#come on inside and meet the missus

[thegeekstressart]

‘Ello! He’s just a worm, but he’s assembled and painted! If only 2 years after I started him…

I got this amazing model kit as a gift, and at first I was intimidated, and then I had trouble figuring out some bits, but I’m pretty happy with where he’s ended up. Unfortunately, I can’t find anything on where the kit came from, but if I can get it I will edit this post with that info - it’s a great little model!

[alpacahat67]

every day i say "allo" and hope someone will say "did you say hello?" and it never happens.

[yawnderu]

Currently thinking about neighbor!Simon with a sweet thing who keeps shamelessly flirting with him.

Ghost, the soldier who has been basing his life in self-control and discipline, knocked down a peg or two by his younger neighbor. He doesn't even respond to the flirting, simply replying with a grunt or a "thanks" so quiet you can barely even hear it before he disappears into his house.

Neighbor!Simon, who initially moved to your quiet neighborhood for some peace and quiet— and he gets just that, with one glaring exception.

Neighbor!Simon, who is forced to listen to your moans and whines as you bounce up and down a dildo, filthy nonsense escaping your lips whenever it hits a sensitive spot.

Neighbor!Simon, who seemed amused about it at first and ignored it, but after a few times started feeling his jeans tighten up.

Neighbor!Simon, who cups his throbbing boner over his jeans, trying his best to stop himself from jerking off, yet your whiny moans are taking away any semblance of self-respect he has.

Neighbor!Simon, who timed his strokes with the sounds of your squelching cunt, imagining it's him going in and out of you.

Neighbor!Simon, who pathetically came all over his stomach when you moaned out his name, filthy and overly loud words leaving your lips because you know he can hear you.

Neighbor!Simon, who since then was less of a Ghost in his own neighborhood, actually trying to reply to your attempts at making conversation with him.

Neighbor!Simon, who told you one of his awful dad jokes just to hear the loudest sigh ever, the corners of his lips threatening to tug up at your reaction.

Neighbor!Simon, who eventually started tagging along for anything you did— Grocery shopping? Paying bills? Going to the park? Shopping? He's coming with you, claiming there's lots of creeps around.

Neighbor!Simon, who accepted your offers for dinner, looking at you moving around the kitchen and helping you, imagining you're his pretty little wife.

Neighbor!Simon, who got enough courage to kiss you after being 100% sure you were interested in him.

Neighbor!Simon, who couldn't keep the surprise from showing on his face when during one of your make out sessions, you took him to your bedroom.

Neighbor!Simon, who was a groaning mess underneath you as you rode him, calloused hands holding onto your hips with a bruising grip.

'' 'S what you wanted all along, love?'' He manages to grunt out between his deep groans and moans, hypnotized by the way your tits bounce while your tight cunt takes all of him.

''Since I first saw you.'' You reply with honesty, leg muscles tired from riding him, but his thick cock feels way too good to even think about stopping.

''Good girl.'' He praises, eyes closing as his hips start to thrust up, meeting you halfway while you bounce on his cock, angling up your ass so he hits a more sensitive spot that has you moaning on top of him, his grip on your hips going to your ass while he moves your smaller body up and down his cock, thrusts getting rougher while you finally collapse on top of him.

''Cum inside.'' His hips falter for a moment as he looks at you with raised eyebrows, your hushed confirmation of being on birth control enough to keep him going even harder, driving himself into your cunt at an unlawful pace, heavy balls slapping against your ass as he thrusted deeply, the room filled with the smell of sex, walls bouncing with the sounds of your combined desperate moans as he shoved himself as deep as he could, filling your womb with his thick, fertile cum. It doesn't matter if you're on birth control, his seed is much stronger.

Husband!Simon, who got to come home from deployment to his missus, stomach swollen with his baby.

[lovifie]

Price had a young girlfriend and did not tell anybody until he decided to get married...

He probably didn't tell them until the night before the wedding…He asked them to come over for a little celebration and everyone expected a middle-aged woman. But when they saw a girl in her mid-20s opening the door with Price they were shocked

Soap probably even asked if she's his stepdaughter LOL

Hey, love!! 💗💗

I wrote you a little something...

I hope you like it 💗

❤️Mr. & Mrs. Price❤️

Fluff | Sugestive | 1547 words | Back to Masterlist

They were having a pint at a pub close to base when he told them. 

“I'm getting married next Saturday, you have the weekend free, so drop by so I can introduce you to the missus.”

Now, Ghost wasn't surprised he didn't know about his captain having a girlfriend, let alone a relationship serious enough to talk about marriage. What surprised Ghost was that neither Soap nor Gaz knew about it. 

“Married?!” Gaz asked, loud enough to make some people turn their heads. 

Price furrows his eyebrow, surprised by the reaction as if he had just told them about what he's having from breakfast. 

“I didnae ken ye had a pretty bird waiting for ye at home, Captain!” Soap says, just as loud.

“Yeah, I have for a couple of years now.” Price simply answers, shrugging his shoulders as he takes a sip.

“A couple of years?!” The three men ask in unison like a bad comedic joke. 

A chain of questions starts to unravel, curiosity for the mysterious woman pouring out; but Price waves his hand shutting them up. “No point in that, you are meeting her this weekend, easier that way”

They begrudgingly agree, keeping to themselves the mental image of the possible woman. She must be around Price's age, so between 40 and 50 years old; knowing how little the man likes to go out they probably met at work so she must be military too. Stern woman. 

Price tells them that is something minor, the close family and a bunch of friends; that they can join at the reception at his house and to dress nicely. 

“No ghost mask.” He chastises the man pointing at him. “I don't want work involved, alright?”

During the week until the wedding, they keep thinking about her, about how she must look like, her personality, her age, her eye colour.

“What do you think she'll look like?”

“In my mind, she's like Laswell… but being into men.”

And out of every possibility and different mental image, the last thing they expected was the pretty thing that opened the door for them on Saturday. 

Pretty little thing, around 25 years old, with the kindest smile on her face even when looking at the three giants on her doorframe, flowy white dress, little hair strands framing her cute face with the rest of it gathered up in an intricate updo in the back hold together with shiny pins and a silky bow. 

“Oh, you must be John's friends.” You say, voice sweet as an angel. “Please, come in, don't just stand there. I'm gonna go get him, be back in a second”

You step back, holding the door open for them, inviting them in and once inside you close the door, walking past them to reach their captain who is looking in the opposite direction, talking to somebody else.

“That must be the stepdaughter… right?” Soap asks what all of them are thinking. 

They stare as you walk up to Price, placing your hand on his lower back making him turn to look at you; a wide smile appearing immediately. He leans forward, his arm moving behind your shoulder and his hand keeping your jaw in place as he kisses you. 

Lips crashing against yours, closing his eyes and letting his tongue into your mouth tasting the champagne you were drinking just a moment ago. A passionate, sloppy kiss that would make a maiden blush at the impropriety of it even for the newlyweds.

“Mate, I sure fucking hope she's not.” Gaz answers after a moment.

The two of you finally pull back, telling Price about his friends arriving and he looks behind you to see them. He smiles, not as wide as when he looked at you, and gives you a quick peck before walking to the door. 

“Welcome, lads. Thank you for coming.” He says simply, crossing his arms and looking proud. You appear from behind him, hand resting on his arm slightly leaning to his side.

“Do you want anything to drink? To eat?” You ask softly, love pouring out of Price's eyes as he looks down on you. 

“I'll help you.” Ghost says, a curl of his lips you could identify as a smile if you wanted to. And once the captain is left with the sergeants, the attack starts. 

“How does an old churl like you manages to get a pretty thing like her?”

“Where do you even meet a doll like her?”

“How many years have you exactly been dating for?”

