What's a cutie like you doing in a graveyard like this? You looking for a good time? I'm sure I can find something you'll like.😉
About Me:
My name is Zombie (she/they) and I run this little section of Tumblr. You won't know if I'm following you or not because this is a side-blog. And all asks from are on Anon, but I will sign my name to them.
I do some writing, here and there. Currently the majority of my writing is for CEvans and SStan characters, though Cavill and Hiddleston are quickly climbing the ranks. I've also got a smattering of other characters that I'd love to write more for if I get the time/interest.
You can find my masterlist here.
Warnings:
This is an 18+, NSFW, Minors DNI blog.
I am relatively human and, therefore, prone to mistakes.
If you send an ask, I'm unlikely to answer it right away, especially if it's a request for a story.
I reserve the right to not answer every ask sent my way.
I do not interact with blogs that do not have some indication of age. I am not willing to risk interacting with a minor.
Rules:
Don't be an asshole. Kindness is incredibly important.
Don't have a blank blog. I will likely block you.
Don't spam my ask box. As stated above, it can take a while to answer these things. Please be patient with me.
No celebrity gossip or the like, please. I'm just interested in characters, not actors.
Other than that, welcome to my little graveyard. Hope you have a fun time, cutie.
warnings: dub-con; breeding kink; breeding program; drugging; semi-dystopian universe; dark universe if we look at the details of non-consensual body monitoring; restraints; dirty talk; power imbalance
It's a Who is he? type of thot (so choose your own babe)
✨️ ✨️ ✨️
Falling asleep in your warm, safe bed, you didn't expect to wake up more drowsy than usually. The realisation of being somewhere completely else comes to you slowly, without an immediate alert.
The colors surrounding you are light, soothing, but some deep recognition in your brain still whispers that something is very wrong.
Female voices address you. They reassure and coo at you as they move around you. Your body is pleasantly heavy, pliant to their ministrations as they bathe you in warms, scented bath, shave you, then rub lotion into your skin.
As time passes, your mind starts getting clearer. Though your body remains somewhat softened. You can move, but each step is slower, each gesture lighter and lacking power. You can't fight when they drape a sheer robe around you and make you move across the space.
Words become more comprehensible, sentences make more sense, and the terrifying realisation finally settles in.
You've been chosen for breeding.
Your life approved to be taken into ownership and primal purposes.
You were nearing your forties, your fertility had to be much lower than that of younger females. Besides, your appearance or special talents weren't noticeable either.
Those atrocious practices are generally known, and unfortunately condoned, but you never imagined it would happen to you.
It was a comforting thought, really, to know you don't fit the profile of most wanted women for the breeding program.
"It has to be a mistake," you say as the door to another bright chamber opens and you're led inside.
There's more color among soothing creams, more personality and comfort to what you suspect os about to become a gilded cage to defile you in.
"No mistake, Miss." One of the women pats your hand. "He chose you. Out of all the profiles in the base, he decided on you."
"Lucky you," adds the younger woman, "he's one of the most eligible bachelors who's decided on a permanent, monogamous ownership."
You know how warped the society is, so it shouldn't surprise you the woman betrays envy for something that you see as entrapment.
"Be good to him." She adds, this time with a hint of compassionate advice.
"As you can see-" she makes a broad gesture inviting you to take a proper look at the room you're about to be locked in-
"Or he'll break you in first-" she points at the other side of the room.
"It can be very pleasant-"
There's a huge bed, with exquisite looking sheets and pillows; as well a scattering of fluffy rugs and bigger pillows around the floor in that area.
There's a tall, sturdy table - height perfect to place your ass on level with a man's hips - with a frame to which your legs could be cuffed, held up and spread, tilting your ass up for proper fucking.
Next, there's also a padded bench, over which you could be bent to be filled from behind. Constructed with a slope that would secure seed following gravity's pull deep into your womb, instead of dripping out.
White, open cabinets may provide a cosy, warm interior detail, but they're filled with toys and implements that would bring you pleasurable torment (and more orgasms than you'd dare to imagine).
