synopsis: you work on the jackass crew and the camera catches how you and johnny begin to fall for each other 1.4k wc
warnings: use of y/n, fluff, cursing, mentions of blood
a/n: this is lowk buns bc finals week is coming up, but i wanted to get something out before it soon becomes my final weeks 🥀 i swear to get better stuff out soon 🫡
being on the jackass crew was about as challenging as it sounded. you had to travel for work often and deal with stunts that made you nauseous and visibly cringe. however, it had its own perks. it allowed you to continue your passion in filming, and you were surrounded by people who made you laugh. the whole crew was like its own little family. there was also johnny.
johnny was like his own perk by itself. when you first joined, you never expected the relationship that would bloom between the two of you. you really only took the job because you went to high school with chris, and he practically begged you to come work on the crew. you figured that it would get you a good head start in the film industry, and hopefully give you some credibility in the future, so you finally accepted. in an instant, you and johnny were joined at the hip. whether on or off camera, where one went, the other was quickly trailing behind.
he was sitting on a lawn chair, a cold beer in hand, watching as bam and ryan rode around in shopping carts and ran over shit. even though it was technically your day off, you were still watching them perform all the stunts. you could always be found on set, even if they didn’t have anything for you to do. when johnny let out one of his loud laughs, it made you turn your head towards his direction. after almost a year of working with him, his laugh still created butterflies in your belly. you moved over to where he was sitting, and ruffled his hair to get his attention. without even looking up, he already knew that it was you, just by your touch. you always greeted him the same way. he turned his head up towards you, shooting you with his million dollar smile. “hey, darling. what’re you doing here? thought you had the day off?” he asked, with a hint of surprise.
you shrugged in response. “just wanted to watch you guys. not like i got anything better to do you. why? happy to see me?” you asked with a smirk. he stood up from the chair, his over six foot frame blocking the sun as he nearly towered over you. “‘m always happy to see you, you know that,” he replied, before pulling you into a hug. ever the sweet talker, you thought to yourself. your arms wrapped around his shoulders, while his wrapped around your waist. he then pulled you up and swung you around. you let out a spew of giggles, that steve-o noticed.
“man, look at this,” steve-o whispered to chris, tapping him on the shoulder. turning his attention away from bam and ryan, chris’s gaze followed to where steve-o was pointing. to really no surprise, there was you and johnny, talking each other’s asses off and laughing. by this point, johnny had already set you down, but one of his hands still lingered on your waist. “bro, they should just fucking kiss at this point,” he said. steve-o hummed in agreement, and instantly thought of a good idea when he noticed a camera laying abandoned in the grass. he kneeled down and grabbed it, quickly turning it on to capture the moment. “look at these damn lovebirds,” he mumbled, only loud enough for the camera to hear.
a few days pass by, and you’re now filming johnny as he introduces the stunt he’s about to do. “hi, i’m johnny knoxville, and today, i will have my good friend steve-o test out self defense weapons on me. and i also have the beautiful y/n as my camerawoman.” he winks at you with his dashing smile, and you laugh from behind the camera. “yeah, yeah, whatever. get on with it, johnny,” you said, shaking your head to hopefully hide the blush blooming on your face. to the side, steve-o was fake gagging while keeled over. you whipped the camera over to capture him. “get a load of this asshole.” you weren't really annoyed with your friend. if anything, you were a bit glad that it took the attention away from you and your obvious flusteredness from johnny’s compliment. as the stunt progresses, johnny is now rolling around on the ground and holding his stomach as he groans in pain. and maybe it’s been your time on jackass, or maybe it’s the fact that steve-o is cackling next to you, but you can’t help but laugh a little at his pain. yours and steve-o’s laughter combined seems to be contagious, because johnny quickly begins to laugh alongside the two of you. you lean down and hold out your hand to help him up, and he grabs it as you yank him to a standing position. he sways a bit from the two stun guns he just previously endured, so you hold his wrist to keep him stable. “how do you feel?” you ask from behind the camera. he just shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “i think ol’ steve-o is rubbing off on you. you’re becoming as bad as him, laughing at my pain.”
steve-o fake pouts and makes a kiss face towards johnny. “aw, you need me to kiss you better?” he leans in, but johnny playfully pushes him back. “oh, right, my bad. forgot you only wanted y/n to do that,” he retorts, before sticking his tongue out. steve-o’s comment makes you whip your head to look between the two of them, softly whispering ‘huh?’ you can see johnny’s feathers were a bit ruffled by his friend exposing his small (huge) crush on you, but tries to play it off. “you better watch it man, before i spray bear mace in your eye.” safe to say he does later on in the segment.
the tension between the two of you later comes to a halt when johnny and bam are riding on a golf cart, running into old statues and things like that at an abandoned golf course. the segment was going well so far. sure, you were out of breath a little bit from having to keep up with them, but you weren’t afraid of a little cardio. that was, until, they hit a ditch, which caused the whole cart to flip over. immediately you hurried over to them, your camera being sent to damnation when you carelessly threw it. if you weren’t so worried about johnny and bam, you would’ve cursed yourself.
part of the crew was checking in on bam, while you were solely focused on johnny. you knelt down and carefully held his head, gently moving it side to side to look for any injuries. warm blood trickled down your hand and forearm. fuck, definitely a concussion. “hey, johnny, you okay?” you asked softly.
he hazily smiled up at you, blinking rapidly from the sun shining behind you. “goddamn, darlin’... look at you. like an angel,” he slurred, his eyes slipping shut. you patted the side of his face to keep him awake. “don’t do that, you gotta stay awake, yeah? we gotta get you to the hospital.”
he just nodded, and limply moved his head to rest against yours. his eyes fluttered at your gentle touch as you pushed back his short strands of hair that stuck to his sweat ridden forehead. “love ya so much, you know that…?”
“yeah, i know you do, johnny. i love you too,” you replied. you figured it was just the concussion talking, and that he didn’t really mean it.
“no, sweetheart. ‘m serious. like, i love love you. so much. you're so sweet, and funny, and so fucking pretty. i think i loved ya ever since chris brought you on set…” he rambled on and on until his lips pressed against yours.
the kiss was about as good as you think it could be with a concussed man, but it was the best one in your life because it was with him. his lips were slightly chapped, but you didn’t care. not when his hand came up to cradle the back of your head. or when you could feel him smile against your lips as he let out a content hum. you pull back to breathe, and his lips instantly chase after yours. you shake your head ‘no’, and just lean your forehead against his.
“this whole concussion thing wasn’t a plan for you to kiss me was it?” you playfully ask. “nah, darling, this was just a plus,” he replied, rubbing his thumb against your cheek.
unbeknownst to the two of you steve-o and chris had picked up your discarded camera to video the two of you, and your guys’ first kiss. “yo, they better give me credits when they play all these clips at their future wedding,” steve-o mutters.
synopsis: being deran's childhood friend, you grew up around the cody's. and growing up, you secretly harbored crush on the oldest cody boy. just before pope went to jail, you had a one night stand with him. now that he's back? he won't leave your side. and that has smurf pissed. so now, all he has to choose is whose side he'd rather be on: his mother or the "wild" girl who has always loved him 8.1k wc
warnings: set in s1, reader's nicknamed 'berry', age gap (pope is early 30s, reader is late 20s), no established relationship but there's tension, let's pretend that he's over cath, reader is mentioned to have blue hair but no other physical descriptions, cussing, drinking/drug use, smurf and baz (ew), deran's kind of a dick but he apologizes, pope is only soft and vulnerable w the reader and also a lil bit of a dumbass, but he learns in the end, angst but there's a happy ending promise
a/n: i was lowk confused abt the age gap between deran and pope bc i was finding a bunch of info, so for the sake of my fic, they r eight years apart
thank u to the anon who requested this !! this is genuinely so long im sorry 😭
you're probably the only 'true' friend that deran has anymore. meeting in kindergarten, you were the only one who offered your paint when the whole class was making christmas cards. and as a sign of gratitude, he bullied the boys who would tug at your hair or talk shit about the clothes that you wore from the thrift store. after that, the two of you became thick as thieves. wherever one went, the other was sure to follow.
this made you a recurring guest in the cody household. that and the fact that you didn't have the most stable home life. which was hard to believe, considering how deran and all his brothers were raised. deran tried letting smurf to give you a room of your own. it's not like they had three extra bedrooms for you to choose from. but no amount convincing would make smurf change her mind. so most of the time you stayed in deran's room, sharing his bed or the floor. sometimes, when you and deran would get into a fight, days like today, you stay on the couch. if the fight was super bad, then you'd go back to the shitty apartment that your dad lives in.
thankfully, this fight is not one of the bad ones. it's honestly really stupid now that you're thinking about it. deran had smoked your last gram of weed. he then proceeded to not even clean out your bong which he smoked it in. but both of you are too proud to apologize first. all morning you've been avoiding each other. even now, as the three boys and you are by the pool, you're not near deran. "come on, can't you just talk to him? he's been a dick all day," craig asks, sitting on the edge of the pool beside you.
"nope," you respond, popping the 'p'. "i didn't do anything wrong. he did."
"is this still about the weed? berry, if weed is what you want, i can get you weed. hell, i can get you coke."
"first, you know i don't do coke. and second, i don't want my weed from you, craig. i want it from deran. and an apology for being an ass."
craig sighs, running his fingers through his tangled hair. "yeah, alright. but don't say i didn't try to help," he says, before diving back into the pool with his brothers. there's the sound of the sliding door opening and closing, and then smurf's voice saying, "jay, there's some people i'd like you to meet." all four of you look towards her and the unfamiliar boy standing beside her. she forces the brothers to awkwardly introduce themselves one by one. "this is jay, i'm sure you remember him. he's julia's son. he's gonna be staying with us now that she's gone."
what? what does smurf mean by gone? "julia's dead?" you ask, finally finding your voice. smurf looks over at you. "nobody told you, honey? she passed away early this morning. jay, you remember-?"
"berry," he cuts in. you're the only one he recognizes. mainly because of your hair. he always had vague memories of a girl with bright colored hair, but could never put a face to the name. standing up, you quickly dry yourself with your towel, and hug him. you pull back to take a look at him. it's been at least ten years since you last saw him, but now that you're closer, you can see that he's almost the spitting image of his mother.
"it's good to see you, kid. i'm sorry about your mom. she was nice," you say softly. and you mean it. you were young when smurf kicked her out, no older than seven. but you remember her braiding your hair and teaching you how to do makeup for the first time.
"thanks, that means a lot. she... she would talk about you sometimes," he says. hearing that makes you smile. wherever she is now, you hope she knows how much you admired her. smurf doesn't like too much talk about the daughter she disowned, because she quickly ends the conversation and drags jay away to his new room. pope's old room.
"so what do we think of the kid?" baz asks once the sliding door clicks shut.
"i think it's a risky move. he's basically an outsider," craig replies.
"yeah, i agree. who knows what shit julia put in his head," deran chimes in. "what about you, berry?"
even now, in the middle of a fight, deran still wants your opinion on family business. to him, you're still family. "he can't be that bad. smurf used to bring him here and we would all babysit him, remember? he's just a kid. i think we should give him a chance."
the day passes by with all of you following smurf's every command in welcoming jay into the cody household. you clean up his room for him and make him lunch, even though he insists you don't have to. "nah, it's alright. your grandma can be a bitch when i don't do what she wants. no offense," you tell him. the boys find an unused, but nice, tv in the garage to give him. baz even gives him a couple hundreds to buy himself some new shoes and clothes.
now, it's night and you're sat on the couch, lazily flipping through tv channels. deran has warmed up a bit more to you throughout the day, but still hasn't apologized. stubborn assholes, that's what you both are. speak of the devil, deran enters the living room, arms hanging awkwardly at his sides. even without looking at him, you can tell it's him from your peripheral. he sits down beside you on the couch, tossing a baggie of weed in your lap. "that's should be a gram," is all he says.
you pick it up, holding it between your index and middle finger. it's a little more than a gram based on the weight of it. "next time you take my shit, just let me know. i only got pissed because you lied," you say, finally looking over at him.
"yeah, alright. i will."
a few seconds of silence pass by. "why didn't you tell me about julia?"
he shrugs. "i didn't know if you remembered her. we were so young when she left."
"she didn't leave. she was kicked out," you correct. "either way, i would've preferred to find out from you rather than smurf."
finally, he looks at you. and you can tell he's remorseful. "you can come back to the room if you want."
"promise not to kick me in the shin or hog the blanket?" you ask.
"scout's honor, berry."
"fine, alright. since you're practically begging to hang with me," you tease. deran quickly stands, tugging you into his side and rubbing a noogie on your blue head. "seriously, dude! what are we, ten?" you complain, struggling to shove him off. he just laughs.
by the next morning, it's as if you and deran never fought. there's still some minor tension between jay and the rest of the boys, but you hope that it soon subsides. it can't be that bad anyways, since craig and deran are hosting a party as a sort of initiation for jay. the three of you have been setting it up all day. getting beer and booze, drugs, food, anything that will guarantee a cody rager. baz comes back to the house later, catherine and lena in tow.
you're out by the pool with craig and deran, putting some beers in a cooler when the young girl calls your name. "hey, lena!" you exclaim, kneeling down to catch her running body. "you excited for the party?" she just hums and nods. "guess what? i got you some of that unicorn ice cream you love. is it okay if she has some?" you ask, looking towards cath.
"only a little. i don't want her spoiling her dinner."
the young girl practically drags you away into the house when she hears that it's okay. it makes you laugh. catherine follows, leaving baz behind to talk about whatever with his brothers. she sits down at the kitchen island, saying, "baz told me that julia passed. that jay's now living here."
"uh, yeah, he is. he's staying in pope's old room," you reply, pulling out a bowl and spoon for lena, setting it down on the counter beside her ice cream.
"is she still giving you a hard time?" she asks softly.
you slide the bowl across the island to lena, where she sits beside her mom. she mutters a soft 'thank you'. "when is she not?" you joke weakly. "i'm just trying to stay on her good side. just like i always have since becoming a part of this family. i'm sure you understand."
that makes her laugh. "trust me, i do. listen, if things ever go sideways between you and her, my house is always open. you don't have to go back to your dad's place." you like catherine. just like you, she was an outsider in the cody house. and being the only girl around after julia was kicked out, she understanded you in ways not even deran could.
