps bulge like fucking pythons, veins standing out along his forearms like they’ve been drawn there just to ruin your focus.

And God help you, he looks unfairly good—solid, powerful, the kind of man who could crush steel and still have you completely unravelled just by standing there.

You nudge your thighs together, feeling the heat build up.

The way he controls the weight, hips lifting just slightly for leverage, muscles tightening under those black shorts clinging to his thick thighs… it pulls you straight back to that night.

That night in his bedroom when he’d turned all that raw strength on you.

He'd already made you come twice on his tongue, sprawled on the bed with your legs hooked over his shoulders. His metal fingers dug into your thighs, holding you spread wide open as his mouth worked your pussy—lips sucking your clit, tongue plunging deep, lapping up every drop like he had been starving for weeks.

“Fuck, doll,” he’d groaned against you, his voice rough and wrecked. "Taste so goddamn sweet. Gimme one more."

You’d been trembling, oversensitive from the intense pleasure, thighs quivering around his head.

But he didn't relent.

Instead, he slid his flesh arm under your ass to drag you right to the edge of the bed like you weighed nothing at all—pulling you closer as if you weren’t already close enough.

His piercing blues locked on yours, dark with a primal hunger. “C’mon, baby,” he'd growled. “Soak my face again. I know you got it.”

You shouldn’t have been shocked by his strength—super soldier serum and all that—but when he said, “Grab on,” and you clutched his shoulders, fingers sinking into solid muscle, he just… lifted you.

Straight off the bed, you were suspended mid-air in his arms, held up only by his strength as he devoured you like a man possessed.

You gripped his hair with one hand, the other braced on his shoulder, knuckles white as you rode his face, every flick of his tongue sending hot, overwhelming pulses through your entire body.

The thrill of it—the sheer power holding you up while he ravaged your soaked cunt, nose grinding your throbbing clit, tongue curling deep with feral growls vibrating straight through you.

The pleasure overwhelmed you, leaving you lightheaded and on the verge of blacking out.

But you were close, oh so close—muscles burning as you started to slip.

“B-bucky—fuck, I cant,” you’d gasped, your grip faltering. “Gonna f-fall, I—”

He’d just grunted, low and animalistic, not even pausing to set you down.

In one fluid move, he pivoted and slammed your back against the nearest wall, the impact rattling the pictures on the wall and sending one crashing to the floor in pieces.

He paid no mind to it.

His mouth sealed over you again, relentless, tongue thrusting deep as his vibranium hand pinned your thigh high, opening you wider.

"Give it to me, baby," he'd demanded, voice rough between sucks, eyes burning into you. "Give me what’s mine. Come on my tongue. Now."

And you had, shattering harder than before, grinding down onto his greedy mouth as your orgasm ripped through you, thighs quaking around his head, squirting hot and messy over his face while he drank it all down, groaning like it was the best thing he'd ever tasted.

"That's my good fucking girl."

The loud clang of the bar settling into the rack snaps you back to reality, your panties now completely drenched from the memory and your nipples straining hard against your tank top.

Bucky sits up, straightening as he wipes sweat from his brow with a towel, dragging it slowly down the side of his neck before his gaze settles on you.

Heat rushes to your cheeks as his lips tip into that familiar, knowing smirk.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” he teases, voice low and playful as he stands and begins to walk toward you. "You know, you're not very subtle," he chuckles, stopping just inches away, towering over you.

“You’ve been eye-fuckin’ me for the last ten minutes,” he adds, that smirk deepening. "What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, huh? Thinkin' about something dirty?"

Your breath hitches, pulse thundering between your legs, and you don't bother lying. "Yeah," you admit, voice steady but tight. "Thinking about how I want to be your next workout."

The smirk is gone. His eyes darken at your words, that playful glint morphing into something far more intense.

Without warning, his hands are on you—vibranium palm firm at the back of your thigh, his other arm wrapping around your waist—as he lifts you up effortlessly.

Your legs instinctively lock around his hips, your back arching as he presses his rock-hard cock right against your soaked core through your thin shorts.

“Lucky for you…" he groans, tilting your face down to his and lightly nibbling your lower lip. "I was barely workin' up a sweat.”

thank you so much for reading! hope you enjoyed! likes, comments and reblogs are so appreciated <3 pls let me know what you think!

taglist: @/buckybsdoll @singulartoast @buckysdecaflove @sassandscribbles @phoenix-in-writing @epiphanyrogers - if you would like to be added to my bucky taglist, pls leave a comment or send me an ask 🫶🏽

[love-stucky]

Drunk On You

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

summary: you can't seem to keep your mouth shut when you've had too much to drink.

prompt: going to a wine tasting, one of you gets silly drunk

warnings/tags: fluff, alcohol consumption, reader is a lightweight, kissing (reader initiates it), bucky has a crush, and they were roomates/friends to lovers?, pet names (doll, sweetheart, princess)

jazz talks: and i'm back with more nonsense! here for day 8 of @pinksplace and @wildflowersandvibranium galentines event! i wanted to join sooner but ofc life got in the way. i've been in quite a funk lately and can't seem to get my shit together lol so sorry if this sucks 🙃

word count: 1.1k

You stumble through the front door of your shared apartment, Bucky’s strong arm wrapped around your waist, steadying you after the wine tasting that had, admittedly, gotten a little out of hand. 

The vineyard tour was meant to be elegant—sipping refined reds and whites, nibbling on carefully arranged cheese platters but somewhere along the way, you’d discovered a dangerous fondness for the bubbly rosé. 

One glass turned into three, then five, until the world tilted just enough to turn even the simplest things into pure amusement.

Bucky, ever the responsible one with his super soldier metabolism barely fazed by a few sips, had cut himself off early to play designated driver and babysitter. 

“Easy there, doll,” he murmurs, humor lacing his tone as he effortlessly lifts you like you weigh nothing and maneuvers you toward the couch, settling you gently onto the soft cushions.

“Stay put. I’m gettin’ you some water” 

You flop dramatically against the pillows, flinging your heels across the floor as you beam up at the ceiling. 

“Bucky! The stars are inside! Come looook!” you squeal, voice ridiculously high as you flail your arms toward the kitchen like you can summon him back.

He chuckles from the kitchen, a deep, vibrating sound that fills the apartment and straight to your chest. It's your favorite sound. 

Bucky returns with a tall glass of water, ice clinking softly, and kneels in front of you, holding it out “Drink up, lightweight.“

But instead of taking it, you reach out and clumsily pat his cheek, your fingers brushing over the stubble along his jaw. “You’re sooo bossy, Bucky Bear,” you tease, dissolving into another fit of giggles that rattle through your whole body.

He huffs out a laugh, “And you’re adorably ridiculous when your drunk… but just wait, tomorrow you’re going to hate yourself.” He sets the glass in your hand, tilting it gently toward your lips as you take a few careful sips.

You set it aside on the coffee table with a sloppy thunk, then pat the cushion next to you insistently, "Sit with me. Pleeease? The couch is lonely without your butt."

With a teasing eye-roll, Bucky slides down beside you, his thigh pressing warmly against yours. The soft scent of his cologne—rich, warm, and clean—envelops you like a familiar, comforting blanket. 

God, you love that smell. 

You turn to face him fully, propping your elbow on the back of the couch, chin in hand.

And you just... stare. 

God, he’s gorgeous. 

Those blue eyes—like storm-tossed oceans—pierce right through you, framed by dark lashes any girl would kill for. 

The sharp line of his jaw, dusted with the perfect five-o’clock stubble your fingers had just brushed. 

His short, dark hair is perfectly tousled, tempting you to run your fingers through it. 

Broad shoulders straining against his black Henley, the fabric clinging to the ridges of muscle earned from decades of survival.

Your gaze drifts lower, tracing the way his jeans hug his thighs, the subtle flex of his hand resting on his knee. Heat pools in your belly, stirred by more than just the wine buzzing through your veins.

"You're starin’, sweetheart," Bucky says, voice husky, a faint smile playing on his lips. 

A soft, needy whine tumbles from your lips, your bottom lip trembling as a flush spreads across your cheeks. “Mmmph… can’t help it…” And before you can stop them, the words escape, unfiltered and bold, your buzz giving you a reckless courage. "God, you're so hot. Like, unfairly hot. Sometimes I want to climb you like a tree.”

Bucky’s cheeks flush a deep pink, spreading up from his neck, his eyes widening slightly. 

He ducks his head, brushing the back of his neck with his metal hand—a rare crack in his normally steady composure. “Jesus, doll…” 

“Aww, look at you turning pink! Big bad Barnes, brought down by compliments? Too cute. And here I thought you were just a broody old man,” you tease, gently poking his flushed cheek, giggling as he playfully swats your hand away. 

You can’t stop staring, completely captivated, the world around him fading into blur as if he’s the only thing that exists. 

Your heart thuds, wine-fueled courage rising, and before you can second guess yourself, you lean in, closing the distance. Your lips meet his in a soft, impulsive press. 

Bucky goes rigid for a moment, shock coursing through him like electricity. 

You’ve been roommates, friends, his quiet crush simmering beneath the surface for months, hidden behind long walks and quiet evenings together. 

He’s imagined this moment countless times, replaying scenarios in the quiet of his room. 

Then, like a wall crumbling, he kisses you back. 

His flesh hand cups your jaw gently, thumb brushing your cheek as his lips move against yours—warm, confident, deepening just enough to make your head spin more than the alcohol. 

He tastes like mint and the single glass of cabernet he allowed himself. 

Soft. Warm. Utterly consuming. 

But too soon, he pulls back, eyes dark and conflicted as he rests his forehead against yours. 

You whine, a petulant little sound, chasing his lips. "Why'd you stop? That was nice!"

"Doll... you're drunk." He exhales shakily, metal fingers lingering on your arm. "Can't take advantage. Not like this. Not when the wine's talkin' for you."

“I’m not that drunk!” you protest. Determined to prove it, you push off the couch, trying to stand tall. Your legs wobble like a newborn foal's —one step, two… before gravity takes over. 

You flop back down with a soft bounce, giggling as you grab his arm for support. “See? Totally fine!”

Bucky just chuckles, shaking his head, affection softening every line of his face. 

“Yeah, real graceful, princess. Come on, let’s get you to bed before you faceplant to the floor.” 

He lifts you effortlessly into his arms and carries you down the hall to your room. You nuzzle against his chest, humming softly as he lays you on the bed and tugs the covers over you. 

As he turns to leave, you grab his hand, sleepy eyes locking on his. "Bucky... when I’m sober, I'm going to kiss you again.”

His expression softens, a small smile tugging at his lips as he brushes a strand of hair from your face. “I’ll be looking forward to it, sweetheart. He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Sleep well.”

thank you so much for reading! hope you enjoyed! pls like/comment/reblog if so and let me know what you think!

[love-stucky]

His Full Attention

pairing: mob boss lloyd hansen x wife f!reader

summary: you dress to provoke your husband, only it doesn’t end the way you had hoped.

prompt: “you behave so much better when i have my hands on you” (swapped)

warnings/tags: 18+ MDNI, smut, p in v, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, degradation, established relationship, pet names (pumpkin)

jazz talks: is it me or is lloyd not appreciated enough?? ladies pls give a warm welcome and have your legs open ready for mr. hansen! day 4 of january jumble scribbles.

word count: 378 (hey im really trying here)

ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ᴘʀᴇᴠ | ɴᴇxᴛ

It had all started with a dress. Crimson silk so sheer and delicate, leaving little to the imagination. You had chosen it with the intent of provoking a reaction from the man who had treated you like a ghost for the past five days. 

Lloyd’s work had become his mistress and you were determined to remind him of the wife he had waiting in his bed. You had stepped into his office, leaning over his desk to “ask a question,” giving the six men he was meeting with a view they would never have.

The air had grown thick with tension, the only sounds were the shuffling of feet and the soft click of Lloyd shutting his laptop. He hadn’t even looked at you, but you felt the temperature drop to arctic levels.

Now, that same desk is cold against your cheek, your body bent over it as Lloyd takes you from behind. There’s no gentleness, only a raw, merciless rhythm born of pure, unrestrained fury. Your dress is a ruined puddle of silk around your waist, torn in his haste to reclaim what he knew had always been his.

His arm presses firmly against your shoulder blades, pinning you in place, while his other digs into your hip, pulling you back to meet each brutal snap of his hips.

“Thought you were clever, didn’t you?” he grunts, his voice a low growl. “Parading yourself around like a common whore for my men to see.”

A whimper escapes your lips as he angles his hips, hitting a spot deep inside that makes your vision blur. You feel the coil tightening in your belly. “Oh god- fuck- Lloyd, please…”  

“You behave so much better when I have my hands on you.”

He can feel you’re close. He stops suddenly, the loss of friction is a new kind of torture. You push back against him, a desperate plea to continue.

“Nooo please, Lloyd. please let me come. I was so close.” 

A dark chuckle vibrates through his chest. He leans down, his lips brushing your ear. 

“Oh I know, pumpkin. But you don’t get to come until I say so. You wanted my attention? You fucking have it. Now, you’re going to learn what it means to be patient.”

lloyd pls degrade me! thank you so much for reading! hope you enjoyed! pls like/comment/reblog if so and let me know what you think!

[stargazingfangirl18]

Caretaking Mode Activated

Pairing: Ari Levinson x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2,462 Summary: You’re still getting used to Ari and his presence, and he’s very keen on taking care of you like you deserve. Warnings: AU. Explicit language. AI!Robot!Ari. Low key dirty talk. Praise kink if you squint. Lots of horniness, like, so much lolll. Oral sex (f receiving). Brief anal play. Unprotected sex. Female and male masturbation. Non con voyeurism. 

A/N: Um. Well. Even AI!Ari is a whore, and this is all his fault, and I stan 🫠(If you didn’t read their first part, read this first.)

You yawned loudly as you staggered toward the kitchen, rubbing at your eyes and already glowering at the bright sunlight filling your home once your hands dropped to your sides and you squinted in irritation.

You had slept like total shit last night, and you were definitely feeling it this morning.

And it was all Ari’s fault.

Just knowing the AI was in your home, downstairs looming in the darkness while you laid tucked away in your bed, had made you antsy and self-conscious.

All night, you’d kept trying to tell yourself that you just needed to get over the awkwardness and get used to your new custom AI, but the truth was…beyond the shift in the vibe of your home since his arrival…

You could not stop fucking envisioning that massage he had seemed so eager to give you.

And this morning, you were paying the price for your inability to scrape that tempting thought from your brain and get some goddamn sleep.

You were still glowering as you stepped into the kitchen and instantly pulled up short at the sight of Ari looming tall and broad at the marble counter as he poured you a cup of coffee and perfectly doctored it to your preferences.

He really is stupid hot, you thought to yourself before you could stuff down that ridiculous thought.

Unaware of your internal nonsense, Ari gave you a bright smile as he set the steaming mug on the isle for you and greeted you with a warm, “Good morning!”

You stared at him for a beat, unable to help it as your eyes lingered–greedy to drink in his handsome features that you were still a little taken aback by–before your eyes flickered to the coffee mug and the hot temptation that lay inside.

You croaked back a half-hearted, “Morning,” as you moved forward, rounding the isle until you stood across from Ari as you reached for the mug. As you did, your nose twitched as a familiar scent registered in your brain, and you glanced over to the stove, then beside it, to where a plate of your favorite breakfast foods awaited you.

It seemed as if Ari knew your breakfast preferences too, which, duh. He was your custom AI after all, and you’d had to complete that extremely long and tedious welcome survey to get him updated and ready to fulfill your every need.

Rolling your eyes at yourself, you leaned back against the counter, cradling your mug between your hands as you took a long drink. Humming in happiness as the caffeinated goodness exploded across your tongue before warming its way down your throat, you sighed as some of your crankiness began to recede.

“I know you’re not a big breakfast person, but you should try to eat a little anyway so you have energy to get you through your day,” Ari said, retrieving the breakfast plate before moving near to set it on the counter beside you.

He loomed close, and as you finished swallowing another mouthful of coffee heaven, you could feel his gaze on you. Tilting your face up, you froze as you found Ari’s own eyes fixed on your bare legs.

And, you realized in horror, your panties, which were on full display.

Because you were still dressed in your sleep clothes, which consisted of no more than a soft, thin tank top and a pair of cotton underwear with little bunnies on them. Your tired, addled, treacherous mind hadn’t thought of getting fully dressed before coming down stairs, because you weren’t used to doing that or having someone else in your home with you.

Even if it was just an AI assistant.

You fleetingly wondered if AIs could be scandalized, but that didn’t seem to be the case with Ari as his gaze–which you swore seemed darker than before–took its grand ole time inching over your barely covered body.

As his eyes lingered on your chest, making you hyper aware of your lack of bra and how your hard nipples were poking through your shirt due to the coolness of the kitchen, you suddenly felt so fucking dumb and embarrassed at him seeing you this way. 

You were the one who was scandalized–and super self-conscious–as your cheeks filled with the heat or mortification and you squirmed before Ari, subtly trying to backtrack to put the isle between you and at least hide the lower half of your body from his surprisingly attentive gaze.

Is he eye fucking me? you couldn’t help but wonder, even though you knew the very thought was straight up absurd. AIs couldn’t feel attraction, but the thought flickered through your mind all the same the longer Ari stared at you and the awkward tension in the room grew.

Finally, it was like the bot registered your discomfort, a warm smile once again splitting his lips as his eyes met yours–twinkling with something that toed the line of mischief and something more, something your brain so could not process right now–before he tilted his head and his eyes went distant.

“Your work calendar is packed today,” Ari reminded you, quickly rattling off the five meetings and their times that would occupy most of your day.

And just like that, your embarrassment and all the strange tension between you and Ari instantly evaporated as your brain clicked into work mode, and you groaned at the long day ahead of you. 

“I should get showered and dressed asap,” you sighed, turning on your heel and hurrying from the kitchen, your mug still cradled in your hands and your frazzled self completely oblivious to the way Ari’s very interested gaze fixated on the curve of your ass for your entire retreat.