"No, no," you shake your head, while in your mind flashes of depraved acts mix with despair.
Cold and hot waves wash over you rapidly. Dread chased by natural desire.
Having your fantasies in the safety of your home was one thing, but reality of what doom fell upon you was completely different. Though it appears that the base instincts of your body don't differentiate between, considering how heat pools low in your belly.
Or maybe it's the drugs they used on you.
"It's really a mistake. I'm unfit for it-"
"Quite the contrary."
A deep, velvety voice snaps your attention to the entrance.
Both the voice and the man it belongs to seem to dim the brightness of the room a bit, yet enhance its atmosphere at the same time.
You make half a step back as you take him in.
He's taller than you. Bigger all over. Definitely tronger. He wouldn't need any restraints, if he really wanted you pinned in place.
His blue eyes are focused on you, taking in your nude state. His gaze is not exactly soft, nor is it cruel. But it lacks the kind of newfound astonisment one might expect. It's rather possessiveness that was already installed. As if he saw you naked before.
The women courtsy to him then quickly leave the room. The door locks.
"It's not a mistake." The man slowly walks towards you. "I've made a conscious decision."
"I'm almost forty!" You blurt out.
"You still have regular periods, kitten." He calmly counters back.
It doesn't shock you that he knows it. With the whole construct of breeding programs, gynecologists' data is registered. So cycles and health issues are filtered through the system, and available to the men searching for a woman to own and breed.
"Doesn't mean I'm fertile," you argue.
Your breath hitches slightly as he stops right in front of you. He unties the sash on your gauzy robe then slides a hand onto your waist; a hot brand that rouses your body with sudden interest.
With a light, yet unyielding tug, he pulls you back when you try to inch away from him.
"No, I don't- Wait!" You pause, staring up at him as shocking realisation hits you.
"Your ovulation the past six months was exceptionally high rated." Corner of his mouth twitches in a smirk when you shift your gaze down in embarrassment.
"You get so wet and aroused for the entirety of the phase." His mouth lowers to the shell of your ear as he purrs in delight. "Especially a day or two before the egg is released. Then straight six days after."
Reports on general health and the fact your cycles were regular would come from visits to your gynecologist. But to know exactly how your phases looked?
Not even you pay so much attention to that!
To know about your wetness, spikes in arousal, exact days?
"I know that you're on day second into the phase." He hums, nudging your legs apart with his knee.
There would have to be some sort of constant monitoring of your body functions. Hour by hour. Like an attached device or... an implanted chip.
There aren't even any rumours about that kind of privacy breach!
You don't know if all supposedly fertile women have such implants, or if it's somehow installed during a regular visit to your doctor after you're claimed.
The hand on your waist moves across your back, his arm wrapping around you to hold you pressed to him.
His other hand drifts boldly between your thighs. Unapologetic. Like he has all the right to touch you as he wishes.
"Already nicely wet." His gaze holds yours as his fingers part your folds.
"It starts with your body's natural, eager preparation for cock and seed. Then it ignites those needy thoughts."
"No-" you gasp.
You plant your hands on his clothed chest, but your body still lacks any strength to really fight him off.
"It's because they gave me something!" You snarl, but it's followed by a choked moan when he pushes a thick finger in.
"The medication was only to transport you safely and prepare you without a fuss. It doesn't interfere with your natural responses."
"This-" he pumps his finger in and out of your pussy- "is all you, readying to be bred."
It's a small victory for you, that you manage to stifle a disapointed whine when he withdraws his finger.
But you feel the pulsing between your thigs. That growing craving for more. So much more. Deep and hard, and over and over again.
Like it comes every ovulation. As well with every period-related hormonal rollercoaster.
Just like the fucking bastard noticed.
"So, kitten, your breedability was never in question." He chuckles. "I find you very breedable. And I will love every fucking second of stretching you on my cock and filling that belly."
"I got so hard every time I thought of sinking myself to the root in your sweet cunt and spilling deep. I couldn'twait for all the formalities to be finished, so I could bring you here and breed you over and over again."