"i appreciate the offer, really, but i'm okay. half the time i go over there he's too drunk and/or high to even know i'm around."
she nods, understanding. "well, the offer always stands if you change your mind."
the party goes by a lot faster than you expect. you do a couple shots, smoke a joint, talk to some the people you know. which isn't a lot if you're being honest. the boys jump off the roof and into the pool. craig pushes you off the roof and into the pool. the fucking asshole. now the sun is starting to set and all the partygoers are gone. catherine's left with lena to put her to bed, leaving baz to hang around. you wouldn't be surprised if it was because he said some stupid shit.
you hover in the pool, resting your arms along the edge. deran and craig are talking about whatever, while a joint gets passed around between the three of you. meanwhile baz sits on the edge of a pool chair, smurf sitting behind him, rubbing his back. it's weird as fuck, if you're being completely honest. she's been this way with her boys for as long as you can remember. it never gets any less unsettling.
"gotta take a piss, i'll be back," you say to craig, handing him the joint. when you pull yourself out of the pool, he wolf whistles. "always love to watch you leave, berry." you flip him off as you walk away.
water drips off of you and onto the floor. you make a mental note to clean it all up so smurf doesn't get on your ass. quickly you finish up your business and head back in the direction of the pool when you hear something break in jay's room. it's really not any of your business, but a small part of you is concerned. he drank a couple of shots because of peer pressure from craig so you worry that he fell over and busted his head open. you walk over to his room, knocking on the door. "jay? you all good?" he doesn't respond. that worries you even more. "alright, i'm coming in. be decent."
you slowly push open the door, peeking your head in. everything looks fine, minus the knocked over lamp in the corner. that's what must've fell. "you alright, kid?" you step into the room, jay standing on one side. and on the other stands a familiar face. one you haven't seen in three years. "andrew?" you whisper.
"you ruined my surprise," pope deadpans, glancing over at jay. you cross the room in three, maybe even two, strides before pulling pope into a tight hug. his arms wrap around your waist, and he rests his head in your neck, breathing you in. you still smell the same, he thinks to himself. like vanilla and lavender. it's a familiar scent that makes him feel calmer than he has in the past three years.
as if sensing the tension between you two, jay awkwardly says, "i'll, uh, i'll head out. back to the pool." pope pulls his head out of your neck, but doesn't let go of you. "don't tell them i'm here," he commands.
"y-yeah, of course."
"nobody knows you're here? not even smurf?" you question once jay's gone.
he shakes his head. "wanted to surprise you but found the kid in my room. she gave him my room?"
"yeah, she did. did jay tell you about julia?" pope doesn't cry, but you can tell that he's close to it. the whites of his hazel eyes are red, rimmed with tears. that's the only answer you need. "oh, andy. i'm so sorry," you whisper, brushing the sides of his face. "you changed your hair," he remarks, fingers lightly tugging at the wet strands. you pick up on the non direct cue that he wants to change the conversation. so you do.
"i changed it shortly after you went to prison. kinda got sick of the red." that's what you tell him. you don't tell him that you changed it because it reminded you too much of him. of the night you shared together on your birthday.
"i like it. suits you," he croaks.
you smile softly. "yeah? i'm glad you do... c'mon, let's go show everyone who's back in town."
if smurf didn't hate you before, which she definitely did, she sure as shit hates you now. first it was you finding out pope got released before she did. then it was him choosing to sit next to you last night when you were all catching up. and now, two days later, you're the one he chose to take with him to do apartment hunting. not smurf. you.
currently, you two are finished. now eating greasy fast food. "i just don't understand. why isn't she letting you stay in one of the spare rooms at the house?" you ask, picking one of the fries off his tray.
"said she doesn't need my parole officer stopping by for piss tests every week. and apparently baz sold my house. are you still sleeping in deran's room?" you hum. "why don't you just move into one of the spare rooms?"
"and have smurf kick me out onto the street when she finds out? no thanks, andy. i'd rather share a bed with deran." you thumb through the open house flyers that sit on the table. "i think the first place was really nice. it's close to the house. but if you don't want one by the house, there was the fourth one we looked at. this one's by the beach."
"did you like any of them?" he asks.
you swallow down the bite you just took off your burger. "you mean the houses?"
"yeah."
"we're buying for you, andy. it matters whether you like them or not."
"i care about you're opinion. you always wanted a house by the beach, right?"
you're surprised he remembers. you must've been only seventeen when you told him. "you remember that?" you question softly. he shrugs likes it's no big deal. "i remember everything you tell me."
"y-yeah, i always have. still do."
"then it's settled i'll buy the fourth one."
by the time you two get home, dinner is ready and the table's set. everyone was just waiting for you and pope to arrive. "dude, finally, you guys took forever. been starving my ass off," deran groans, digging into his pasta. "shut up, asshole," you say, lightly knocking him in the head. "you two settle down," smurf chides. then she looks at pope. "you find a house, baby?" he nods. "is it close by?"
"it's about thirty minutes away. it came furnished so i'll head over there tonight."
smurf purses her lips, putting on a plastic smile. "i'm happy for you, baby." she's not. not really. because pope is making progress. and he's doing it without her. after dinner, everyone splits off to do their own thing. smurf to bed, jay to do homework, baz back home, and craig... doing whatever the fuck craig does. deran sits in the living room, ripping a bong and watching 'rick and morty'. pope hangs in the kitchen, washing dishes. he won't let you help him, but he likes the company. especially because it's you.
"what do you think of, jay?" he asks, hand drying the last set of utensils.
"he seems like a smart kid. has a good head on his shoulders."
"do you think we can trust him?"
you shrug from where you sit on the counter beside the sink. "i think so, yeah. why do you ask?"
"smurf won't let me do any jobs. baz is driving craig to mexico tomorrow morning so he can see a doctor for his chest. i was thinking we could pull a job while they're away. maybe get the help of jay."
"i don't do jobs, andy, you know that." the most you ever do for them is keeping lookout or playing gateway driver. that was as close pope ever let you to being in their world. "besides, i thought you didn't want me doing them."
done with the dishes, pope dries his hands and moves his body to stand between your swinging legs. he doesn't touch you, but his hands rest on each side of your thighs. close enough that when his fingers twitch, they brush bare skin. "i'm not asking you to join us on the job. all i'll need you to do is stay at the house, make sure smurf doesn't come home. and if she does, feed her whatever bullshit lie you think she'll believe."
"i can do that."
"i know you can. you're a smart girl, i trust you. now all we have to do is convince jay and deran."
convincing deran wasn't hard to do. he's been waiting for any opportunity to prove himself as a grown up. not the kid that baz and smurf still see him as. it takes a little more convincing for jay, however. like you told pope, he's a smart kid. and he's not gonna do anything stupid that might risk him getting kicked out of the cody home. but pope promises money, and a chance to show the family that he's one of them. so he agrees.
now, it's the next day, and the three boys are all dressed in black from head to toe. deran and jay are busy loading up the car with supplies, while you and pope stay back in the garage. polishing out all the final details.
"and if smurf comes home while we're gone, you say...?"
"i say that you all went to the beach to teach jay how to surf. you guys haven't been out long, and i don't know when you'll be back."
"good girl," pope praises.
this job is an easy one. you shouldn't feel as anxious as you do right now. but a small part of you is still worried that something will go wrong. jay is young and what if he makes a rookie mistake? that's normal and acceptable in other jobs, but in the jobs that his uncles do? that means time in jail. and you don't want pope to do another second. "are you sure about this? you don't think vin was just yapping in prison?" you ask, nerves getting the better of you.
"i'm sure. he was only telling me about this job because he wanted to pull it with me. he wouldn't lie if that was the case," pope assures. one of his hands reach out to pull your hands away from each other. oh, you hadn't even realized you were picking at the skin around your nails. nervous habit you never really dropped. "everything is gonna be fine, berry. i promise. i'll be back before you know it." the same hand he used to stop your skin peeling is the one he cups the back of your head with. bringing you closer and kissing your hairline.
"be safe," you whisper, fingers curling against the front of his black zip up.
"always, berry."
near the truck, jay stops loading to look at you and his uncle. "are they, uh, together?" deran follows jay's gaze, a small smile on his face when he sees. "it's complicated with them."
"complicated how?" jay asks, but he doesn't get answer now that pope is walking towards the truck. he bangs on the side, catching their attention. "let's head out. we're wasting daylight."
you spend the rest of the day on the couch, watching tv, and worrying. a whole lot of worrying. every five minutes you check your phone, making sure you don't miss a single phone call or text. it's nothing but radio silence every single time. guess that's a good thing, though. no news is good news. the sun is already starting to set once the boys arrive back. it's not a phone call that lets you know that they're here. no, it's the yelling coming from the garage.
pushing the blanket off you, you stand and start walking towards the voices. the tile floor is cold against your bare feet, making you shiver. jay passes by as you head out there. you grab his arm before he can leave. "everything go okay?" you whisper.
"yeah, they're just fighting in there now." you nod, letting him go and saying a soft thanks. jay was right. pope and deran are in the middle of a screaming match. they haven't even noticed that you're in the room with them. "i just don't understand why we had to take him with us!" deran exclaims.
"what's the big deal, huh? you got your money. we all got our fair share, so quit your whining," pope snaps, shrugging off his jacket.
"it's bullshit. he's barely been in the family for what? a week? now he's doing jobs with us?"
"you know, if you're gonna keep complaining, i'll just take your share and split with jay."
"fuck off!" deran yells, shoving pope. that's when you finally step in. you grab pope by the back of his shirt, pulling him away from deran before he can take a swing at him.
"what has gotten into you two? you were perfectly fine this morning, now you come home and you're acting like a bunch of teenagers!"
"tell your little boyfriend that he's being an asshole!" deran says, pointing at pope.
"oh, real mature. if i remember right, you were the one who wanted to stop sucking smurf's tit and do your own jobs. i chose to bring you along on this job. you got this money because of me."
"like you're any better? i'm not the one who's been stuck at berry's side since getting out of prison. going from sucking one tit to the next, huh, pope?"
if it weren't for the tight hold you had on his shirt, popw definitely would've crossed the room and decked deran right there. "don't you fucking talk about her like that," pope barks.
"andy, it's fine," you whisper. then you look at deran. "can you stop picking a fight with him? he did you a favor, de. he just got out of prison and took a risk by doing this job. i think you can cut him a little slack."
"seriously? you're taking his side? after everything that i've done for you..."
"i'm not trying to take anyone's side. i understand why you're frustrated right now, but the last thing that anyone needs is for us to be fighting with each other," you reason. you're silently pleading with him to understand. the worst part, is he does. he understands completely what you're trying to say. but adrenaline and emotions are still high. and sometimes that makes people say the wrong thing.
"yeah, whatever. go ahead and jump onto the next cody boy dick that'll want you," he scoffs, stomping out of the room. but not before harshly bumping your shoulder with his.
pope doesn't ask you if you're okay. he knows you're not. he's not an idiot. "want me to take you home?" he asks, voice gruff but soft. "i-i don't... i don't have anywhere else to go," you whisper. "that's okay. i'll take you home with me, c'mon."
once at his house, pope gives you an old shirt for you to change into. he gives you prviacy to change in his bedroom, hovering right outside the door. you strip down to your bra and panties, pulling his shirt over your head. "i'm done," you announce. a second passes. he opens the door to see you sitting on the bed, back pressed against the headboard. pope digs in his back pocket, pulling out a wad of cash and holding it out to you. "what's this for?"
"it's for keeping lookout for smurf. that's half of my share so deran won't keep whining," he explains.
"andy, you don't have to. keep your money." you attempt to give it back, but he just closes your fist around the money. "keep the money. get some sleep, we've all had a long day," he orders. he turns on his heel, ready to lend you his bed as he stays on the couch. not like he sleeps much anyways. but your hand catches his wrist before he can leave. "can you stay? please? i don't wanna be alone," you whisper. and he can't deny you when you look up at him with those pretty eyes of yours.
he swallows down the nerves and nods. you scoot over to make space for him. he slowly sits, back straight and as tight as coil when he leans against the headboard. heart beating even faster when you lay your head on his chest. the bare skin of your knee brushes against his arm when you bring them to your chest. this position is so familiar to him. he remembers sitting in his old room with you like this the night before he did the bank robbery. when it was too cold or lonely in prison, which it was almost every night, he replayed that memory in his head to keep him warm.
"are we ever gonna talk about it?" you ask.
"talk about what?"
"about the night of my birthday."
that night. pope remembers that night too. but he only thought about that night when he committed acts that he is far too ashamed to admit. "what about that night?"
"...do you regret it?" you whisper.
his response is almost immediate. "no. i don't. why would you ask that?"
he feels you shrug. "i don't know. i just thought that's why you never wanted me to visit you in prison."
"that's not why i didn't want you visiting, berry. folsom was a shitty place. and i didn't want you in there, even if it was just to visit me. i didn't want you to see what it turned me into," he admits softly. it breaks your heart. "what was it like in there?" you sit up just enough to look at him. sitting your chin where your head just rested.
it takes him a minute to gather his thoughts. "they used to drug me and keep me locked in my cell. always said it was for my protection but i hated how numb i felt. and there was this guard who would strip me down and tie me to a chair in the middle of the room. he'd keep all the lights on, music blasting so loud i thought my head would burst. then he would take me outside and parade me around. humiliate me while i was covered in drool and shit. when i thought it was done? he'd do it all over again."
once he's done talking he won't look at you. you're not even sure what to say. 'i'm sorry' isn't appropiate. what do you have to be sorry for? you didn't do that shit to him. and sorry won't take away the trauma he experienced. "does anybody else know?" is the best thing you come up with. pope shakes his head. "only you."
"it's safe with me, andy. i promise."
finally, he looks at you again. "i know. i trust you." and coming from him? that means a lot. "i missed you," he says first. "i missed you too," you say without missing a beat. you lay your head back on his chest. his heart beats slower now. "i'm sorry i couldn't be there for you then. but i'm here now. i'll look after you."