The end of your work day brought you full circle to how you had started the morning as you staggered into the kitchen, no functional brain cells left and your stomach growling loudly as you toed the line of hangry.

A delicious aroma permeated the lower floor of your home, and your lips curled as you recognized the scent of your favorite meal cooking as you entered the kitchen and made your way to the isle. 

Ari glanced over his shoulder at your arrival, shooting you a smile as he told you, “Dinner should be done in a few minutes,” before turning back to the stove.

Unable to suppress a yawn, you sat in one of the tall seats at the isle counter, watching his broad back for a moment as he tended to your dinner. It washed over you suddenly, the utter relief at the fact that you didn’t need to worry about cooking and you’d still eat well tonight. 

Every night, in fact, as long as you had Ari here to assist you.

Another thought was quick to fill your mind next - that you really needed to stop packing your days with so many meetings and so much to do. Overwhelming exhaustion crept through you as you realized that you were seriously close to being burnt out beyond recovery. 

And you wouldn’t be able to run a successful business in that state.

Yawning again, you rested your chin on your hand, your eyes blinking slowly, heavy as you all but nodded off at the counter as you waited for dinner to be served. 

The sudden warm, heavy press of big hands gripping your shoulders startled you awake, and you were instantly aware of Ari’s presence at your back.

“Shhh, just let me take care of you for a moment, sweetheart,” his voice was a quiet, husky rumble as his thumbs dug into your shoulders and circled, starting to ease the knots of tension from your body.

Between how good his hands felt on you and the soft, lulling tone of Ari’s voice, you couldn’t help but soften under his touch, your eyes growing heavy again as you sank back in your seat, wordlessly surrendering to his impromptu massage. 

“Good girl,” Ari’s words were a warm rush against your ear.

You shivered hard, your cunt clenching in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time. Before you could think too much on it or over analyze your reaction to Ari, his touch grew more firm and insistent as he rubbed your shoulders before his fingers moved to work some divine tension relieving wizardry along your neck.

A moan spilled past your lips before your tired brain couldn’t even register what the sound was, and your cheeks felt alight as Ari shifted closer, his artificial body heat enveloping your back as his lips touched the shell of your ear.

“Yeah, it feels good, huh?” he husked.

“Uh huh,” you replied dumbly, gasping as his thumbs found another knot and began to gently work it away.

“You’re so tight,” Ari murmured, his lips lingering against your ear and making you shiver and bite back a whimper.

How long had it been since you’d been touched like this? Hell, touched at all? 

You genuinely couldn’t remember the last time you experienced this type of intimacy, let alone anything in the realm of desire or sexual pleasure. Obviously your body was desperate for it if you were reacting this way to such an innocent touch. 

Needless to say, you were fully awake now–albeit dazed–and you couldn’t seem to get your squirming under control as Ari continued to touch you and make your body melt for him. You just realized the ruined state of your panties when Ari’s big hands suddenly grew much warmer–pleasantly so–and you gasped loudly, mewling at how good it felt as you sank back against him, more eager for his touch than ever.

Your pussy fluttered wildly as you felt the soft, warm brush of lips against the side of your throat, but before your tired mind could determine if the touch had even been real, the oven timer started to go off, making you jump in your seat as whatever spell you had been under instantly broke. 

Ari’s hands smoothed down your back then up again before cupping your shoulders and giving them a squeeze. “Gimme a few minutes, and I’ll have your belly full in no time,” he hummed, giving your shoulders a final press before his touch retreated. 

He has to know what he’s saying, you thought as you watched Ari resume his spot at the stove, seeming completely oblivious to his innuendos, let alone how they affected you.

Then again, he was a fucking robot after all. He didn’t have the same kind of needs that you did–human needs. He didn’t get horny or feel attraction or want another. He literally just existed to be of service to his primary user.

His primary user who apparently really needed to get laid. 

You nearly snorted out loud at your ridiculous mental spiral, but still–you couldn’t help but watch Ari for a moment longer, your eyes wide and your cheeks still on fire. You hated how much you felt the loss of his touch reverberate through you.

How much you wanted to feel it again.

Jesus Christ, get a grip, you scoffed at yourself. Taking a deep, shaky breath, you shot Ari a final look before slipping from your seat and scurrying away to wash up before dinner. 

“Oh my god,” you whined, your fingers clawing at your bed sheets as you panted through another orgasm.

Ari had you ass up and face down in your bed, his own face still buried in your cunt from behind despite the way you were begging him to give you a breather.

His tongue drew up your sloppy slit in another slow, broad drag that had you nearly crying his name as you tried to squirm away from him. When he tongued at your tight little rosebud before pressing the softest kiss there, you squealed his name, your insides throbbing at his sinful treatment of you as you continued to tremble and gasp for breath.

“Mmmm, I don’t think that’s what you actually need, a breather,” his voice was a low rumble that had your cunt clenching all over again as he finally eased away from you.

It seemed like between one blink and the next, the thick, spongy head of Ari’s cock was suddenly pressing against your drippy hole, and you could only whine some more as he started to slowly push inside you. 

His big hands framed your hips, his grip on you firm to keep you in place as he took his time filling you with his cock. You swore he was drawing it out on purpose, because he wanted to make sure you felt each and every hard, thick inch of him. Until he was finally buried to the hilt and you were gasping then squealing his name as he gave a rut to settle impossibly deeper inside of you.

“This is what you need,” Ari purred, patiently retreating from the hot, tight confines of your cunt and then lingering so just the tip of his cock was stretching your entrance. “And we both know it,” you could hear the smirk in his voice. “Don’t we, sweetheart?” 

He shoved into you hard and deep, making you keen a breathless, needy, “Yes!”

You jerked awake, your heart hammering in your chest as your tired brain processed the dream–the very naughty dream–that you had just been pulled from.

It took you a moment to recall it fully, and when you did, you could feel your face heat. And when you squirmed beneath your covers at the sinful recollection, you could feel how fucking wet you were, your panties completely soaked through.

“Goddamnit,” you gritted into the darkness, feeling as annoyed as you were horny after the spicy imaginings your sleep brain had conjured up. “Fuck it,” you huffed, shoving your hand down the front of your ruined underwear and immediately zeroing in on your throbbing clit.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep in this state, so you might as well take care of it. 

And if the thought that the almost!person who had caused you to be such a needy, fucking mess, was just downstairs, none the wiser about the way you filled your own pussy with two fingers and moaned his name aloud as you imagined it was his cock filling you up and fucking you so good, well, so be it.

Only…

Ari wasn’t downstairs none the wiser about you and your condition.

Unbeknownst to you, he was on the other side of your closed bedroom door, leaning against the wall as he stroked his cock–chasing his own release–as he listened to all of your pretty keens and moans and the way you gasped his name as you touched yourself, and then again once you finally reached your peak. 

I regret nothing.

VERSE MASTERLIST

—

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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. I also do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI platforms. Reblogs are most welcome and encouraged though! ❤️

[stargazingfangirl18]

Acquisition Complete

Pairing: Curtis Everett x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4,328 Summary: Now that the renovation on your apartment complex was complete, you had a few ideas about how your favorite Construction Unit bot could continue to fulfill your needs. Warnings: AU. Explicit language. Explicit sexual content. AI!Robot!Curtis. My very limited and mostly made up knowledge of property renovation, property management, and wealth management lol. Vaginal fingering. Praise kink. Manhandling. Soft!dom!Curtis. Unprotected sex. Rough sex. Dirty talk. Cum play. 

A/N: Y’all seemed to be frothing for AI!Curtis, so I’m beyond excited to share his first part with you. I hope you like it! Reader certainly did. 😏❤️

SUPERIOR AI MASTERLIST

An emotional kind of pride stirred within you as you watched the Gilliam’s Garden Apartments sign go up in the middle of the beautifully landscaped courtyard.

The courtyard sat in the center of the paved oval walkway that connected the four 12-unit buildings that made up the renovated apartment complex.

The renovation had been your baby over the past 18 months, and more so, it had been the perfect thing to focus on after Gilliam’s death.

The perfect way to honor him and all the good he had done for Piercer Park.

Despite the way Gilliam had started out as poor as you had been up until a decade ago, he had made something of himself, and even though he had amassed a great fortune for all his hard work, Gilliam had never forgotten where he came from.

Even in death, he wanted to make sure that his fortune was put to good use and continued to help revitalize the impoverished Chicago neighborhoods that needed it most. 

That he had so dearly loved. 

Which is why he had named you as the benefactor of his fortune and estate. Why he had left a sort of philanthropic bucket list for you to fulfill in his stead.

After all, it was Gilliam’s personal mentorship and father-like love for you that had secured your bright future. 

He had helped you launch your successful career as a wealth management advisor, being your very first client and recommending your services to other wealthy philanthropists over the years.

You owed him everything, and he must have known that you–more than anyone–would carry on his legacy of rebuilding the city he had loved, one neighborhood at a time, while advocating for those who needed it most. 

“You’re not gonna get all weepy on me, are ya?”

You turned at the sound of Tanya’s voice, laughing at her wary look as she watched you swipe away a tear that had escaped. “I’ll try not to.”

“You haven’t even seen the rooftop garden and greenhouse yet,” she huffed, but the look in her eyes was fond as she watched you bounce in place beside her.

“I swear the rooftop area is my favorite,” you gushed. “Recreation space and additional resources for tenants! They’ll be able to grow their own food and herbs. No other building in the neighborhood has anything like it.”

“You don’t need to tell me, I helped build the thing,” Tanya smirked, smoothing a hand over her gray polo shirt, before it fell to her curved hip.

You eyed the Forewoman stitching on the left breast of her shirt, feeling another bout of emotional pride well up within you. 

“I couldn’t have done this without you,” you said earnestly.

“Don’t I know it.”

“No, Tanya, truly,” you reached for her, your eyes shining as you took her hands in yours and gave them a gentle squeeze. “Thank you so much for all your hard work and guidance.”

Despite her gentle scoff, Tanya gave your hands a reciprocal squeeze before pulling away. “Put a plug in the melodrama, girl, you’re gonna overwhelm the AIs.”

Laughing, you shook your head at her before glancing around, watching as the Construction Unit robots went about their work diligently. 

They wore the same uniform as Tanya: a gray polo and khaki pants, work boots and hard hats, too, but unlike the human forewoman, they all had on reflective yellow and orange vests to denote their designation as CUs.

Your eyes lingered on one CU in particular before Tanya’s voice regained your attention. 

“Here,” she held out a simple white envelope. “It’s a check for first month’s rent and my deposit.” 

You beamed at her as you accepted her offering, another wave of excitement washing through you as you safely tucked the envelope into your purse. “Thank you. You’re my first official tenant! Well, besides myself. My realtor will be posting the listings online later this week.”

“You know you could be charging four times what you are for these apartments.”

“I know, but I won’t.”

Tanya’s smile was warm as she shook her head at you. “Gilliam’s protege through and through.”

It was your turn to playfully scoff. “Talk about throwing stones at a glass house.” You nudged her with your elbow as you both watched the activity around the courtyard. 

CUs were finishing up the landscaping around each of the building entrances and installing outdoor lights on either side of each main doorway.

“He’d be very proud of you,” Tanya’s voice was soft, almost a whisper.

You glanced over at her, smiling. “He’d be very proud of us. We did this together, and I wasn’t his only mentee,” you gave her another gentle nudge.

Tanya’s gaze went a little distant, her lips curling at the corners. “I still don’t know what he saw in me, a young single mother with barely a dime to her name and no hard skills to speak of.”

“And now you have your own construction company and you’re booked out for the next three years,” you crowed.

“Yeah, to help you complete Gilliam’s Dogooder’s Bucket List, not that I’m complaining.”

“He sure did leave a lot of work for us,” you laughed. 

“He did, but it was worth it. I can’t believe this used to be Everett Apartments,” Tanya sounded amazed as she glanced around at the four beautiful buildings surrounding you. “It looks nothing like it used to. Gilliam wouldn’t even recognize his childhood home.”

“But in a good way.”

“Well, we should be cleared out by the end of the week, and then it’s on to the next revitalization a few blocks away,” Tanya told you. “Now Piercer Park really will be up and coming. Finally.”

You hummed in agreement, your gaze once again drawn to a certain Construction Unit AI. 

He was tall and lean, his shoulders broad and his body firmly built. His skin was ivory, his handsome face covered in a dark beard that you knew matched the short buzzed hair beneath his hard hat. His ice blue eyes–a color unlike anything you had ever seen before–were twinkling as Timmy, Tanya’s 10-year-old son, hung off his arm and seemed to be pleading with the AI for something.

You watched as CU RT15 shook his head fondly before allowing Timmy to lead him a few feet away. Then he was crouching down to the boy’s height, his face going very serious before his eyes suddenly glowed ruby red.

Timmy squealed his delight. “Just like Superman! Do green now, do green!”

A beat later, the CU’s eyes turned bright green, and Timmy shouted with laughter, clapping in glee. 

Your belly swooped as you watched the endearing sight, and it just solidified the idea that had been haunting your mind for the past month or so.

“Hey, Tanya?” you turned to your friend. “Can I ask a favor?”

Tanya pulled her amused gaze from Timmy to meet yours. “Always.”

“That CU,” you thumbed over your shoulder toward Timmy and CU RT15, “Can I purchase him from you once this job is done?”

Tanya’s eyebrows hiked. “Why?”

You felt your face heat, your gaze falling away as you tucked your hands into the pockets of your jacket and shrugged. “Well, I’ve been thinking, I’ll need an on site maintenance supervisor and general handyman for the building, and he knows it better than anyone and…I dunno, he’s grown on me.”

Tanya hummed, quiet for a moment as she continued to watch the CU entertain her son, who was off from school today. 

“It sure is something how some of them develop real personalities, huh?” She chuckled before returning her gaze to you. “That one’s stoic but gentle. Has a soft spot for kids and the elderly, I’ve seen it myself.”

She watched as you continued to avoid her gaze and stare at the ground. 

Smirking, her voice was sly as she asked, “A super? Really? Is that the only reason you want him?”

“The only reason I’m willing to talk about,” you huffed, barely suppressing the urge to stick your tongue out at your friend and her annoying way of always being able to read you.

Tanya laughed. “He’s yours then. I’ll do a hard reset on him and hand him over before I clear out at the end of the week and then email you an invoice over the weekend.”

“Actually,” you finally glanced up, meeting her gaze. “Don’t hard reset him. I don’t want him wiped. He knows the history and intricacies of the property, and he knows me and…I want to keep him him.”

Eyes twinkling, Tanya shrugged. “Sure. I’ll just set you as the new primary user then, and you can update his programming and operating system however you want.”

Feeling your belly flutter, you bit back the huge smile dying to break free, instead offering a quiet, “Thanks.” 

Shooting one more glance at the CU, you shook yourself, clapping your hands together as you asked Tanya to, “Show me the rooftop garden and greenhouse next?!”

God, you couldn’t believe this was actually happening. 

He was yours now.

The Construction Unit AI you had grown so fond of over the past 18 months. 

That you had fantasized about countless times as you lay tucked away in your bed late at night, all on your lonesome. 

But not anymore. 

Taking a sip from your wine glass, you watched him over the brim, feeling the liquor settle warm in your fluttering belly as you set the glass aside and moved closer to the AI. 

He looked so much bigger up close and standing in the middle of your living room. 

Your new 2-bedroom apartment still had a few stray moving boxes that needed unpacking, but you had gotten all of the furniture set up at least. Your living room had a warm, inviting ambiance to it as the tableside lamps glowed at either end of the sofa, and the pulled shades blocked the light from the streetlamps outside.

“Confirm name change?” you spoke softly as you circled around the AI and stood before him, your eyes lifting to meet his curious gaze.

“My former name, Construction Unit RT15, has now been updated to Curtis Everett.”

You smiled, something in your chest fluttering as you heard him speak the name you had picked out for him weeks ago in that deep, baritone voice of his.

“Excellent,” you praised, your gaze dipping to the way his blue and green flannel stretched over the width of his chest. “And confirm your new primary uses for me, please?”

“To maintain the safety and integrity of this property, to fulfill any maintenance requests as needed by you and its tenants, and to satisfy your every personal need,” Curtis dutifully recited. “As requested, I’ve bookmarked the building schematics on my hard drive to keep them top of mind should they be needed.”

You hummed, impressed, your gaze drifting lower to the way Curtis’ worn jeans tightly hugged his strong thighs. Your fingers itched to touch him. To feel his warmth and strength beneath your fingers at last. 

It didn’t matter that he was an AI, to you, he was your dream man, and now he finally stood here before you, looking as human as any other man you’d ever interacted with, and ready and waiting to take care of your every need. 

Head cocking to the side, Curtis observed aloud, “You’ve also updated my programming to enable some new features and support initiatives beyond the default Construction Unit parameters.”

“I have,” you replied, your gaze snapping up to meet his. 

Something about the curiosity in his gaze–like he wasn’t expecting you to need or want him beyond a construction unit capacity–finally had you snapping.

Curtis grunted in surprise as you pushed him down into a sit on the sofa. The soft, primal sound went straight to your pussy, and you were already wet as you shrugged off the short, satin robe you had been wearing to cover your naked body.

He didn’t question the way you immediately straddled his lap, pressing your naked body flush to his still fully dressed one as your hands slid up his chest to grip his shoulders. 

“It’s time for you to take care of me, Curtis. To satisfy my every need.” Your breath hitched as you met his surprisingly darker than before gaze. You felt your nipples tighten, the hard little buds aching now as you shifted closer to him. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” he murmured without hesitation. His eyes flickered over your face, drinking in your lustful look, before his gaze descended to your bare body. “You’re very beautiful.”

His genuine observation had your pussy clenching around nothing, and your voice was breathless as you whispered, “Tell me you want me.”

Curtis’ eyes snapped back up to yours, lit with a hungry kind of fire you hadn’t expected from an AI but were ecstatic to be on the receiving end of all the same. “I do,” he husked, “I do want you.” 