"But I chose you because you tick other boxes for me. Intelligence, reliability, soft heart."
He traces his wet finger around your breast before cupping it fully in his big palm. He squeezes and your nipple pebbles instantly.
Between your thighs, your clit pulses in sync. Your pussy clenches, even as your independence claws at your brain to stop it from being aroused by hos filthy words.
Indication that he had to have studied you to come to such conclusions scares you even more. Yet a part of you blooms knowing that someone noticed and appreciated these parts of you.
"And the kinks you get off to when you're dripping and aching to be filled-" his voice lowers and he pinches your bud- "I know the videos you watch then, what you read."
Your heart hammers in your chest. Terror and arousal mixing into a haze.
Not only he monitored your body, observed you, but also hacked into your phone and laptop, and learned the most private things about you.
"You may fight it verbally, but the truth is that's your deepest craving. To be fucked full. Obscenely. Until it takes and your belly rounds."
You shake your head, but no protest spill from your mouth. Because your breath is quickening, and you fear if you allowed words to roll on your tongue, it would come out as begging or moans.
"So until you surrender to it completely and admit you want me to breed you, I'm going to keep you restrained and open for my cock. Until you accept your role as mine to own and breed full."
Suddenly, he lifts you up into his arms. With a satisfied grunt at the feeling of your weight in his hands, but showing no extra strain in carrying you.
He places you on the raised table. With ease, he pushes you flat on your back. Keeps you down with one hand, while he grabs your wrist with the other and places it in a padded handcuff next to your head. He repeats the same with your other wrist.
You punch his chest and shoulders with your fists, to no avail. You fear that even when the medication wears off, you won't be able to fight him.
Or he'll already break you in, so you won't resist anymore.
Next, he cuffs your ankles to the frame above, slightly bending your legs and keeping them wide apart. In that position your pussy is on full display and your ass tilted perfectly to take a cock deep.
"I'm going to make your dreams come true," he says with a wicked smirk. "Fuck you mercilessly all through your ovulation, and beyond. Turn you into a mess. Fill you. Force you to take it. Train your holes to miss my cock every second it's not lodged deep inside you."
"You have a beautiful cunt, kitten." He praises, stroking your thighs. "And it's already so wet and puffy, just begging to be stretched open and flooded with cum."
He bends over you, placing one hand on the table. His other palm settles in the juncture of your thigh, thumb rubbing so close to where you're hot, wet, and clenching.
"And doing all of this to you? And having you grow with my child? Owning you completely?Kitten, that's making all my dreams come true."
I'm torn between Curtis and Nick for this. If we're going for someone bigger/taller/stronger than me, I'll go with Curtis. Nick always struck me as closer to my own height (don't ask why, I don't know).
Hey if you See This can you reblog this or comment on this with a character you headcanon as aromantic, asexual, or both. It can be canon it can be founded on absolutely nothing I just need more aroace stuff on here #yay
Hate to be that weirdo but if you follow me or like my posts AND your blog is empty when I get there I'm gonna assume you're a bot. And probably block you. As might other people.
Reblog stuff!! This is the reblogging website - we invented it! It doesn't even have to be my stuff - it can be whatever you like! An empty blog is just weird sorry
A/N: Written for the June Jukebox Scribbles. Prompt:“Every night's another reason why I left it all”
Word Count: 220
A familiar voice calls your name making you look up from your book. You're surprised to see him in this part of town.
"Long time no see, Ransom," you greet. "Or do I have to call you 'Hugh' these days?"
"You never have to call me that," he's quick say. "We were friends for a very long time."
"Were we?" you raise an eyebrow.
"Fair," he rolls his eyes as he sits across from you. "I haven't seen you since you cut ties with your folks."
"That's by design."
"I suppose," he grumbles. "Do you ever miss the rich life?"
"Not really," you confess. "Every day I get to be myself and not what my parents want me to be. I don't have to perform for 'friends'. And I can sleep pretty well knowing that my life is real."
"Can't put a price on good sleep, I guess."
