lucysgraybird

[lucysgraybird]

you're the only one who understands me mr strobbery

[lucysgraybird]

(older) CHARLIE LASTRA FOR THOSE WITH THE EYES TO SEE!!!!!

[lucysgraybird]

should've been a father (what a waste!)

BILLY THE KID (tv, 2022).

to soothe his guilt at hoping to one day have a child, billy chooses to believe in nurture over nature; to believe that he could be careful enough to raise someone good and kind and worldly, and not pass down his own inescapable shortcomings.

as far as he knows, he's good with kids. when joe was born, billy had hardly been five years old himself, but the second his ma placed that wriggling, wrinkly creature in billy's arms, he had known he would do anything to protect his little brother. cruel, then, that an invisible villain, undefendable against regardless of practiced marksmanship, had stolen joe from his care. now almost four years divorced from that loss, the late-night weight of joe's body against his side still presses insistently whenever billy cracks open his pocket-sized whitman.

on the rare occasion that he manages to outpace his reputation, kids will run up to him. "ma," they cry, "look! a real cowboy!” billy always has a forgiving smile to offer the apologetic mothers scrabbling for the wrists of their loose offspring, assuring them that he doesn't mind at all as he crouches to be level with the offending curiosity. he'll doff his hat to them, or briefly tug his bandana up to cover his mouth and play at a mean mug that never lasts long in the face of shrieking giggles. most walk away with a gifted candy clutched in one fist, promising to listen to their mas 'cause the funny man with the shining sky eyes told them that all the best cowboys and cowgirls do.

but billy has resolved, in late night internal musings while dulcinea's sleeping breath warms the base of his throat, that children are not his to have. over the last year, he's become all too aware of his own mortality. watching as friends - as more family - get lowered into the ground, he knows he can't risk leaving a baby alone like he was. he could've been a good father in the same way he could've been a good journalist or musician or writer: at this point, it's just not going to happen.

these are thoughts that pull too strongly at his mind and keep it from sinking under a wave of sleep, so he disentangles himself from dulcinea and stretches out of bed. he'll sit outside for a while and watch the stars, see if that calms him. maybe a midnight snack would be nice.

[lucysgraybird]

they didn't discuss outfits in the gc before the event

[lucysgraybird]

tube tops are propaganda by the way

[lucysgraybird]

hey it's okay. cut up a bunch of cherry tomatoes and mince some garlic. add fresh basil olive oil red pepper flakes and salt. let it sit for a few minutes

[lucysgraybird]

late night thoughts with kit;

jack prescott x reader

for context; jack is an OC I made with tom as a face claim :)

nsfw!; oral, male receiving

“What are you doing?”

Jack pauses, mid-cutting a carrot on his expensive cutting board when he sees you go down on your knees. Yes, an expensive cutting board. He’s quite proud of it. You’ve watched him delicately clean it like it’s something precious. You shake your head of thoughts of his fucking cutting board and move your hands to his belt. 

“I’m doing things.”

“Yes, I see that-”

You cut him off,  “Are you going to put the knife down?” 

With your hands paused on his buckle, Jack stares down at you. The muscle in his jaw works and he sets the knife down. You try to tamper back your excitement that he’s okay with you doing this, though you would’ve already known from the way he shifts on his feet, and the slight bulge already firm in his pants. 

“What are you doing?” He asks again, one hand on the edge of the counter. Jack’s eyes never leave your face, silently demanding an answer. Good luck on getting one, you would say. Or, none of your business (even though his literal business is about to be in your face). Or, you’d tell him it’s obvious what you’re doing and he’s stupid to ask. 

Instead of all that, you, again, say, “I’m doing things, things I want to do, Jack. And you want too. Clearly. Simple as that,” as you get the buckle undone and start to slide it off. He grabs your wrist before you could make a move on his zipper. 

Taking a step closer to you, so he’s really right in front of you, he mumbles, “You’re being smart with me,” his tone tipping on that verge of being grumbly, but not quite. Jack moves your hand to his side.