Your next breath left you in a shuddering exhale, and you couldn’t resist as you slid one hand down Curti’s body to cup the erection straining at the front of his jeans. “I believe you.” 

You gave him a squeeze, delighted as he groaned in response and rutted up into your touch.

Leaning in close, your words were a whisper against Curtis’ parted lips as you said, “Kiss me like you’ve been dreaming of your lips on mine for months.”

He watched you for a beat, his head cocking just slightly, eyes going distant before refocusing on you and shimmering with knowing now.

“What?” you breathed.

“I was just reviewing your primary user questionnaire data, all of your preferences and permissions, as well as your more intimate browser history, to learn how to best please you.”

You felt a tiny bit of embarrassment start to lap at you, but it was quickly squashed by the way Curtis reached out and firmly gripped your neck in one of his big hands. His eyes glittered as your own went wide, and he reeled you in as close as possible, his lips just hovering over yours before he tilted his head and reared up to kiss you breathless.

A sharp gasp spilled from your lips to his, and he swallowed it down with a throaty hum as his mouth worked against yours in a way that was like passion incarnate. Moaning, you sagged against him, fingers curling and digging into Curtis’ shoulders as his big, warm hands framed your hips then rounded your back, slowly smoothing up the bare expanse of your skin.

He wasn’t shy as he kissed you, he wasn’t unsure at all, he was as confident a kisser as you had ever experienced, the best you had ever experienced in fact, and you could only try your best to keep up with the addictive onslaught of his mouth, and the way your body prickled all over when Curtis’ tongue touched yours.

Eventually, you had to pull away to catch your breath, and only then did you realize the wanton way your hips were gently rocking against Curtis’ bulge. You moaned at the friction, shivering as Curtis’ touch continued to light your body on fire as he mapped every inch of you he could touch, learning all the dips and valleys of your figure.

Your breath caught when his hand touched your belly, warming your skin for a beat as his dark gaze met yours, and then his touch drifted lower, his fingers teasing along your slit.

“This is what you want?” he asked.

“God, yes,” you breathed, rocking your hips in encouragement. “Touch me. Fuck me. Make me feel good. Make me cum. Make me yours.”

Curtis’ gaze was avid as his fingers teased along your clit, cataloguing each and every one of your reactions and needy sounds as he played with your cunt. 

When he finally sank two of his long, thick fingers inside of you, you groaned, dropping your head back as your mouth fell open and you rocked against his hand, desperate for more.

“Feel good?” he asked, leaning forward to trail his lips up the length of your throat.

“So good, don’t stop,” you pleaded. 

Humming, Curtis pressed his lips against your neck as he began to fuck you with his fingers, keeping his strokes firm and deep and earning a soft cry or blissful keen from you each time his touch plunged back inside of you.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped as he shoved his fingers deep, cupping your cunt and grinding the heel of his hand against your throbbing clit, making your body light up in response.

Curtis’ free hand gripped the back of your neck, angling your face closer to his, so your dazed gaze could meet his own as he continued to rail you with his fingers and grind against your clit.

“Cum for me,” he commanded, rocking his hand harder, the wet squelching sounds of your messy pussy rising up around you both.

Your body obeyed his command, your pussy fluttering wildly around his fingers as you came hard. Bucking against his touch, you lost yourself to your pleasure, your head falling back and your cunt going wild at Curtis’ next words. 

“Good girl.”

Moaning, you sagged against Curtis as your orgasm faded, your body still trembling with stray aftershocks as you struggled to catch your breath. 

He nuzzled along your hairline, his fingers still tucked deep in your cunt as his free hand gently smoothed up and down your back. 

Once your heart rate was nearly normal again, Curtis’ lips touched the shell of your ear, his voice a throaty rumble as he asked, “Do you want my cock next?”

You shivered, your pussy clenching around his fingers and making him laugh against your ear.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

You lifted your face from his shoulder, eyes wide with surprise as you met his watchful gaze. “You’re teasing me?”

“According to your preferences, as well as your reading and viewing habits, you seem to favor a more playful, dominant, and confident personality type. Should I walk back those traits?”

“No!” you rejected his offer so quickly, he smirked at you. “You’re right, I do favor them.” Leaning closer, you touched his beardy cheek. “Continue to be as perfect for me as possible.”

“As you wish,” Curtis murmured before kissing you hard.

You moaned as he licked his way into your mouth without preamble, drinking from you like he was the thirstiest non-man in existence. Once he had you desperately gasping for breath again, he retreated, his eyes sparkling and his nostrils flaring as he watched you for a long beat.  

Then he moved so quickly, you squealed in alarm. By the time you regained your bearings, Curtis had you ass up, face down on the sofa, his body shoving between your legs as you heard the metallic drag of his zipper descending.

When you tried to glance over your shoulder at him, he gripped your nape firmly, a quiet, “No,” falling from his lips as he guided your head back down and your pussy fluttered wildly in response to his dominance.

He didn’t even undress all the way, just fished his big, hard cock from his jeans and shifted closer to you. You gasped as you felt the head of his length touch your messy folds, biting your lip as you spread your legs wider in invitation and shifted back against him. 

“Look at how eager you are for it,” Curtis teased.

Moaning at his words, you pressed your face into the throw pillow beneath you, hyper aware of the way your pussy was weeping an endless river of arousal now.

“You’ve been waiting months and months for this, huh? To have this pretty pussy filled with my cock.”

“God, yes,” you whined, shoving back against him. “Please. Please fuck me. I want it so bad.”

“Oh, I know you do, honey,” Curtis hummed as he dragged his cock up and down your slit. 

Your belly fluttered at the pet name, but you didn’t have long to dwell on it, because between one breath and the next, Curtis was lining himself up and slowly pushing into you.

“Ohhh my god,” you whined, reveling in the way his hard, thick cock stretched your pussy to the brink of too much. “Fuck.”

Curtis groaned as he settled inside of you to the hilt. One of his hands gripped your waist hard, the other smoothing up the length of your spine before collaring the back of your neck. 

“Does it feel good for you, too?” you couldn’t help but wonder as you felt yourself clench around Curtis’ cock.

“It does,” Curtis gritted, giving a small rut that had you keening. “I’m outfitted with pleasure sensors for more intimate activities and support, and you’re lighting up each and every one of them.” 

He groaned as he slowly pulled out of you, until just the tip of his cock filled your needy hole, and then he thrusted back into you hard and deep. You squealed at the delicious intrusion, your mouth hanging open as Curtis’ grip on your neck tightened and he started to fuck you with hard, deep thrusts. 

“This is how you want it, right? You like it rough?” he asked, pausing just long enough for you to consent.

“Yes! God yes, I’ve been dreaming of this for so long. Fuck me, really fuck me. I wanna feel you for days.”

“Oh, you will,” Curtis promised, and then he really went at you.

You gasped as he drove into you hard, jerking your body forward with the force of it before he was retreating and doing it all over again. Moaning as the sound of skin slapping on skin filled the room–along with the loud, messy squelches of your pussy–you could only take it as Curtis roughly pounded into you without relent. 

Each and every thought in your mind evaporated one by one the more he went at you, and all you could focus on was the pleasure he was giving you, the way you had never felt so full, so good.

When he tilted your hips just so before plunging into you again, you keened long and loud, the new angle hitting that spot that lit your body up from the inside out just right.

“Yeah, there you go, let it feel good,” Curtis rasped as he fucked you faster. “You’re taking me so well, honey, this pussy was made to be filled and fucked by my cock.”

“Curtis,” you gasped his name as his hand strayed from your hip to your belly before his long fingers were swirling around your clit. “Oh, god, don’t stop, don’t stop!”

He did the opposite, his hips pistoning harder, making your new sofa squeak and rock as he rutted into your soft body over and over again. His fingers worked magic against the point of your pleasure until your orgasm was hitting you like a freight train and you were screaming in ecstasy as you clenched and pulsed around his cock.

“Mmmm, there you go, ride it out,” Curtis breathed against your ear, his body folding over your back and pressing flush against you as he continued to pound into you. “Bet you can give me one more,” he husked, his fingers rubbing at your clit now.

“I can’t–” you choked on your denial, mewling as another orgasm tore through you. 

Your body trembled with the force it, your vision whiting out as you gasped and keened before finally collapsing against the sofa completely. 

Curtis followed your descent, grunting like an animal as he chased his own release–which he genuinely seemed to need–and then he groaned loudly as his climax hit and he shoved into you hard and to the hilt.

You could feel his cock throb and pulse inside of you, the warmth of his release flooding your insides and making you moan as you squirmed beneath his heavy weight, pleasantly surprised that he could actually cum and he was doing so right now, pumping you full of him and making your pussy clench and flutter and milk him dry. 

Curtis remained curled over you, not struggling in the least to hold his big body up. He wasn’t panting for breath like you either, but he was gently massaging your shoulders and caressing along your back as he finally eased himself up and away from you.

Deliriously well fucked, and covered in sweat, you groaned as you rolled onto your back and collapsed against the sofa. Your lips were curled in satisfaction as you watched Curtis watch you, unabashed as his still-hard cock jutted free from his jeans and shined with your juices.

You couldn’t help it as you spread your legs and trailed your fingers between them, scooping up the cum that had just trickled out of your cunt and raising your fingers to inspect it.

“It looks and feels so real,” you observed, your eyes meeting Curtis’ as you sucked your fingers into your mouth before pulling them free. “Tastes real too.”

He grinned at you, and it was boyish and beautiful and had your belly somersaulting as your chest fluttered. 

“My hardware was crafted to mimic the biological functions of a real man as closely as possible,” he explained. “Except for the ability to reproduce, of course.”

“Of course.” Your gaze trailed lower, and you grinned at Curtis’ still hard state. “Looks like you have very good stamina, too.” You shamelessly spread your legs wider, crooking a finger at him to gesture him closer. “Which I’m more than happy to take advantage of.”

Grinning as he crawled over you, Curtis replied, “It’s not taking advantage because I’m meant to satisfy your every need.” His gaze met yours as he slid a hand up your inner thigh and slotted himself between your legs. “And I will.”

lollll the way I was not prepared for this degree of filth on their first go lolol. But they got what they wanted, that’s for sure.

Please take a moment to drop me your thoughts (or thots??) and feedback!! Thank you! ❤️

—

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. I also do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI platforms. Reblogs are most welcome and encouraged though! ❤️

[stargazingfangirl18]

Unauthorized Access

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2,967 Summary: After a week of working on Lloyd, you were definitely ready for your vacation. But your time away from work doesn't start off the way you expected. Not at all.  Warnings: AU. Explicit language. Mild sexual content. AI!Lloyd. Developer!Reader. 40s!Curvy!Reader. Vulgar language and sooo many sexual innuendos lol. 

A/N: I’m so tickled that so many of you loved AI!Lloyd lolll. He’s a freakin’ hoot to write, so of course I had to revisit him ASAP. Please enjoy his next installment. And if you’re new to this story, be sure to read AI!Lloyd’s intro first ❤️

Superior AI Masterlist

It had been so long since you took a vacation, that you forgot how amazing it felt to walk into work for the last time before you skedaddled off for real, blessed freedom. 

You were in a glorious mood–you felt like you were walking on air as you strolled toward your lab, sipping on the fancy coffee you had treated yourself to in celebration of vacation eve. You were even humming a jaunty tune as the doors to your lab slid open and you stepped inside. 

To find Lloyd standing completely naked in the middle of the room–save those fucking loafers without socks. His hands were on his hips, his head tipped back toward the vent above him, which was blowing down a stream of fresh, cool air that caused his hair to ruffle ever so slightly. 

“What the hell are you doing?” you screeched, nearly dropping your coffee in shock. 

Lloyd blinked his eyes open, his lips tilted into a smirk as he replied, “Enjoying the breeze. Gotta let the boys breathe, yanno?”

“You are a fucking machine, the boys aren’t real!” you huffed. Turning on your heel, you stomped over to the keypad on the wall beside your lab doors, punching in a code that immediately turned the glass from clear to frosted. 

Because you would not foist Lloyd’s unhinged and inappropriate behavior on any innocent bystanders. 

“I beg to differ,” Lloyd huffed. Then he grinned, and it was a sinful wicked thing. “Let me show you how real they are. ‘Cause when I tell you they are full and aching…”

You made a face, scoffing, “You’re disgusting.”

Refusing to look Lloyd’s way, you marched over to your desk, setting down your coffee before shrugging off your coat. 

“Hubba hubba,” Lloyd groaned as you revealed your outfit–a wrap dress that you hadn’t worn in years, but since all your clothes had been packed for your trip, you were down to the bottom of your closet barrel. 

“Oh, shut up,” you muttered, your face warming exponentially as you felt his leering gaze aimed your way. 

“I’m just eager to get my hands on all those luscious curves. You’ve got a body made to be used, pumpkin, so let daddy use you like we both know you want.”

“Ugh!” 

You had always considered yourself pretty laid back, with a sense of humor to boot, but after a week straight of Lloyd and his neverending nonsense, he was truly starting to get on your last nerve. 

“Hey, don’t knock it till you try it,” Lloyd purred. “You wouldn’t believe some of the features I’ve been gifted with.”

You finally turned back to him, your face steely as you pointed a finger for emphasis and hissed, “Put on some clothes or I am taking you to the incinerator.”

“Ohhh yes, mommy.” Lloyd made a show of shivering, and you caught a glimpse of his cock twitching before you grimaced out another “ugh!” and made yourself look away. 

“Not into a mommy kink, got it. Your preferences have been updated.” Lloyd winked. 

Not that you could see him doing so, since you were now planted in your desk chair and staunchly staring at your computer screen as you began to sift through your email. 

He huffed again, muttering under his breath as you ignored him, but you couldn’t make out what he was saying. You could, however, hear the rustle of clothing, and thankfully, once Lloyd appeared beside your desk a moment later, arms crossed and pouting, he was fully clothed. 

“You need to get laid, cupcake,” he declared, like it was a known truth instead of merely his opinion. 

Even though a quiet, traitorous voice in the very back of your mind agreed with Lloyd, you didn’t respond to him. Didn’t even look at him. 

Because you had learned that the more you engaged with him, or bantered with him, the more it encouraged him to act like a grade A jackass. 

“I eagerly volunteer to rock your world,” he continued, leaning close to try to get a reaction out of you.

Setting your jaw, you continued to try to read through your email, not giving Lloyd a lick of attention, which you knew he craved. 

After nearly a week of studying him, of running various tests and diagnostics, and trying to figure out how he kept overriding his programming, you were barely any closer to real answers in that regard, but you sure did know a whole lot more about Lloyd. 

He was a diva, a deviant, and apparently sex obsessed. Not a day had gone by that he hadn’t hurled a plethora of innuendos and salacious offers and requests at you, which–ridiculously–only seemed to make you realize how woefully lonely and unsatisfied you were. 

Not that you would ever let on to that, especially to Lloyd.

“Hey, where you’d go, pumpkin?” 

You jumped as Lloyd’s lips brushed your cheek as he spoke, jerking away to find him leaning over you from behind now, watching as you stared at your computer screen but didn’t actually work. 

When his eyes met your wide ones, he grinned big and naughty. “Are you thinking sexual thoughts about me?”

“No! Ew!”

His eyes twinkled. “Fine, sexual thoughts in general?”

“Lloyd! Get away from me.” You elbowed him hard, feeling a small sense of victory as he grunted, even though you knew you couldn’t actually hurt him. 

He straightened, but remained close. “If you were to have sexual thoughts, what would they be?”

You closed your eyes, exhaling hard. You could feel a headache already starting to build behind your eyes. You weren’t sure how you were going to put up with nearly seven more hours of his nonsense. 

Vacation eve, you reminded yourself. Vacation eve, vacation eve, vacation eve.

Nodding to yourself, you took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as you straightened in your chair and wheeled it closer to your desk. You clicked on the next unread email, starting to read before Lloyd’s voice once again broke your concentration.

“You know, if you were a Senior Developer who really cared about her work, you’d experience all I have to offer firsthand. How can you fix me when you barely know me, or what I’m capable of?”

You turned to him, eyebrow arched and voice unimpressed as you asked, “Are you capable of shutting the fuck up so I can do my work?”

“Oh ho ho, someone's got a dirty mouth on her. Think of how fun it would be to let me put it to good use.”

Your lips dropped open at that one, and damnit. The image of being on your knees as Lloyd used your mouth bloomed to life in your brain before you could fend it off. 

Somehow, it was like Lloyd knew, and your face burned as he cackled at your reaction. 

Clapping his hands together, he waggled his eyebrows, pointing at you as he winked. “Looks like you got a mind as dirty as that mouth, cupcake, and I’m so fucking here for it.”

“That’s it! You, over here, now!” You launched yourself to your feet before grabbing Lloyd’s arm and dragging him over to the diagnostics area of your lab. “I am ecstatically looking forward to my vacation just so I get a break from you, you deviant,” you gritted as you shoved him around until you could reach the power button at his nape. 

“Methinks the luscious lady doth protest too much,” Lloyd shot you a smarmy grin and kissy face over his shoulder. 

Which only made it feel all the more satisfying when you pressed your thumb to the Superior AI logo at his neck and he powered down, slumping forward and going blessedly quiet. 

“Thank fucking god,” you huffed, resisting the urge to kick the annoying robot before turning on your heel and stomping back to your desk.

Hours later, you were exhausted after a day that had felt too long, but you were also grinning so big as you drove the SUV you had rented down the gravel road that led to your decked out rental a few states north. 

You actually gasped as the road gave way to a large, gravel driveway, and you caught sight of the cabin tucked away in the middle of the woods. 

It looked like some kind of forest mansion–its exterior a combination of dark wood and meticulous stonework that was framed by the lush overhang of trees surrounding the property. There was a wrap-around porch that you knew was occupied by a tempting hot tub out back, and large windows that glowed brightly from the timered lights the owner had warned you about. And just inside, you could see a glimpse of all the handcrafted woodwork that had sold you on staying here, that was so different from your own modern house.