Ghost clears his throat when he turns around the corner on his way back, with you chirping on his side about how happy you are to finally meet them. He has a more natural smile on his face now, clearly infected with your enthusiasm. 

Price finally introduces you to them, exchanging everyone's name. You hug both the sergeants and shake Ghost's hand, the man glad that you made the observation of his lack of appreciation towards body contact. 

After a little chat, you excuse yourself; promising to get back in a while wanting to talk to your own friends still waiting around the room. It leaves Price on his own and that's when he tells the nosy men how he met you. 

You were his neighbour, sharing half the walls of the old flat he house to live in before moving in together. How he introduced himself to you one day when he saw you leaving your house, how he told you he was military so you wouldn't freak out if you saw him in the middle of the night or suddenly disappeared for months, how after a specially long deployment he got back and you dropped by hours later with a bunch of tupperwares with homemade food “I assumed you would be tired, it's nothing special but I'll save you the hustle of cooking”, about how he had wanted to marry you ever since, how he gave you the tupperwares back one by one so he had more reasons to talk to you, how he finally asked you out with the last one and how after that it all was easy between you two.

The four of them swiftly move to sit down on the kitchen table, Price still telling them everything about you and the relationship. Ghost is just as invested as the other two, trying to play it off as polite interest. Slowly and smoothly people leave the house as the day goes by, the sun having set a couple of hours ago; and you walk into the kitchen, sitting on Price's lap with a sigh. 

“I know it isn't proper of a good host, but these shoes are killing me.” You announce looking at the three men as you bend down and take them off, a sigh of comfort leaving your mouth as you lean back on Price. “I'm also sure you have endurance worse than some stinky feet.” You joke with a tiny chuckle making them smile. 

“Everyone gone, darling?” Price asks, his hands resting on your lap as you nod smiling. He looks up to the boys as he says. “Better to tidy up then”

“Jonathan Price, don't be rude!” You exclaim looking at him. “They are your friends and there are more than enough rooms for them if they want to spend the night. They have been drinking too!”

“Mrs. Price.” John says with a teasing tone, standing up and helping you stand. “Talk to me for a second, love.”

Price bends down to pick your shoes up, holding your hand to walk you to the living room. They hear the two of you whispering back and forth, then silence and lastly the unmistakable sound of kisses. They peak behind the door, managing to see you sitting in the backrest of the sofa with Price standing between your legs, grinding his hips against yours. You moan softly against his lips, before pulling back and whispering something they can't make out; Price pulls back as well and they sit back on their chairs. 

Price walks in just a second later. “Lads… thank you for coming, I'll see you when I'm back from the honeymoon, now… OUT!” He barks the last word making Soap chuckle as they all finish their drink in a gulp and start to walk out of the house, congratulating Price on the marriage and walking out one by one; meanwhile, you remain completely out of sight for them.

“They gone?” You ask for the top of the stairs, looking at Price with a smile. 

“Yep.” Price says locking the door.

“You didn't have to kick them out like that, though.” You say cocking your head with a smile.

“Oh, yes, I did.” He says, turning around to start to walk up the stairs. 

“Why? Afraid they might join?” You say winking at him, making him laugh before he throws you over his shoulder making you shriek.

“Wouldn't you like that, you little minx!” He jokes, landing a smack on your asscheek. 

You gasp dramatically holding onto his clothes. “It's Mrs. Price to you, young man.”

He chuckles, making your body shake, before he throws you down on the bed; him instantly crawling on top of you. 

“Who's your husband, darling?”

“You, Mr. Price.”

A bit more of this

[tetsuskei]

synopsis: when a coworker brings their baby to work, that sets off the gears in kuroo's head to have some of your own

notes: first installment of oh, baby! repost from my old blog, with some editing done. please enjoy!

warnings: mentions of kids, unprotected sex, praise, body worship, cock warming, kuroo is horny on an astronomical level

interactions and reblogs are appreciated!

at first, everything is innocent. tetsurō knows his coworker only means well. but tetsurō should've expected that when ‘bring your child to work day’ came at the jva, that he'd encounter at least one infant.

his coworker asks him if he wants to hold their baby after catching him stare at the small child in awe. the resemblance between coworker and child clearly evident. he's so amazed at how strong genetics could be.

then tetsurō wondered how strong his own genetics would be when it came to your children.

to recall back, the conversation of children came up briefly between the two of you. you both decided that it would be logical to wait a little while before trying to have any. kuroo was focused on building up his career and so were you. you just wanted to have your priorities straight and be responsible. nothing's wrong with that, right?

and so the conversation had been left with a pin in it and you both moved on in life. you would question when to have children later.

when holding the child in his arms, kuroo only panicks for a moment (were babies always this small?) before the child naturally curls up into his chest. their tiny hand grabs ahold of his (ridiculously) large pinky before continuing to sleep soundly. they even coo with joy.

"they seem to really like you!" his coworker laughs. "you seem to be a natural with kids!"

tetsurō only crinkles his nose in confusion but he can't help the fluttering in his chest at those words. "i'm not really doing anything but holding them."

they laugh again and nod with understanding. "sure, but you seem to be the type to make a great father, kuroo-san. you're a good person. very patient and understanding. by the way, when do you and the missus plan to have kids?"

and so having been asked the question sent him on a spiral.

by the time he's asked, several years have passed since your first conversation about kids. both you and him are financially stable. you're both lucky enough to live comfortably, and you're both happy where you are in your careers. most importantly, you're both married.

honestly, just the thought of being married to you and having a little family turns kuroo on too much. but he wants to have a family that's better than the broken one he had growing up. the best thing he can do for his kids is show them a healthy and long lasting relationship with their mother. and god does he know he can do that. he loves you so damn much his heart aches. he'll walk across fire for you, and the best part is that he knows you'll do the same for him.

the man isn't really present for the rest of the day, having to be called out during a meeting for being unfocused, and eventually sent home after he lies and says he isn't feeling well. and it's partially true, because now that he knows he wants kids, he feels an empty hole in his chest almost as if a part of him is missing.

and if being 'sick' means trying to conceal the boner in his slacks, then so be it. he doesn't want to relieve himself of his problem, no. not when the only thing on his mind is cumming inside of you raw.

tetsurō comes home to the smell of your cooking, his second favorite scent right after you. just seeing you makes him crazy. he'd been thinking about putting a baby in you all day. his hands itching to get started.

you haven't seen him yet, but tetsurō doesn't waste anymore time. he simply eyes you intently, taking time to admire you and all the soft curves of your backside. your perfect ass. you feel the warmth of him before seeing him and that's enough to startle you.

a small gasp leaves your mouth as you look up at him surprised before a honeyed smile appears on your face. a smile that's only reserved for him. "hi! you're home earlier than usual."

he returns your greeting with a grin. "hi beautiful, how was your day?" he tugs you into his grasp. lean arms encasing you in his hold as he rests his chin on top of your head and massages your hips.

hips he knows that will bare his children.

"it was good tetsu, are you hungry? i'm finishing up dinner now, and we can talk about your day." you respond, focus retuned to the stove in front of you.

he has to admit, the food smells delicious, but he's hungry for something else this evening. and unfortunately he'll have to endure an earful from you later about letting the food get cold, but he doesn't mean any harm. he just has priorities.

he hums, turning you fully towards him. his eyes lower and become stuck on your stomach. brain stuck on the thought of you being round with his child. you would look so cute pregnant. your breast would be filled with milk, too. maybe you'll let him taste—

"'ro?" you voice snaps him from his thoughts. you try to make eye contact with him and he only smiles, not registering a single thing you just said. his large hands take your face in his hold and you feel his calloused fingers run over your cheeks before he kisses your nose and then all over your face.