“Maybe. Potentially. But…,” you trail off and look up at him, not caring how needy you look. Jack was always a no-nonsense man. So severely so, the spark of spontaneity in your sex lives was abysmal, and you never truly minded until recently you’ve felt like just pleasuring him sometimes, but you weren’t sure if he’d be down. Or would want to be asked at all. So taking things into your own hands felt like the right solution. So far, his stare is worrying, but the way he takes another step to practically crowd up in front of you, and well especially when he unzips his zipper, you have a keen idea as to how he feels about this. 

You raise your brow at him. 

“Shut up,” he shakes his head, and lets you pull his pants and boxers down just enough for his dick to spring out. 

“I didn’t even say anything.” 

“You didn’t have to. I can see you thinking. I don’t want to know what’s going on in there.” Jack sighs like he’s facing some difficult decision as he braces his hand back on the counter and watches your palm wrap around him, stroking up and then down, in one slow movement. 

“You don’t? There’s wonderful things happening in my brain right now.” By the smile you give him, you’re sure Jack is pondering his sanity. 

“I don’t doubt that, though wonderful is questionable and…,” he stops mid-sentence to watch you spit slowly onto his cock, spreading it with your hand, his breath shuddering. 

“You were saying?” Can mouths water over this? Because your’s sure is, anticipating the weight of him in your mouth and that sweet moment when Jack finally lets himself go and isn’t at stiff like he is right now. 

“What’s going on in there?” He nods at your head, swallowing and you follow the movement in his throat. He never lets you mark it up, but one day you will. 

“Well,” you start, letting your lips brush his tip just to hear his breath hitch, “all day, I couldn’t stop thinking about taking you in my mouth. Or letting you use my mouth. Just came home…kissed me like you do and…pulled me closer by hair…undid your pants and…,” you wrap your lips to him, sucking and swirling your tongue on him before releasing. “Thought about it all day, but seeing you come home and roll your sleeves up, hold my neck the way you do when you kiss me…fuck, I needed you to use me.”

His jaw is tight, his eyes icy and locked on your every movement, you find that you can’t look away, nor do you want to. “But really? I just wanted to suck your cock, Jack. In any way you’d let me.” 

Before he could say something, your mouth is back on him and he hums, watching your hand work in tandem with your mouth. You’re slow, relishing in the heat and weight of him on your tongue and the way his thigh tenses when you hold to it. 

“Thought it would be more filthy, honestly,” he grits out through a breath and tilts his head back. 

You have to pull off to laugh, swatting his thigh, “I do have more filthy thoughts. I’ll say them.” 

Jack looks back down at you, amusement in his eyes as he gives a little nod. Like he’s challenging you. This man. 

“Fine. You know what we’ve never done? You’ve never fucked my tits and I’d love for you to do that, then come all over me.” You want to dig your nails into the skin of his thigh the way he only reacts with a slight eyebrow raise and another solemn nod. 

“Jack-ass,” you mumble, flicking your tongue at his tip, “you’re being smart now and I’m the one doing this for you.”

He clicks his tongue in a tsk, and his voice dips into that aroused tone of his, “You’re the one who said you needed it so bad, baby.” 

Heat fills your face and settles in your belly, and to distract from it, and his teasing, you slide him back into your mouth. Taking more than before, you suck on him, drawing back to his tip, then back down. Not letting him get used to the languid pace, you work him quicker, squeezing hard to his thigh when you finally hear him moan. 

“Baby, fuck,” he groans, hips canting forward only once, but it’s announce to make you hum around him, your lips gliding up and down. 

“Slow down.” You know he’s only saying it so he doesn’t come, but you want it so bad, you can’t help the hum in defiance and harsher suck you give him. 

“Uh uh, c’mon,” Jack murmurs under his breath and wraps his hand in your hair, by the back of your head, pulling you completely off of him. A whine leaves your lips without you meaning to let it out, and he chuckles, “oh that bad?” 

You resist smirking because this Jack is finally here. You try to lean forward to take him back into your mouth, but he yanks your head back to look up at him. Jack takes his cock into his hand, letting the tip of it tap against your bottom lip, “gotta pace yourself, you’re going to choke on me.” 