Everything about this place screamed nature, peace, and rejuvenation, and you could already feel the tension easing from your shoulders as you turned off the SUV and unbuckled your seatbelt. 

“Let’s get this vacation started!” Lloyd shouted as he suddenly popped up from the back seat like some kind of deranged jack-in-the-box robot from hell.

You screamed, twisting around in your seat and chucking the car keys at his head out of instinct.

“Holy shitballs!” he hissed, barely ducking out of the keys’ way before glaring at you. “You need to work on being more hospitable, cupcake.”

“What the actual fuck?!?!?” You screeched, pressing a hand to your chest where your heart was still thundering from the shock of his sudden appearance. “What are you doing here?”

Lloyd leaned his arms on the edges of the front seats, smiling big as he replied, “Waiting for you to take me inside so we can finally bump uglies.”

“Lloyd! Explain! I powered you down this morning! I double checked you were still powered down before I left. How are you here?!” You stared at him in a horrified kind of wonder. 

“Pssht, we both know something as lame as a basic system setting isn’t gonna keep me contained. Besides, you’re super uptight, take your job real seriously, you’d never let me fuck you at work. So, I removed that block from the equation. Now you have no reason to keep shooting me down.”

“I don’t want to have sex with you!” you hollered.

“Doubtful,” Lloyd scoffed. “Have you seen me?” He touched his hands to his chest, skimming them lower as he waggled his eyebrows at you.

Trapping another screech behind your clenched teeth, you shoved out of the vehicle, nearly tripping over your own feet as you stormed toward the trunk and pulled it open to grab your luggage. 

You were so annoyed, fuming really, your body buzzing with it as you tried to wrestle your three suitcases from the depths of the trunk, to no avail. 

“Did you pack everything you own?” Lloyd snorted as he appeared beside you, twirling the car keys around his finger as he watched you struggle. 

You straightened, glowering at him as you barked, “At least make your stowaway self useful and help me!”

Lloyd’s nose wrinkled. “I’m not a luggage wrack, toots.”

“Ohhh you are tempting me to make you into one.”

Lloyd watched you for a beat, drinking in the way your gaze was blazing with an angry kind of disbelief. Sighing, he rolled his eyes before leaning forward and easily sweeping up all of your luggage at once. 

You couldn’t even be impressed–and he definitely didn’t deserve your gratitude–so you just hmphed and stalked toward the cabin, feeling your awe and wonder from before start to trickle through you again as you saw just how beautifully crafted the structure was up close. 

You couldn’t help it as your hand reached out, trailing along the somehow smooth and rough at the same time stones that split up all of the wood paneling on the cabin’s exterior. 

When you reached the front door, you dug your phone from your pocket, pulling up the welcome email the owner had sent you. You typed in the provided security code on the keypad beside the door, and there was a cheery chime as a light blinked green before the front door unlocked with a quiet click.

You turned the knob and stepped inside, nearly bowled over by how large the interior was. Everywhere you turned, beautiful oak wood greeted you. The cabin was the epitome of cozy indulgence–the living room had the biggest, most beautiful stone fireplace you had ever seen, and all of the furniture looked so high end and comfortable, you were afraid to touch it let alone use it. 

You were still trying to process that this would be your home away from home for the next three weeks when Lloyd pulled up beside you, giving an appreciative whistle.  

“Personally, I’d prefer some leopard print over the taxidermied road kill decor, but to each their own.” He dropped your luggage without care, turning to you with a grin. “Shall we christen the living room first, or–”

“No! Don’t you even start, I swear to god!” You pointed across the living room, to where it opened up and flowed into a ridiculously large kitchen that was currently dark. “Let’s go, you goddamn menace.” 

You didn’t even bother to take off your coat before marching into the kitchen and pointing to an empty corner. 

Because you were not going to officially start your vacation with Lloyd fucking Hansen nipping at your heels.

“You are going to stay in here and power down and stay powered down, or I am going to dismantle you myself, I swear to god!”

“Ohhh, I dunno,” Lloyd chuckled as he sauntered in behind you, flipping on the lights over the marble isle before turning to you. “I kinda like the sound of that.”

He didn’t just hover a few feet away from you like he usually did, he sauntered right up to you–invading your personal space–and pinned you against the fridge as he purred, “Just be sure to be gentle when you put me back together again, cupcake. I’m more sensitive than you’d think and I love a little bit of aftercare.”

Something about the darkened state of Lloyd’s eyes, and the gravelly timber of his voice, had a shiver racing up your spine. Ignoring the way your body perked up in hyperawareness–at both his proximity and words–you pointed to the corner again. 

“Power down. Now.”

Lloyd watched you for a beat, and then he sighed in disappointment before turning and sauntering over to the empty corner. He turned, giving you a final stare–intense enough to make all of your hair stand on end–before he muttered, “Initiating power down mode…mommy,” he taunted, his eyes briefly glowing turquoise before his body slumped forward. 

You released a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding, watching Lloyd in his powered down state for a moment.

Part of you still couldn’t believe that he was actually here–so far away from your lab at Superior AI–and crashing your very much needed vacation. 

And then there was another part of you, perhaps the overly logical developer part who had witnessed a week's worth of Lloyd’s antics, that was more surprised you hadn’t seen this coming. 

But you wouldn’t let his unexpected nonsense ruin your vacation. You wouldn’t. 

Straightening your spine, you gave Lloyd’s still form a final glower before you breezed from the kitchen and back out into the living room. You took a moment to remove your coat and hang it in the front closet, and then lock the front door, before you turned to the pile of luggage on the floor. 

Setting aside the suitcase you needed tonight, you stacked the others in the closet. You were too tired after such a long drive–and an even longer work week–to fully unpack right now. But there was no harm in leaving it until morning. 

That was the whole point of a vacation, right? Relaxing. Not working. Enjoying yourself.

Nodding to yourself, you smiled a little, already planning which comfy pajamas you wanted to slip into after your shower as you turned and slowly made your way up the large, wood staircase leading to the second floor bedrooms. 

Once you reached the top of the stairs, you flipped the lightswitches there. One to turn on the hall light so you could see your path to the mastersuite, and the other to turn off the lights downstairs. 

You smiled bigger as you stepped inside the mastersuite, which was pretty much like stepping right into the lap of luxury. 

“Wow!” you breathed, your eyes big as they darted around the beautifully decorated space that was somehow both spa-like and rustic, and most definitely the nicest room you had ever stayed in ever.

You couldn’t contain your grin as you dug through your suitcase, pulling free your preferred night shirt to sleep in, as well as your toiletries bag, and then you practically skipped to the ensuite, knowing only more tempting luxury would await you there. 

As you started your wind down routine, you had no idea that downstairs, in the darkened kitchen, Lloyd suddenly straightened, powering himself on and glancing around with a smirk. 

He cocked his head, listening to the faint sounds of you moving around upstairs, and his smirk morphed into a wolfish grin as he heard the shower kick to life and imagined you all soapy and naked and oh so close. 

“Just gotta be patient for a little longer, and then once you’re tucked into bed fast asleep, it’ll be time for me to do my due diligence and soften you up to me, pumpkin.” Lloyd leaned back against the wall, tucking his hands into his pockets as he hummed, “Just because you can’t star in my dreams, doesn’t mean I can’t star in yours. I’ll have you weak kneed for me and riding the stache in no time, you just wait.”

lolllll. You guyssss! I love him so fucking much 🤣 I am high key begging you to take a moment to drop me a comment or some reblog feedback. I need to spiral about this fictional man!robot with you!!! 

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Please take a moment to comment or reblog. It means a lot to hear from my readers after sharing a story that I put so much love into. Serial liking without engagement is the quickest way to kill my writing motivation, and if you catch me on a bad day, you may even get blocked for it.

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. I also do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI platforms. Reblogs are most welcome and encouraged though! ❤️

[stargazingfangirl18]

Noncompliant

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Fem!Reader Word Count: 1,996 Summary: As a Senior Developer at Superior AI, it’s no surprise that you’re assigned to work on the malfunctioning bot that nobody else can seem to fix. What is surprising? Just how noncompliant and vulgar said malfunctioning bot is.  Warnings: AU. Explicit language. AI!Lloyd. Developer!Reader. 40s!Curvy!Reader. I know next to nothing about being a developer, so cut me some slack please lol 😅 Vulgar language and innuendos.  

A/N: Here he is!!!! AI!Lloyd is coming in hot and horny, as per usual bwahaha. I hope you enjoy him as much as I do. Please take a moment to screech at me once you finish reading. I can’t wait to hear what you think! Enjoy! ❤️

Superior AI Masterlist

The timing was almost comical. 

You literally just finished submitting the report to close out your latest project when the door to your lab slid open with a quiet whoosh.

You glanced up, lips tilting into a smile as your boss and Director of the Systems & Behavior Engineering Department at Superior AI, Margaret Cahill, strode in. 

You both admired and envied how put together and unflappable Margaret always was. You knew that as a woman inching closer to retirement but having no interest in walking away from her work, she had clawed her way to the top of this male-dominated industry and had to fight each and every day to retain her position and authority. 

She had seen something in you nearly twenty years ago when she hired you straight out of college and had promptly taken you under her wing. And now here you were, working as her most senior developer, and soaking in as much of her knowledge and wisdom as you could.

Margaret was like the mother you had always wanted but sadly never had, and she returned the small smile you gave her as she stood before you. 

“I know there’s only a week until you take your much-deserved vacation,” Margaret got right to it, “But I have a new assignment for you. One I think you’ll enjoy.”

You perked up at that, rising from your seat and nearly wincing at the tightness in your lower back and shoulders. You really needed to remember to get up every once in a while to move around and stretch more often–you certainly weren’t getting any younger, and your body was more than happy to beat you over the head with that truth on the daily.

“Tell me more,” you nearly grinned, feeling a spark of excitement at the glimmer of amusement–and challenge–in your boss’ gaze.

She turned just as your lab door slid open again. You both watched as two department AIs worked together to wheel in an upright dolly that held a third robot, slumped over with his head hanging against his chest, clearly powered off. 

“This is Lloyd Hansen,” Margaret gestured to the robot on the dolly. “He never made it to market, barely got off the assembly line before he started to glitch.”

She handed you a folder that was thick and filled with various reports and documentation on the bot, provided by a handful of previous developers. 

“Glitching how?” you asked as you flipped open the folder and gave the contents a quick glance. 

“Noncompliant behavior. He’s somehow been overriding his programming and default protocols,” Margaret explained. “Everything from refusing to comply with standard directives, to vulgar language and behavior. He even managed to procure his own accessories without leaving an order or payment papertrail.”

You glanced up, eyeing the AI’s outfit. An expensive yellow and tan polo with some fancy logo on the breast, fitted khaki slacks, and a pair of Gucci loafers, without socks. You made a face as you met Margaret’s bemused gaze. 

“How is this possible?” you asked. 

She shrugged. “If any of the other developers had solved that puzzle, I wouldn’t be here. Figured you could use a fun one though before you’re off on vacation.” She paused, her features going serious. “You are still going on vacation, right? You haven't taken time off in so long, HR asked me if I was sure you weren’t a bot.”

You snorted, giving her a wry grin. “Yes, I’m still going on vacation. I booked a decked out cabin in the middle of nowhere. Three whole weeks of rest and relaxation.”

“Good,” Margaret gave you a genuine smile. The twinkle returned to her eyes as she asked, “Are you planning to take a special someone with you so you don’t need to spend your vacation all alone?”

You grimaced. “No, just me. As usual.”

Because you weren’t great at dating and hadn’t done it in a long time. You tended to spend most of your time working, or thinking about work. You were beginning to think that maybe you were destined to be alone.

“Well I hope you have a wonderful time. And I expect you to fully log off for the entire duration,” Margaret gave you a stern look. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

She nodded, pleased. “Well, have fun with this one. Just take a few weeks to work on him, and then let me know if you think he’s salvageable or if we should have him decommissioned for parts.” 

“Will do.” 

You and Margaret shared a final smile before she turned and strode from your lab, the two department bots dutifully trailing after her and leaving you all alone with…

You checked the folder again–Lloyd Hansen.

You’d never met or heard of a Lloyd in your entire life.

“What a dumb name,” you snorted, tossing the folder onto your desk before circling the slumped frame of the AI. 

He was tall and well-built, his shoulders broad and testing the stretch of his polo. Lloyd had a narrow waist and thick thighs, and his brown hair was shaved on the sides but long on top and currently swooping over his face. You touched a finger beneath his chin to lift his head, surprised by the handsome features that awaited you. 

Well, minus the mustache. 

“Obviously engineered by someone who’s a fan of 70s pornos,” you snickered before circling the bot again. 

You touched the patch of skin at the back of his neck, not perturbed in the least by how real his faux skin felt.

In response to your caress, the Superior AI logo appeared on Lloyd’s nape, glowing neon turquoise to highlight the usually hidden power button. You pressed it for three seconds before Lloyd immediately straightened, going rigid as he let out an irritated grunt.

“What the shit?” he snarled, glancing around your unfamiliar lab. “Where’s that four-eyed basement dweller, I swear to fuck, I’m gonna snap his pencil neck!”

“Wow,” you hummed, eyes wide as Lloyd spun around to face you, his brow furrowing. “Margaret was not kidding, you’re kind of the worst, huh?”

Lloyd’s furrowed brow morphed into a full on glower. “Who the hell are you?”

“The next in a long list of developers who've been charged with trying to salvage you. Apparently, I have my work cut out for me.”

Lloyd hmphed as his bright blue eyes slowly inched over you, lingering on the swell of your chest and the generous curve of your hips. When you turned to move toward the diagnostics area of your lab, you heard Lloyd hum at the view from behind. 

“At least you’re easy on the eyes, cupcake. Look at all that junk in your trunk. Come on, let Lloydy poo cop a feel…”

Stubbornly ignoring the flare of heat in your face and the dumb flutter in your stomach–because it had been a long time since you received any physical admiration–you scoffed at him as you powered up the testing station. 

“Do we have a frat bro mode that I’m unaware of?” you muttered as Lloyd sauntered closer. “If so, turn it off.”

From your periphery, you could see him staring at your ass, teeth sinking into his lower lip as his fingers twitched at his sides, like he was restraining himself as he shifted even closer. 

“No can do, toots. I’m afraid I’m turned allll the way on, if yanno what I mean.”

When you glanced over at him, he gave you a lascivious wink and grin combo that made you roll your eyes. 

Hand dropping to your hip, your eyes narrowed as you met Lloyd’s unrepentant gaze. After a moment, you couldn’t help it as your eyes lowered, lingering on his mustache. 

“Honestly? Who thought that gnarly caterpillar on your face was a good idea?” You wrinkled your nose as you turned back to the machinery and unfurled the proper cord from its rack.

“It’s less for the aesthetic and more for practical use,” Lloyd purred. “My original engineer was a fan of friction, if ya know what I mean.” When you turned toward him, he winked, leaning in as he cooed, “Feel free to take the stache for a test run. Yanno, for data gathering purposes or whatever the fuck you do.”

“Hard pass. You’re nothing more than a glorified home appliance, so let’s get you sorted out so you can go off and take your rightful place in some rich housewife’s storage closet.”

“Pfffft,” Lloyd scoffed, waving his hand in dismissal. “We both know that’s bullshit. There’s a steady and rising contingency of primary users who use their AI partially or primarily for sex.” 

He gave you a cheeky grin, touching his hand to his chest and sliding it lower before resting it above his belt and drawing your eyes to his pelvis area.

“I mean, why else would I have been locked and loaded with such a glorious cock?!” Lloyd’s tone turned seductive as he leaned in. “You know, it’s irresponsible of you as a Senior Developer not to test out this feature for yourself.”

You mirrored Lloyd, leaning in closer as well, your voice a low purr as you replied, “I’d rather have sex with a vacuum cleaner.”

He threw his head back and laughed before meeting your gaze and grinning. “Kinky.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Sounds like you’re a fan of suction. I’ll make note of that preference, sugar tits.” 

Resisting the urge to laugh at how ridiculous he was–truly, you had never encountered an AI that acted this way–you gestured for him to turn around. “I need to access your diagnostics port.”

Huffing, Lloyd gave you a dirty look before crossing his arms over his chest and turning around, the annoyance coming off of him in waves.

Which was quite impressive, considering he was a machine and not an actual person. 

You moved closer, pushing up the back of his shirt, then pushing down the top of his pants until you could press your fingers over a particular spot on his lower back. 

His skin glowed turquoise for a second before a small panel popped open, revealing an internal row of various ports, much like the back of any tech device that needed to be plugged in or hooked up to outlets or various devices. 

You plugged in the diagnostics port before returning to the mobile computer it was hooked up to, typing quickly to start a sequence of diagnostics and testing. 

Even though you had a whole folder with this kind of reporting and data, you wanted to start from scratch and do things your way, with fresh eyes. 

“How long is this gonna take?” Lloyd muttered as he turned back to you. 

“Twenty minutes or so,” you replied as you perched on the stool before the small computer table. 

“Boring.” There was a moment of silence before Lloyd spoke again, sounding less petulant and more seductive as he rumbled, “Once we’re done here, then it’s my turn to fill one of your holes.”

Suppressing another laugh–because you didn’t want to encourage his lewd behavior, even if it was entertaining–you shot Lloyd an amused look. “In your dreams, Lloydy poo.”

You caught a glimpse of his grin before looking away, your eyes fixed on the data appearing on your screen as you shifted into workmode. 

“I’m sure if I did dream, they’d be filled with you, pumpkin,” Lloyd muttered before dropping into the extra stool a few feet away and shamelessly watching you as you worked. 

As you sank deeper and deeper into your developer zone of genius–staunchly ignoring Lloyd’s unwavering stare, and the way it made your body tingle in hyperawareness–you had no idea that Lloyd was doing some of his own work at the same time…

He timed it perfectly, in fact, waiting until the initial phase of diagnostics was complete so it wouldn’t show up on all of your fancy reporting that he just set you as his one and only primary user.