"tetsurō, what's gotten into you?" you giggle. you didn't mind his affection, don't get it wrong, but there was something oddly...intense about the way he's acting that you know something is up.

the ravenette seems to contemplate his thoughts, carefully reeling over the words in his mind. "i just thought that...maybe we should start...tryin', that's all." he mumbles, mouth pressing kisses all over your skin. you shiver at his touch, at the way his scent and body crowd in on your space.

ah, there it is.

your cheeks heat up, and you know exactly what he means. his words always slur slightly when he's turned on, almost like he's delirious or hooked on lust.

that paired with his cock poking your backside through his slacks.

tetsurō only continues. "today my co-worker brought in the cutest little baby i'd ever seen. looked just like 'em, too. i didn't really understand how children could make someone so happy...but i'm startin' to." he explains, tugging off your pants and underwear in one fell swoop, the cold air hitting your folds makes you jump.

you swallow nervously, "tetsu—"

"made me realize how cute our kids could—will be. they'd be the cutest in the world, i'm sure. wonder if they'd have my eyes and your smile. and hopefully they'll inherit your hair or else we'll be in trouble." he laughs before he undoes his tie, then his shirt, and tosses the garments somewhere on the floor. his belt is undone next and he's quick to unfasten his pants.

you eyes widen, and your heart fastens at the mental image of a tiny child in your arms, the spitting image of you and kuroo.

your husband pauses again, his brows knitted in thought. "do you think...that i can be a good father? for our kids?" he leans his forehead against yours and closes his eyes for a moment as he must be pondering the very question.

“of course.” you nod slowly. "i don't think so, i know so. you'll be great with our kids, tetsu." you answer, running your fingers along his jaw.

"yeah?" he breathes, pulling down his pants along with his boxers. "do you still want some?" he moves your body so that you're sitting safely on the counter away from everything else.

"w-with you? yes..." you answer, voice getting caught in your throat as he prods his fat tip at your entrance. you're already soaked enough that you know he can just...slide right in.

kuroo's breathing becomes extremely labored and his gaze darkens at your words. his single strand of restraint is being pulled taut. "then can we? can we start trying, sweets?" his hands are groping at your chest and hips, and he riles himself up the longer he touches you without relief.

you barely say 'yes' before he pushes himself into you, his jaw going slack as he is enveloped by you, cunt warm and inviting and gummy walls pleasurable beyond means.

his eyes glass over and he's completely enamored by the fact that he can be this close to you. that you trust him to hold you like he is now.

you look up at him with near helplessness as his grip on your legs doesn't loosen up. the stretch of him never is something you think you can get used to, as you feel yourself struggle to adjust to his size. the heavy and thick fullness of his cock is intense. you can feel how it throbs with need.

"do you think—" he moans as your cunt drags over his cock, sucking him in more, "that they're going to be interested in volleyball?" he lets his tip kiss your cervix and you keen, causing a groan to escape his mouth. "you think they're gonna be a middle blocker like me?"

"are you really asking me that right now?" you sigh, fingers frantically gripping the counter beneath you. you move your hips against him and hope that will shut him up.

spoiler, it doesn't. "why not—fuck, just like that baby—it's a genuine question." he buries his face in the side of your neck, and the smell of your lavender soap invades his senses before his teeth choose to bite and scrape at your skin.

"you're such a volleyball nerd, tetsu." you laugh but soon moan as both of your hips move synchronously. "when are you not thinking about it?"

he huffs out a laugh, pressing a kiss to your temple as he presses you further into the kitchen counter. his lips linger against your skin before you felt them curve into a smile. "when i'm busy thinking 'bout your cute self, which is definitely more than volleyball."

you tried to formulate a response but only a refined moan escapes your lips again as kuroo pounds you. the sound of skin on skin filters out any remaining thoughts you had.

"you don't understand how crazy i've been goin' today." he grunts, nearly delirious in the way you cream on him so well. he can already feel himself twitch with the need to cum but as much as he wants to, he wants this moment to last a bit longer. he can't cum before you.

one of his hands lace with your own as he regards you. "been thinking about all the different ways to get you pregnant. of all the cute little maternity outfits you'll wear. of me taking care of you when you get tired and your feet ache. you're going to look so pretty carrying our baby, sweetheart."

he's rambling and you're not even sure if he's talking to you or if he's talking directly to your womb. but his words alone are enough to bring you to your first orgasm, pussy clamping down hard on his cock.

"jesus christ," he groans, struggling to keep composure, "it's like your cunt is trying to suck the life out of me."

you only whimper, legs quivering in a way you didn't know they could as you slip them tighter around his waist. with the way kuroo is bullying your insides he just might be successful at his agenda of getting you pregnant tonight.

he moves your legs over his shoulders, laying you down so your back is pressed against the cold surface of the marble counter. the new angle he decides to rut in you at causes you to cry out in surprise.

"so perfect, so pretty like this split on my cock. gonna be even prettier filled with my cum." his head bows so that he can kiss you and you eagerly meet his lips, the taste of him comforting, addicting, and familiar all at once.

he brings one hand down to your clit, moving his fingers methodically over your bundle of nerves as he coos and encourages you to cum again.

"tetsu, please," you whine, "you feel so good, wanna have your babies." the need and anticipation of getting your husbands cum is starting to make you frustrated yet needy all at the same time. yet the way he's making you feel right now makes you want this moment to last forever.

he must sense what you're feeling and hums, kissing you again sweetly. "oh you're not understandin' me princess," he breathes, hips moving in an animalistic way. "i'm gonna have you knocked up by the end of tonight. that's a promise."

"you promise?" you look up at him with doe eyes, mouth parted as little moans still escape you.

he'd give you the world if you asked. he'd pluck the sun from the sky, too. when he presses his forehead to yours he only professes his love to you like he's saying his vows for the first time. he can feel the tightening of his balls and burning pit in his abdomen as his release creeps up on him.

and when he pinches your bundle of nerves, you cum again for a second time. your eyes roll back in your head and your nails dig deeply into the muscle of his broad shoulders.

tetsurō nearly doubles over when his orgasm follows, and he spills thick, white cords of cum into you. his golden eyes look at you and you swear he cums just a little more from the eye contact you two hold. the hard throbbing and pulsing warmth he provides you makes you clench around him again, a feeling of wholeness and elation when you're finally full of him.

you're both incredibly still for a moment and you just hold each other. he sits you up with regard, and you brush back his sweaty fringe. his large hands massage your muscles before he carefully carries you to your shared bedroom.

he sits down and you realize you're both still very connected.

"t-tetsu!" you grab onto him, eyes widening as your taken by surprised at the new angle.

"fuck..." he hisses.

there's something sensitive in the way he moves inside of you, and you're not sure if that has to do with his cum inside of you or your cunt trying to hold in every drop.

kuroo always liked the notion of kissing your ring finger, because it reminded him that the two of you are joined—united. you start to speak but he does before you can even formulate the words.

"i hope you don't think we're done here." he murmurs, and by the twitch of his cock you know he's serious. him and his damned stamina. exhausted, you only shift your trembling hips to prepare for more.

it's looking to be a long night.

and so it's not surprising when several weeks pass by and when said coworker asks him again about kids, he proudly shows them the ultrasound photo hidden away in his wallet.

he only hopes that after baby number 1 you won't mind more.

taglist (send an ask to be added): @boosyboo9206 @milkteeboba @kodzukenmaaa @honeybleed

[lovelybucky1]

Unbreakable (Tommy Shelby x reader)

warnings: dom/sub dynamics, cheating, sub!tommy, AFAB reader, degradation, riding, brat taming, extended metaphors, floor sex, misogyny

masterlist

Despite dating Arthur for some time now, you did not know his family very well. Of course, you knew them by reputation, who didn’t? But personally, Arthur’s brothers and aunt were mostly a mystery to you.