"Every night's another reason why I left it all," you nod. "No more crying myself to sleep. I don't have to wake up extra early to get my makeup and hair perfect. I can eat what I want, when I want. It's a good life."
Ransom looks uncomfortable for a minute before leaning in close.
A/N: Written for the June Jukebox Scribbles. Prompt:“I feel a premonition”
Word Count: 197
James had been in the field often enough that he could sense when something was off. He could never explain it beyond, "I feel a premonition." It was like a sixth sense telling him a predator was stalking, a venomous snake was in the vicinity, a thief is going for his wallet.
He'd hoped that being with you would help him calm his nerves, and it did. For a bit. But when your companionship turned into something romantic, his nerves picked up again. He was scared to lose you. He needed to protect you. He couldn't relax until he knew you were safe.
The only time he could rest, give his nervous system a break, was when he was in your arms. You held him with such gentle strength it was easy to melt into your touch. Your hands gently rubbing up and down his back helped ground him. Nuzzling your face against him tells him he's wanted, appreciated. He feels safe.
Your apartment is his sanctuary. Your arms are his reprieve. When you're with him, there is nothing he needs to focus on outside of you.
And he'll love you forever for that feeling of safety.
Summary: You meet a couple of Lloyd's college friends.
Warnings: Bad friends, BDSM elements, Implied smut. Please let me know if I missed any!
A/N: Reader is female, smaller than Lloyd. No other physical descriptors used.
Word Count: ~1.2k
Previous--Next
Series Masterlist; Tech Tuesdays Masterlist
"Do I look okay?" you ask again before getting out of the car. "I don't want to embarrass you."
"Oh honey, you know no one can embarrass me," Lloyd smirks.
"Yeah, but you also said you never go to these alumni things so I want to make sure you make a good impression."
"With you on my arm, I'll be making everyone jealous," he teases. "Guys, chicks, especially the ones that think they're straight. They're all gonna be wishing you were in their bed."
Cheeks heating up from the praise you wink back at Lloyd. "But you're the only one that gets to fuck me. I'm your good girl."
Lloyd's eyes darken. "I'd skip the party but I want to show you off. Maybe we can sneak away and get you screaming my name in the bathrooms."
"Is there anyone you really want to put in their place?" you smirk.
Lloyd's smile drops and grips the steering wheel tight. "Suzanne," he growls.
Gently caressing Lloyd's cheek you smile softly. "Point her out and I'll make sure she knows she's second rate."
"Gotta admit, you being confident really does it for me."
Again your cheeks heat up at the praise. "I can be confident for you, Sir," you tease.
There's a flicker of something in Lloyd's eyes that passes too quickly for you to interpret.
"Let's go remind Harvard why I'm the best they ever had."
"Lloyd Hansen, what a surprise!" smiles a man with warm, tawny beige skin and close cut dark hair. "I honestly thought you would never show up to one of these events."
"Carmichael!" Lloyd replies with a hug. "Why the hell haven't we hung out?"
"Because you're a complete jackass who always ruins the party," grumbles a short, slight blond woman who starts chugging her drink.
"Ah, Suzanne," Lloyd growls. "Still a dick-withering bitch."
"Hey," Carmichael turns serious, "both of you need to play nice. This is a rare opportunity for us to actually catch up."
Suzanne rolls her eyes, preferring her drink to saying anything else.
"I also want to introduce you to my girlfriend," Lloyd proudly proclaims. As he introduces you to Carmichael, the two of you shake hands and exchange smiles.
"I've heard a lot about you," you nod at Carmichael.
"Can't say I've heard much about you but, then again, Lloyd and I don't talk as much these days."
"How much is he paying you?" Suzanne cuts in, eyeing you up and down. "Girl like you probably costs a fortune. Or are you an intern on her knees for the boss?" Your eyes widen in surprise and she huffs. "There's no way in hell Lloyd Hansen is actually in a relationship. I think he's just finally trying something new to get over losing Carmichael to me."
"Excuse you, Little Miss Insecure?" you blurt out, stopping Lloyd from firing off his own barrage of insults.