"it's nasty work," he retorts.
"not to me. not if it's you." your breath slowly begins to even out. body going slack against his. you've fallen asleep. pope slowly wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you closer. he rests his cheek atop your head, breathing you in. "i'll look after you, too," he whispers into the dark.
you end up staying at pope's house for a lot longer than intended. not that he minded one bit. but you felt bad for free loading. every attempt you would make to pay him with your paycheck from the record store was shot down. every time you would try to help clean or do laundry, he would lightly shove you away from wherever you were trying to work and take over. "just let me take care of you," he would say. pope liked having you around. so much so that he began to fill the fridge with your favorite foods and drinks. even bought you a whole new wardrobe. he started treating this less like a short time arrangement and more like you had moved in permanently.
about a week has gone by, and you still haven't spoken to deran since the fight. even now, as you lounge by the cody pool, with deran only a couple feet away, neither of you will make eye contact with one another. you're attempting to peel the orange you grabbed on your way outside. but with your freshly manicured nails (which pope also paid for), you can't dig your fingernails in deep enough to get a good peel. after your second annoyed sigh, pope looks over his shoulder from where he's crouched by the fountain he's building. "you okay?" he asks.
"i can't peel my stupid orange," you complain, tossing it down in your lap. he dusts his hands off on his pants, moving to sit at the edge of the pool chair you've been lounging on for the past hour. "here, let me do it for you," he says. you drop it in his outstretched hand. his thick fingers dig into the orange, pulling it apart in large chunks. even once it's stripped of its peel, he doesn't stop until the whole thing is separated into individual slices. "there you go."
"thanks, andy." you sit up, grabbing the slices from him. he nods, doing his best to avoid dropping his gaze towards your exposed cleavage in your bikini. "you talk to deran yet?" he asks, looking over at the mentioned man who's yelling in the pool with craig. "no, i haven't. you?" pope shakes his head. "think he'll ever talk to us again?" your words are teasing, but pope can hear the genuine sadness that peeks through. he's ashamed at the bubble of jealousy that grows in the pit of his belly.
he knows that deran is your best friend. and that he was the only one who was there for you when pope got sent to jail. he should be grateful for that. and he is. but still, pope can't help but feel envy at the relationship you have with his brother. it's closer than the one he has with you. maybe that has to do with the age gap, or the fact that he was gone for three fucking years. he prays that that'll change. "everything will be fine," he assures. "deran will come around. he always does."
smurf then comes outside, calling pope's name. "baby, you staying for dinner?" she asks. he doesn't answer her right away, though. he looks at you, tilting his head. a silent way of him asking if you want to stay. when you nod, that's when he replies. "yeah, we're gonna stay." the inclusion of you ruffles smurf's feathers. you can tell it does. "berry, honey? come help me in the kitchen." an order. not a suggestion.
pope's eyes watch you the whole way as you walk into the house until you're out of sight. there's an uneasy feeling that grows in the pit of his stomach. the thought of you and smurf alone doesn't bode well with him. she wouldn't be dumb enough to do anything to you with him or any of the cody boys, in fact, around. but he still keeps his attention on you the whole time. "you and deran talking yet, honey?" smurf asks, setting down food, plates, and silverware in front of you. without argument, you plate up dinner for you and the family. "no, we haven't."
"what happened?" you know you can't tell her about the job that pope just pulled with his brother and nephew, so instead you lie and say, "it was just a bullshit argument. i said some stuff, he said some stuff. the usual." either she believes you, or just doesn't care to pull the truth out of you. which is rare, but it happens. "so hard headed, the both of you. just like siblings. do you remember when the two of you were seven and started going around telling everyone that you were twins?" that pulls an actual smile out of you. of course you remembered. you and deran would wear similar outfits to try and convince people. no one ever believed you, obviously, because neither of you looked alike one bit. but you had twin souls, or whatever the fuck it's called. "yeah, i remember."
she carries half the plates to the table, and you carry the other half. "how's your dad then? i'm assuming you're staying at his place?"
"uh, i wouldn't know. i haven't seen him in about two months. i'm actually staying at pope's for the time being."
smurf falters for just a second. you notice it from the corner of your eye. but she recovers quickly. "well, that's nice of him, honey. go tell the boys that dinner is ready." you nod, going back outside. it silently makes you proud how much you've gotten under her skin recently. maybe she's finally realizing how little control she has on her boys now. that they're not the same kids she once knew. but when you think you have a hold on her, she shows that she's two steps ahead. if only you had realized that sooner.
the next day, pope heads out to smurf's earlier than usual. he says something about the fountain and a few other things that you can't really remember because you were half asleep when he told you. he kisses you on your temple, tucks you under the covers tightly, and leaves. you wake up about an hour later. deciding to clean around the house, do the laundry. there's not much to do since pope has always been someone who keeps their space tidy and neat, but it's the least you can do. he has let you stay at his home for the past two weeks.
you've just finished folding and putting away your clothes when you hear the front door open and shut. but it's not the gentle sound it usually is. it's rough, nearly shaking the whole house. something bad must've happened to have him acting like this. your socked feet pad softly on the tile floor as you head towards the front of the house. "andy?" you call out softly, looking around every corner to find him. he's standing in the kitchen, back turned to you. his body language is tight, but his breathing is erratic. "andy?" you say again. "what happened?"
"did you know?" pope snaps, disregarding your question. he's angry, that much is clear. but he's angry at... you? "did i know what?" you ask, genuinely confused. "about the pills! don't play dumb with me, berry!" finally, he turns to look at you. this isn't the pope you know. you've seen this side of him before, sure. directed at the scumbags who go in and out of the cody household. sometimes at his brothers when they piss him, or at smurf when she pushes him too far. but never at you. "andy, what pills are you talking about? you don't take-"
you don't get the chance to finish your sentence when he throws the pill bottle at the wall behind you. the orange container breaks on impact, causing all the white pills to shoot out in different directions. it doesn't hit you, pope made sure that it wouldn't before throwing it. but the sound is so loud and reminds you of your father's drunken outbursts that you can't help but flinch. there's a flicker of guilt in his eyes at his actions, but it's quickly masked with anger all over again. not just anger. hurt. that someone, maybe the only person he truly trusts, lied to him. or so he believes.
"you knew that she was slipping that shit in my food." not a question. a statement. like he's already decided you're guilty before hearing your case. "i swear to god, i had no idea she was doing that shit to you! you don't think that if i would have known, i wouldn't tell you immediately?" you retort. "you're telling me that you didn't see her mix a crushed up pill in my plate of food?" he questions.
fuck. fuck fuck fuck.
of course that's why she asked you to help her in the kitchen yesterday. panic begins to rise in your chest. consuming you from the inside out. whatever bullshit smurf planted in him this morning while you weren't there has already taken root. the odds truly are stacked up against you in this moment. nothing you say will convince him. so you just stick to the truth. "i didn't see her do it, andy. you gotta believe me. i didn't know that she was doing that to you," you beg. you mover closer to him, attempt to grab his hand, but he pulls away from you. the first time he's ever done that.
"don't touch me. i trusted you. i trusted you," he repeats, slowly backing away from you. "and i shouldn't have." he turns on his heel and locks himself in his bedroom in a matter of seconds. so fast that you don't even have the chance to do anything but watch him walk away. the second you hear that click, your chest caves in. you feel stupid. you should've known that smurf would do something so cruel to you. the walls of the house feel as if they're closing in on you. your breaths are rapid and uneven, making you feel lightheaded.
i can't stay here is the conclusion you come to. thankfully, you're phone is still charging on the counter from where you left it last night. and your purse beside it. you hold the phone in one hand, and the purse in the other. slipping on whatever shoes are by the door, probably your beat up vans from senior year, and hurry out of the house without a second thought. you walk for what feels like hours. by this point, your feet ache and legs burn. you don't even realize where you're now at until you blink away the tears you've been keeping at bay.
your dad's house.
you look down at your phone. it's nearing one pm. you've walked for almost two hours. no missed calls or texts from pope. you open your contacts, hovering on cath's name. if you called, you know she would answer. but the last thing you wanted was to be a burden on her. she practically has to raise lena all by herself, and you know that there's no room for you at her house. not even half a scroll down is deran's contact. you're not even sure if he would pick up if you called. on top of that, you don't think you could calmly live in smurf's house before punching her lights out. beside, deran would probably take pope's side when he inevitably finds out about the falling out between you and his brother.
at this moment, it sinks in that you don't have that many people in your life. you had more until the record store you worked at closed for good, leaving you and all your old coworkers to slowly drift apart. there's no other choice but to dig out that old key and enter back into your childhood home.
three days have passed, and pope's starting to get worried. the second he heard the front door shut he immediately regretted how angry he got with you. he couldn't bring himself to call or text you that same day. so then he waited until the next day. but then you didn't pick up. he called the day after that. still no reply. he stops by smurf's place because obviously if you weren't with him you would be with deran, right? but pope finds the youngest cody brother alone in his room.
"where is she?" pope asks, not even bothering to knock as he barges into the room. "who? berry?" deran questions, setting down his bong. "yes, berry. she hasn't picked up her phone."
"i don't know, man. she hasn't called me. she's been living with you for these past few weeks, not me. why? something happen?"
pope shifts from one foot to the other. fingers twitching at his side. "we got into a fight a few days ago. i found out that she knew about these antipyschotics smurf was putting in my food-"
"hold on, smurf was drugging you up?" deran interrupts.
"you didn't know?"
"fuck no, man. and you think berry knew? who told you that shit?"
"it was smurf-"
deran cuts pope off with a snort. "smurf told you that berry knew about the pills? if i didn't know about the pills, berry sure as shit didn't know. because i would've told her. meaning she would've eventually told you. smurf played you like a fucking fool."
pope can't believe it. he should've known that smurf would pull some manipulative shit like this. and he fell for it like a kid. just like he always has. naively he believed that you broke his trust. only to realize that you were on his side this whole time. you truly had no idea about the pills. you were telling the truth.
you were telling the truth.
"fuck," pope mutters, running his hands over his buzzed hair. "so if she's not with me or you, where else would she go?"
deran sighs, shaking his head. "only one place i can think of: her dad's."
the house is as dirty and rundown as pope remembers. he's been here a handful of times. most of the time it was because you had run away from the house after a fight with deran or craig. he never saw himself returning.
it smells like cigarette smoke and cheap beer. all the blinds are drawn shut, leaving no light in the house. except for the light coming from the tv. it highlights your dad's passed out frame on his recliner. pope doubts that the older man even knows you've been staying in his house for the past three days. he walks past your dad to peek his head into the kitchen. you're not in there. then he stalks down the hall to the room at the end of the hall. your old bedroom.
slowly, pope pushes the door open, a quiet creak echoing in the otherwise quiet house. you're laying on the bed, back turned to the door. he knows that you're not actually sleeping. your body language is too tight. "berry?" he whispers softly, awkwardly standing at the foot of the bed. you stir, but don't respond. "berry?" he says again. "just let me talk to you, please."
finally, you give up the sleeping act and sit up against the bedframe. "what do you want?" you ask. "i just wanna talk," pope repeats. "talk about what? you wanna throw some more accusations at me?" pope drops his head in shame. "deran told me the truth. that you really didn't know about the pills."
"it's almost as if i tried telling you that," you snap. "but you chose not to believe me."
"...are you mad at me?"
"what do you think, pope?"
he flinches. actually flinches at the name that falls from your lips. he can't remember the last time you've called him that name. but all he knows it that he hates it. "andy. don't call me that, berry, please." he sways from side to side, like he's not sure where to go. he wants to move closer to you, but fears the rejection that you will undoubtedly give him. "i know i messed up, okay? i said trusted i you and went back on that statement because i got scared. you were the only person who never seemed scared of me. you treated me like i was normal. you... you made me feel normal." pope watches as you stand up from the bed, slowly walking towards him. he barely moves an inch as you stop right in front of him. from up close, he can see the dark circles you've gained from lack of sleep. but even now, you look as pretty as ever in his eyes.
"i'm not that mad at you, andy. if anything, i'm hurt. i'm hurt that after all this time, you truly believed that i would've done something like that to you. you say that you trust me, and i believe that you do, but you clearly don't trust me enough if you're just ready to believe smurf the second she tells you anything. i'm on your side, andy, and she's trying to ruin that."
you don't hesitate to pull pope into a hug when you notice the tears beginning to well in his eyes. deep down, you knew that this wasn't really his fault. it was just the way he grew up. the way smurf rotted his brain and made it seem like she was a saint no matter what she did. he'd snap out of it eventually. even now, he was slowly pulling himself away from her and the mind games she constantly played.
"i'm sorry. i'm so sorry, berry. it won't happen again, please. i promise. i'll be so good to you," pope whispers into your neck. you pull away just enough to look at him, making him whine. "it's okay. we're okay," you reassure, pressing a kiss on his cheek. "let's just go, yeah? i don't wanna be here anymore." he listens without a second thought, carrying your purse even though you don't ask him to. he keeps a guiding hand on the small of your back towards the front door. you leave just as quietly as you entered, with your dad completely unaware that you were ever there.
you're surprised to see deran leaning against his green jeep, which is parked next to pope's truck. pope looks at you, giving you a silent look that asks, 'are you good with him here?' when you nod, he nods, and heads into his truck. "what are you doing?" you ask softly. "i followed pope here just in case you needed help beating his ass after the stupid shit he said," deran jokes. "but i'm also here to say i'm sorry for how i acted the other day. i was a fucking dick to you when i shouldn't have been. and i was an even shittier friend by pushing you away."
"it's okay, de. i forgive you," you reply. deran opens his arms. "awkward hug?" you laugh softly. "yeah, awkward hug." he pulls you in tight, squeezing you until you have to punch him to let go. "you sure you don't want me to beat pope's ass? the offer still stands if you want."
"i think i'm okay for now, but i'll let you know next time."
"alright, i'll see you later, yeah?" deran asks. you nod, waving goodbye as you walk towards pope's truck, hopping into the truck as he holds the passenger door open for you. once inside, pope walks across the front of the car and into the driver's side. "you hungry? you want me to get you something?" pope questions. "no, i'm okay. i think i'd rather just go home with you."
home with you.