You expressed to Arthur how you’d like to meet them formally, and after a bit of grumbling from him about how he doesn’t want them to scare you off, he agrees. You set a date: Saturday night at the Garrison.

The rest of the week went quickly, and by Saturday evening, you’re sitting in front of your vanity getting ready. You apply your makeup, doing a bit more than usual, knowing Arthur’s family has a taste for nice things. You wear the delicate gold necklace Arthur had gifted you after only your second date. You loved it, of course, but that was when you realized just how intense the Shelby men are.

“Almost ready, love?” Arthur asks, coming into the room and standing behind you to straighten out his collar in the mirror.

“Yes, I just need my coat,” you say, making eye contact with him in the reflection.

Arthur leans down and presses a kiss to your cheek before leaving the room to get your coat. You put away your jewelry box and makeup, then stand to meet Arthur by the front door.

Ever the gentleman, Arthur holds out your coat and you slip your arms into the sleeves. He then wraps his arms around your waist to kiss you deeply. His chest feels solid against your back and you smile into the kiss, loving how good he is to you.

You break the kiss and look up into Arthur’s eyes. “Ready?”

He takes your hand and presses a kiss to the ring on your finger before opening the door.

“Lead the way, miss,” he smiles.

It isn’t a far walk from your flat to the Garrison. You’ve been there before, of course, but only with Arthur alone. He prefers to spend his time at your place, something about liking the peace. You know about the noise in his head, the constant battle behind his eyes, and you’re glad that you can be somewhat of a reprieve from it.

You walk across the wet cobbles of the street, hand in hand with Arthur. As masculine and manly as Arthur is, and with the amount that he exaggerates to compensate for his insecurities, it’s ironic that he is following behind you as you walk. You feel like you’re walking a dog with him trailing just slightly behind you as if he’s relying on you to direct him. Like he turns off his brain when he’s with you and lets you be in charge.

Soon you find yourself standing outside the pub, faces lit with the golden glow from inside. Arthur gives you a smile as he opens the door for you, and you step inside. The pub is loud, like every pub, but it’s not the commotion of a bar fight you’re hearing. It’s a joyous sound, like a celebration.

“Arthur!” you hear a man shout.

You look over and see your boyfriend embracing his brother John. When they part, John looks over at you.

“You must be the missus,” he jokes, making Arthur roll his eyes.

“Don’t put that idea in her head, John,” Arthur laughs.

“It’s already in my head, love. Now I just need a ring,” you tell Arthur.

The three of you laugh, and when it subsides, John ushers you over to the bar to get you both drinks.

A crystal glass of whiskey is shoved into Arthur’s hand, while a gin and tonic is handed to you. You thank John for the drinks and excuse yourself, holding onto Arthur’s arm and leading him away from the counter.

You walk around the room, searching for familiar faces. The men in the pub look like a rough crowd, but they’re all dressed nice enough and everyone is seemingly in high spirits, so you don’t worry.

Arthur finds his aunt and introduces you. Polly shakes your hand and you notice all of the rings that decorate her delicate hand.

“What beautiful jewelry,” you say.

Polly tips her chin up and smiles at you, obviously pleased with your compliment.

“Only the finest for us Shelby women,” she winks.

You smile back at her, then look over to Arthur who is watching with a smile of his own.

You figure Arthur must have talked about you at length to his family, because they all seem to know who you are, and from what you’ve heard about Aunt Polly, she doesn’t take kindly to strangers.

“Is Tommy ‘round?” Arthur asks Polly.

“He was. In a sour mood, he is. He wandered off a bit ago but I’m sure he’ll turn up,” she says before taking a sip of the drink in her hand.

“Right, well I’d like to show her off to the others, so if you don’t mind,” he puts his hand on your waist and brings you to the corner of the room where a group of men stand.

Arthur introduces you and they all shower you with compliments, but after that, you keep quiet and let the men talk about their business. After a while, you begin to grow bored with their conversation and you excuse yourself.

You take a lap of the pub, taking in your surroundings. Everyone seemed to fit in here; you were the only lone person in the room. It must be nice, you thought, to have such a strong sense of family. Even though most of these people aren’t related by blood, they’re loyal and trust each other, and what more do you need from a family?

You smile to yourself, imagining your future with Arthur. His infatuation with you makes you feel like a queen, and you want nothing more than to be with him. Of course, you know about the family business and the risks that entails, but you know Arthur will do whatever it takes to protect you. He’s like a guard dog, in a sense.

You look towards the bar at the drink choices, searching for something a bit more exciting than your usual, and while you are momentarily distracted, you don’t see the man you are about to bump into.

As soon as your shoulder hit his, he whipped his head around to glare at you. You look up at the man and your stomach drops when you realize who it is. Tommy Shelby is staring angrily back at you with a wet spot from his splashed drink on the front of his light gray vest.

“Oh my God, I am so sorry,” you apologize quickly.

You look around for a napkin or rag, but your attention is brought back to Tommy when he exhales sharply out of his nose and places his glass on the nearest table. He crosses his arms over his chest and looks down the bridge of his nose at you.

“You’re Arthur’s woman, right?” he asks instead of responding to your apology.

“That’s right,” you respond. You don’t like how he referred to you like you’re Arthur’s property, but you figure now is not the right time to correct him.

“Hm,” he hums, looking over your body judgingly. His icy eyes make you feel like he’s staring right through you, and it makes your skin crawl. “Are you a whore?”

The scoff leaves your mouth before you can stop it. “I beg your pardon?” you ask, incredulous.

“With the way you’re dressed, I would’ve thought you were advertising,” Tommy says. “I wouldn’t put it past Arthur.”

“No, I’m not.”

“How much do you charge? Mustn’t be very expensive. The good ones know how to mind their manners,” he continues like he hadn’t heard you deny his accusation.

“I’m not a fucking whore,” you say with a huff.

“Such crass language for a young lady. You’re a sailor, then?”

You furrow your brows in a mix of anger and confusion. You cannot understand why Tommy is being so rude to you, especially when you’ve never met before this moment. Arthur always said Tommy was the best, but that is certainly not the impression you’re getting.

“Forgive me if I’ve caught you at a bad time, Tommy, but I will not be talked to in such a way.”

Tommy leans back slightly and raises his eyebrow at you.

“I will talk to you any way I please.”

Tommy’s dismissive, almost bored tone digs under your skin. How dare he treat you like this? Especially when his brother loves you so much.

“I’ll be telling Arthur about this,” you tell him, trying to keep the flare of anger in your chest at bay.

“And I’ll be sure to tell Arthur to keep you on a tighter leash.”

You make a noise that’s a mix between a scoff and a laugh. “If either of us are on a leash, it’s him.”

Tommy looks a little surprised at your response but says nothing. He watches as you turn and make your way back to Arthur. You pull him away from the conversation and he follows blindly. Your anger is evident in your walk and your tight grip on Arthur’s bicep.

You drag him towards the snug, and Arthur scrambles in front of you to open the door to the room. There, you explain your interaction with Arthur’s miserable younger brother. Arthur assures you that he will talk to Tommy and convince him to give you another chance, and maybe even an apology.

“Tommy doesn’t like strong women. Feels intimidated or something,” Arthur explains to you, arm around your shoulder as you sit on the cushioned bench.

“Hard to believe you two are related,” you tease, rubbing your hand up Arthur’s thigh. Whatever smart response that was on his tongue died as you palm over his crotch. Arthur’s eyes flick between your face and your hand, waiting patiently for you to make your next move. “You’re going to take me home and apologize on your brother’s behalf.”

A grin splits Arthur’s face and he stands up, grabbing your hand and tugging you to your feet. You escape out of the front doors of the pub without saying goodbye, but neither of you cares. You’re not in a partying mood after Tommy insulted you, and Arthur’s only desire in the world is to make you happy.