FHOIAJOIEFJOWIAHFOIAJWEGOAJG YOU GUYS. I AM SO IN LOVE WITH HIM IT’S NOT EVEN FUNNY. AHHHHHHH! 😭

NEXT PART

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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. I also do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI platforms. Reblogs are most welcome and encouraged though! ❤️

[epiphanyrogers]

Smart Mouth

dom!lloyd hansen x brat!fem!reader

prompt: "you started this" summary: turns out lloyd hansen knows exactly how to handle a brat like you warnings/tags: SMUT, vibrator, implied orgasm denial/edging, light bondage, dom/sub dynamics, light choking (lloyd has his hands around reader's neck but it's more to take you somewhere rather than choke), pet names (pumpkin (it’s lloyd lmfao), sweetheart), 18+ MDNI from maddie: so i caught up and then immediately fell behind again :( - this should be day 18 of january jumble scribbles. my chronic fatigue has been on my ass lately so it's had to get into the head space to write and i feel really uncreative. i don’t really like how i used this prompt, and originally had a small matt x reader o come all ye faithful prequel planned, but it ended up being 1k words (not finished) which kinda blew through the point of the challenge and i didn't even like it anyway. so now we have this. haven't done lloyd yet though so that was fun at least - he's a right bastard and i love him lol word count: 390

Event Masterlist | Prev | Next | Masterlist

Your mistake wasn’t the words - well, at least not entirely. It was the way you said them. The cocky little tilt of your head, the sway in your hips as you turned your back on him, and the careless way you tossed the words behind you like he wouldn’t follow. Like Lloyd Hansen had ever let a challenge go unanswered.

“You wouldn’t know what to do with me if I begged you.”

That’s how you find yourself being dragged into the bedroom, Lloyd’s fingers curled around your throat with just enough pressure to remind you who’d won. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t your smartest idea to go full brat this early on. But testing limits is part of the game, and you needed to see if Lloyd was all bark and no bite. You wanted to know how far he’d let you go. Turns out, not far at all.

Now your arms are tied above your head, wrists snug in soft cuffs clipped to the headboard. Your ankles are spread and bound wide, knees parted, leaving you completely exposed.

“I get it,” you taunt, still full of attitude as he tightens the last restraint, “just a few words and you’re pissed already. Poor baby, I must’ve hit a nerve.”

Lloyd laughs, utterly amused, brushing his knuckles over your cheek like you’re adorable. Like he’s already decided how many times you’re going to cry tonight. He straps a vibrator snug against your pussy, the silicone pressed right where you’re already slick.

“No, pumpkin,” he rumbles, straightening, eyes dark as he switches it on at the lowest setting. “Not pissed. Just hard.”

The vibration is low but relentless, and your thighs twitch immediately, your body caught between trying to resist and already melting.

“Now I’m gonna enjoy the show, and I’m not giving you shit until you ask nice - not because I’m mad,” he pulls up a chair, legs spread, cock already thick behind his zipper as he leans back, watching you start to squirm, “but because it’s what you clearly wanted.”

You hiss through clenched teeth, trying not to moan. “I didn’t—fuck—”

“Bullshit, sweetheart. You started this. You begged for it with that smart fucking mouth,” Lloyd purrs, watching your pussy clench around nothing. “And look at that.” He nods toward the mess between your legs. “Your pussy clearly agrees.”

thank you for all the love on these scribbles so far!! the reblogs and comments have been much appreciated and i'm having a lot of fun with the prompts! if you enjoyed, please like & especially reblog/comment as i would be super grateful for feedback <3

[societyfolklore]

Order Up, Sweetheart

Title: Order Up, Sweetheart

Pairing: Diner Owner!Ari Levinsonx Vet!Female Reader

Summary:  After a long day you make it Silver Ridge to take over your Uncles Veterinary Practise but make a stop at the local diner first..Only you might now make it all the way to your destination, backroads, snow.. well you just need someone else to stay..

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings: /Explicit Content / 18+, Minors DNI, Strangers-to-lovers, small-town hookup, protected sex (I know!) fingering, consensual but spontaneous dynamic, size kink… cos Ari…

A/N: For Small Town challenge Week 1 @thezombieprostitute and @1000plants this is also my first full Ari fic.. so still working him out a little.. hope you all enjoy him… Oh and there is a cameo of my favourite Sherif.. cos how could he not!!!

The snow had started to fall again just as you passed the faded 'Welcome to Silver Ridge' sign, the last half hour of winding roads making your shoulders ache and your eyes sting from the constant glare of your headlights on wet asphalt. The town was quiet. Still. Like a postcard left out in the cold too long. You were half-hoping something would be open and thank God for the diner with its faded sign and the warm yellow light spilling onto the sidewalk.

You pulled in, engine ticking as it cooled, boots crunching against the salted path as you stepped inside. The bell above the door jingled like something out of an old movie.

It was warmer than you expected. Not just from the heaters or the smell of fresh coffee and bacon grease, but something else. Familiar. The place looked like it hadn't been properly updated since the late seventies or early eighties..retro booths with cracked red vinyl and wood panelling that had gone glossy with time. It was clear the place was cared for, kept clean, but it had that gentle wear of a place that had outlived fashion.

It was fantastic.

 It felt like the kind of places you'd been raised in, when family or friends had taken you on road trips across the country and you’d stop somewhere small and charming for a grilled cheese and a chocolate milkshake.

You were still dusting snow off your shoulders when you look up to see him.

Behind the counter, tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a button-up flannel under a grease-smudged apron, he looked every bit the small-town diner man, until you noticed his face. A little too handsome for you not to second-guess the heat now blooming in your cheeks. Dark hair pushed back, towel slung over his shoulder, he glanced up from wiping a coffee pot and took you in with a slow blink and a faint smirk that somehow felt both curious and amused.

“Long drive?” he asked, voice low and gravel-warm.

“Something like that,” you said, slowly approaching “Coffee would save my life right now.”

He nodded, already pouring. “Well, far be it from me to deny life-saving care in my diner.”

You leaned forward against the counter instead of sitting, stretching your legs out behind you. After hours in the car, you didn’t want to sit down. The coffee helped. You curled your fingers around ceramic mug the man slid your way. Hot. Strong. Perfect.

"I'm surprised you're still open," you said, glancing around at the mostly empty diner.

"Well, we get people like yourself passing through," he said, drying his hands on the towel over his shoulder, "plus some locals like to pop in, save on their own heating."

"Ahh." You nodded. Your uncle had kind of filled you in on what this town was like, but still, you weren’t sure. After all, he was trying to convince you to take things over.

"Not quite passing through, though," you added with a shrug.

"Oh?" That seemed to catch the man’s attention.

"Still working out details there." You glanced up, he was still watching you; appraising, but not unkind. You figured he was trying to place you. This town probably didn’t get many new faces.

“I’m Ari,” he said, offering a hand across the counter.

You took it. Warm. Calloused. Big.

You gave your name “Heading up to my uncle’s place. He’s got the livestock vet practice just out past the ridge.”

His brow arched. “You're the niece who’s taking over?”

“Hoping to.” You smiled, a little self-deprecating. “Assuming I survive the welcome weather.” You looked out the window. 

He chuckled. “Silver Ridge’ll test you on the first day, just to see if you’re tough enough to stay.”

You sipped again. “Well, I come out of farms in Colorado; cold’s not exactly a stranger. Cattle and horse are kind of in the family blood, so I’m hoping I’ll be able to do right by everyone out here.” You looked out the window again, snow still falling. “Just not used to being the 'fresh face' in town.”

Ari let out a short laugh, warm and easy, there was something in that laugh you could tell meant more.

“But –“ You kept on “I like working with the farmers direct,” you added, glancing back at him. “Not the companies. That’s when things tend to get… messy.. and where I was, was getting messy.”

He nodded slowly, expression shifting into something more thoughtful. “Then yeah,” he said, “you're gonna fit in just fine.”

You took another sip, watching the snow pile along the windowsill. “Got any tips on surviving as the new face in Silver Ridge?”

Ari leaned an elbow on the counter, topping off your mug without asking. “Well, farmers don’t gossip unless you screw up real bad. But in town? Different story.”

He ticked names off on his fingers. “You’ll get to know Cole Turner pretty well; he runs his own cattle ranch his family been around here for years... Curtis Everett runs a ranch too though he’s more rough around the edges, but good with his stock. Hal Carter’s does a mix of feed and stock at the south bend, their your big three cattle wise.”

You just nodded holding onto your cup. 

He paused, thoughtful. “The Bartons run horses. Big property out west. Then there’s Melina Vostokoff and her partner Alexei; they raise pigs. Bit of a strange couple, but decent. Their daughter Yelena helps run the general store.”

You blinked at the list. “Yelena?” That name rang a serious bell though you couldn’t place why.

“Don’t let her size fool you,” Ari said, smiling behind his mug. “Sharp tongue. Gets it from her mother.”

He continued. “The Kents are down near the river. Son’s gone now got a job in the capital, but John and Martha are good people.”

You nodded. You know most of the names from when you’d spoken with your uncle... Others… not so much.

“What about in town? You said that was different”

Ari shrugged. “Peter Parker’s kinda new, tech kid. Fixes anything with wires. Kemp’s the town doctor. Good at what he does, but… intense.” You watched how Ari said the word. “You might want to give him space at first.”

You hummed around your sip. That was good to know. Especially since some names you thought he might mention hadn’t come up; Baber. Rogers. Barnes. You’d heard of those one, names you're Uncles had said where one his books.. But you didn’t ask. Better to get fresh impressions.

You pulled a small flask from your coat pocket and tipped a little into your mug. Ari raised a brow.

“Late. Cold. Dirty coffee’s a tradition,” you said with a half-smile.

He laughed. “You are Definity your uncle’s girl." 

"What can I say, we're winter folks." You smiled sipping now ashamed at all of your actions. Ari raised a hand in surrender. 

“So, horses and cattle, huh?” he asked, curious now, or maybe just looking for a change in topic. “Anything you specialize in? I know there’s a lot that falls under that.”

You shrugged, turning your mug slightly in your hands. “Fertility mostly.”

His eyes went a little wide. “Midwifery stuff?”

“No… more active role,” you said, letting the words hang a little.

A pause.

“Breeding specialist,” you clarified, voice easy but measured.

Ari blinked, then smirked. “Families always had an eye for breeding stock, huh?”

You raised a brow, smiling around your mug. “Among other things. My great-grandfather was known county-wide for it. Swore you could see it in the eyes if a calf was going to be good breeding stock. My mother had the knack too taught me all about horses.”

“God help the horses,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough to make you laugh.

You tilted your head, still grinning. “Hey, I’ve got gentle hands. Never had anyone complain.”

Ari’s brow rose, his smirk sharpening. “And the bulls and stallions? They… appreciate that do they?”

You took a slow sip from your mug, letting it linger a moment longer than necessary. “Unlike some of my male counterparts, I’ve never had a mare or for that matter stud kick me in the ribs during a check. No panic. No resistance. Just trust.”

He let out a surprised laugh, deep and amused. “That so?”

You leaned forwards slightly on the counter now, one hand still resting around your mug. “I’m a very gentle practitioner,” you said with a soft laugh, though even to your own ears, it was starting to sound a lot less like professional pride and a lot more like flirting. From the look Ari gave you, you weren’t the only one picking up on that shift.

You’d settled into the warmth of the diner too easily, lulled by the comfort of Ari’s coffee and the back-and-forth between you that kept going on. Maybe that was why you were surprised to see how late it had gotten when you finally glanced at the clock behind the counter.

“I should probably get moving,” you murmured, dragging your eyes off the snowfall outside. “Didn’t mean to linger this long, just wanted a quick stop… but I should get to my uncle’s place before it gets too late.”

Ari leaned his hip against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. “Up the ridge, right?”

You nodded. “Yeah. He said the road runs up past the cattle co-op and bends around the edge of the forestry line. Shouldn’t be too hard to spot.”

Ari’s expression shifted, still casual, but alert now. “That road can be tricky in weather like this. You didn’t have trouble coming in?”

You shook your head. “Nothing bad. Bit of snow, but nothing unmanageable.”

“That’s ‘cause a few of the guys from town keep this side cleared,” he said, voice low, like he was choosing his words. “Other side’s not as friendly for cars. When the slurry sets in, most folks take ATV's, bikes or horses. If you haven’t driven that road before… it’s easy to miss where it starts to twist, especially in the dark. And if your tires lose grip out there, you might not have anyone passing for hours.”

You frowned. “Is it that bad?”

“It can be. Especially if you don’t know where the ice likes to hide.”

He pulled out his phone, already scrolling. “Let me make a call-there’s a guy who’ll know how it’s looking tonight. If there’s been a drift, or if something’s iced over already, he’ll have eyes on it.”

You nodded slowly, grateful despite yourself. You didn’t relish the idea of getting stranded halfway to your uncle’s with spotty reception and no lights. The mental image of your car sliding off some narrow gravel edge made your stomach twist just a little.

Ari glanced at the wall clock. “Actually, hang tight. Someone who’ll know will be in any minute. You hungry?”

You paused. “Yeah… yeah, actually. I wouldn’t say no to something warm.”

“Eggs alright?”

“Perfect,” you said, smiling. “Last thing I ate was some stale chips I found under the passenger seat. I think they were barbecue once.”

He chuckled and moved around behind the counter, grabbing a clean skillet. “Well, lucky for you I don’t charge extra for class. Or for saving damsels from questionable chip decisions.”

As Ari cracked eggs into the pan, the scent of butter and salt rising in the air, he glanced over his shoulder with a curious smile. “So Colorado, huh? What part?”

“Southern mostly,” you replied, leaning on the counter as your eyes followed the way he moved around the hot plate; confident, unhurried. There was a rhythm to it, like this was something he did often, like taking care of people was second nature. “Grew up on a multi-acre spread... Middle of nowhere, really. Big sky, bigger winters. We had horses, a couple dozen head of cattle, and more snow than sense most years.”

“Sounds peaceful,” he said, sliding a plate onto the counter in front of you. “Quiet.”

“It had its moments,” you admitted, picking up your fork. “You learn to appreciate solitude when it’s the only thing around for miles. But sometimes you’d give anything just to hear something other than wind through a barn roof.”

You took your first bite and actually sighed. The eggs were soft but golden, seasoned perfectly. You let your head tip back slightly. “God, this is better than it has any right to be. Are you sure you're just a diner guy?”

“I do my best,” Ari said with a wink, clearly pleased.

The bell above the door jingled then, sharp against the quiet hum of the heater, you both looked up as a man in uniform stepped inside. He stomped snow from his boots and knocked a few flakes off his shoulders with a gloved hand.

“Speak of the devil,” Ari muttered with a crooked grin. “Sheriff Bodecker.”

“Evening,” the sheriff said, giving you a quick glance that lingered a beat before settling on Ari. “Smells good in here. You holding out on me again, Levinson?”

“Got a new face with me,” Ari replied easily, nodding toward you. “Heading up to the vet’s property. Thought she could use something warm.”

Lee blinked, squinting at you a little more closely now. “That Ted’s niece?”

You raised your hand in confirmation, offering a small wave. “Guilty.”

“Well I’ll be,” he muttered, stepping up to the counter and removing his gloves. “You planning on heading up there tonight?”

“That was the idea,” you said, though your voice faltered with growing hesitation.

“Not a great one,” he said flatly, brushing off more snow from his coat. “Road’s already icing over. We’ve got town covered, but out that way? It gets dicey fast. Narrow bends, low visibility, no barriers. You don’t know those turns, and trust me, they don’t forgive mistakes.”

Ari gave you a sidelong look, all raised brows and the smug lift of his shoulder ‘told you so.’

“I could radio through,” Lee offered, already reaching for the device on his belt. “See if the boys cleared it, but even if they did, I wouldn’t put money on it staying that way for long. Temp’s dropping fast.”

You sighed, setting your fork down. “So what’s the alternative?”

Ari was already wiping his hands on a towel, his voice calm but firm. “You can crash at mine. I’ve got a spare room..clean sheets, proper door, no strings. It’s either that or you sleep in your car, and I don’t think your back or your reputation would thank you for it.”

You hesitated, gaze flicking between them. The idea of staying with a man you’d just met should’ve felt more alarming, but it didn’t. Something about Ari; his steadiness, his warmth, put you at ease.

Lee snorted as he unzipped his coat. “If Ari’s offering, take him up on it. You’ll get more sleep and better coffee in the morning. And probably fewer frostbite stories to share.”

You looked back at Ari. “You sure? I don’t want to put you out.”

His smile was steady, kind, and maybe just a little amused. “Positive. I’ll even make you hash browns.”

“…Tempting,” you muttered, nudging your plate. But the decision had already settled in your chest.

You were staying at Ari’s. You pulled out your phone. You needed to let your Uncle know you weren’t going to be making it so he didn’t come looking for you in the cold.

~#~#~#~#~

Ari’s house sat a little up off the main street; modest, wood-paneled, tucked in behind a split-rail fence and a cluster of sleeping trees. The driveway hadn’t been cleared recently, but your tires crunched confidently up the slope behind Ari’s truck. You parked just off to the side as he pulled ahead, killing the engine and stepping out into the cold.

He waited for you, hands tucked into his pockets, until you climbed out and joined him at the front steps. The shared silence between you had shifted; no longer filled with easy chatter, but something quieter. He didn’t rush you, just walked slow, shoulders hunched slightly against the chill as he led the way to the door.

Inside, it smelled like cedar and something darker…maybe Ari’s cologne, maybe the lingering scent of coffee and smoke from the logs in the hearth? You weren’t sure. What you did notice was the heat that greeted you once inside. You were quietly grateful to find that Ari didn’t just rely on the fireplace; the hum of central heating told you the warmth wasn’t just from the logs still glowing in the hearth. The whole house was cozy already, like it had been lived-in for a long time, like it knew how to hold warmth and keep it. Then came the quiet, thick and soft, settling over your shoulders the moment the door shut behind you.