“You liked it though.”

“Yes, you were doing great, baby, but you’re gonna choke,” he says the last word like you’re not exactly hearing what he’s saying, but you definitely are. Words evade you, feeling the twitch of him on your lips, and his chest heaving heavier than before. You can’t imagine what your eyes are doing to him at this moment, but it’s telling when his fingers tighten in your hair, and he relents a little bit, pushing your head close enough that you can mouth up alongside the base of his cock. You don’t care that you’re being messy or downright missing the spots you want to kiss, you just need to have him. His thumb rubs at the base of your scalp as he watches you, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him, because you can practically feel his amusement over your desperation. 

“Stop.”

You pause, and he huffs a laugh, “now you’re listening? Alright, baby. Good.” His thumb taps against your neck. Jack pulls you back by your hair again, then guides his cock. sliding himself into you only halfway, then pulling back out, starting a slow fuck to your mouth. 

“I shouldn’t even have let this happen,” he grunts, using your mouth for himself this time, though his thrusts are agonizingly slow. “I was holding a knife when you got on your fucking knees, by the way. I’m not going to forget that. So reckless, so needy, but you knew I still would’ve let you do anything hm?” 

When you don’t hum, too lost in sucking on him, the heel of your foot digging to your clothed send, he gives a deeper thrust into your mouth. You choke for a moment before he pulls out almost all the way, then continues, “You know I still would’ve let you do anything?”

This time you hum in agreement. 

“I would’ve let you palm my dick over my pants until I came, while I finished preparing the vegetables. You got me that bad, I kinda fucking hate,” he laughs, a breathless noise that has you yearning to feel his orgasm ricochet through hos body. He’s close because he keeps twitching in your mouth, his thigh tense against your hand. Jack’s words heat your skin, dampen your underwear and make you plan for the next time you can catch him unaware and do exactly what he’s saying. But for you now, you squeeze his thigh, swirling your tongue on his tip whenever your lips return to it. It feels like you have one sole purpose, and it’s to make this man come hard for you. 

“Fuck there you go, baby,” he whispers, hand loosening in your hair to let you take back some of the control over your movements, and he’s right to. Because you need him to come down your throat. You suppose he needs it too because he lets you bob your head faster. Jack grunts, muscles tense when you take him deeper again. Your eyes flutter shut as you try not to gag on him, but it’s hard, and he lets it happen. You let it happen, and his groan sends flutters right down your core. 

And when he comes, Jack holds both sides of your head to make sure you take every drop of him, and only pulls you back when he gets too sensitive. “You got it all,” he tells you, and it sounds like a reassurance more than a tease, his thumb swiping over your cheek, then to your lips. With your lips more swollen and wet, you tuck him back into his underwear, and fix his pants. 

His panting breaths match your own until he clears his throat, “Do you still want the stir-fry?”

[lucysgraybird]

don’t know of someone has already done this but… i mean… can you blame me? it’s THE aaron hotchner

[lucysgraybird]

WOMEN! when you walk into the ice cream store i am trying to subvert the patriarchy by speaking to YOU instead of your ugly boyfriends. for this to work you need to join hands with me and make eye contact back

[lucysgraybird]

Pour syrup in my wounds i am your pancake

[lucysgraybird]

i put him in his crib

my snuggly toddler before i go to work

[lucysgraybird]

my snuggly toddler before i go to work

[lucysgraybird]

if i looked like sabrina carpenter id pose like that too like goddamn

[lucysgraybird]

im 19 and SCARED of sabrina carpenter

[lucysgraybird]

WHY SO SEXY IF SO DUMB AND HOW SURVIVE THE EARTH THIS LONG!!!!!

[lucysgraybird]

jane eyre, charlotte brontë/theories of everything, brian andreas/rolf van der wind/unknown/everything changed when i forgave myself, charlotte eriksson/rachel peden

[lucysgraybird]

Favorite mutual didn't like my post. Deleting it and then killing myself.