-

Unfortunately, the clock on your relationship ran out before you were able to reconcile with Tommy, to no fault of your own. You decided to surprise Arthur at his house with a basket of his favorite baked goods when you caught him in bed with another woman.

You didn’t cry, didn’t yell, didn’t curse at him and damn him to hell. You turned on your heel and left as quickly as you came, never looking back.

Once you got back to your flat, you allowed yourself to process your emotions. Arthur had used you, that much was obvious. You made him feel better, feel good about himself, and he wanted to keep you around. He acted like he loved you; maybe he truly did but his head is just that fucked up. Either way, he betrayed your trust, and you were heartbroken.

Two weeks passed and you almost forgot about the lost relationship. You no longer dwelled on it, overanalyzing every action that could have made Arthur do what he did. You accepted that it was his mistake, his loss and that you’ll be just fine.

You continued working, grateful for your inherited flat because your meager income as a typist did not stretch very far. Life was back to normal, and you could almost forget about the whirlwind months spent with Arthur that left you with a broken heart. You almost did forget, until a reminder was standing on your doorstep late at night.

You had just finished your supper for one and were washing the dishes when you heard a knock at your door. You weren’t expecting a visitor, especially not at this hour. You open the door to reveal the last man you ever expected to see: Tommy Shelby. He doesn’t greet you, he just stands in your doorway with his hands deep in his pockets, looking at you expectantly.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, making a point to block the entrance of your home so he couldn’t barge in.

“I want to apologize,” Tommy said with a sigh, like this is a great burden to him.

You furrow your brows and stare back at him. “If you’re apologizing for your treatment of me at the party, I'm afraid you’re too late,” you say, not attempting to keep the bitterness from your voice.

“I want to apologize for what Arthur did,” he corrects.

“Why?” you ask.

“Let me inside and I’ll explain.”

You roll your eyes at his sense of entitlement to your time but step aside to allow him in. He walks into your flat and looks around, taking in the room. It’s nothing much; a small couple of rooms decorated eclectically with all of your favorite things. Tommy makes a bit of a face, but you’re not surprised. You bet his home is decorated with knives and guns and severed body parts from his enemies.

Tommy turns around to look at you. “You’re not going to offer me a drink?”

“You came here to apologize, not for a drink,” you counter.

“Fair enough.”

You lead him over to the sitting area. He sits in the plush leather chair while you sit in the center of the sofa.

“On with this apology,” you say.

“Right,” Tommy clears his throat. “I’m sorry for what Arthur did. You seemed like you were good to him, but Arthur isn’t meant for that kind of life.”

“What kind of life?”

“Domesticated.” Tommy leans back in his chair and rests his ankle on his knee. “See, Arthur is a fucking animal. He doesn’t think like a man, he acts on instinct.”

You hum and nod your head in faux agreement. “I already knew that. I spent a month house-training him, and I thought I did a fine job.”

“An animal like him can’t be broken.”

“I see. But wouldn’t that make you an animal as well? Seeing as you’re from the same litter and all,” you reply with a slight smirk.

“The distinction between man and beast comes down to intelligence. I am no animal.”

“I disagree. Man is just an animal that walks upright and can speak. If anything, I’d prefer an animal that acts on its base desires than a man who succumbs to vices and needless violence.”

It’s a direct jab, one that doesn’t go unnoticed by Tommy. He raises his eyebrow at you and watches you intently.

“I am not an animal,” Tommy says again. His insistence makes you want to doubt him even more.

“Maybe not, but men are even easier to break.” Tommy is silent after that. His blue eyes stare into you like they did when you first met, but now instead of anger burning behind them, you sense something different. “A few cigarettes, some booze, and some cunt would be enough for you, right?”

Tommy nods his head once. “Perceptive.”

“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To be broken?”

“Arthur talks when he’s drunk. Can you blame me for being curious?”

A flutter of excitement appears in your chest against your wishes. Luckily, this isn’t your first time. You’re able to school your expression into something of disinterest, mirroring his.

“You can be curious all you want. I don’t understand why you think anything would come from your visit.”

For the first time tonight, Tommy lets his stoic expression crack into a smirk. “Because you’re heartbroken and lonely and angry enough at Arthur that you want to get back at him.”

You swallow thickly. He’s not wrong, but you’d rather die right here on the couch than admit that.

“Quite presumptuous, Tommy. What if I promised myself to God, gone and became a nun in the past two weeks?”

“Nuns don’t wear dresses cut like that,” he smirks.

“What do you want?” you ask instead of responding to his jibe.

“I think that much is obvious,” he says before looking over your body.

“That’s not how this works. If we do this, you have to tell me what you want, or you’re not going to get it.”

“I see. So I have to humiliate myself and explain to you all the perverted things I want you to do to me just for the chance of you agreeing?”

“Yes,” you smirk.

He nods and reaches into his coat for his cigarette case and matchbook. A comfort, you think.

“Shall we start?” he asks, and when you nod, he continues. “I want you to take off your dress. Go slow and put on a show for me. Then I want you to get on your knees and suck my cock and get it nice and wet so I can fuck you.”

You listen, nodding as he talks. “Very good telling me what you want, but I’m afraid I don’t do things like that.” Tommy looks taken aback. “I don’t put on shows, I don’t get on my knees, and I certainly don’t let you fuck me.”

“Very well. Why don’t you tell me what it is you do then, eh?” Tommy says, a smirk still on his lips. God, you can’t wait for that expression to fall.

“If you insist,” you start. “I’ll put you on your knees, I’ll let you get me wet so I can fuck you. I’ll make you put on a show for me, nice and slow. Do you get the picture, Tommy?”

“I think I do,” he says, blowing smoke out of his nose and mouth.

“Are you interested?”

“I am.” You chuckle to yourself. “Does that surprise you?”

“Oh, not at all,” you smile. “Men like you are typically the ones who enjoy this most.”

“Men like me?”

“The ones who insist they aren’t animals, yet they beg to be treated like one. Wealthy, powerful, important men who carry so much stress that they just want to let it all go. Poor boys just need to let someone else do the thinking while they just feel.” Tommy’s lips part as he watches you. The words seemingly have an effect on him if the fidgeting of his legs is anything to go by. “Do you want that, Tommy? Do you want to let go?”

Tommy doesn’t answer you at first. He stubs his cigarette out in the ashtray on the table next to the chair and clasps his hands over his chest.

“I’d like to give it a try.”

You smile at him and lean back against the couch cushion. For a moment, it’s a stare-off. Tommy is waiting for you to make a move, while you’re doing the same to him. You raise your eyebrows and pat the couch cushion next to you. Surprisingly, Tommy gets up from the chair and moves to sit beside you.

“There we go,” you grin. “Now why don’t we start by taking off your jacket?”

Tommy nods and tugs his arms out of the sleeves, not breaking your gaze the whole time. He drapes the jacket over the back of the couch and now he’s left in his white shirt, vest, and gun holster. You look questioning at the gun strapped to his side.

“Planning to kill me or giving me something to use against you?” you ask.

“You know how to use it?” he asks instead of answering.

“It can’t be that hard. Any animal can manage it,” you whisper, leaning closer to him. His eyes narrow as he looks at you, but otherwise he has no reaction. “You know, your brother told me that you don’t fancy women like me. Strong women, ones who don’t roll over for you. That’s why you were so rude to me at the party, right? Because I spilled your drink and I didn’t immediately drop to my knees to suck your cock.”

“I like nice girls,” he says, licking his lips.

“You like nice girls to hang off your arm and to parade around to one-up your associates. But I think you do fancy women like me. You’re intimidated, sure, but I think you like that. Does it get you hot when a lady bosses you around, Tommy?”