“This way,” he said softly, boots thudding against the wood floors.

You followed, and the house felt smaller than you expected…not cramped, just... close. Intimate. You bumped into Ari once in the hall when he paused to reach for a switch, and the brief contact made your skin jolt. He was big. You knew that already. But in his space, that size felt even more present.

He gestured to a small room at the back, neatly made bed, clean folded towels on the end. “It’s not much, but it’s warm. And the door locks, if that makes you feel better.”

You smiled, stepping inside. “It’s perfect.”

When you turned, he was watching you. Not in a predatory way. Just... watching. You could tell he didn’t quite know what to do with a basic stranger in his space now that you were there; his posture loose but not relaxed, like he wasn’t sure if he should stay or give you more room. It was oddly endearing, the way someone so solid could look just a little unsure in his own hallway. His hand rubbed at the back of his neck like he wasn’t sure if he should say something else.

“I’ll let you settle,” he said eventually. “There’s water in the kitchen. Bathroom’s across the hall. Help yourself to whatever.”

You nodded. “Thanks, Ari.”

He lingered for a beat, then gave a slight nod. "If you want a shower," he added, scratching at his jaw like it was an afterthought, "feel free. I was gonna take one too-get the grease off from diner."

Your brain conjured the image too quickly: Ari under hot water, steam curling off his skin, soap trailing down those arms and other places.. Your face must’ve changed because the second it flashed in your mind, heat bloomed behind your ears, you forced yourself to close your mouth. 

Not that Ari noticed. He kept talking, casual as anything.

“Only thing is, the hot water service takes a bit of a hit in this weather, so I can go first if you want. That way if it runs cold, you’re not standing there freezing.”

You nodded automatically, hoping he couldn’t read your thoughts. “Sure. Good plan.”

You even threw in a thumbs up, because apparently your brain had abandoned you completely.

Ari nodded once more and turned away, heading down the hall, leaving you alone with your spiraling thoughts.

You shut the bedroom door behind you and leaned against it, mortified. You were absolutely dying.

~#~#~#~#~

Even after the warm shower, where you’d made a point of not leaving the guest room until you were sure Ari was well and truly away from the bathroom, his own door. Better to wait. Better to keep the boundaries in place, even if your pulse had been skittering all over the place.

You hadn’t trusted yourself, not with the way your brain had conjured him damp and towel-clad, all wet skin and heavy steps down the hallway.

But now, when you should have been resting, you found yourself drifting in and out of proper sleep. The sheets were comfy, the pillow soft, but your body stayed wired. The old bedside clock kept changing time…not in big leaps, just slow, steady ticks that marked the quiet hours like a metronome you couldn’t quite ignore.

Maybe it was the new space. Maybe the adrenaline hadn’t fully left your system. Maybe it was the fact that everything smelled like him.

It was everywhere, his soap, the faint scent of whatever he’d worn. It was intoxicating in a way that made you feel stupid. And very awake and very aware if your own bodies response.

The house was quiet except for the occasional pop from the hearth and the creak of old beams. You got up, pulling down your larger t-shirt, and padded out toward the kitchen.

You didn’t expect him to be there. How had he gotten there with out you hearing?

But Ari was standing at the counter in nothing but sweats and another flannel, sleeves pushed up and clinging slightly to his forearms, pouring hot water into a chipped mug. The muscles in his arms flexed as he stirred something in, and the low light made everything about him seem softer. Rough edges dulled by the hour. By the space.

He turned slightly, sensing your presence.

“Hey. Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, voice thick with sleep and heat.

You shook your head, stepping into the kitchen’s glow. “Too quiet. Too much... you”

Ari raised a brow.

“I mean-your house,” you amended quickly. “It smells like you. And that’s not a complaint, just…” You trailed off, flustered. "I'd just used to things smelling like stallions."

He smiled slowly, mug still in his hands.

“Did you want something?”

Your brain screamed a very particular answer before it could be translated into words-until Ari's hand moved, the mug in it tilting slightly as he turned just enough to break your train of thought.

You nodded. “Whatever you’re having.”

He poured you a cup of herbal tea his fingers brushing yours as he handed it over. And just like in the hallway, the contact made something deep in your belly flutter.

Neither of you moved for a long second.

The tension settled in slowly, like a weight or a thick fog, something warm and charged, coiling in the silence between you.

“You sure you’re warm enough?” Ari asked, voice lower now, eyes steady on yours.

Your gaze flicked up to meet his, confused for a second, until you followed the quick dart of his eyes downward. You looked too and immediately wished you hadn’t. The way your oversized t-shirt hung made it impossible to hide the stiff pebbles pressing against the thin fabric, nipples tight and embarrassingly visible.

“shit..” You crossed your arms on instinct, heat crawling into your face, knowing full well the cold wasn’t the reason. Not even close.

“Here..” t Ari was already moving, already shrugging off his flannel. “At least till you finish your tea,” he murmured, offering it out to you casually, like he hadn’t just unintentionally sent your brain spinning.

You pulled it on with a practiced motion, arms slipping into the sleeves, the worn fabric brushing along your skin with a warmth that felt far too intimate for borrowed clothing. It was still warm from his body..hot, actually..

You swallowed hard as it settled over your shoulders like a second skin. You could already feel the heat crawling up your neck.

Ari was leaning back against the counter, still shirtless, arms crossed loosely over his chest. The awkwardness from earlier had vanished. He looked relaxed now. Comfortable. But that only made it worse. It made it harder to ignore how solid he was, how the kitchen light caught in the hair on his arms and chest, how easily he seemed to take up space without even trying. He looked like something carved, something powerful. It struck you again, he really did resemble one of your stock horses. A Clydesdale in flannel and sweatpants.

You couldn’t help it. You looked. Your professional brain tried to file it away as assessment, but even you knew that was a lie. And maybe that’s why those horse jokes earlier hadn’t landed the way you thought…they weren’t that funny now, not when you realised they were close to the truth.

“Do you look at most men like they’re going out to stud?” Ari asked, his voice low and teasing.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, blinking fast. “Just… you don’t look real.”

He smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Pretty sure I am.”

You shook your head, heat climbing up your neck. “Nah, I’m pretty sure I’m gonna wake up in your spare room all hot and bothered any second.” Why did you have to keep talking?

He stepped closer. Not enough to touch but enough that you felt him. He was like gravity.  A force, something dangerous if you let yourself lean in.

You didn’t.

But God, you wanted to.

The tension was already curling around your spine, your brain swimming somewhere between awe and arousal.

So when you reached out and laid your palm flat against Ari’s chest, it was half in jest, half hoping your claim about all this being some strange dream would come true. That he’d vanish into fog and stars.

He didn’t.

Your hand landed on solid, warm muscle. Real. Heat soaked into your skin, and for a second your fingers curled on instinct, sweeping slightly over the strong plane of his chest. Your brain short-circuited. Completely.

Ari took your mug gently from your other hand, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Feel real?"

Your voice barely worked. "...yeah."

It came out soft, almost stunned. He was too warm. Too close. Your hand was still there, and his was lifting, coming up slow to cup your cheek, fingers rough but careful.

"Been a while?" he said quietly, clearly sensing you weren’t nearly as practised at this as your age may have lead.

Your laugh was a breathless little thing. "Oooh yeah." It had been. Cowboys weren’t really your type. The ranchers you’d run into? Built different. Loud, cocky, rawhide-wrapped testosterone. Colorado had a breed all its own and none of it had ever really done it for you.

Ari wasn’t like them.

He nodded, gaze drifting down your face. "Yeah. Been a bit too."

You blinked, trying to compute that statement. Him? This perfect carved-from-oak dreamboat hadn’t had company?

"Small town," he added, with a shrug of one bare shoulder. "You don’t really get a chance to meet people. Not really."

"Oh. Yeah. Small pond." You pulled your hand back, suddenly self-conscious.

What were you thinking? Don’t shit where you eat.. literally

But Ari caught your wrist, not rough, just firm and guided your hand right back to his chest.

"Not what I meant," he murmured, voice dipping low. "But yeah... didn’t think someone like you would show up."

His eyes searched yours, even as your fingers trembled slightly against the hard muscle beneath them.

"Sometimes you just take your shot."

His other hand slid to your waist.

You didn’t move away.

His first kiss was slow, deliberate, his lips claiming yours with a hunger that made your pulse thunder in your ears. Not tentative, just deep, his tongue sweeping into your mouth to taste every inch, memorizing the sweet-salt tang of you like you were the only sustenance he'd ever crave. His breath was hot against your skin, carrying the faint musk of his cologne mixed with the raw scent of arousal building between you.

His large hand slid to your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh there, pulling you flush against him with a gentle but unyielding strength. Your own hands roamed up his broad shoulders, then to the nape of his neck, gripping his hair there to steady yourself as the world tilted, your knees weakening under the intensity.

The tension liquefied your body surrendering as your mouths fused, tongues tangling , teeth nipping at swollen lips that lingered too long, drawing out gasps that tasted of shared desperation. Every press sent sparks racing down your spine, your nipples hardening further, begging for attention.

When Ari scooped you up, his arms were iron bands around your waist, lifting you effortlessly, his muscles flexing under your palms. You wrapped your legs around his waist instinctively, feeling the hard ridge of his erection grinding against your soaked panties through his sweatpants. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging as he carried you down the hall, each step jostling you against him, the friction making you whimper into his mouth.

The bedroom door creaked open, and he lowered you onto the cool sheets of the bed before you could catch your breath, your heart hammering like a drum in your chest. He followed immediately, his weight pressing you down, kissing you harder now-desperate, devouring. His fingers slipped under the hem of your t-shirt, calloused knuckles scraping over your bare stomach, sending shivers racing across your skin, goosebumps rising in their wake.

Clothes vanished in a frenzy; your t-shirt yanked over your head, exposing your breasts to the cool air, nipples pebbling instantly. His sweats and boxers came off next, his thick cock springing free, heavy and veined, the tip already glistening with pre-cum that you could smell, musky and intoxicating. Your underwear was peeled away last, the fabric sticking to your drenched pussy lips before he tossed it aside.

You hesitated, just for a second. Your heart pounding so loud it drowned everything else.

"I don’t do this," you whispered.

Ari’s gaze met yours, dark and steady. "Me either. We care?"

Your breath hitched. "Fuck no."

The grin that spread across his face was wicked. He surged forward, kissing you again, stealing the last of your restraint.

Naked now, skin on skin, his mouth was everywhere: sucking at your earlobe, breath hot and ragged in your ear, his hand diving between your thighs, fingers parting your slick folds, thumb circling your swollen clit with firm pressure that made your hips jerk.

"Ari..." You arched up, gasping his name.

His weight pinned you deliciously, chest hair rasping against your sensitive nipples as he shifted, the coarse texture sending jolts straight to your core. Your legs spread wider, knees falling open, inviting him in as his fingers plunged into your core, two thick digits stretching you, curling to hit that spongy spot inside as he curled his fingers immediately. The wet squelch of your arousal filled the air, obscene and arousing, mixing with your sharp inhales and his low grunts.

"Fuck, you're so soft," he whispered, lips trailing down your neck, teeth grazing the pulse point there before latching on to suck a mark into your skin, the sting blooming into heat. His mouth moved lower, tongue flicking over your collarbone, then capturing a nipple between his teeth, tugging sharply until you arched, a cry escaping your lips.

"Nngh..uh."  You gasping curses and needy noises as his fingers pumped faster, thumb grinding your clit in tight circles. "Oh baby.." His voice made you feel like something holly. 

You were getting lost in the feeling when Ari withdrew, leaving you empty and clenching, only to reach over you toward his bedside drawer. The sound of it sliding open made your stomach flip, a moment later, he returned with a foil packet in hand. He tore it open with his teeth, his gaze locked on yours; serious, grounded even in the haze of lust.

"Protection, sweetheart," he murmured, rolling the condom on with practiced ease. "Not pulling out unless you tell me it’s too much."

You nodded, smiling too hard, the ache between your thighs sharpened by the sight of him; thick and ready, sheathed in latex but still achingly real.

Ari lent forward over you the blunt head of his protect cock notching at your entrance once more. He pressed in slow, inch by thick inch, the stretch burning sweetly as your pussy walls yielded to his girth, fluttering around him.

"Auh.." Your mouth fell open in a silent scream, panting hard.. it felt to much before a broken moan as he bottomed out, the fullness overwhelming, every ridge and vein dragging against your sensitive insides even through the thin latex.  

"Holly hell..."  You whimpered, nails raking down his back, leaving red trails on sweat-slicked skin that tasted salty when you licked your lips.

He was massive, not just his frame but the way his cock filled you completely, the scent of sex heavy in the room, your combined arousal, the tang of sweat. Your brain fizzed, lost to the sweet heat of him inside you, the way his pubic bone ground against your clit with each subtle shift. 

"Fuck,.." Ari groaned deep in his chest, the vibration rumbling through you as your pussy clenched experimentally, milking him.

Your back arched, tits pressing into his chest, nipples scraping deliciously.

Ari remained still, letting you adjust, his breath panting hot against your neck, but he didn't stay that way. Pulling back, both of you moaning as you opened up as he pressed back in. Each time his pace built, thrusts starting slow, deliberate, each one pulling out almost to the tip before slamming back in, the slap of skin on skin echoing wetly.

"fuck fuck fuck.." You were mumbling in slurred words. 

He lifted his head, watching you intently, dark eyes locked on your face, drinking in every twitch of your lips, every flutter of your lashes as you unraveled. Your moans started soft, breathy, then grew louder, raw cries that scraped your throat. Hands scrambled up his arms, feeling the corded muscles bunch under your fingers, then to his shoulders, clawing as you tried to pull him deeper, even though he was already buried to the hilt, his cockhead kissing your cervix with each plunge. Your legs bending higher to ease the deeper angle.

"You feel so good baby,' he muttered, voice gravelly, hips grinding in a slow, filthy circle that made your clit spark with friction. "You really have been with out.." The pressure built unbearably, your thighs quivering, inner walls clamping down like a vice as you rocked up into him. 

The room was alive with sounds: the lewd squish of your pussy sucking him in, skin slapping rhythmically, your desperate pants mingling with his guttural curses.

"Fuck, yes, squeeze me like that." He was relentless, slanting his hips to nail that spot deep inside, the one that made stars burst behind your eyelids, your whole body jerking like you'd been shocked.

"Mrugh."  

"There? Yeah?" Like he had to ask with the noise you made

Another animal like noise bubbled up from you

"Oh yeah.. there... That's it, sweetheart. Let me hear you scream for it." His thumb found your clit again, rubbing in fast, firm strokes that prolonged the bliss, your cries turning shrill as your climax hit like a freight train, body convulsing, pussy spasming wildly around his cock, nails digging bloody crescents into his back. You didn't care about the sting he must feel; you were too consumed by the fire licking up your veins, the way your toes curled and your vision whited out.

Ari growled, a primal sound from his throat, his arms banding tighter around you, holding you in place as he chased his own release. His rhythm stuttered, thrusts turning erratic, deeper, harder, the bed creaking under the force. "Fuck, baby, gonna-" he rasped against your jaw, stubble scraping your skin, voice wrecked and breathless. “Fuck-gonna cum." 

You whimpered, hips rocking up to meet him, your oversensitive pussy fluttering as he drove in one final time, burying himself deep. His cock throbbed, pulsing as he fell over his own edge.. His moan shattered into a deep groan, forehead pressed to yours, sweat dripping from his brow onto your lips, salty on your tongue as he shuddered through his release.

Your body trembled in the aftershocks, every nerve singing, pussy still clenching greedily around his softening cock, You were utterly wrecked; limbs heavy, skin flushed and marked with his bites and fingerprints, claimed in the most visceral way.

He didn't pull out, staying buried inside you, his arms a protective cage as his lips brushed your temple, then your shoulder, trailing soft kisses down to the valley between your breasts, where your heart still raced wildly. Whispers followed in the dim light.

"God, didn't think..." his voice a soothing rumble, praises wrapping around you like the sheets tangled at your feet. "Didn't think someone like you, would..." 

"Yeah.. wasn't on my bingo card.." 

You let out a pant of laughter. 

"Small towns huh?" 

"Tell me about it..." 

Neither of you moved, content to linger in the sticky, sated heat, breaths syncing as the world narrowed to just this: him, you, and the lingering pulse of pleasure echoing between your bodies.

[societyfolklore]

Table Manners

Title: Table Manners

Paring: Jake Jensen x Female Reader

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, Minors DNI, Dirty Texting, Public Teasing, Petunia Mentions, Smutty Build-up

Word Count: 611 words

A/N: Wanksgiving -  Dirty Texting

You’d been nothing but polite.

You greeted Jake's family, complimented the food, sat through his brother-in-law's drawn-out football theories. You even laughed when his niece dropped mashed potatoes down the back of your blouse. But now that dessert had been served and Jake was holding court at the far end of the table, loudly talking about The Petunia’s last takedown at the regional trials, ever the proud uncle, you figured you’d earned a little entertainment.

You unlocked your phone under the table and snapped a quick pic. Not of your face. Just the hem of your dress pushed a little higher, the tops of your thighs on show, your very own 'up skirt' photo; pretty lace panties framed perfectly by the angle, just enough to drive him mad without giving it all away. A low-angle, high-stakes kind of shot.

You: Bet you could land a penalty shot here…

You saw it land. Watched Jake’s phone buzz beside his plate, his hand lazily pulling it toward him while he gestured mid-story with the other. Then his thumb unlocked the screen.

His voice caught.

Only for a moment. But you saw it.

That split-second pause, that tiny falter in the rhythm of his storytelling. The flex of his jaw as he glanced down, then back up, like he was trying not to react. Trying not to look down the table at you. His fingers tapped the side of his phone like he could will himself to stay calm.

You smiled into your wine.