"yeah, let's go home," he agrees, pulling out of the driveway. even after everything, you're still choosing him. and he'll choose you forever.
jack being banned from cuddling but one day robby is a little bitch and needs to be punished and has to watch as jack feels up their roommate while they take a nap.
jack putting robby in the cuck chair 🤤🤤🤤
jack punishing robby (rabbot x f!reader)
“jack! leave her alone, she’s tired” robby protests from the reading chair in the corner of the bedroom that jack marched him to and ordered him to sit in before climbing into bed next to you.
jack scoots up behind you, throwing the covers off your body so robby can see everything. his hands roam your body, squeezing and grabbing at your warm, plush skin until he reaches your ass where he digs his palms in, pulling your cheeks apart slightly to expose your cunt.
“she doesn’t mind, do you sweetheart?” jack whispers low in your ear, his voice all gravelly and deep. you stir sleepily and turn into him, shaking your head you let out a quiet, “nuh uh, don’t mind.” as you cuddle into jack’s broad chest.
he slips his hand between your legs, exploring your folds while robby watches from across the room, his lip thrown out and chin wobbling because he knows you need your rest and also he’s a little jealous of jack touching you and not him.
jack slips two fingers inside you and you hook your leg over his, spreading them so robby has a good view of what’s happening.
“mm, soo good. such a good girl for me, sweetheart. see, this could’ve been you if you hadn’t been such a little bitch today” jack side eyes robby as he pumps his fingers inside of you. robby’s own hand is palming his cock over his pants, letting out little pained groans as he watches the man he loves finger your pretty little hole and not his :(((
mean!jack and sweet!robby x reader rabbot dynamic truthers rise!!!!
want to be added to my robby taglist .ᐣ reply to this post ᝰ.ᐟ (taglist is tagged from another acc)
Michael says Jack is lonely. Maybe that's why neither of you saw what was happening. (f!reader)
He takes up so little space in your home. You suppose it makes sense. Jack does have his own, one he and his wife built, just as Michael and you did. Jack isn't staying with you for pleasure. From the moment Michael broached the topic, talked about how Jack has to return to an empty house every morning, you knew how necessary this arrangement was.
Still, Jack moves like a shadow. Because of their schedule, Jack is rarely around when Michael is home, only making his presence known around mid-afternoon. That's around when Jack decides to end his daily five-hour retreat into the guest bedroom. You know he doesn't sleep. During the day when you're home alone with Jack, working in the office right down the hall, all you can hear is sheets rustling and the bed creaking.
When Jack emerges, it's a different story. He's present, friendly, and willing and able to tell a goddamn good story. Sometimes, conversation flows so well that you have to remind yourself that Jack is still mourning and may need space during his few hours of free time, but your attempts to not overwhelm him typically end with Jack finding you wherever you're holed up to keep chatting you up.
You find it easy to be with Jack, to talk to him. Not that speaking with Robby is difficult, but he's at work so much, and when Michael does eventually come home he's just so tired. You never want to burden him with your problems on top of everything that he already dealt with at work.
With Jack, you see him after he's just woken up. A little venting-session comes more naturally when you know it's not going to be the straw that breaks your husband– or Jack's –back. It's the same reason why Jack always talks to you when he returns from work in the morning. You're awake enough from sending Robby off to the hospital to be an eager, enthusiastic listener.
Needless to say, you like Jack. You have no reason to think that anything was unusual, not even when your friends began to make comments. They joke that you're basically having an emotional affair. The first time one of them says it, you laugh so much you nearly pass out. You tell Michael about it on the ride home. He doesn't laugh when you mention the ridiculous little comment, but he does say how glad he is that you're getting along with Jack.
You don't tell Jack about it, though. Not even the next week, when Jack wakes up on your day off with a nice bottle of Kentucky Bourbon. You think about it though, in the moment right before you convince yourself that day-drinking isn't bad for you if you do it with a doctor. Fortunately, it doesn't sour your afternoon, which unfolds with laughter and good company. By sundown, you and Jack are huddled on one end of the couch, talking in hushed tones about, of all things, your weddings.
Jack holds it together fairly well. Despite the grief and the alcohol, his voice is solid when he talks about his wife. Perhaps he's always like this, but you prefer to think it's the comforting hand you place just above his knee that helps Jack speak so freely.
He talks more of their marriage, of his wife. You smile and nod along, sniffle when the emotions become too much for you. Eventually, your head falls to the side, resting against the bicep Jack has thrown over the back of the couch. Jack stops speaking then and observes you. He takes so long to do so that your heart begins to pound in your ears. Then, he speaks.
"You know," Jack brushes a strand of loose hair behind your ear. "You look like her."
That's the moment you first question it. For a fleeting second, but in a full, coherent sentence, you think— now, that's unusual! Quickly,, the thought passes. The brief contact– the comment –gets swallowed up by the booze metabolizing in your stomach, and in the matter of seconds you've entirely forgotten about it in the first place.
When Michael returns that night, he finds you with a lazy grin and a blushing Jack at your side. You point to the nearly empty liquor bottle and tell him to catch the fuck up. He does. Like you, Michael lets the liquor quiet those thoughts of why his wife was getting drunk with his best friend. Though, perhaps the bitterness linger, because when Robby fucks you that night, he makes sure that you don't swallow all those pretty noises you used to make before Jack moved in.
When you truly question the arrangement is at the start of a long weekend. You and Michael have off and decide that the best way to spend the day is by doing nothing, so you lay in bed, snoozing the daylight away. At least, that was the plan.
Ten minutes to nine, the sound of the front door opening and closing reaches your bedroom. It wakes you, but you know well enough that it's only Jack coming home from his double shift. Then, the door to your bedroom opens.
There isn't ample time for you to sit up before a warm body slides into bed behind you. Michael is free to jolt upright. He looks ready to kill before his face falls.
"Morning, sweetheart," Jack's voice fills your ears as arms— also Jack's! —wrap around you. When you attempt to remove yourself, Jack tightens his hold, "Jus' wait a bit. Wanna hold you when I…" Jack's breathing evens. You think he's fallen asleep, but when you try to slip away, Jack utters a name.
His wife's name.
Michael curses softly in front of you. His face is twisted in pain, but as much as your heart aches for Jack, you would very much like to not be spooned by your sleep-deprived friend in front of your husband.
"Michael—"
"Don't," your husband grunts. The blankets pool at his waist. You're still frozen in bed, muscles taught at Jack's hands glide along them. They're lazy motions, ones you've felt countless times from Michael when he's come home from a shift half-dead and almost entirely asleep. "Is he hurting you? Are you… uncomfortable?"
"No," you shake your head, slowing your breath to hopefully stop your heart from pounding like it is. Your effort is made useless when Jack's hand, the one that had been resting on your abdomen, shifts upwards. "Michael," you gasp, voice thin as you try not to look as affected as you are. "He's touching my…"
Your husband's eyes fall to your breasts, once barely covered by your nightgown and now encompassed by Jack's large hand. You feel the calloused pads of his fingers through the silk negligee. Michael's eyes darken, but you find no anger there. None, not even at the sight of another man's hand on you.
When his gaze find your face again, you find his expression that of worry. "Do you want him to stop?" Michael asks.
"What?" Your face heats as you stutter, "M-Michael, he's touching my tit!"
"That's not what I asked, baby," Michael says softly. "It's okay. If you don't want him to stop, that's okay."
Your mouth falls open, but no sound comes out. It feels as though your brain has stopped working entirely.
Michael just smiles, truly smiles. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, and you're reminded of the same motion, done by hands so similar to the ones brushing your concealed nipple.
Michael leans down, his lips brushing yours as he whispers, "If it means anything, I like seeing his hands on you."
summary: After Park the Shark gets a little too forward with you in the ER Jack starts to question himself and your relationship.
contains: MDNI! Angst, Fluff, a little allusion to smut because I just can't help myself.
word count: 2.4k
author's note: just a short and sweet little jack fic-let to try and work myself out of a writers block. please leave a comment if this speaks to you in any way! having a little crisis of confidence over here lol
The ER hummed with anticipation as you waited for the waterpark victims to be wheeled into the ED. As the first ambulance pulls up Robby grabs you, motioning for Whitaker, and Ogilvie to follow, directing traffic towards trauma one.
“What do we have?” Whitaker asks.
“A fall from 10 feet onto a metal fence. Right below the knee. Unconscious, maybe from the pain. Good vitals.” Robby says.
“Good lung sliding right and left,” Whitaker says with this stethoscope pressed to her chest.
“Airway patent, breath sounds bilaterally.” You add, nodding in agreement with the R1 across from you.
“Two view tib-fib.” Robby says looking down at the patient.
“Pushing cefazolin and gent now,” you say, attaching the syringe to the IV, pumping the fluid in one at a time.
“Why do we take down the tourniquet, Whitaker?” Robby looks down at the R1.
“To give the residual limb blood flow,” Whitaker nods, “just two little pumpers.”
“A couple of figure eights ought to take care of those. Park,” Robby greets the ortho surgeon as he steps into the trauma room.
“Park the Shark, orthopedic surgeon.” Whitaker leans over to Ogilvie, speaking low. Park gives you a once over.
“What are you doing later?” He nods at you, a small smirk on his face.
“Not you.” You don’t even look up from the computer, Robby chuckles behind you, as you push the scans towards Park to show him the x-ray, “favorable amputation for reattachment, pretty clean cut. Fence sliced through like a guillotine.”
“Not too bad,” Park agrees, wandering towards where Whitaker and Ogilvie sit beside the patient.
“Just tying off a couple arterioles,” Whitaker offers.
“I'm not blind.” Park says flatly, “where's the amputated leg?"
“Double bagged on ice,” you say, watching him with a hand on your hip.
“Sterile saline on the inner bag. Ice water in the outer bag. No direct ice-on-skin contact.” Whitaker says as Park slips the leg out of the bag, examining it closely.
“We spent a lot of time prepping-” Ogilvie starts.
“He still needs to look,” Whitaker mumbles.
“Antibiotics?” Park asks curtly.
“Cefazolin and gent,” you say with the same affect, “we've cleared her chest, abdomen, and pelvis.”
“Clean wound, no crush injury, rapid transport time. Replantation is a go. I'll book an OR. Irrigate the hell out of this with 3 liters.” Shark nods at you, as if you had done the entire case alone.
“3 liters?” Whitaker confirms, confused by the large quantity.
“Of saline, genius.” Shark says, voice flat.
“Thanks, Shark.” Robby says.
“Bye doctor,” Park nods at you.
“Ok,” you say, not bothering to look up at him as he leaves.
“I knew he meant saline,” Whitaker looks between you and Robby asking for confirmation that you know he’s not an idiot.
“Ignore him,” you say, still sounding agitated at the whole interaction.
“Yeah, Shark doesn’t really like anyone,” Robby offers the two, slightly shaken, young doctors sitting in front of him.
“He seems to like her just fine,” Ogilvie points a gloved finger to you and you scoff.
“That’s just because he wants to f-” you cut yourself of realizing your chief attending is standing right next to you, “I think I hear someone calling my name out there, yeah no, I gotta-” you push out the door, everyone in the room knowing that no one was calling you.
“She was going to say fuck her,” Ogilvie says.
“Thank you for clarifying Ogilvie,” Robby says, giving a curt nod.
You don’t usually work the day shift but after McKay got a call from Harrison’s school she had to bow out for the day. Robby is certainly excited to work with you and get to know you a little better, you are his best friend's favorite resident, in more ways than one. Robby knows that Jack is seeing you, however the exact parameters of your relationship are unclear to the chief attending. He’s tried to spot slip ups between the two of you during hand-offs, any indication that you two are anything more than co-workers, but you are entirely unflappable and Jack is the same. He assumes the secrecy is because you and Jack want to keep things in your private lives private but the truth is Jack himself is unsure of the exact nature of your relationship.
The two of you are having sex, hot, passionate sex, on a regular basis. He feels like a teenager again, desperate to have his mouth on yours, his hands on your body, his cock in your tight pussy. The first shift after the two of you hooked up Jack could barely look at you, his ears flushing red every time he saw you, thinking of the day before when you were panting and whimpering beneath him, squeezing him like a vice, letting him come inside you... Over time he got better at staying composed. No one at the hospital had suspected anything, he maintained his cool outer shell without an issue, but for those first couple of weeks he had felt like he was melting inside. More recently the two of you started getting breakfast together after a shift, staying at each other’s places, lingering near one another in the ER…
“Your little resident is fiery, I like her for you,” Robby smirks as Jack stands next to him at the hub, the senior attendings preparing to start hand-offs.
“Oh yeah? What’d she do to get you so wound up?” The corner of Jack’s mouth curves up ever so slightly.
“Just put Shark in his place this afternoon,” Robby says, pushing his glasses up to rest on his head.
“Park? Why? Was he bothering her?” Jack’s mouth drops, imperceptible to a passerby but Robby notices. Shit. He had just meant to tease his friend a little, not wind him up before a shift.
“Nah he’s just- he just seems to be uh, interested, but she shut him down,” Jack gives him a look, waiting for Robby to elaborate, “no he just- he just asked her what she was doing later,”
“Well, what did she say?” Jack crosses his arms over his broad chest.
“Man, you should just talk to her,” Robby sighs, regretting saying anything.
“Robby,” Jack looks at him with a hard stare.
“She said ‘not you,’” Robby shrugs, “‘what are you doing later?’ ‘not you,’ that was it- it was funnier when she said it.”
Jack’s mouth is in a firm line.
“Fuckin’ ortho surgeons,” Jack mumbles.
“I mean… glass houses, brother.” Robby says, again without thinking.
Jack raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms over his chest, silently prompting Robby to explain himself.
“You, you have been known to try to charm the odd patient… or nurse… or doctor…” Robby tries to placate him.
“That's different.” Jack’s head pulls back slightly.
“Why?” Robby scrunches his eyebrows.
“Because- because I'm seeing her.” Jack says, dropping his voice low.