He swallows audibly, but you don’t let it show that you heard. You just look at him, waiting for an answer. Never one to admit his weaknesses, he stays silent. You place your hand on his thigh, just above his knee, fingers digging into his muscle slightly. He looks down at your hand, watching, waiting for you to put it where he wants it. Unfortunately for him, you stay still.

“Answer me,” you say.

“Yes,” he says, frustration evident in his voice.

“Yes, what?” you ask, just to make him suffer.

“Yes, it gets me hot.”

Tommy’s jaw is clenched tight, clearly unhappy he isn’t getting his way. Finally relenting, you slide your hand up his leg and press the heel of it into his crotch. His breath hitches and you just barely contain your laughter.

You remove your hand just as quickly as you put it there. Tommy makes a slight whine but quiets up when you swing your leg over his thighs and straddle his lap. Your skirt bunches at your sides, resting on his legs and hiding you from his view. He looks up at you, eyes with only a ring of blue, obstructed by his lust-blown pupils. You grab his shoulders, fingers digging into the tense muscles, prodding the painful knots.

Your eyes trace his plush lips and you wonder what it’d be like to kiss them. Would he submit and let you explore him, or would he try to resist and dominate the kiss, just so he could have some semblance of power? As intrigued as you are to find out, you don’t want to give Tommy the satisfaction of making the first move.

Hesitantly, Tommy puts his hands on your hips, and when you don’t bat them away, he grips tighter and begins to rock you back and forth on his lap. His breath hitches and his eyes flutter shut when your core rubs over the bulge in his slacks. You look down at him, unimpressed, but he cannot see your expression. You let him continue a bit longer, building up the pleasure so it’s more satisfying when you rip it away.

You thread your fingers through the hair and yank, pulling his head back and eliciting a pathetic moan from his lips. His eyes fly open to glare at you, but you don’t even put on the guise of an apologetic expression.

“Y’know, Tommy,” you start, not letting up on your grip on his hair. “Your bother’s like a dog, but you’re a fucking horse. A fucking stubborn one at that. You don’t need a soft hand and scratches behind your ear, you need a whip and some goddamn discipline.” Tommy tries to shake your hand out of his hair, but his attempt is futile. “You’re just a horse that needs to be broken.”

“And you suppose you’re able to do that?” he asks, still far too cocky for the position he finds himself in.

“Yes,” you answer plainly, and he quirks an eyebrow at your confidence.

You reach down between your legs and firmly grab the bulge in his pants. Your grip is tight, just on the right side of painful. Tommy whines and curls in on himself as much as he can, which isn’t very much due to you being on his lap.

“Has getting talked down to like an animal really done it for you?” you ask teasingly.

You know he won’t answer, but the glare he gives you is enough. You let up on your hold and begin to drag your fingernails over his hard cock, alternating between too much pressure and not enough, just to make his head spin.

“Take your cock out,” you order, but he doesn’t immediately react. “What are you waiting for?”

“You’re so crass. You could at least ask me nicely,” he responds, a mischievous smirk on his lips.

“Do you ask your horses to pull your carts full of guns and drugs?” you ask. “No, you give an order. You are just a stubborn workhorse, Tommy. I owe you no more kindness than the shit on the cobble.”

“Why would Arthur ever let you go,” Tommy says sarcastically as he moves to undo his trousers. You choose not to respond to his jibe and instead watch him take himself out of his slacks.

His cock is nothing spectacular. It’s a cock, a toy for you to use to get yourself off with, and something to lead him around by. And by the looks of the leaking pink tip, it doesn’t seem like it will be too difficult to control him.

Tommy wraps a hand around himself and begins to stroke it. He’s very clearly putting on a show for you, and it makes you want to roll your eyes. All men think they’re God’s gift to the Earth when they have their cocks out.

“I’m not here to watch you wank,” you say.

“What are you here for, then?”

You reach down and grab his wrist, stopping his movement. “Do not act like I asked you here. You came to my doorstep in the middle of the night so I could fuck you. Stop pretending like you don’t want me to show you the animal you truly are.”

Tommy bites his lip to hide what almost looks like a smile. “Then show me.”

You feel the two of you have finally reached an understanding of how the rest of the night was going to go. Tommy lets go of his cock and you replace his hand with yours. You stroke him slowly, but your grip is tight. The sensation is torturing him, the evidence is written all over his face. His lips are parted and his eyebrows are pinched with pleasure.

You wonder how much of this slow, unsatisfying attention he can take before he begs for more. His hands twitch at his sides, clearly resisting the urge to take over and fuck his hand to completion. The other hand not around his leaking cock trails up his chest, feeling the firm muscle underneath his shirt. You undo a few buttons to get a glimpse of the creamy skin underneath the crisp shirt.

Tommy usually looks so put together but like this, with his pants undone, cock out, and shirt mussed, he looks like a wet dream. Your free hand continues to travel up and stops at the base of his throat. You push just slightly, not enough to cut off any kind of air or blood flow, but enough to get his attention. He looks up at you and nods once, a simple gesture but sufficient. You tighten your hold on his throat and he keens, hips thrusting up into your hand, searching for more friction. You wouldn’t have thought choking would be something that did it for Tommy Shelby, but he’s shown himself full of surprises so far.

“Fuck me,” Tommy whines. You chuckle to yourself at his desperate tone.

“What was that?”

“Please fuck me,” he pants.

“Well, what’s the point in having a horse if you don’t ride it, eh?”

You climb off of his lap and stand in front of him. You unbutton the waist of your skirt and let it fall to the ground, leaving you in only your top and panties. Tommy’s eyes drink in the sight of you hungrily, taking in every inch of your bare legs.

“Would you do me a favor, dear?” you ask him sweetly. He nods and moves forward so he’s sitting on the edge of the couch. “Could you take my knickers off for me?”

You step closer and Tommy reaches out to grab ahold of the elastic waistband. He looks up at you once more before pulling them down and letting them fall around your ankles. He’s now at eye level with your pussy and staring intently.

“You’re drooling, Tom,” you chuckle, which seems to snap him out of his trance. “Do you want a taste?” Tommy seems to have trouble with that question. He does want a taste, but if he waits any longer to get his dick inside you, he might go insane. “What’ll it be?”

“I want to fuck you,” he says, grabbing your hips and looking up at you pleadingly.

Beneath you like this, he looks as if he was praying to you. Like you’re his God, his master, and you suppose in this moment, his fate does lie in your hands.

“Greedy boy,” you say, grabbing his hair again. “After I stroked your fucking cock and let you rut against me like an animal, you can’t even return the favor?”

“Fine, fine, let me lick your cunt then,” he says, voice desperate.

“No,” you huff, putting on a show. “If you need to get your cock wet so badly that you can’t think about anything else…” You snap your fingers and point at the floor by your feet. “Lay down.”

Tommy obeys, pointedly ignoring how the order makes him feel like a dog and how hot he finds it. He lays down on his back and looks up at you, waiting for you to join him on the ground. You step over him, a foot on either side of his hips, and lower yourself so you’re hovering above his thighs.

You grasp his cock and point the tip at your entrance, rubbing it through your wet folds. Tommy’s breath hitches at the contact, but he doesn’t have time to recover before you’re sinking down on him. You go slow, easing yourself into it as his thick cock stretches you, making room for him inside.

Tommy’s hands grip your waist, but he doesn’t push you further down or try to direct you anywhere. Good boy, you think. When you bottom out, you let out a sigh of relief. You allow yourself to wait there, sitting on his thighs with his cock inside you as you relax your muscles. Yes, you’re doing it to prep yourself to ride him, but the look on his face as he tries to restrain himself from fucking into you is priceless.

“Talk to me, Tommy.”

“Fucking move,” he grits out between his teeth.

“Is that how you talk to me?”