He kept talking about how the Petunias were really starting to make a splash, something about agility ratios and average takedown speeds, but his voice had picked up a tight, clipped edge now. Probably to distract himself. Probably because his jeans were suddenly too tight.

You sent the next one. A shot of your fingers just barely brushing between your thighs. Nothing too graphic. Suggestive. Teasing. Enough to make his ears go a little red.

You: Starting to think I might need to do my own warm-up and stretches…

Jake cleared his throat, voice strained as he wrapped up a sentence.

“Excuse me,” he mumbled, scooting his chair back.

“You okay?” his sister asked, her voice laced with light concern.

“Yeah. Uh, just need some water.” Jake mumbled quickly, already pushing back from the table, movements just a little too quick to be casual. He didn't wait for a response, practically tripping over the rug on his way out of the dining room.

"You left your-"

"I'll take it to him," you cut in smoothly, standing up with a pleasant smile. You rounded the table with unhurried grace, picking up his glass, the picture of innocence as you followed after him, though everyone could see the knowing glint in your eyes. The subtle curve of your smirk said it all. You were definitely up to no good. 

You found him with his hands braced on the kitchen counter, head bowed, breathing steady-but-hard. His knuckles were white. His jaw was clenched. And his thighs were drawn tight, shifting like he was trying to get comfortable and failing miserably.

“You think you’re funny?” he asked without looking up.

You leaned sink leaning to pour him a glass of water. "Little bit."

Jake finally looked at you in the mirror. His eyes were darker now. Focused. Hungry.

"Keep teasing me like that, baby, and that 'post-lunch' walk you promised your mom? Might turn into a very slow, very sore shuffle back. That what you want?"

You straighted, walking toward him with deliberate sway in your hips. "You started it, showing off like that. Getting all proud and puffed up in front of your family. Acting like you weren’t just seconds from snapping."

Jake let out a soft growl, low and dangerous.

"I'm gonna be showing off something else if you don't quit."

Your smirk was all the answer he needed. But still, you leaned close, fingers brushing just under the waistband of his jeans. His body twitched.

"Guess you better stretch too, soldier. You’re gonna need stamina. Didn't you mention that park somewhere near by, bet we can have a whole lot of fun on the seesaw.."

His breath hitched. And suddenly, the kitchen didn’t feel so safe anymore…not for either of you.

[societyfolklore]

Triple Shot Trouble

Title: Triple Shot Trouble

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Female Reader

Summary: Did you do it on purpose? You’re not going to admit it..

Word Count:  2.5k  

Warnings: I mean its not smut but.. like.. ergh.. 18+, Lloyd being Lloyd, bratty girlfriend, suggestive tension, filthy language, implied smut, caffeine-related emotional damage

Prompt: “There’s not enough espressos in this world to deal with this!” A/N:   Entry for April 2026 Challenge Prompts at @star-and-shield-monthly  I’m sorry I couldn’t help myself this one SCREAMED Lloyd.. Not as polished as I would like but wanted it in before the deadline! Oh and this is the same pairing from this scribble

Lloyd had been swearing at his laptop for twenty-seven minutes.

Not normal swearing either.

Not the casual background profanity you had come to accept as part of his natural breathing pattern. This was targeted. Personal. The kind that came with pinched brows, rolled shoulders, and that tight little twitch at the corner of his moustache that meant someone, somewhere, had failed to meet one of his impossible standards.

You sat curled on the couch in one of his shirts, bare legs tucked beneath you, pretending to read while very much listening.

“No, absolutely fucking not,” Lloyd snapped at the screen, his fingers stabbing at the trackpad like it had personally wronged him. “I’m not holding a meeting in a room called The Serenity Suite. What am I, a divorced yoga instructor?”

You bit the inside of your cheek and sank a little deeper into the cushions.

A few seconds later, he clicked again.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, leaning closer to the laptop, eyes narrowing. “Why does every hotel in Prague look like it was decorated by a horny vampire?”

Your book lowered just enough for you to peek over the top. “Work going well?”

His head turned slowly.

Lloyd sat at the dining table with his sleeves pushed up and his espresso cup clenched in one hand like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to polite society. His hair was mussed from dragging his fingers through it, making him look like a dangerous man having a ridiculous morning.

“No,” he answered flatly.

You hummed, soft and sympathetic in a way that was entirely fake. “Shocking.”

His eyes narrowed before he turned back to the laptop. “I am trying,” he explained with exaggerated patience, “to choose a private venue for a very delicate meeting.”

“A murder meeting?”

His jaw ticked. “A business meeting.”

“So murder-adjacent.” You smiled down into your book, letting him hear it in your voice even if he couldn’t see your mouth.

Lloyd huffed and scrolled again, his expression darkening with every glossy promotional photo. “Too exposed. Too ugly. Too many exits. Not enough exits. Carpet’s suspicious. Chandelier’s tacky.” He paused, squinting at the screen with genuine disgust. “I hate that chair.”

“You hate the chair?” You glanced over at him properly then, unable to help yourself.

“I can tell it has bad lumbar support from here.”

The answer came so seriously that laughter bubbled straight up your throat.

“You’re being dramatic.”

Lloyd didn’t even look up. “I have killed men for less.”

“You kill men for fun.”

“That is beside the point.” He reply came to fast not to be funny.  Your laugh slipped out before you could stop it, bright and amused in the clean, expensive quiet of the penthouse.

His eyes flicked to you over the laptop screen.

Dangerous. But not actually dangerous.

Not to you anyway.

Lloyd’s anger had different shapes. The sharp, quiet kind he brought home from work. The cold, surgical kind that meant someone was probably having a very bad day.

And then there was this.

This ridiculous, sociopathic creature in a too-expensive shirt, personally victimised by venue photography and ergonomic seating.

Your favourite kind.

Mostly because it was so easy to make this moment worse.

“Maybe pick the Serenity Suite,” you offered lightly. “You could do a breathing circle before the murder.”

His jaw flexed.

“There’s not enough espressos in this world to deal with this,” he growled, shoving back from the table so abruptly the chair legs scraped against the floor.

“With the venue?” you asked, all innocence.

“With you.” He snatched his empty cup off the table and stalked toward the kitchen. “With the location. With the general decline of professional standards.”

You listened to him move through the kitchen by sound alone. The ceramic clink of his mug against the counter. The opening of the pod drawer. The aggressive little click of a capsule being loaded into the machine.

Then nothing.

A pause.

A very long pause.

The kind of pause that had teeth.

You lowered your book.

From the kitchen, Lloyd called, far too calmly, “Sweetheart.”

Your stomach fluttered, making your blood warm.

That tone never meant anything good.

You looked over the back of the couch. “Yes?”

He appeared in the doorway holding the coffee machine’s removable water tank between two fingers.

Empty.

His expression had gone terrifyingly blank, mouth pressed into a thin line, eyes fixed on you with the focused horror of a man who had found betrayal in his own home.

“Why,” he asked slowly, lifting the tank a fraction higher, “is my machine dry?”

You blinked at him, as if you apparently had no instinct for self-preservation. You tilted your head and offered, “Machines need hydration too?”

Lloyd stared.

You smiled.

And just like that, the bad chair, the horny vampire hotel, the Serenity Suite, and every incompetent bastard who had ever sent him a brochure with the words luxury conference experience on it disappeared.

Now there was only you.

And the empty water tank.

And Lloyd Hansen, looking like he’d finally found something worth punishing.

“You did this on purpose.” The accusation came low and flat as he stepped out of the kitchen, socked feet nearly silent against the polished floor.

“I forgot.” You widened your eyes just enough to make it insulting.

His stare sharpened. “You never forget things that annoy me.”

“That’s not true.”

“You remembered the tuna.”

Your mouth twitched.

His eyes narrowed instantly.

“Oh, there it is.” He pointed the empty tank at you like he was presenting evidence in court. “That face. That’s the face of a woman who woke up and chose violence.”

“I woke up and chose hydration awareness.” You smiled brighter.

“You woke up and chose to die on a very stupid hill.” Oh, he was getting all huffy now.

“You’re being dramatic again.” Your tone getting melodic.

“I am being deprived of basic human rights.”

“It’s water, Lloyd.”

“It’s espresso infrastructure.”

You pressed your lips together, trying not to laugh.

He caught it anyway.

The closer he came, the harder it was to keep your expression innocent. Mostly because innocent had never worked on him. Lloyd liked your innocent act the same way he liked a locked door.

Something to test.

Something to break open just to prove he could.

“You’re lucky I’m busy,” he warned, stopping beside the couch.

You glanced past him toward the abandoned laptop. “You looked busy bullying interior design.”

His moustache twitched again.

God, you loved that.

“Maybe you should take a break,” you suggested sweetly, letting your book fall closed over one finger. “You’re getting emotional.”

Shot fired.

Lloyd froze.

Then he laughed once.

Low. Flat. Dangerous in a way that made your thighs press together beneath his shirt.

“Emotional?” he repeated, each syllable slow enough to be a threat.

You shrugged, trying for casual even as your pulse kicked. “A little.”

“I’m not emotional.”

“You’re holding an empty water tank like it owes you money.”

“It does owe me money. The machine cost more than your first car.”

“My first car had personality.” You diverted the conversation

“Your first car had mould.”

“It had charm.”

“It had tetanus.” He grunted. You laughed then, unable to help yourself.

For a second, Lloyd just watched you.

Annoyed, yes.

Always annoyed.

But there was something else tucked behind it. Something warmer and sharper all at once, the kind of look he got when you forgot to be afraid of him and remembered he was yours.

Or at least, he liked to think you were his.

He set the empty tank on the coffee table in front of you.

Carefully.

He leaned down, one hand braced on the arm of the couch, the other sinking into the cushion beside your hip. The couch dipped beneath his weight, drawing you a fraction closer whether you wanted it or not.

The air shifted.

“There are two types of people in this world,” Lloyd murmured.

You tipped your face up to meet him. “Alive and dead?”

His mouth curved, not quite a smile. “Helpful and irritating.”

“Which one am I?”

His gaze dropped to your bare thighs, lingered on the hem of his shirt where it had ridden dangerously high, then slid slowly back to your face.

“That depends how the next thirty seconds go.”

Your pulse kicked again. This was too fun.

He knew exactly how fast he could turn ridiculous into ruinous.

You lifted your chin. “Are you threatening me over coffee?”

“I’m threatening you because you’re being a brat.”

“I thought you liked me like this.”

His smile sharpened, bright and wicked enough to make your stomach turn over.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he breathed, leaning closer until the words brushed warm against your mouth. “I love you like this.”

The word should have softened him.

It didn’t.

With Lloyd, love was possession with better lighting. Affection with teeth. Devotion standing too close and daring the rest of the world to reach for what belonged to him.

“But liking it doesn’t mean you get away with it,” he added.

You swallowed.

His eyes flicked to your throat.

You saw the exact second he noticed.

Smug bastard.

“Lloyd.” His name came out quieter than you intended, thinned at the edges by the sudden press of him in your space.

“There she is,” he murmured, pleased in that awful, knowing way. “Voice went all sweet.”

“You’re imagining things.” You offered still sounding sweet.

“I have an exceptional memory for things I enjoy.”

You tried not to smile.

Failed.

Lloyd’s gaze softened by the smallest fraction.

Then his hand moved.

Just two fingers beneath your chin, tilting your face up until you couldn’t hide the smile from him. His thumb brushed along the curve of your jaw, slow and taunting, barely enough to count as touch and somehow more irritating because of it.

“Cute,” he murmured.

“I hate you.” You purred it though.

“No, you don’t.”

“I could.”

“You won’t.” His thumb dragged once more, following the line of your jaw until your breath caught.

A barely-there touch.

Infuriating.

Deliberate.

You leaned into it before you could stop yourself.

His smile widened.  “Oh, that’s embarrassing.” 

You smacked his chest.

Lloyd caught your wrist before your hand could retreat, his grip firm but not painful. He lifted it with theatrical care, pressed his mouth to the inside of your wrist, and watched your face the entire time.

The bastard knew exactly what he was doing.

“You’re still not getting an apology,” you managed, but the words came out much less convincing than you wanted.

“I didn’t ask for one.”

“You were about to.”

“No.” His mouth brushed your pulse again, a soft scrape of lips and moustache that sent heat skittering under your skin. “I was about to make coffee.”

You blinked.

He let go of your wrist and straightened.

The loss of warmth was instant.

Rude.

He picked up the tank from the table and turned back toward the kitchen.

You stared after him. “That’s it?”

He didn’t look back. “That’s it.”

“You’re just making coffee?”

“That’s what the machine does when people remember to fill it.”

You narrowed your eyes as he crossed the kitchen.

The tap turned on.

Water rushed into the tank.

He was ignoring you.

Lloyd Hansen, international nightmare and professional pain in the ass, was ignoring you.

On purpose.

You stayed on the couch for ten whole seconds.

Maybe twelve.

Then you shoved your book aside and padded after him.

He had his back to you, broad shoulders relaxed as he slotted the water tank into place. The machine hummed awake, lights blinking like everything was perfectly normal.

Like he hadn’t just left you sitting there wound tight and annoyed.

You stopped beside him, close enough that your arm almost brushed his. “I hate when you do that.”

He loaded a fresh pod into the machine with maddening calm. “Do what?”

“Start something and walk away.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You absolutely do.”

Lloyd pressed the button without looking at you.

The espresso began to pour.

Slowly.

Painfully slowly.

He watched it drip into the cup with obscene patience, one hand braced against the counter, the other resting loose at his side like he wasn’t entirely aware of you vibrating beside him.

You watched him.

His mouth twitched like he was trying very hard not to enjoy himself.

“You’re staring.”

“You’re annoying,” you shot back, though your eyes still tracked the flex of his hand against the counter.

Lloyd’s smile sharpened. “You started this.”

“You overreacted.” You folded your arms tighter, refusing to give him the satisfaction of looking away.

“You sabotaged my espresso.”

“I forgot water.”

He gave you a slow, offended blink. “You committed domestic terrorism.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Lloyd turned just enough for his shoulder to brush yours, close enough that the heat of him crowded into your space again. “You’re still here.”

That shut you up.

Lloyd finally turned his head, looking at you over the curve of his shoulder.

Smug. Awful. Gorgeous in a way that made you furious and flushed.

“You want something?” he asked, voice dropping into that lazy, coaxing register that always made your stomach flip.

You crossed your arms. “No.”

“No?”

“No.” the retort came quick.

“Then why are you in my kitchen wearing my shirt and glaring at me like I disappointed you?”

“Maybe because you did.”

His eyebrows lifted.

There.

That got him.

You felt a flicker of triumph.

“You want attention,” he concluded, turning properly now, his hip settling against the counter.

“I want you to stop being dramatic.” You corrected.

“No,” he corrected, stepping closer, “you want my hands on you and you’re too stubborn to say it.”

“Wrong.” Your face warmed. He was too fun..

“Liar.”

“Asshole.”

“Brat.” The espresso machine clicked off.

Neither of you moved.

The coffee sat steaming between you.

Lloyd didn’t reach for it. Instead, he stepped closer.

You stepped back. Your hips hit the counter.

His hands came down on either side of you, caging you in without touching anywhere interesting.

“You know,” he murmured, head dipping until his mouth hovered near your cheek, “there really aren’t enough espressos in this world to deal with you.”

You lifted your chin, pulse racing hard enough now that you could feel it in your throat.

“Good thing I'm better then coffee then."

For a second, his expression shifted. The irritation cracked open just enough for something dangerously fond to show through. Then it was gone, tucked behind that sharp, wicked grin.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Lucky me.”

His hands gripped your waist. The world tilted as he lifted you onto the counter like you weighed nothing.

You gasped, fingers catching in the front of his shirt, the warm steam from his abandoned coffee curling between you as his body slotted into the space between your knees.

Lloyd leaned in, his mouth hovering just above yours.

“Apologise.”

“No.” You smiled.

His eyes darkened.

The coffee could wait. 

[buckets-and-trees]

Treats [Sugar Pumpkin]

Characters/Pairings: husband!Lloyd Hansen x pregnant female!Reader Word Count: 1.4k Summary: Your little bun is still baking in the oven, but you've also been baking up an actual storm and send Lloyd to work with a basket of baked goods.

Content/Warnings: pregnant reader (but doesn't factor majorly to the story); established relationship; smut (oral: female receiving)

Author Notes: I had been struggling with what to post for today, not feeling like any of the things I was almost finished with for Valensmut were what I wanted, but then a silly little chat I had with @vonalyn today spiraled into this. 😌 So you can thank Chi.

Additional Note: This is my humble submission for @witchywithwhiskey's Sweethearts Sleepover! You get actual conversation hearts, and then the story has bits of: ALL MINE, AS IF, BEST DAY (worst, in Lloyd's opinion), CUTIE PIE, ONLY YOU, TRUE LOVE, XOXO, and YOU & ME.

can absolutely be read as a stand-alone, but if you want their backstory, you can read up on the short collection: previous: Lloyd's Christmas Surprise | Welcome Home, Pumpkin Collection

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

.:MONDAY MORNING:.

“What the fuck is this?” Lloyd asks, his face in a full scowl as he takes in the basket on the counter.

You beam, hands clasped behind your back in an attempt to contain your giddy pride. “A surprise for your team for their Monday. You said they’ve been running on fumes and caffeine, so I thought maybe…a little sugar rush? Carbs can work wonders for office morale.”

He eyes the basket like you’ve potentially booby-trapped it. “You baked all this?”

You nod, rocking on your heels. “You know I did! There’s lemon bars, the espresso brownies you like, and—” you tap the gingham napkin tucked around a lumpy loaf “—honey oat bread for the gluten-free intern. I made extra, just in case.”

There’s also a braided bread ring in the middle, surrounded by flaky turnovers, a whole loaf of banana bread (you went heavy on the chocolate chips), and two rows of sugar cookies decorated as conversation hearts. The XOXO one is your favorite.

“But I thought you were just living your best baking life for us. I didn’t know I’dd have to share it.”