"Oh honey, don't even bother trying," she brushes you off.
You're not entirely sure where the courage comes from but you step forward, arms crossed.
"Let's face it, if you were actually better than me you wouldn't feel the need to be such a bitch. If you truly thought 'you'd won' when Lloyd left, you wouldn't be trying to so hard to insult him, or me. Honestly, the fact that Carmichael sided with you should be enough, but clearly it isn't. You're so childish!"
"I'm childish?!" she almost screeches. The grip on her drink tightens enough you can see her knuckles whiten. "That 'man' you're with is the most immature person I've ever met! He could've killed our careers with his impertinence! Or did he leave that part out of his story?"
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you don't like your career. Why else would you still be so pissed off at Lloyd for potentially ruining it? You got the life you wanted and it's not making you happy so you're lashing out at someone who doesn't deserve it. You. Are. A. Child."
"And what are you? Huh?" she spits back. "Some half rate hooker? Some community college lowlife? Did you even graduate high school? I bet you couldn't get hired at a McDonald's so you switched to prostitution. Don't have to use your brain with that kind of work."
Lloyd can see that Suzanne has struck a nerve and he grinds his teeth in rage. He and Carmichael start to say something, but they're interrupted by you.
"Do you assume I'm a prostitute because you don't think Lloyd could be in a relationship, or because I'm sexier than you ever could be and it kills you? Lloyd Hansen, the most immature man you ever met, is with someone and you're going home to your vibrator and a glass of wine. Again. And again. And again."
Suzanne's glower would normally make you wince and withdraw, but this is for Lloyd. So you meet her glare with your own.
You almost break your staring contest when Lloyd wraps his arms around you and starts kissing up your neck. You think it might be for show but you can feel his erection rubbing against your ass.
"That's my girl," he purrs before smirking at Suzanne and Carmichael. "You two really should've chosen better. Maybe then you'd be with stone cold foxes like her."
"Hey, at least I've been polite," Carmichael argues.
"Yeah, but ever since you ditched me for her, the two of you became a package deal," Lloyd counters. "And all packages are lesser than mine." He smiles as he hears you giggling at his crude joke even as the others roll their eyes. "C'mon beautiful," he snickers with a kiss to your jaw. "Let's get out of here before we get kicked out or arrested for indecent exposure."
"Yes, Sir," you whisper in his ear.
Several hours later Lloyd is holding close, knowing you need cuddles for your aftercare. He's never said anything, but they're good for him, too. The stillness, the quiet, the gentleness. He didn't know how good they could be until you.
He's also never had anyone defend him before. You not siding with his family was one thing. Actually going out of your comfort zone to tell off people who hurt him? That was unprecedented. He needed to get you out of there so no one would see him go soft. Thankfully you didn't object.
The two of you really are in sync in so many ways. So why don't you want to marry him?
"You're thinking awfully loud," you tease, running your hands through his chest hair.
"The bitch hurt you," he states as neutrally as he can.
Your hand stops and you shrink into yourself a little. You'd hoped Lloyd had forgotten that part or, at the very least, was more fixated on your verbal response than your emotional one.
"She did," you confirm, voice strained.
Lloyd rubs his hand up and down your back, soothing you. He's not going to ask, to push you to tell him which of Suzanne's barbs hit home. He'll wait until you're ready, just as you did for him. He'll be a steady, reliable presence until you're ready. Just like you've been for him. He'll give you the love and appreciation you need until you're mentally, emotionally ready to talk.
Looking ahead at the June Jukebox Scribbles prompts and I'm stuck at “Only those in love could know”. I've got a few too many ideas so my brain isn't braining.
A/N: Written for the June Jukebox Scribbles. Prompt: Swapped the original for: Don’t Stop Believing - Journey / “A smell of wine and cheap perfume”
Warnings: Age gap (Reader is 10+years older than Mike), Alcohol consumption, Bad parents, Drunkenness, Power imbalance. Please let me know if I missed any!