“You weren’t always seeing her.” Robby pauses, looking in the distance, “actually now that I think about it she’s the only person I haven’t seen you make eyes at."
“What do you mean? You don’t think she’s charmed by me?” Jack cocks an eyebrow.
“Yeah but you don’t do the whole Dr.-Jack-Abbot-thing with her, there’s no smoke or mirrors, you’re just… being Jack.”
“Hey,” you slide next to Jack where he stands at the hub, resting your hands on the desk dangerously close to his, “heard you’re taking Dr. Al for a beer, can you put in a good word for me?”
“With Al-Hashimi? Why?” Jack turns away from you, starting to walk towards the ambulance bay.
“Uh, because she’s a smart, assertive attending with a cool, humanitarian background? I mean the AI shit is lame but I don't know, I feel like I could learn some stuff from her,” you chatter away, following him closely, not entirely picking up on his foul mood. “Not that I don’t love to learn from you but- I don't know, men have been in charge of me my whole life, it would be nice to have another woman be a mentor figure. And I wanna do a slash trach.”
“Why don’t you ask Shark to teach you?” Jack says with a little bite once the two of you step outside.
“Shark? Yeah I’ll ask him for help if I ever need to use a hammer,” you breathe out a laugh, “He’s… how do i say this professionally….” you purse your lips and tap your chin, pretending to think, “he’s the worst.”
“Yeah well he thinks very highly of you,” Jack mutters.
“Oh my god. Has Robby been whispering in your ear? Jack, it was a non-event. He does it all the time. I’m used to brushing him off.” You say sympathetically.
“He does it all the time?” Jack head snaps to you.
“Not literally,” you sigh, “you have no reason to worry about Shark, I can't stand him, there’s nothing to be jealous about,”
“Maybe you’re the one who’s jealous,” Jack turns away from you slightly, his comment prompting you to let out a sharp breath as a laugh.
“Who am I supposed to be jealous of?” You say incredulously.
“I’m not having this conversation right now,” Jack rubs his hands over his face.
“Oh my god.” you let out a breathy laugh, “you want me to be jealous. Why?”
“You’re acting like a child.” He turns to you.
“Me? Are you serious right now?” You cross your arms, staring at him with your eyebrows raised. Jack says nothing, starting to turn back into the hospital.
“Jack,” you grab onto his arm, keeping him from walking inside, “talk. It's just me.”
“Yeah that’s the problem," Jack snaps, "you’re the problem."
Your face falls at his words.
“Wh-what did I do?” You say suddenly seeming very small.
“No- you didn’t-” Jack lets out a frustrated breath, rubbing his hands down his face, “look- you’re young- god- you’re so young, and I know dating has changed since I was doing it twenty years ago but I don’t know how to do this with you- I don’t know how to see more than one person-”
“I’m not seeing more than one person-” you cut Jack off from his spiral.
“What?” He looks at you blankly.
“I’m not seeing more than one person,” you say again, sounding a little more bold, a little more like yourself, “I'm only seeing you. I only want to see you. You thought I was seeing other people? Are you?”
“No- I don’t- I don’t know-” Jack stammers.
“You don’t know if you’re seeing other people?” You raise an eyebrow.
“No- of course I’m not- I just didn’t know if-” Jack struggles to articulate himself.
“Why didn’t you just talk to me?” You say gently.
“You seriously need to ask me that?” Jack finally turns to look at you, “I’m a widower, I’m a vet, I’m an amputee. I’m a night shift ER doctor, you should know what that says about me, better than most people. I’m twenty years older than you… I’m punching above my weight here… I- I figured I’d take what I could get.”
You don’t say anything. You can’t think of anything to say. That’s how he thinks of himself? Damaged goods? He is the most confident, borderline arrogant, doctor you know and he ought to be, he really is that good. And he’s just as good of a person. Sure, he had some walls up but slowly he was letting you in, showing you his entire self, something you felt privileged to have access to...
“Come with me,” you take his arm pulling him back towards the hospital. He pauses slightly, not exactly sure what you’re about to do, “Jack, can you just- please?”
He follows you silently to the elevator which takes the pair of you to the third floor where the orthopedics department is located. The ride up is silent as you tap your foot, arms crossed tightly across your chest. The elevator dings and you step out with a determined stride, scanning the floor. You spot Park standing with two other ortho surgeons.
“Park!” you shout across the room, “we need to talk.”
Park smirks as you beeline towards him. The poor sucker, Jack thinks, slowly following you at a safe distance, stopping at the nurses station, resting his elbows on the counter, not even bothering trying to hide his interest in this interaction. The other two surgeons skulk away, god, Jack wishes he could see your face right now
“Stop smiling,” you say as you stand in front of him and his smile immediately drops, “you need to stop asking me out. First, I’m with someone, and I’m not sure he’d like it if he knew you were bothering me every time you’re in the ER. Second, even if I was single it would never happen with you and me. If we were the last two people alive it wouldn’t happen. And third, it’s fucking unprofessional. I’m a doctor, not your groupie. Am I making myself clear?”
He swallows hard, then nods.
“Say: yes doctor,” you say, looking him right in the eyes.
“Yes, doctor, it won’t happen again,” Park looks almost sheepish. Jack can’t think of a time he’s seen him look like this… ever. Despite his imposing frame, Park seems so small right now.
“Good,” you smile and turn on your heels walking back towards the elevator where Jack stands with his mouth agape. You take his hand pulling him towards the stairwell, the door dropping shut behind you.
“Can I get in trouble for that?” You turn to Jack with a slightly anxious expression.
“I was with you for the last hour and didn’t even see you go up to Ortho.” Jack smirks at you.
“Hm,” you smirk back, grabbing the back of his neck, placing a quick kiss on his lips. He keeps leaning towards you as you pull back.
“Jack,” you smile, pushing him away lightly, stepping down one stair so he towers over you.
“So who’s this mysterious person you’re ‘with’?” He gazes down at you with his hands in his pockets as you bite your lip.
“Mm,” you hum, toying with his ID that sits against his hip, “he’s just this older guy, really fuckin’ smart, measured, competent…” you pull his badge toward you examining the photo, “he’s sexy, even when he gets a little jealous,” you let go of his ID badge letting it snap against him sharply, he winces slightly at the stinging sensation but keeps gazing down at you with adoration. Your eyes flick up to his.
“And I really like him,” you finish, a small smile on the corner of your lips. Jack takes a step down so you’re eye to eye.
“Am I allowed to just say we’re dating? All these code words ‘seeing,’ ‘with,’ ‘exclusive…’ I just-” Jack cuts himself off with a shake of his head.
“Mm it depends,” you hum, a playful grin on your face, “are we dating?”
“Yes,” he squeezes your hip.
“Then you’re allowed to say it,” you say, looking up and then down the stairs, seeing that you’re still alone, placing another more lingering kiss on his mouth, your lips soft against his. You pull back and see the tips of his ears turn bright red, making you blush as well.
“But we’re not telling anyone down there,” you clarify.
“Oh fuck no, they’re all crazy,” Jack scrunches his eyebrows in agreement.
if you are a parent, or may become one, or you are otherwise likely to arrive in the situation of caring for a child while they eat, promise me this: if a child doesn't like a certain food or food group, you will ask them WHY. and specifically, you will pay attention to either confirming or ruling out "it makes my mouth itch" or "it makes my stomach hurt," both of which are medically important info that children may not provide unprompted. which i know because this PSA has been brought to you by "i spent my entire childhood and much of my early teens eating peas and lentils while wondering why everyone else liked the Violently Itchy Mouth Sensation so much, like were they a bunch of legume masochists or something, before i finally realized that Violently Itchy Mouth Sensation was in fact a sinister demon appearing only to me, and her true demonic name was: Legume Allergy"
rare aesthetic: handsome mentally ill stalkers who don't stalk you because they're perverts, but because they're so emotionally and psychologically depends on you that they literally can't live without you.
I had a really good Adrian Chase smut idea before I started writing and now that I am I'm actually going to work on it but heres the idea:
Adrian’s grip on your hips was iron-tight, fingers digging into your skin as he drove into you with relentless, strokes. Your face was buried deep in the pillows, muffling the broken cries that tore from your throat with every thrust. He had you ass up, back arched, completely at his mercy—while he fucked you like a man on a mission. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room, punctuated by your desperate, whimpering moans.
He was obsessed with the way you sounded when he hit that perfect spot inside you, and right now he was nailing it on every single thrust, grinding deep and rolling his hips just right to make your legs shake uncontrollably.
“Fuck, that’s it—louder,” he growled, voice low and ragged with effort, a wild grin you couldn’t see stretching across his face. “C’mon, scream for me. I wanna hear—”
The obnoxious opening notes of Barbie Girl suddenly blasted from his phone on the nightstand.
Adrian didn’t even slow down. If anything, he tightened his hold on your hips and kept pounding into you, dragging another sharp cry from your lips as he reached over and snatched the phone. He glanced at the screen, eyes lighting up.
Peacemaker.
Without missing a beat, he swiped to answer, still buried to the hilt inside you. His voice came out bright, cheerful, and utterly casual, like he was lounging on the couch instead of railing you into the mattress.
Pairing: Alexander Skarsgard x Black oc
Summary: Alex's newest controversially young girlfriend, Evie, lives life with her head in the clouds. Not much of a fan of watching movies or keeping up with celebrities, she never cared much about him being an actor. What she likes most about him is that he is kind, down to Earth, mature, and a gentleman.
But, excitement for their future together comes to an immediate halt... Now having to rethink introducing this man to her parents; a date-night to a premiere for his newest movie, Pillion, hits Evie with the shocking revelation of just what kind of actor her boyfriend truly is.
Author's Note: Just something short and kinky in excitement for the US release of Pillion, coming February 6th, 2026!! <3
Warnings: #Dark!Alex #Manipulative!Alex #Dom!Alex
#Sadist!Alex #SUPERKINKY
3k words
Wattpad link
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Tonight, she has seen it all...
Eyes widened and glued to the screen as she watches the man that she has been dating for the last three months pin another man down, kiss his lips a he does hers, and even make love to him! Sure— it's only acting, but the innocent woman who spends most of her time collecting vinyl R&B records, spinning pottery, and crocheting sweaters has seen enough rough sex, leather, collars, and butt plugs than she ever expected to see in her entire life!
Her heart races out of her chest the longer she watches. Now only thirty-minutes left in the film, she can't bear to watch another second more.
She can't stand the confusingly painful pit in her stomach... An ache of concern, disgust, heartache, and maybe even a bit of arousal...
Especially unable to tolerate Alex's blue eyed stare turning towards her during every erotic scene, as if he is attempting to read through her thoughts for her.
"I can't."
The words leave her glossed-quivering lips in one stolen breath. Needing air terribly, Evie drops her popcorn as she takes the emergency exit out of the dark theater.
"Evie! Psss'd! Evie— goddamnit." Calling for her in a tight whisper does Alex no good, he also must get up and excuse himself from stepping on the toes of audience members as he chases after his date and misses the ending half of his latest film.
The darkened night surrounds them, only the alleyway's streetlamp lights the couple as he finally catches up with his distraught girlfriend... just enough light to make the swelling tears in her soft brown eyes glimmer beneath its glow.
"Hey, hey, baby? Wh—What's going on?" A gentle catch around her wrist stops Evie in her path as she is turned to face his worry.
She watches up at nearly six-feet-five-inches of height and aged blue eyes that once captured her that day at a little farmer's market hidden from most of LA.
That day, only a few months ago now where they had met, Alex was so charming and he had been ever since. He carried Evie's heavy potted plants that she had been gawking at for hours to her car— after he of course had purchased the expensive exotic flowers for her out of the pure kindness of his heart.
From there came too many coffee dates to count, walks in the park, and handholding... Romantic and warm, yet never more than maybe a lewd tongue kiss or caress every so often...
The man she thought she knew never cared to rush things and enjoyed simply getting to know her, but the man she watched tonight on the screen was brutal... it overwhelmed her to see such a sexually deviant person who if was acting— had done the role far too well.
"What was that in there?" Finally able to speak, her head continues to shake in disbelief and denial.
"You— You filmed something like that?! I didn't even recognize that man!"
"Well, that's a good thing, baby!" Caressing her bare arms that have grown goosebumps in LA's chilly night, Alex attempts to calm her with a gentle chuckle. "I'm an actor, I was in a role, you weren't supposed to recognize me!"
But his words just aren't good enough...
Trying her hardest to put herself in his shoes, she's determined that no one could actually act like that unless deep down it came to them naturally.
"When you told me you were an actor, I was thinking— I don't know, like Terminator, Titanic, uhm— Back To The Future!!!" Evie frantically names ancient-old movies, practically the only movies that she's ever seen in her twenty-seven years of life. "Not whatever that was?"
He sighs, unsure how to break it to her that half of his career he has spent being naked and having sex on camera... "Evie, my little dove— none of it is real. We have intimacy coordinators on set, we wear prosthetics, and half the time it's our doubles doing most of the work. Come on baby, let's just go back inside.
We finish the movie, take a few pictures for the press, and we can go home."
"No thanks, I'll Uber!"
Her heels begin to pick up in speed again as she is once again grasped by the wrist, this time pulled against the building's bricks and caged between it and Alex's thick body. "Move!" She shouts.
"I won't."
...
Tension begins to calm with his stern refusal. Alex's wide palm cups her heated cheek, his longer fingers wipe away fallen tears that make him ache at the sight.
"Okay sure, some parts can be faked..."
Her voice trembles with tears, "but kissing your costar like that, cannot be."
"Ahww." He teases with fake-pout, "are these tears from seeing these lips kissing someone's other than yours?"
Evie shoves his chest, hardly making the overly-large man move as he chuckles. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry." He laughs, "Evie, baby, if only you could count how many times I've had to kiss a costar, I think you'd hate me for good...
But, listen, when I kiss on screen, it is simply— a skit. A coordinated, STD tested, flesh on flesh scene until we hear the director yell 'cut'.
But, when I kiss you? These perfect fucking sweet lips of yours... I think I lose years off of my life the way my heart begins to ache. There is no 'action' or 'cut' that could ever make me stop or resist the urge for more of you."