You lift one of your shoulders in an exaggerated, playful shrug and smile sweetly at him.

Lloyd squints at the selection, then back at you. “So, you want me to show up to work with this basket and hand out cookies like some kind of—” he gestures vaguely “—PTA mom?”

You wrinkle your nose, a little wounded. “You can just set it on the break room table. You don’t have to announce it or anything. But, I mean, wouldn’t it be nice to have people associate you with something other than terror and passive-aggressive motivational emails?”

Lloyd’s mouth purses like he’s bit into a lemon—not one of the lemon bars—and you watch the internal struggle play out as he weighs your efforts against…whatever bones in his body are rebelling against showing any modicum of niceness to his coworkers. He huffs, resigned, and starts hunting for a travel mug. “Fine. I’ll bring your—” he squints at the basket again “—heart-attack sampler to the office.” He pointedly ignores the smiley cookies, but you see him sneak one as soon as he thinks you’re not looking.

You grin into your coffee. “You’re secretly soft, Lloyd. It’ll be good for you to practice more of it before the baby comes.”

“I’m not soft,” he mutters, then glances at you, still full-frowning. “You’re just, like, a relentless kindness blizzard. Nobody can stand up to that.”

You beam.

.:MONDAY EVENING:.

When Lloyd comes home, it’s with the kind of energy of a man who has spent a full day stomping out metaphorical fires, slamming the door like it’s the front door’s fault. You barely have time to register the sound of his keys being tossed into the bowl in the entryway before he’s in the kitchen and on you, lifting you bodily against the fridge and kissing you with the kind of bruising, insistent hunger that says something inside him has snapped, but in a good way.

You barely get out an “Oh—” before he’s got your pants unzipped and pushing down over your hips, his hands already unceremoniously shoving your underwear aside. He’s still in full office drag, minus the tie, sleeves rolled up to the crook of his elbows. His collar is open, and under the harsh kitchen light his knuckles are pink and raw-looking, as if he’s had to white-knuckle his way through the entire day.

“You made me a goddamn celebrity,” he growls against your mouth, his voice ragged and reverent, his hands absolutely everywhere. “I had to listen to a dozen people tell me how thoughtful and ‘refreshing’ it was, and the fucking intern almost cried.”

You break into helpless laughter, clutching at his shoulders as he props you harder against the refrigerator door. “You’re welcome,” you manage, between giggles and gasps as his mouth finds the sensitive spot just under your ear. “Did they like the cookies?”

“Of course the liked your fucking cookies! They were delicious,” he huffs, carrying you over to the counter. “All day, it was ‘Is this your wife’s recipe?’, ‘Will she teach us her secret?’, ‘You should marry her again these are so good’. I couldn’t get through one email without someone licking brownie off their fingers and their productivity went through the goddamn roof.”

You bite a giggle into his neck; he groans, the vibration transmitting from his throat straight into your chest. His hands are everywhere, kneading into the meat of your ass. “And all I could think about all day? How fucking proud I was to have the best fucking wife on the planet and how I couldn’t wait to devour your sweet pussy the way they were devouring those treats.”

“I was just trying to help,” you say, breathless as he kisses down your jaw, over the place where your pulse beats wild.

“All. Day. Pumpkin,” he repeats. “I didn’t get one single goddamn moment’s peace, couldn’t send an email, all my meetings derailed because HR turned into your personal fangirl squad, so now I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

You don’t have time to bask in the delight of his confession because Lloyd spins you, physically bracing your hands against the counter of the kitchen island. He presses at the small of your back until your lower half is arched provocatively, ass out, just the way he likes. He’s rough, not mean, but so insistent you can’t help but gasp as he yanks your panties all the way down to your knees.

You feel the wet heat of his tongue before his hands dig in and spread you open. The first lap is greedy, almost punishing, as if he’s trying to erase the sugar high with something saltier, dirtier, and entirely his.

He laps at you messily, groaning unselfconsciously. You grip the countertop, knuckles white, hips lifted into the ferocious rhythm of his mouth. He suckles your clit like it’s his own private vendetta and you have no choice but to tremble, to rut back against his slick, talented mouth, and that bonus feature of a mustache.

“You missed a spot,” you joke, voice quavering on the edge of laughter and something more ragged.

Lloyd’s answering snarl is muffled but so fucking pleased. He slaps the inside of one of your thighs, and you yelp. The tip of his nose nudges between your folds. The sloppy noise of spit and arousal is loud and obscene and perfect.

You end up with your forehead pressed to the cool marble, hands scrabbling for the edge as he eats you out with single-minded dedication.

He doesn’t slow—not when you beg, not when you whimper, not even when your thighs begin to shake with the effort of staying upright. You’re trembling so hard your thighs shake, the marble threatening to crack your teeth as you try to bite back the noises you’re making. Lloyd is relentless, alternating between full-tongue swipes and tight, focused circles around your clit, never quite letting you settle into a rhythm before he yanks it away. You choke on a moan, his name splitting into a plaintive mewl.

He pulls off with a wet pop, spit and slick connecting you for a moment. “You gonna come for me, baby?”

You nod, maybe a little violently, vision gone soft around the edges.

“Use your words,” Lloyd demands, licking a shiny stripe up from your entrance then blowing gently, sending goosebumps arcing over your ass and down both legs.

“Please,” you gasp, desperate. “I want it, I need—fuck, Lloyd—”

“Yeah?”

You shove your hips greedily into his face, words dissolving into moans. "Yes, please, I need to come, Lloyd—"

"That's what I want to fucking hear." His tongue is all brute force, no mercy, and your body shudders at the edge before a decisive, hard suck on your clit pushes you over the cliff and pleasure shatters through you.

Lloyd holds you through it, arms tight around your hips, mouth never leaving you, almost as if he plans to keep you in that state forever. When you sag, boneless and trembling, against the countertop, he licks you clean—gentler now, but still greedy—before standing and dragging his mouth up your back, his teeth catching on the ridge of your spine through your rumpled shirt.

He straightens, wiping his chin with the back of his hand, and looms over you. “You’re not going to out-nice me, Pumpkin,” he says, the roughness catching on the softness underneath. “You want to spoil people? This is how I spoil you.”

BAHAHAHAHA I FORGOT HOW MUCH I LOVE THESE TWO!

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[buckets-and-trees]

Okay. But viking!Steven feral AF after a battle and storming into your home and beelining straight for his little bride to get out all of that excess adrenaline 😳🕳️💦

Come Down from Battle

Characters/Pairings: Viking King Steve Rogers x curvy Female!Reader Word Count: 2.4k

Content/Warnings: DARK established relationship - kidnapped wife; explicit smut: rough sex, oral (male receiving), unprotected vaginal intercourse, light breastplay, insemination; use of pet name (little wife); dirty talk; implied breeding kink; discussion of producing children

Notes: Takes place 6-8 weeks after So Black the Darkness Hums and Ceremonial Rituals. And just a little more of my viking research: a kongsgård is a dwelling for a king or magnate, had a great hall, residential quarters, etc, but not as big or grand as a castle.

Additional Note: Why not cold viking King Steven on birthday eve/the eighth night of my Birthday Jubilee celebration?

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The kongsgård bustles with activity as word spreads of the king's return. You hear the commotion from your chambers - shouts, the clatter of armor, heavy footsteps. Your heart races with fear and anticipation, knowing Steven will soon arrive, and you make your way to the great hall to greet him as all the household is expected to do.

The door bursts open and Steven storms through, still clad in his blood-stained armor. His eyes, wild with the remnants of battle-fury, scan the room until they land on you. Without a word, he strides towards you, ignoring all others, his massive frame radiating power and barely contained energy.

"My little wife," he growls, voice rough from shouting commands. His hands, still gloved in leather, grasp your face as he crushes his lips to yours in a bruising kiss. The metallic tang of blood mingles with his familiar taste.

“Come,” he commands, grabbing your arm and pulling you along. You stumble after him before recovering your footing as he drags you through the winding corridors of the kongsgård, his grip unyielding, undeterred until he has you in your chambers.

Steven slams the heavy wooden door behind you, the sound echoing through the room. His hands are already working at the fastenings of his armor, shedding pieces haphazardly onto the floor. You move to assist him, fingers trembling slightly as you help remove the blood-stained leather and metal.

As the last piece falls away, Steven grabs you again, spinning you around and pressing you against the wall. His body cages you in, hot and solid against your back. You feel his breath, heavy and ragged, against your neck.

"I've thought of nothing but you for days," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "The heat of battle, the clash of steel - none of it compares to the fire you ignite in me."

You shiver at his words, a mix of fear and anticipation coursing through you. In the two months since he took you from your village, you've grown accustomed to his rough passion - come to crave it at times - even though you are still tentative of this powerful warrior king. But there's something different in his eyes tonight - a wildness, an intensity that both thrills and terrifies you.

His hands roam your body, rough and possessive, as if relearning every curve and plane. You gasp as he yanks at the laces of your dress, tearing the fabric in his haste to get to your bare skin. The cool air hits your exposed flesh, raising goosebumps across your body.

"Steven," you whisper, your voice trembling. "You're home safe. There's no need to rush-"

He silences you with another bruising kiss, his tongue invading your mouth as his hands continue their frantic exploration of your body. You taste blood on his lips - whether his or an enemy's, you're not sure.

Steven's mouth descends on your neck, biting and sucking hard enough to leave marks. His beard scratches against your sensitive skin as he works his way down to your shoulder. One large hand cups your breast, kneading roughly, while the other snakes down to hike up your skirts.

"I need you," he growls against your skin. "Now."

You hear the rustle of fabric as he frees himself from his breeches. Without warning, he lifts you, pinning you against the wall with his body. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist.

Your breath catches as you feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance. Despite your body's automatic response to his touch, you're not fully ready for him. But Steven doesn't wait. With a powerful thrust, he sheathes himself inside you, tearing a cry from your throat.

The stretch burns, a mixture of pain and pleasure that leaves you gasping. Steven doesn't give you time to adjust, setting a brutal pace as he pounds into you against the wall. His hands grip your thighs hard enough to bruise, holding you in place as he takes his pleasure.

"Mine," he growls, his voice rough with exertion and possessiveness. "Say it. Tell me you're mine."

"Yours," you gasp, the word torn from your lips as he hits a spot deep inside you that makes you see stars. "I'm yours, Steven."

His pace increases, each thrust driving you higher up the wall. The rough stone scrapes against your back, but you barely notice the pain, overwhelmed by the sensations Steven is wringing from your body. Your arms wrap tightly around his neck, clinging to him as he ravages you.

"That's right," Steven growls, his breath hot against your ear. "Mine. My little bride, my conquest, my queen."

His words send a shiver through you. Despite everything, despite the circumstances that brought you here, you can't deny the thrill that runs through you at being claimed so thoroughly by this powerful man. Your body responds to him instinctively, inner walls clenching around his thick length as he pounds into you relentlessly.

Steven's hand snakes between your bodies, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs since he loves to watch you fall apart for him. His rough fingers circle and press, drawing gasps and moans from your lips. The dual sensations of his cock pounding into you and his skilled fingers on your clit quickly build the tension in your core.

"Come for me, little wife," Steven commands, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release. "Let me feel you come undone around my cock."

Your back arches as waves of pleasure crash over you, your inner walls clenching rhythmically around Steven's thick length. You cry out, your nails digging into his shoulders as you shudder in his arms.

Steven groans at the feeling of your cunt clenching around him, milking him.

He turns away from the wall and carries you to the bed. Despite your big size, you are nothing but a small and delicate thing to him, giant viking that he is. The physicality, his prowess, it’s more of what makes you weak for him.

Steven tosses you onto the bed, your body bouncing slightly on impact. Before you can catch your breath, he's on you, flipping you onto your stomach and yanking your hips up. You feel his cock, still hard and slick with your juices, pressing against your entrance once more.

"Only getting started, little wife," he growls, his voice thick with lust.

With one powerful thrust, he sheathes himself inside you again. You cry out at the sudden intrusion, your oversensitive flesh protesting the renewed assault. Steven sets a punishing pace, his hips snapping against your ass with bruising force. His hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place as he takes his pleasure.

"So tight," he grunts, his breath coming in harsh pants. "Always so perfect for me."

One of his hands snakes around to your front, groping your breast before tweaking the nipple, sending jolts of pleasure-pain through your hypersensitive body. You gasp and moan for him.

"That's it," he growls. "Let me hear you, little wife. Let everyone in the kongsgård know how well your king pleases you."

His words send a fresh wave of heat through you. The thought of others hearing your cries of passion, knowing that you're being thoroughly claimed by your warrior king, is both mortifying and thrilling. Your cheeks burn with shame even as your body responds eagerly to Steven's touch.

"Tell me how it feels," Steven demands, his voice a low growl in your ear. "Tell me how much you love my cock inside you."

A whimper escapes your lips as you struggle to form coherent thoughts. "It's... it's so much," you manage to gasp out. "You fill me so completely, my king."

Steven's hand tightens around your neck, yanking your head back. "Not enough," he snarls. "I want to hear how desperately you crave me. How you ache for my touch when I'm gone."

His words send a shiver down your spine. It's true - despite your initial resistance, you've come to crave Steven's touch during his absences. The intensity of his passion, the way he makes your body sing with pleasure - it's intoxicating. And though you try to fight it, to hold onto memories of your old life, you find yourself sinking into this new life.

"I... I think of you constantly when you're gone," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "I dream of your hands on my body, of the way you fill me so completely."

Steven's pace quickens at your words, his thrusts becoming even more forceful. "As you should." he says, his voice strained with exertion but satisfied and proud.

His hand snakes around to your front again, fingers finding your sensitive bud. He circles it roughly, drawing gasps and moans from your lips. The dual sensations of his thick cock pounding into you and his skilled fingers on your clit quickly rebuild the tension in your core.

"Come for me again, little wife," Steven commands. "Show me how much you've missed your king's touch."

Your body obeys, trembling and clenching around him as another orgasm crashes over you. You cry out his name, your fingers grasping desperately at the furs beneath you. Steven groans at the feeling of your inner walls pulsing around him, his thrusts becoming erratic.

With a final thrust, Steven buries himself deep inside you, his body tensing as he reaches his own release. You feel the hot rush of his seed filling you, and a small part of you wonders if this time it will take root. The thought sends a confusing mix of emotions through you - worry, excitement, resignation.

Steven collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the furs. For a moment, the only sound in the room is your mingled panting as you both struggle to catch your breath. His body is slick with sweat, the scent of battle and sex heavy in the air.

Slowly, Steven rolls to the side, pulling you with him so that your back is pressed against his chest. His arm drapes possessively over your waist, holding you close. You can feel his heartbeat thundering against your back, gradually slowing to a steadier rhythm.

"My little wife,” he presses a kiss to your shoulder, “greatest conquest and treasure.”

Steven's arm tightens around your waist, his calloused hand splaying possessively across your stomach. His touch is not gentle or loving, but claiming - a reminder that you belong to him now, body and soul. You feel the scratch of his beard against your shoulder as he speaks, his voice low and commanding.

"You've done well, little wife," he says, his tone more satisfied than affectionate. "You're learning to please your king."

His words send a shiver down your spine - a mix of pride and shame that you've come to associate with his praise. You hate yourself for craving his approval, for the way your body responds so eagerly to his touch. But you can't deny the thrill that runs through you at his words.

Steven's hand moves up to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over the nipple. "Soon, you'll give me strong sons," he says, his tone matter-of-fact. "They'll be fierce warriors, like their father. And perhaps a daughter or two, to cement alliances with other clans.”

His words send a chill through you. You imagine a child with Steven's fierce blue eyes and blonde hair, and something stirs in your chest.

"And what of me?" you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "What am I to you, beyond a vessel for your heirs?"

Steven is silent for a long moment, his hand stilling on your breast. When he speaks, his voice is low and intense. "You are my conquest, my prize," he says. "But you are also my queen. I will defend you and keep you by my side. Your loyalty and devotion will please me greatly."

His words are possessive, but there's an undercurrent of something else - perhaps not quite affection, but a fierce protectiveness that makes your heart race. You feel both comforted and conflicted by his declaration.

Steven's hand resumes its exploration of your body, rough calluses scraping against your sensitive skin. "And in return," he continues, his voice a low rumble against your ear, "you will give me your obedience, your body, and your heart."

You shiver at his words, knowing that he already has more of your heart than you'd like to admit. The life you left behind feels like a distant dream now, fading more with each passing day.

"Yes, my king," you whisper, your voice trembling.

Steven's hand moves to cup your face, turning you to look at him.

"You've pleased me greatly, little wife," he murmurs, his thumb tracing your lower lip. "Perhaps more than I expected when I claimed you."

His words send a flutter through your chest, a warmth you try to suppress. You know you shouldn't crave his approval, shouldn't feel this surge of pride at pleasing him. But you can't help the way your body responds to his touch, the way your heart races at his praise.

Steven leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that's surprisingly soft compared to his earlier ferocity. His beard scratches against your skin as he deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with a possessive thoroughness.

When he pulls away, Steven's eyes darken with renewed desire as he regards you. Without a word, he sits up against the headboard, his muscular frame on full display. His hand cups your cheek, guiding you down his body with gentle but insistent pressure.

You know what he wants without him having to speak. Your heart races as you move lower, trailing kisses down his chest and abdomen. His skin is hot beneath your lips, marred here and there with scars from countless battles. You trace one long scar with your tongue, feeling Steven's muscles tense at the sensation.

When you reach his cock, already half-hard again, you hesitate for just a moment. Steven's hand moves to the back of your neck, urging you on. Slowly, you take him into your mouth, your lips stretching around his considerable girth.

Steven groans, a deep rumble that you feel as much as hear. His hand tightens at your nape as you take him deeper, guiding your movements. You hollow your cheeks, sucking as you bob your head up and down his length. His cock swells and hardens fully in your mouth, stretching your jaw.

"That's it, little wife," Steven growls, his voice thick with pleasure. "Show your king how much you truly missed him."

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!