Main Story
If anyone asks, Mike will say he's staying late because he's wanting time with you. It's a true statement, if not the entire truth. It's also because it's better than going home to a place that reeks with a smell of wine and cheap perfume. Especially since Chaz has been bringing his latest girl around the penthouse making Mom drink to forget her "wasted youth".
He's heard about people cutting ties with family, but he's certain that's not an option for him. Not without leaving town, at least. And he's not going to leave his brand new job and brand new relationship. His family takes so much, he won't give them you as well.
"Well hey there handsome," you coo at Mike. His face instantly transforms into a smile. You're not sure if you actually have that kind of effect on him or if he's just trying to hide how sad, how tired he really is.
"How are you doing beautiful?" he beams, practically bouncing on his toes.
"I'm thinking of going out for dinner tonight. Wanna make it a date? If you have other plans, that's okay."
Mike's smile widens, "that sounds way better than my plans. I was just gonna go home and cook up some instant ramen or something."
"Oh puppy, you need better nutrition than that!" you quietly exclaim. "Then again, I'm not much of a cook either, so I can't judge."
"Maybe we could take a cooking class together sometime! I think one of the guys in my department takes them, maybe I could ask him for a rec?"
"Sounds like a good plan for another date," you smile at him.
The two of you really can't believe you're so lucky to find someone who genuinely wants to spend time with you.
Summary: You meet a couple of Lloyd's college friends.
Warnings: Bad friends, BDSM elements, Implied smut. Please let me know if I missed any!
A/N: Reader is female, smaller than Lloyd. No other physical descriptors used.
Word Count: ~1.2k
Previous--Next
Series Masterlist; Tech Tuesdays Masterlist
"Do I look okay?" you ask again before getting out of the car. "I don't want to embarrass you."
"Oh honey, you know no one can embarrass me," Lloyd smirks.
"Yeah, but you also said you never go to these alumni things so I want to make sure you make a good impression."
"With you on my arm, I'll be making everyone jealous," he teases. "Guys, chicks, especially the ones that think they're straight. They're all gonna be wishing you were in their bed."
Cheeks heating up from the praise you wink back at Lloyd. "But you're the only one that gets to fuck me. I'm your good girl."
Lloyd's eyes darken. "I'd skip the party but I want to show you off. Maybe we can sneak away and get you screaming my name in the bathrooms."
"Is there anyone you really want to put in their place?" you smirk.
Lloyd's smile drops and grips the steering wheel tight. "Suzanne," he growls.
Gently caressing Lloyd's cheek you smile softly. "Point her out and I'll make sure she knows she's second rate."
"Gotta admit, you being confident really does it for me."
Again your cheeks heat up at the praise. "I can be confident for you, Sir," you tease.
There's a flicker of something in Lloyd's eyes that passes too quickly for you to interpret.
"Let's go remind Harvard why I'm the best they ever had."
"Lloyd Hansen, what a surprise!" smiles a man with warm, tawny beige skin and close cut dark hair. "I honestly thought you would never show up to one of these events."
"Carmichael!" Lloyd replies with a hug. "Why the hell haven't we hung out?"
"Because you're a complete jackass who always ruins the party," grumbles a short, slight blond woman who starts chugging her drink.
"Ah, Suzanne," Lloyd growls. "Still a dick-withering bitch."
"Hey," Carmichael turns serious, "both of you need to play nice. This is a rare opportunity for us to actually catch up."
Suzanne rolls her eyes, preferring her drink to saying anything else.
"I also want to introduce you to my girlfriend," Lloyd proudly proclaims. As he introduces you to Carmichael, the two of you shake hands and exchange smiles.
"I've heard a lot about you," you nod at Carmichael.
"Can't say I've heard much about you but, then again, Lloyd and I don't talk as much these days."
"How much is he paying you?" Suzanne cuts in, eyeing you up and down. "Girl like you probably costs a fortune. Or are you an intern on her knees for the boss?" Your eyes widen in surprise and she huffs. "There's no way in hell Lloyd Hansen is actually in a relationship. I think he's just finally trying something new to get over losing Carmichael to me."