Puckered softly against Evie's mouth, their lips smack against each other in one tender kiss.
Wanting for more— her pride isn't willing to allow it, not after all that her eyes have witnessed.
"So, are you gay?"
The question widens his eyes.
"Bi?"
She continues, "you can tell me these things. I don't want anymore secrets between us."
"Secrets!?"
Suddenly with a toweringly-raised voice, his strength strikes fear in her heart. "I never once kept anything from you! I told you that I was an actor. You live in LA, for Christ sake, you acted like you didn't give a shit about my job!
Look—It's not my fault that you never cared to google me or that the last movie you saw was still on fucking VCR!"
"Wow, fuck you!"
Another abrasive shove to his chest does nothing but make him fume more. "No, fuck you! You're being a child." Pulled back against the wall with a firmer tug frightens Evie even more. Her back against the brick this time, feeling like knives pressing against her soft skin. "Alex! You're scaring me!"
He finds it all too comical. Nearing fifty, he's slept with more women than he can count on one hand long before Evie was out of diapers.
"Am I gay, huh?" He repeats her question, "because of the movie? Why? Because I dominated a submissive man?"
"Don't you get it, Evie?" Alex begins to chuckle, "I dominate the whole fucking world." With dilated pupils, suddenly he has snapped into an arrogant asshole. "But since you can't get it through your head that I am an ACTOR, who has to portray different and unique roles!— Let me remind you of just what I'm attracted to. You." He presses even more forward. With zero space between them and this wall, the step pushes the air from Evie's lungs.
"Want—Needing, you.
Spending three months on Miss Good Girl because you sicken me with your innocence, your soft voice, and your fat fucking ass and titties. I want only you."
She scoffs. "You're sick!"
Evie's fight is even less promising as the squash against him encloses far too tighter. "Move Alexander!
You, this fucked up movie, all of it!
You weren't acting, this role probably came easiest to you!"
"You know what's sick?"
.
.
.
Evie can feel the heat of his breath as his mouth is pressed to the shell of her ear. "—watching the way you squirmed in that seat every time I pinned my costar to the ground, when I pretended to fuck him as if I were to split him in half...
The way you tightened your knees when you watched what you thought was me cumming into his mouth. You wished it were you, huh?
It's only jealousy having you behave like this, isn't it?"
Unable to shove again, a tight bruising grip to both of Evie's wrists has her arms pinned above her head. "You're insane, you know that I'm disgusted!"
"Which is why when I dig beneath your dress right now, I won't have my hand on wet pussy, right?"
"Alex don't!"
Unwilling to listen, a grope inserted between her thick thighs makes her mewl sinfully— hips bucking forward as her body chases after the bed of his fingertips for another feel.
Raised to the light of the streetlamp, Alex's two most-middle fingers come back with the shine of Evie's drenched arousal.
His groan is shuttered as his digits seep onto his tongue's tastebuds, being exactly the deranged satyriasis that he portrays in all of his films.
"You know what's funny about these movies? You're absolutely right, Evie— I enjoy being as lewd and vulgar as I possibly can on screen.
By the end of my career I want to be known as the most over-sexed actor Hollywood has ever seen. Why? Because it's fun. Because I want to make James Spader and Michael fucking Douglas' most erotic films look fucking PG-13!
And yet, regardless of what movie I'm in, what thing I'm pretending to fuck— a woman, a man, a fucking creature for all I care, I never once get hard... Never once stiffen up the way I do to the sound of your pathetic little tears and your attempt at disgust when you're just as goddamn filthy as I am."
...
And with this threatening confession, Evie's lace underwear is torn from her body with a violent snatch— now becoming one with the trash and needles of LA's street-litter.
Confusion bewilders her as a violent craving for his cock makes her legs tremble yet the tears streaming down Evie's face is from complete brokenness.
So naive to what she thought she had with Alex, now she can see through it all clear as day. Pillion, the movie only being a peephole view into Alex's life of kink, when in reality all along she was the full picture.
The way this older gentleman had spoiled her in every way, charmed her with gentle affection, drawing her nearest to him, and how much he loved her lack of interest in his fame... All a ploy to find himself a true submissive. One that hasn't a care to use him for stardom, a woman who will have already fallen far too deeply in love with him to be deterred by his kink and immorality... instead— molded to crave it...
And tonight, through the buzz of car horns and passing feet of strangers who could catch them in such scandal— Evie longs for this obscene dominance as an addict longs for an ounce.
Sandwiched between a brick building and brick of a man, the sound of Alex's zipper makes Evie's thighs open freely as her dress bunches passed her ass. His hands no longer need to hold back the tiny feminine fists that were once being thrown at him, now he grips a dimpling hold beneath her thighs as Evie's hands rush to assist him in positioning his erection.
Further than they've ever gone before, her fingers wrap around the utter hot-girth of Alex's hard cock. The ooze of precum down his shaft is sticky, clearly having been making a mess all evening long— watching her, as she watched him.
Lined at her opening, Evie would be foolish to think that a man so cruel and demanding would begin slowly. A power-drive of a first thrust causes him to bottom out inside of her, pressed against the hilt of her cunt. The sting mutes her soundless opened scream, soon to be filled with his tongue as each blow continues one after the other.
Embarrassed and blushing an angry red down her chocolate skin as she is manhandled, her shoes are fucked off of her dangling feet as each stiletto hits the ground.
No kindness, no respect for her body, Evie is fucked like a slut in an alleyway, making her delirious with a shameful lust.
She had hoped that the prosthetics that he wore in the movie were only an exaggeration of his actual size, but as she is impaled, dug-out, and molded around his angry cock— she realizes he's so much bigger.
Her arms find his neck as she wishes to have control on at least something, at least a place where she is able to bear down upon, but Alex's warm huffing against her face, and twisted praises takes the comfort away from that too. "Can't you hear it? How that pussy talks when it gets a little attention?"
Evie winces, tightening her long, wet, jet-black lashes closed as she tries to ignore the sound of her body's rain and the clapping of his weighty balls beneath against her flesh.
Her whimpering is only motivation to abuse further. Alex pistons upwards, thrashing against her sweet spot until her bitten-lip that was hiding her melodies unleashes her squeaky inaudibles.
Her pussy becomes a vice against him, weakening his stamina as he forces out Evie's orgasm.
"Fuck, bunny, my good little toy. Cream on it."
Her body spasms, gushing her release against him and staining his pants before the press could even take his picture tonight.
Mid-stroke, one of the theaters lets out as credits begin to roll. Alex's hand tightens around Evie's every gasp and moan, moving out of the light and shielded by the darkness of a dumpster as his rhythm never misses a beat.
Her eyes widen as people pass by them far too close for comfort, yet Alex quietly takes the moment to revisit his plans with her.
"Waited for you." His whispers are cooed and pathetic whimpers as he pushes his limits to hold out. "Daddy's getting old and I waited so long for you to come in my life. Gonna take my time with you, love you, keep you, spoil you, breed this perfect—" he struggles to breathe as her band-like grip nearly makes him falter, "perfect goddamn pussy." The words are gritted tightly through his teeth, "you want that, don't you?"
Being split open as her mound swells feverishly hot, Evie's hearing is muffled as her mind travels into a different universe. "Answer." His demand is met with an animalistic tearing-shred to the front of Evie's dress, spilling her tits against him.
"Yes!" She comes from her daze admirably submissive. A compliant little lamb now overflowing from out of her once bratty-attitude. "Whatever you want."
"Mmm'I can't resist you." For a moment, Alex almost sounds genuinely sweet, "I love you."
Splayed around his waist, his thrusts become sloppy as the numb cunt for his taking is getting nothing but wetter and sweeter each second. His glutes tighten with every rough pummel, banging against her cervix and assuring his love is felt even in Evie's spine.
"Oh fuck you feel good, look at me baby."
Evie's eyes meet his.
Bambi-brown, achingly-round, tear stained, with a pouted beauty that drives his sadistic tendencies insane.
Wanting to see her cry, tortured, and berated— but only like this. Just like this.
Only when he can pull a shared climax out of them both. "One more time for me, can't you? If I slow it down like this?"
His cock is pulled back slowly, and pushed back in even more tormentingly slower.
"Mmph!—Alex!"
This unhurried speed spins Evie's world on its axis.
He notices her pleasure, ushering her body higher to catch the sensitive buds of her full breasts in his mouth. His abdomen tightens as hers does the same, both at their peaks of ecstasy— the torture of not falling over the edge is an unforgiving pain, aching their souls as they pant and curse against each other's overstimulated bodies.
The pressure of his calculated last stroke causes Evie to slowly bite down onto his shoulder— body hanging lifelessly like some sort of sexdoll in his arms. The pain of the marks from her teeth mixes with Alex's pleasure like a perfectly stirred cocktail, making his jaw unclench as it falls slack— releasing into Evie with pure ownership, jolting and bucking as his stream of cum begin to trickle down the curve of his emptied sack.
"Ughh—fuck." Half-lidded, the arrogance in him is still very strong. Knowingly defeated by Evie's sex, it is he who still needs the last word.
"Feel that?" He gulps, just as spent and obsessed with her. "Me pumping that seed into you? Making you a little housewife?"
Shame makes it hard to even look at him, yet she still nods... If degrading her by plugging her pussy with softening cock is the way she gets to feel this light and satisfied... then let her stay bred, let her stay submissive, and let her stay forever this dumb and cockdrunk.
Evie winces from the webbed-plop of his exit.
Feeling far too empty now— she nearly whines for more.
Alex catches the oozing inner-decorating he performed on her with his thumb, not wasting a drop of his batter, he can't wait for it to sprout in her fertile womb— watching her plump, housebound, and carrying his offspring after years of searching for the perfect one.
"Good girl. Don't spill any of it..." He quickly begins a threat that tightens an aroused spring in her belly, "and if you push it out, I'll just fill you until you're bloated with my cum. You won't sleep, you won't eat. You'll be doing what? Evie?"
"T—Taking your cum." The rasp and stutter of her exhausted voice brings a chill down his spine. Finally, finally he has broken her.
Proudly he nods, "fucked like a slut, bred like a bitch." His cruelty ends with astrum against her tender clit. Poor Evie can't help but to release a moan. Still aroused after his most wicked words, Alex can't seem to believe the lengths he can finally go with her. "Wow." His chuckle is dark and degrading. "You're a real sick puppy, god—I love it.
Bun, we are going to have so much fun together, hm? Perhaps our love story will even become a movie."
Adrian Chase x fem!reader
synopsis:your trophy boyfriend Adrian surprises you one night out drinking with a secretary fantasy that switches up your dynamic...or does it? wordcount:4k|tags:sub!Adrian,masochist!Adrian,domme!reader,office scenario,desk sex, consensual spanking, high heels, dry humping, oral sex, mdni please.
more sugar!baby Adrian x girlboss!reader fics:
Money Honey and Trophy Husband
°•°🥂⋆.ೃ🍾࿔*:･💰👠💅°•°
It was another Friday night hanging out with the 11th Street Kids. You'd been stressed lately by the office, long hours and had to bail on the last few.
But tonight you were where you belonged with your boyfriend Adrian, seated on his lap. Not staring at spreadsheets, stocks or whatever board meeting they apparently needed you for.
After going through your day, you mentioned a time some idiot thought you were the secretary when he walked into your office and the punchline of you firing him on the spot had everyone in hysterics.
That's how you got to the current conversation.
"I mean but what man doesn't have a secretary fantasy?" Chris proclaimed loudly over the bar music. ”Or woman…” He barely saved face from Harcourt, Sasha and Adebayo all ready to kick his ass.
Langston laughed, hitting back another coke and whiskey, a lewd tale as always in his back pocket ready to go for any situation.
Adebayo and John shrugged with an easy smile while your eyebrows raised as your boyfriend Adrian enthusiastically nodded.
"Oh yeah big time, I have one too!" He stated, tipsy and lips loose from several fruity cocktails.
"Really? You've never mentioned it." You were curious at that, Adrian was never one to hide his ideas for sexual exploration with you.
Both of you were incredibly open about your sex lives like everything else you and Adrian enjoyed, completely open books.
Maybe too open discussing it in front of your friends but oh well who cares we're all adults here!
"Hm well it's because I don't know I guess it's a little embarrassing? And super cliche..." Adrian admitted sheepishly.
"I'd love total clueless bimbo vibes, you know getting everything wrong for the boss all the time just being a real fucking clumsy moron. In a skimpy outfit."
That sounded antithetical to most of Adrian's other intricate fantasies that usually had a feminist lens you had previously reenacted.
Which included things like last weekend of cosplaying, you being the no nonsense Star Trek captain and Adrian a submissive second in command that got infected with a space ray making him have to survive by eating pussy.
But you were willing to do something different for a change.
“I'm always happy to try new things out with you baby.” You reassured him with a big kiss on the forehead. “Let's set it up in my office sometime soon.”
Damn was that a little too bossy? This was going to be more difficult than you thought.
“Yay, best girlfriend ever!” Adrian grinned, clinking glasses with you, a toast for a new kink to be unlocked.
The next opportunity that you both got was next week, after dealing with a particularly annoying board member you were ready for some role play.
While you preferred being in control, maybe playing it submissive could help take your mind off things.
Adorned in a Dolce & Gabbana teal satin pussy-bow blouse, Versace white pencil skirt and the black and red Louboutins you knew Adrian drooled over, you were ready to go.
But when you entered Mr. Chase's office the scenario was immediately off. He was dressed in a tweed charcoal suit, set with a dark teal tie you'd bought him, black loafers and brown belt.
Ugh, you really should've dressed him for this, he looked like an assistant not an executive. But oh well you could still make it work.
“Hello Mr. Chase, can I get anything for you sir?” You asked demurely, ready to try your best as a submissive assistant.
“Um no thanks ma’am, here's the documents for notarizing.” Adrian wasn't great at acting in charge, handing you a stack of papers.
When you went to take them, he let the papers fall to the ground at your feet. “Oh no what a mess!” He yelped.
“That's okay Mr. Chase, I'll get those!” You said sweetly, a little annoyed as you bent down to pick them up.