“I’ve got my cock in you, eh? I don’t think I have to do much more charming.”

You roll your eyes, then your hips. It was a quick motion, over as soon as it began, and it only served to frustrate Tommy more.

“I want you to tell me how it feels, not give me orders,” you say.

“It’s not fucking enough.”

“So why don’t you ask for more?”

You know you’re being frustrating, and you can tell Tommy is nearing the end of his rope. His fingers dig into your skin a little more, and you wonder if he’s going to leave bruises behind.

“Please ride me before I go fuckin’ insane,” he huffs.

You smile sweetly and start to rock your hips, quickly finding a rhythm that begins to light up your nerve endings. Tommy groans in pleasure, the deep sound spurring you on to give him a little bit more.

“So fucking tight,” he moans. “Wanna see your tits.”

You look down at him and smirk. “So crass, Tommy. You could at least ask me nicely.”

He narrows his eyes and reaches up to grab the low neckline of your blouse. He pulls it down, making your breasts spill out. You gasp and bat his hands away, but make no effort to cover yourself up.

“You don’t like nice,” he says. “You want someone just as terrible as you are.” You lean down and brace yourself on his chest to move your hips faster. There is no doubt that you are fucking him, and he can do little more than touch you.

“And you are as terrible as they come, Thomas.”

Tommy grins, albeit a lazy, fucked out grin. He palms at your tits as you bounce on his cock, not caring about being nice or gentle with him. He’s an animal, he wants it rough and he is more than capable of taking it.

Your fingers curl into his shirt and you pull at it like the reins of a horse. You both move with each thrust, finding a rhythm and working together to fuck each other to completion.

“Good fucking cunt for a whore,” Tommy says between panting breaths.

You glare down at him. You would have thought by this point he’d be too fucked out to back talk, but this horse is hard to tame. You release your hold on his shirt with one hand and clamp it down over his mouth. Tommy’s lip hits his teeth and he tastes blood, but a bit of violence has always done it for him.

“I am not a fucking whore. You’re the one who begged me to fuck you,” you huff. You know he’s baiting you, but there’s something about his smug, condescending tone that’s ever-present that irritates you. “You’re the fucking whore, Tommy. Needy, desperate, pathetic. I bet you’re close, eh?”

Tommy takes your hand off his mouth and grins lazily up at you. “Yeah, I am.”

“You have to have permission for that.”

“Then give it to me.”

“Beg for it.”

You know this game can’t go on forever. You won’t give in and he’ll refuse to beg, but eventually one of you will come. Never let it be said that Tommy Shelby isn’t full of surprises.

Tommy drops his chin and makes his eyes wide, trying to appear as innocent as possible. “Please let me come, madam. I promise I’ll return the favor. I need you.” He is playing it up, playing the role you want him to just to get his way, but it works.

“Fuck, come for me,” you gasp as you bounce faster.

“Where-?” his question is cut off with a whine when you stand up, leaving his cock wet and exposed in the cold air. Immediately, his hand is around it and he’s jerking himself off to keep up the pleasure, but this time you don’t stop him. You kneel between his spread legs and wrap your hand around his.

“Make a mess of yourself, Tommy,” you order.

Before he could argue, hot come spurts out of his cock and lands on your hand, shirt, and trousers. You watch as his pants turn dark and his shirt becomes transparent with awe, reveling in the sight of Tommy Shelby turning into a wreck before you.

You wipe your hand off on his pants and move it between your own legs to rub yourself to completion. His fucked-out expression, whimpers of pleasure, and occasional twitches of the aftershocks of his orgasm combined with the friction on your cunt send you over the edge. Your pussy flutters and your body sags with the relief of the loss of tension.

Panting, you lay on the floor next to Tommy. You both stay there, not talking, not touching, not moving for a good while. You’re content like that, having gotten some Shelby-related frustration out of your system. You feel better than you have since Arthur cheated, and everything is good again. That is until the man beside you opens his mouth again.

“How much do I owe you for the fuck?” he asks.

You don’t bother to pick your head up. You simply smack his chest, making a hollow thud and a laugh come from the man.

“I should be paying you,” you respond.

“Was it really that good?” he teases again.

“You’re insufferable, Tommy.”

Tommy rolls onto his side to look at you, but you do not mirror his actions.

“And you’re a horrible wench. A wicked, evil woman who takes pleasure in seeing others suffer.” There’s no heat behind his words, and you feel a smile forming on your face.

“And you’re a stubborn fucking ass that kicks his owner.”

Tommy sits up and reaches for his jacket, taking the pack of cigarettes and matchbook out of the pocket. He puts one of them in his mouth, tucked in the corner.

“I’d say we’re a good match, eh?” he says before striking the match and lighting the end of the cigarette.

You scoff. “I’d rather die than be involved with another Shelby.”

Tommy turns to you with a raised eyebrow. “I’d say we’re already involved, but if it’s so important to you,” Tommy pauses for a moment. “I’ll take your name.”

You blink at him. “What the fuck are you on about?”

“You know, since you’re so adamant about being in charge. I’ll take your surname, then I’d really be yours.” That smirk and teasing tone that drives you insane is back.

“Get the fuck out of my house, Tom.”

Tommy stands up and grabs his jacket and hat, then puts them both on without breaking eye contact with you.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he says as he turns around, walking towards the door.

“No, you won’t!”

Tommy shoots you a wink over his shoulder before slipping out the door and back into the night where he came from. You know that tomorrow night he will show up on your doorstep, and you know that you’ll invite him in. Damn, those Shelby men.

[bucknastysbabe]

Let’s Face the Music and Dance - B. Barnes

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Angsty smutty blurb, 40’s setting, subby bucky makes an appearance, takes place night before he’s shipped off to war, Missus wants her boy well fed OKAY, so sappy and soft, he’s just kitty okay? lil kitty big kitty Murder kitty, pnv!sex, cowgirl, man tears

A/N: I don’t proofread I cry and call it a day

His lips stuttered words against your pulsing neck. You held on to his wide shoulders harder than you thought possible— like if you dug in a little more he wouldn’t have to leave tomorrow. Go fight in a war on unfamiliar territory. The cocky Brooklyn boy somewhere in Italy, Germany, hell he probably didn’t know either. Bucky leaned onto his forearms, dark sweaty hair plastered to his broad forehead.

He frowned a bit, soft pink lips pouting, smooth cheeks still puffed with residual baby fat. Too skinny for your tastes. Bucky was meant to be soft, sturdy, cuddly on the outside as he was on the inside. You kissed him gently, lapping at those pouting lips. Bucky murmured, long lashes brushing skin, “Don’t look all sad like that baby, I’m gonna come home to ya’. My pretty wife.”

You nodded, wrapping your thighs around a too-trim waist. Breathing into him you sighed, “Y-you better, then we can do all those stupid couple things we always talked about, ha, and m’gonna get some meat on your bones again.” Bucky softly smiled, eyes crinkling and cheeks dimpled— he couldn’t hide the tears very well.

He stifled a sob, tucking his head between your chin and shoulder, breath ragged and sharp. Cooing and squeezing his flagging length, you rubbed at your husbands shaking back. “Awe kitten, s’okay baby, you’re with me, just me.” He curled tighter into your softer flesh, a hand coming to rest on your cheek. He jerked his hips a little with a whimper, softening cock swelling some.

“Kitten baby, talk to me,” you whispered gently, carding manicured fingers through his dark hair. It was a secret name between the two of you. Always drove Buck a lil’ mad, made his pretty face grow flushed and tongue soft. But your husband earned his nickname— he was a sweet kitten, those big blue eyes and soft lips, always looking for pets and a treat. Flashing irresistible sad orbs and little whines just like one.