"Excuse you, Little Miss Insecure?" you blurt out, stopping Lloyd from firing off his own barrage of insults.
"Oh honey, don't even bother trying," she brushes you off.
You're not entirely sure where the courage comes from but you step forward, arms crossed.
"Let's face it, if you were actually better than me you wouldn't feel the need to be such a bitch. If you truly thought 'you'd won' when Lloyd left, you wouldn't be trying to so hard to insult him, or me. Honestly, the fact that Carmichael sided with you should be enough, but clearly it isn't. You're so childish!"
"I'm childish?!" she almost screeches. The grip on her drink tightens enough you can see her knuckles whiten. "That 'man' you're with is the most immature person I've ever met! He could've killed our careers with his impertinence! Or did he leave that part out of his story?"
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you don't like your career. Why else would you still be so pissed off at Lloyd for potentially ruining it? You got the life you wanted and it's not making you happy so you're lashing out at someone who doesn't deserve it. You. Are. A. Child."
"And what are you? Huh?" she spits back. "Some half rate hooker? Some community college lowlife? Did you even graduate high school? I bet you couldn't get hired at a McDonald's so you switched to prostitution. Don't have to use your brain with that kind of work."
Lloyd can see that Suzanne has struck a nerve and he grinds his teeth in rage. He and Carmichael start to say something, but they're interrupted by you.
"Do you assume I'm a prostitute because you don't think Lloyd could be in a relationship, or because I'm sexier than you ever could be and it kills you? Lloyd Hansen, the most immature man you ever met, is with someone and you're going home to your vibrator and a glass of wine. Again. And again. And again."
Suzanne's glower would normally make you wince and withdraw, but this is for Lloyd. So you meet her glare with your own.
You almost break your staring contest when Lloyd wraps his arms around you and starts kissing up your neck. You think it might be for show but you can feel his erection rubbing against your ass.
"That's my girl," he purrs before smirking at Suzanne and Carmichael. "You two really should've chosen better. Maybe then you'd be with stone cold foxes like her."
"Hey, at least I've been polite," Carmichael argues.
"Yeah, but ever since you ditched me for her, the two of you became a package deal," Lloyd counters. "And all packages are lesser than mine." He smiles as he hears you giggling at his crude joke even as the others roll their eyes. "C'mon beautiful," he snickers with a kiss to your jaw. "Let's get out of here before we get kicked out or arrested for indecent exposure."
"Yes, Sir," you whisper in his ear.
Several hours later Lloyd is holding close, knowing you need cuddles for your aftercare. He's never said anything, but they're good for him, too. The stillness, the quiet, the gentleness. He didn't know how good they could be until you.
He's also never had anyone defend him before. You not siding with his family was one thing. Actually going out of your comfort zone to tell off people who hurt him? That was unprecedented. He needed to get you out of there so no one would see him go soft. Thankfully you didn't object.
The two of you really are in sync in so many ways. So why don't you want to marry him?
"You're thinking awfully loud," you tease, running your hands through his chest hair.
"The bitch hurt you," he states as neutrally as he can.
Your hand stops and you shrink into yourself a little. You'd hoped Lloyd had forgotten that part or, at the very least, was more fixated on your verbal response than your emotional one.
"She did," you confirm, voice strained.
Lloyd rubs his hand up and down your back, soothing you. He's not going to ask, to push you to tell him which of Suzanne's barbs hit home. He'll wait until you're ready, just as you did for him. He'll be a steady, reliable presence until you're ready. Just like you've been for him. He'll give you the love and appreciation you need until you're mentally, emotionally ready to talk.
Looking ahead at the June Jukebox Scribbles prompts and I'm stuck at “Only those in love could know”. I've got a few too many ideas so my brain isn't braining.
Looking ahead at the June Jukebox Scribbles prompts and I'm stuck at “Only those in love could know”. I've got a few too many ideas so my brain isn't braining.
Which character gets this prompt?
Colin Shea
Jefferson/Mad Hatter
Andy Barber
results
Remaining time: 2 hours 51 minutes
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