Adrian's expression was just as annoyed, and confused. He readjusted his glasses and tried something else out to get the mood right.
"Damn I dropped my pen accidentally for signing something super important!” Adrian dramatically dropped the fountain pen from his pocket protector.
“Sorry sir!” You went to pick it up dutifully, but Adrian kicked it away further and then crouched down low, wiggling his behind.
He looked at you like you were dropped from Mars or something.
Suddenly, Adrian had enough but instead of grabbing you, pinning you down, he smacked his own hands on the desk and bent over.
“Oh whoops now my ass is in the air, oh no how terrible would it be if my sexy boss pegged me hard over her desk as punishment for messing up?” He moaned loudly, shaking his ass from side to side impatiently.
“Or stomped on my back in her Louboutin ‘hot chick’ leather pumps…” Adrian stuck a thumb at his parted lips making a pornographic sigh. “Pretty please?”
“Wait a second, I’m your boss?” You were starting to get beyond confused.
Was this an elaborate boss versus boss thing rivalry set up where you got demeaned into becoming the secretary?
“Yeah, you’re my mean hot as fuck boss, who always says that the only thing I'm good at is getting completely railed." Adrian grinned, bending himself further over the desk.
“Please don't fire meeee! Spank me instead!” He whined loudly like a total brat.
"Wait, you're the secretary in this scenario?" Okay this was making way more sense now. You were getting the full picture as Adrian shook his full plump ass in your face.
"Well yeah, wait a second did you think I meant you? Ugh no I'd feel very uncomfortable with that, super reductive and sexist." Adrian turned to face you, face scrunched up at the very thought.
He laughed breathlessly and so did you. “Oh thank god, sorry Ade, I would’ve tried it but I don’t think I’d be a very convincing sub.” You were so relieved.
“Yeah leave that to me sugar mama!” Adrian grinned, giving you a loving kiss. “Let's start over!”
“Hurry up Mr. Chase, where's my damn coffee?” You shouted bitterly from your office.
There was an eccentric knock at the door, “Right here Ma’am!” He trundled in with a silver tray coffee service. It looked divine.
“You’re five minutes late again!” You snapped so loud that you startled him.
At the sudden strike of your voice, Adrian jumped and jolted the coffee cups, spilling some of it off onto the silver tray.
“Clean that up before I put your face in it.” You ordered him and Adrian quickly wiped it up with a cloth.
You glanced over the documents you were pretending to read with a frown.
Without a single word, Adrian straightened his posture and set the tray down onto the table, hands clasped behind his back in anticipation.
The way your eyes coldly assessed him up and down like he was nothing more than a mannequin in a department store had Adrian delirious.
“Mr. Chase.” You began.
“Yes Ma’am?” He beamed.
“Your tie is crooked, shirt barely tucked in. Brown belt with black loafers. You look like a total slob, and I don't hire slouchers for my office, is that understood?”
“Sorry Ma’am!”
“Very good,” You say sitting back with a small smile, “Come here.”
“The door isn't closed,” Adrian reminded you nervously, “your three o’clock could…”
“Then remember to shut the door behind you next time, Mr. Chase.”
Adrian did as he was told, looking meek, wringing his hands when he sat across from you on the opposite side of your desk.
"Do you know why I wanted to talk to you today Mr. Chase?” You leaned forward, resting your elbows on the desk, letting an ample amount of cleavage peek from your blouse.
“Got any ideas in that pretty empty little head of yours?” You snapped his gaze upward with a poisonous look that set his heart on fire.
Adrian fidgeted in his seat, trying not to show how excited he was already getting.
“Does this have to do with my mistake when I double booked the board meeting? I’m so sorry, I accept any punishment you have in mind.” Adrian bit down on his lip, legs crossing at your cold severe tone.
“I need you to stay well past 5 with me today. To make up for how you’ve slowed me down and ruined those board meetings.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Adrian replied nervously. “B-but it's Friday…” He prompted, clearly wanting more.
"What’s the matter? Don’t want to be alone with your boss on a Friday night?” You snipped back, watching him pretend to fret. “I highly doubt a fucking dork like you has any plans over the weekend.” You gave it to him, feeding right into that sweet degredation kink of his.
Adrian shuddered at that, biting down harder on his bottom lip, hand flexing at the knee. There was no hiding it now, the tent in his slacks now too prominent to ignore.
"N-no of course not but you’ve got a bit of a reputation for being cutthroat, and I know as a lowly secretary I’m super expendable to this company...” His princess eyes were everything as he fully got into the scenario, long lashes batting up at you behind those wired frames.
“I don’t want to let the team down, and more importantly…you.” Adrian grovelled and you could see the impatient spark in his eye, the curl of his lip, silently requesting you to take control.
Then he gave you the head tilt, the one telling you to humiliate and degrade him more.
You were more than happy to oblige.
“Too late you've already let me down.” You snapped, viciously slamming your coffee down on the desk. “Even your coffee tastes pathetic.” Picking up the ceramic mug you dumped it onto the plants. “You're a worthless secretary.”
“Yeah, I'm so pathetic and I’ve been messing up so horribly all day…” Adrian quivered, enjoying your acidic tone, tail practically wagging.
“Glad you understand something then. I can’t approve your probation with constant mistakes like this.” You firmly crossed your legs.
“I want your approval, please, tell me what to do to earn it.” Adrian’s eyes motioned without a hint of subtlety to your desk drawer. “I'll do anything.”
You nodded as you considered his pleading, opening the drawer, you saw a number of fun items. “Hmm, alright. You're terrible as a traditional secretary but I think you might have hidden talents…”
“Lucky for you there's a vacancy opening up, where you’d be right underneath me.”
He nearly broke character and grinned widely at the innuendo, his eyes flicking down briefly to your cleavage that peeked through the buttons that you’d left undone at the top of your blouse. “I'd love that.”
“I’m warning you, this evaluation is very hands-on and rigorous. I enjoy unorthodox performance management and you'd have a special new project to satisfy.”
He licked his lips, “What exactly would my new project be that needs satisfying?”
“Me.” You stood up to reach across the desk and yanked his tie, bringing his body closer to yours. Harshly you pressed your lips against his.
Adrian followed your lead as you hungrily kissed him, moaning into the embrace.
When you finally pulled away, you smirked down at him from where you were standing.
“What's my first task?” He asked eagerly, practically panting as you kept him looking upright by the tie like one would a dog with a lead.
“Get on all fours, where you belong.”
Adrian immediately complied, jumping down like an ottoman at your feet.
“Hmm maybe you're better for this position than I originally thought.” You appraised him haughtily, prodding him with a heel.
“Thank you ma'am.”
“I didn't tell you to speak.”
“Sorry ma’am…” Adrian keened at your heel digging into the small of his back, moaning when you stepped down with all of your weight.
“That’s it, this calls for disciplinary action. Put your hands behind your back.” You ordered and Adrian complied, knowing how much he loved the sensation of the shag carpet against his face.
“Good boy,” You stripped off the silk tie of your blouse and used it to tie his wrists together tightly. “Now polish my heels.” You tossed him the rag and Adrian sprang into action.
“Yes ma’am, I'll make them shine!” He knew the drill, taking the cloth into his mouth and getting to work.
“You'd better, if I see a speck of dust I'm spanking you over my desk.” You proclaimed.
Adrian let out a loud set of groans as he cleaned your heels. Rutting himself into the shag carpet, you smiled down at him, head buried at your ankles as he practically drooled.
“You're so pathetically cute like this.” You laughed, sharp manicured hands wandering to his chin, tilting his head up to get a better look.
His face was almost completely red and sweaty, mouth parted releasing quiet moans and pants. Adrian's curly hair was a complete mess, sticking up from rubbing against your tights.
“Mmffhmm…” He agreed, green eyes imploring to know what was next.
“Oh it's sparkling, no spanking.” You assessed idly, turning around to pretend to type something at your computer.
Adrian whined sadly, thoroughly disappointed at that news, still muffled by the cloth which you roughly tugged out.
“A small reward is in order, don't you think?” You shifted your foot up and pressed at his crotch to allow him to grind against it.
“T-thank you ma’am…so good to me,” Adrian moaned, rubbing the head of his clothed dick against the tip of your heel.
“You're like a dog in heat, humping my leg.” You laughed cruelly down at him, Adrian buried his head in your lap, gasping out your name.
He's so close, you judge by how he's rutting faster and harder against your heel. It's difficult to get purchase, hands tied behind his back, but that only feeds into Adrian's desperate thrusts.
Locking eyes, Adrian's have a want for more punishment, so you push out your leg forward more, pushing the heel, with what must be painful pressure at his cock, yet he's thanking you for the honor tearfully.
“You like that?” You scoffed, pressing again, “how's your reward? Enjoying your bosses bonus you little slut?” When you reefed him by the hair to look at you properly, it was written all over his blissful masochist face.
“Y-yes,.thank, so ahh much, you enjoy, ohh fuck, hm!” Adrian can't even string a sentence together, green eyes glazed over, practically slobbering.
“Then hurry up and finish for me. You're wasting my time. I've got a conference call after this.” You ordered him, your tone a blizzard and Adrian a volcano about to burst.
Letting out a loud incoherent moan at your order as you ignored him and began to type away at your desk again like a majestic ice queen despite his state, Adrian came in his pants. Rutting against the nice feeling of your pantyhose before sighing, he rested the side of his head at your lap.
“How was that?” You smiled down at him, petting his mussed up curls lovingly.
“So good, but I got something on your heels…” Adrian pointed down to the opalescent droplets on your expensive leather shoes.
“They're not spotless anymore.” You frowned at him, continuing in character after seeing the glimmer in his eyes,“You've sullied my priceless Louboutins with your disgusting filth.”
“Yes ma’am. Sorry ma'am!” Adrian pleaded with you, bowing his head. “What are you going to do with me?” He asked hopefully.
“Don't you remember what I told you would happen?” You asked sharply, standing up with a tut.
“That you'd spank me ma’am.” Adrian poorly tried to hide how excited he looked, he was trying to find what implement you'd use, eyes flickering around the office.
“That's right, now take your pants off and bend over this desk.” You instructed him, noticing how underwhelmed he was that you didn't have anything to slap with outside your hands.
“Hurry up, strip, and hand me the belt.” You demanded, cracking a plastic ruler at the desk it broke in two.
“Ohh, fuck I love you…” Adrian broke character, biting down on his bottom lip as he unbuckled nice and slow.
“I love you too.” You grinned, glad to see he appreciated your ingenuity.
“Please don't take it easy on me baby…” He let slip out, splayed on your sleek mahogany desk, tweed grey pants at his ankles, hands gripping the edge.
“Telling me how to do my job now?” You snapped the belt viciously at his thighs, Adrian hissed out in pure pleasure.
“Ahh of course not, ma’am, you're in charge…oh fuck you're so the boss of me right now!” He keened, hips already bucking again into the desk, ass up and begging for more.
“Good, now what day is your birthday Mr. Chase?” You asked, spanking him lightly with the belt, gearing up.
“30th of June.” Adrian answered, a little confused by that.
You knew when his birthday was, you bought him a brand new PC set up with a nautical theme, a signed collectors edition of the AD&D and tons of other nerdy stuff he always wanted.
Getting showered in gifts was how you expressed your love to him and Adrian was more than happy to receive. He was your sugar baby, trophy husband and you his sugar mama, girlboss queen, love of his life.
“So thirty lashings then, sound fair?” You wrenched him back by the hair.
He looked so pleased by that, more grateful to have ever been born so late in the month, or born at all than in this very moment. “Yes! So fair ma’am!” Adrian panted, spreading his thighs, ready for you.
When Adrian looked back up at you, he found you had unbuttoned your blouse completely, leaving the front open with your bra on display.
You were so beautiful, chanting out each deft strike, whipping the belt without mercy, leaving welts that would instantly heal off his creamy peach ass.
That healing factor has left an impression on Adrian, pain didn't mean the same to him that it did to others.
Pain was temporary, fleeting, yet the sensation when it came from you, was the same as a kiss, pleasure, all of it was bonding to him.
“You're such a filthy pervert, look at you, getting off to this huh?” You leered back at him, sending Adrian reeling.
“I’m getting off so much, you're incredible!” Adrian admitted with a fervent groan.
“You're incredible, ma’am! Ten!” You reminded him, raising your arm right up to land a cracking blow at his backside.
“Ma’am! Fuck, ma’am I love it, fuck yes ohh yesss you're so damn perfect ma’am!” Adrian pleaded, nails digging into the wood, thighs tensing as you kept going.
“Fifteen!” It was halfway when Adrian couldn't hold on anymore and busted all over your desk, the anticipation of more getting to him along with your sweet harsh voice whipping out with the same velocity as the belt.
“Twenty-eight!” You weren't letting up despite how sore your arms were getting, every spank harder than the last. Lucky you kept up with those tennis lessons!
“Thirty!” On the last count, you dropped the belt, out of breath and ready for a break, you sank back into your leather high backed executive chair.
Adrian turned around, pure satisfaction “Fuck, ohhh that was amazing! Thank you thank you thank youuu!” He dropped the character entirely to shower you with a hundred kisses.
“Adrian, for this special project there are going to be a lot of long nights putting in overtime…” You gestured down to your aching core, Adrian snaking a hand down to feel the dampness under the tight pencil skirt.
He shuddered at the sensation and sank to his knees again, poised to get back to work. “Are you going to keep me waiting all day?” You demanded and Adrian shook his head.
Without further ado, he was eating your pussy out like he was on death row, you his final and greatest meal, five courses that Adrian savoured appropriately.
Plush lips languished at your core, nipping at the soft skin at your inner thighs, “I'll take care of you boss lady, please don't fire me!” Adrian grinned cheekily, wire frames already fogging up in anticipation.
“Depends how well you do Mr. Chase.” You laugh back breathlessly, already knowing how fucking good it's going to be.
This is Adrian's expertise after all, a new hyperfixation he's built up, even more so since being with you.
His nest of curly hair is all you see when he dips and the outline of well defined shoulders in that dorky suit and tie, which you grip tightly and pull.
Staring out slowly, Adrian teases you, dragging his tongue along your folds, smiling when you begin to moan and quiver underneath him.
He groans when your breath quickens, whimpering, chest heaving, his palms reach up to paw at your breasts, teasing the nipples between thumb and finger.
Adrian drowned himself in the taste of your core, his stubble like sand paper against the soft velvet of your inner thighs, glasses and bridge of his nose bumping against the bundle of nerves building.
“How's my performance review looking ma’am?” Adrian asked, a cheeky grin on his face as you hiccup a shuddering gasp, two thick fingers joining his efforts.
“Mm Mr. Chase it's going very well…” You had to admit, watching his smile grow deliriously goofy at that.
Adrian's lips slotted close over your clit again, fingers crooking and pumping the way he knows you love it, making your back arch and toes curl, one death gripping his curls, the other basically strangling him by the tie.
At the motion he whined into your pussy when you yanked at both again, the sound gushing a rising heat through your chest.
“Yeah that's it ma’am, use me more, fucking give it to me…” Arian sighed, locking eyes up in awe with yours, both equally lust-ridden.
He’s just as vocal somehow even with his head between your legs, encouraging to your rough grinding against his face, a sharp series of loud moans that sends vibrations through your core.
"Oh fuck Adrian!” You screamed his name, your whole body trembling as you can feel your release bubbling over.
Suddenly his iron grip sets around your waist, pulling you right in so he can lick even deeper, consuming any coherent reply from your lips.
There's a burst of white hot pleasure like lightning, hot and heavy, striking everywhere as you finally fall from that edge with a choking sob, whole body tensing.
You were told that lighting never struck twice, but when it's with Adrian that's not true. He doesn't leave your core until you're a complete overstimulated mess, boneless like jelly in his arms.
Your chair and desk are both a total mess, it'll need to be thoroughly cleaned, yet Adrian already has that covered. The hospitality trauma and training kicked right in. He wordlessly grabbed out a bottle of disinfectant spray and wipes, leather polish and wood varnish, scrubbing away until both looked dazzlingly new.
You loved your boyfriend so much, dragging him in for a well deserved cuddle on your executive chair, Adrian sat happily on your lap.
“Perhaps we could continue to work on this special project back in my private home office?” You whispered into the shell of his ear, threading a manicured hand through his curls.
“Yes ma’am, I love working from home!” Adrian grinned, kissing you passionately in total agreement.
Plenty of more scenarios to play out, you didn't even use what he had in the drawer!
“Oh the Checkmate offices are generally clear on Thursday nights from 7, or we could just book the board room?” He suggested, the gears in his head whirring with a hundred possibilities.
“Hm, I don't know, your desk is sort of messy.” You sighed teasingly and Adrian looked back affronted.
“It is not usually! I told you Judomaster set me up and left his stupid chip packets everywhere when you visited me that one time…” Adrian whined, already getting riled up at the thought.
“Hm okay, well you'd better make sure it's spick and span for next Thursday then or else…” You trailed a finger up his chest until you had his tie and pulled him down for a kiss.
Adrian couldn't wait! Maybe he'd leave it a little unkempt to see what the or else was.
AAAHHHHH! HI! So sorry to bother you, but I read the neurodivergent reader x 141 and AHHHHH I AM LITERALLY SCREAMING, DROOLING, CHEWING AT THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE they wont let me out
i have a little idea… how would poly 141 react when they find out your job isnt this cute barista or something along those lines, but just a regular stocking associate or a cashier for some huge corporation. like, they know you work. and every time you leave, they see you die a little on the inside from having to go to *insert shitty job*. They just didnt know that you were working there and now they are trying whatever they can to convince you to quote your job and stay home… i know i would rather stay home and take care of them than going to my job…
Oh anon I love your brain! As someone who used to be a cashier before I got my fucking wonderful, literally no joke amazing office job, I fuck with this. I’m writing them as roommates tho don’t know why just deal with it😘
It starts off with a debate over what time you get up in the mornings given how tired you seemed today. But then they realise, they don’t even know what you do for work. Johnny predicts that you’re one of those cute baristas in sweet little aprons with how good the flavoured coffees you make him in the morning when he’s back from his run, are.
Kyle can’t seem to fathom you’re not the office sweetheart he seems to picture you as. Though you’d been living with them for almost over a year now, the guys were gone before you left for work and back long after you arrived home. Still he had it in his head the whole time that you were putting on tight pencil skirts and heels in the morning before going off to work. Something he argues tooth and nail with Johnny about.
John scoffs hearing the guys argue, usually keeping out of it, but this time he can’t help himself when he interjects with, “Yer both chattin shit. She’s obviously a baker with those mouth watering pastries she makes us.” Now that opens up the argument further.
Simon is the only one who doesn’t speculate, instead he walks right up to you on a Sunday night as the guys are all readying themselves for bed and you’re making your lunch for tomorrow. “Luv.” He calls, you glance at him, eyes honing in on the way his grey sweatpants hang low on his hips. Dangerous, dangerous man.
Looking back to the fruit you were slicing, you hum in acknowledgment, “Wot’s ya job?”
You bite back the grin that fights to split your face in two, turning to him you see he visibly softens at your little smile, “I’m a cashier.” You answer, ears tinging red a little. In all honesty you were embarrassed that you worked for one of those big corporations. The dreams you had once but were never able to reach are like a damp on your heart. Like a festering mould that only grows in the worst conditions.
Sometimes you enjoy the people, there are some nice ones that overcome the bad interactions. But everyday you pull on the trousers and trainers, and that itchy uniform top, you wish that a snowstorm would lock you inside the house. You pray to receive a call telling you not to come in due to a fire that started in the bakery. Your heart aches to be told you’re allowed to go home early even if you won’t be paid as much at the end of the month.
Simon hadn’t said much after you told him, his eyes darkened a little when he asked if you enjoyed it and you had answered swiftly and without hesitation; no.
Then suddenly, the guys are leaving for work a little later in the morning. The same time as you. John offering you a lift to work, Johnny making you coffee instead of the other way around, Kyle giving you one of his soft jackets so at least your arms will be comfortable even if your torso is covered in that itchy material.
Simon is the one who places his hand on your forehead and tuts beneath his black surgical mask. You scoff when Simon says he doesn’t think you should go in today, “I feel fine.” You counter with a frown, pushing his big paw away and shoving your feet into the uncomfortable trainers.
John stares down at them like they’ve offended him personally, “You own comfier shoes lass.” Johnny comments and Kyle nods in agreement.
“I have to wear them.” You say quietly wondering why they suddenly have such an interest in your work attire. Have to. Well, that just wasn’t acceptable. The guys didn’t think you should have to do anything.
The weekends were a little weird too. You would usually cook them meals and sweet pastries or cakes with how hard they worked, they deserved nothing less. But Johnny is ushering you away from the kitchen when you walk past the dining table and the marble counter island to make him a coffee.
John says no thank you in the most strained way you’ve ever heard it when you offer to make him a sweet treat. He deflates even further into the sofa when you look offended at his decline. Kyle pulls you close to him on the other side of the couch, putting an arm around you, he continues reading his book but it’s out loud this time.
You sigh snuggling close to him, head on his shoulder when Simon brings over one of the many plushies you’d left on the floor of the lounge, again, and one of the many soft blankets you’d unnecessarily bought for the house. Maybe you could get used to this, you thought as your eyes started to blink slower. It had been a really long week, with lots of assholes. A week of sitting in that uncomfortable chair had done a number on your back too.
You’re just lucky that you’d said from the very beginning that you won’t work weekends, at least you could have those to yourself. The guys became even more attentive, not that they weren’t before, but it increased tenfold. And you wondered why.
Why Kyle is packing you a lunch box everyday now. Why Johnny is cuddling up to you at night just so you sleep warmer, better. Why John is willing to race away from very important paperwork to sit outside the big supermarket you worked at just so you didn’t have to take the bus home. Why Simon keeps buying you lush smelling soaps, bath salts and those sparkly bathbombs he knows you love, you have so many now you don’t know what to do with them. Even when you ask him to stop, he shakes his head and grunts out, “Baths are good for sore muscles.” And that’s all you get.
You just want to know why, what brought all of this on. And most of all why it all suddenly stops.
Almost like a calculated mission, like a big discussion had happened before hand. All of it stopped. They had left long before you got up for work, no lunch ready to go, no soft jacket waiting by the door, no cuddle reading sessions on the weekend, no more new bath stuff, no more lifts and an expectant look in John’s eyes when it gets to dinner time.
They’d done a total three sixty. Like they wanted to show you how good it could be with their help, how much easier life could be, going to work could be, only just to take it all away.
That’s exactly what their plan had been, Simon’s idea mostly with little suggestions made by the rest of them. They all executed it thoroughly, now all that’s left for them is to compete the final step.
“Doll I think you should quit your job.” John goes first, you frown excessively. What the hell is he talking about, you think.
“Have you gone mad?” You huff. John knows you’re annoyed with them, hell they all know you’re angry by their actions. But it’s a necessary evil.
“Not yet I don’t think,” John jokes and feels a little lighter when the corner of your lip quirks up slightly, “I am serious.” He says simply, his blue eyes burning into you before he walks away. You think it so odd, strange that he says that out of the blue.
And then Kyle says it too. Coming into your room with the same baby Yoda squishmallow Simon had placed in your lap two weeks ago, and the same blanket. He gestures towards your bed, it’s subtle but you nod. Failing to hide his grin, Kyle gets snuggled up under the blanket with you, your arms wrapped around the plushie.
He’s halfway through the book, hand brushing through your hair scratching at your scalp deliciously when he broaches the subject, “Bun?” You scrunch up your nose, blinking your eyes open to look at him accusingly. The sight makes him chuckle softly, you’re screaming with your eyes, how dare you make me open my eyes and be fully conscious.
He leans forward before he can stop himself and rubs his nose against yours sweetly, something he tells himself later was just to butter you up before talking. It wasn’t.
“I don’t think you should go to work anymore.” He says simply, with ease, his voice calm.
“What?” You blink rapidly waking yourself up fully to actually take in what he just said.
“Just something to think about bunny.” He shrugs and goes back to reading with that damn lulling voice. You don’t stop him, don’t interrupt but your mind is swirling the same way it had the day before when John had said something similar.
Johnny is not so tactful, shovelling his breakfast in his mouth. Half masticated bacon and scrambled eggs rolling around in his wide open trap, when he spits out the words. “Quit yer job lass, no one wants to be stackin shelves and scannin someone else’s shit all day.” He scoffs washing his food down with the caramel flavoured coffee you made him five minutes ago. He’s quick to put the plate in the sink and place a sloppy kiss on your cheek. His head bend slightly, eyes level with you, “Think about it pet.” He pats your cheek lightly and earns a much more harsh smack to the back of his head by Kyle on the way out of the house.
And finally Simon…well Simon…um Simon just did what he thought was best, what he thought was necessary, what he thought would get you to comply the quickest…
You pant harshly, fingers gripping onto the light bronde hair painfully hard, yanking with each stripe Simon licked up your cunt. You barely noticed John walking passed your open bedroom door with a smirk, Simon had his face buried so deep in your pussy it was hard to think, hard to conjure up your own name let alone open your eyes and catch Kyle and Johnny pushing your door open a little wider and watching for a moment before Kyle drags Johnny away.
Simon’s broken too many times to fix, crooked nose brushed against your clit wonderfully, tongue fucking into your quivering hole making you buck your hips desperate for the release he’d been denying you for around twenty minutes now.
“Say it.” Simon cooed, encouraging you gently. Shaking your head, teeth biting down on your lip, holding on as tightly to your words as you held onto Simon.
Simon grips your jaw in his big paw, a sharp look comes across his features as though he’s about to scold you when you meet his gaze, thumb rubbing your clit in tight, rough circles to keep the stimulation enough, to keep you there on the edge so he has you right where he wants you.
“Say it and you can cum.” He promises, your eyes widen, stinging harshly with their own promise of tears should you keep this up.
“b-but-“
“No buts. We’ll take of everything sweetheart, oll ya afta to do is write the resignation letter, then stay here as our pretty little housewife.” He kissed your clit before moving his thumb back in its place, circling slower this time. You gasp, a broken sob wrenching itself from your chest as your orgasm starts to slip away with the lack of stimulation.
“Please! Please Si! I-“
“Oll ya afta do is say it. Quit, find yourself a cute hobby, cook and clean for us a little. Oll ya afta do is say yes and I’ll let ya cum luv.” He grins evilly when you whine, blowing on your cunt before licking a hard long stripe from your puckered asshole to your swollen, throbbing clit.
“yes! please yes I’ll quit just pl-“
Simon doesn’t let you finish your plea, devouring your pussy like a man starved. He licks, sucks, and flicks your clit, slipping his thick fingers inside your clenching, empty hole thrusting them in and out doing his best to match the pace he set with his tongue on your clit.
You cum hard, untamed. Back arching uncomfortably, limbs shaking rigorously and Simon slurps up everything you give him. You lay there trying to catch your breath when Simon crawls up your body to hover over you. His eyes meet yours when he grins, “Good girl. Now why don’t we get started on that resignation letter hmm.” It wasn’t a question.
Pairings | Alpha Ghost x Omega Reader, Alpha Price x Omega Reader, Alpha Soap x Omega Reader, Alpha Gaz x Omega Reader, 141 x Reader.
Summary | Six months ago you overheard them planning to make you theirs. So you ran. You had no idea they were going to chase you.
Tags | Slow burn, omegaverse, non-traditional omega reader, Reader has a spine and uses it, suppressed heats, wolf going dormant, found and dragged back, John being terrifyingly patient, Simon being terrifyingly honest, Kyle being soft about it, Soap being a menace, angst, found family if you squint, the hunt is very much still on, she is NOT going to make this easy for them, upcoming heat arc, no instalove just instinct fighting instinct, 141 being possessive jerks, injections, blood, period mentioned, sick omega, gore, bond removal, eventual smut.
raw. deep. messy. wet. backwards. against the table. against the wall. against the window, infront of a mirror. on the bed. on the kitchen counter. on the couch. on the floor. in the bath.