The brunette burrowed a little, muffled voice vibrating your flesh. He croaked, “Babydoll, m’so scared.” Your throat tightened and instinctively swallowed down a sob. It was up to you to be the bear now, the protector. It always had fallen to Bucky— he took care of his ma and sis, then Steve, now you.

Tilting his face up, reddened blue eyes met your own. Buck hoarsely joked, “I know, I’m not being very Sarge right now.” A couple of beats and he sobbed again, moaning, “I don’t know what to do.” You held him tighter and sighed, “Don’t need to do a damn thing. You’re strong and capable, smart, a damn fine provider. They’ll look to you on the field I know it.” He sniffled and calmed some, whispering thanks between sweet little kisses.

“Kitten, lemme take care of you, love on my pretty baby,” you cooed, “S’that okay? Just relax yeah?”

He nodded, throat bobbing as he slid out of you and laid on his back, wide blues staring like you’d hung the moon and stars. Sweet boy. Climbing atop his strong thighs and feeling for his half-hard cock, your slick core took Buck in like a thousand times before. Made for you. Bucky’s chest hitched and he whimpered softly, big hands wrapping around your waist. Kitty’s cock was beginning to plump up again, throbbing against your tight walls.

Petting his sensitive nipples and neck you cooed, “There we go, good kitten, don’t think bout’ nothing. Just how much I love you, how blessed I am to meet my handsome husband,” you flexed, “To have and to hold.”

He whined, long and low, thighs jumping beneath you. Bucky stammered, “Mm- oh- I love you so much, love you baby doll, fuck!” He writhed a bit when your soft thighs and ass rhythmically slapped against his pale skin. You moaned and milked him at that same leisurely pace, the brunette’s hands groping weakly at your heavy tits.

Your husband babbled, “Ahhh- Ah- I’ll write you every chance, take l-lots of pictures, be a good little soldier and k-keep my head down! Mmmmm god!” He cried out sharply, cute nose scrunching up, cock spitting a bit. Rolling your hips and leaning forward to press the length of your body to his own, the changing of angle eliciting a moan from both of you. His big hands massaged at your ass, thumbing shakily where you were joined together.

Nuzzling at his delicate nose you purred, “Good kitty, I’ll send you plenty of sweets and updates on ah! Everyone! Right there James, right there!,” you had to pause for the string of helpless whined and curses, “Be that-that good soldier so you can come home fill me up with babies and be fat and happy, yeah kitten?” His eyes flew open, limbs clamping down on your smaller frame as Buck emptied his seed with a desperate cry.

He mouthed dumbly at your skin, balls still pumping, your own climax sneaking up in return, pussy pulling and milking his overtaxed cock. You shivered and mewled, “Oh! James!” Your kitten was a little mushy, smiley and kissing sloppily at your lips, reluctant to let you move one inch. He sighed, “Wan’ that so so bad, oh honey.”

Petting his hair back again you chuckled, “Me too, lemme over so my girls aren’t being squished anymore.” Bucky’s blues lit up in recognition, apologizing and petting your tits as he tucked your frame into his, spooning now. You sniffed at the feeling of his hot seed slipping out of your sore hole— but there’s worse going on.

Bucky puffed, “Thank you babydoll. Sure know how to make a guy feel one hundred percent. Didn’t mean to get all weepy earlier.” You turned to give him a sharp look, stating, “No. It’s okay to feel. Don’t ever forget that Mister James Buchanan Barnes. This is a scary situation, feeling like this is valid.”

He nodded slowly, tears welling back up. Bucky kissed and loved on you most of the night, whispering, “love you, m’gonna come home, I promise, I promise.” You believed him. Buck was a strong boy. He’d make it home— sooner or later. Intertwining your hands within his own you kissed scarred knuckles, asking for some saint’s intercession.

Bring him home to me, to Becs, Winnie, Steve. Please.

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

And the other one is for Yandere cowboy Knoxx,inspired by the previous what if,

what if reader is an immigrant wanting to work a job with high salary that's why she was at Knoxx's town,and reader want to visit her family back at her hometown,will Knoxx come and how would he greet reader's family?will he be accepted?What would he do to achieve his rightful place beside reader without murdering reader's family?

Yandere! Cowboy x New in town! Teacher! Fem! Reader

WHAT IF: The reader goes back to the city, but this time with Knoxx?

Okay. For Knoxx not to go haywire by the prospect of darling going home, this meant that there will be an established relationship! So, the reader is still a teacher, and is actually together with Knoxx already. You're an immigrant from a foreign country. Guess which one?

This one will also be short!

Knoxx remembered the first time you got here in this town.

You, helping Red from getting washed away by the river, you in your teacher uniform, him staking his claim while putting a hat on you...

It felt so long ago.

Now, you're in a relationship with him.

He heard about your story from your own mouth.

An immigrant, you moved here in order to have a higher paying job. Especially that the country you came from had a weaker currency. So more money.

He admired your hardworking spirit, and vowed to help you as much as he can.

You're an amazing teacher. Despite being from a foreign country going to a small, tight knit town, everyone loved you. You're smart, kind, generous, and really good at teaching kids.

No wonder everyone was so on board with you dating Knoxx.

And, when you told Knoxx about your plans on going home AND introducing him, he was through the moon.

"Darlin! Are you sure? Then yes! I will gladly meet yer family!" He grinned, thinking of how it would be nice to meet the people who reared you to be such an amazing person.

The flight there was a bit scary, but Knoxx held you tight. Despite being rich, it was his first time flying. Because most of the time he was just in the town. The only time he left was for University.

You giggled, holding his hand and giving him the warmest smile with a squeeze on his hand.

"Calm down, okay?" You whispered, giving him a kiss on his temple that made him relax in your touch.

Touching down, he felt his heart pump wildly in nervousness.

He's a family man. The Wyatt's were known to be a tight knit family. So he's naturally eager to get the approval of yours too.

"Mama! I'm here!" You yelled.

Suddenly, footsteps raced towards the both of you and the gates opened.

"Iha! Come! Come!" Your mother, in her bestida, welcomed you back in her arms.

Your mother suddenly stilled, looking up at Knoxx who only flinched and bowed down.

"Hello missus! I am Knoxx, yer daughter's boyfriend." He said. His voice low and respectful. His cowboy hat perched on his chest.

"Ah! Knoxx! It's you, the cowboy! Ay, come in you too!" Your mother's thick accent comforted Knoxx, like a warm blanket covering him.

You both got inside the house, and the luggage were immediately taken by your siblings by the order of your mother.

"Is Papa here?" You asked.

"Ah, Papa's working. He's always busy you know." Your mother shooked her head. "Anyways, you both must be tired! Let's eat! I cooked sinigang."

Knoxx felt at home.

Your hometown is a province, filled with farmlands and ranches. It was the same as Knoxx's, and he knew he would have a great time spending time here.

"You have an amazing place 'ere, missus!" Knoxx said, looking around the knick knacks, medals, trophies, picture frames, and random memorabilia in your home. "It's very 'omely."

"Oh we try, cowboy." Your mother said. "Now come, let's eat."

Days passed by, and Knoxx integrated well with your family. Your dad likes him very much due to him being a rancher and also somebody well versed with farming. Your siblings treated him like a real brother, playing with him on the fields. Your mother spoiled him, cooking him your country's foods he never got to try.

Knoxx looked really happy.

And as you watched Knoxx help your father till the fields with a carabao and an old style tiller, you knew you found the man in your life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Knoxx is sweet like that fr fr. He would never kill your family nor you. But, friends and acquaintances are not safe though LMAO

[lethalchiralium]

a domestic happiness ask because the amount of times i’ve read missus dying is offensive !!

completely domestic it hurts tbh

it’s the morning, simon just arrived back home the night before and the babies don’t know

missus and simon have some fluff in the kitchen - making tea, listening heart 70s radio (some swaying to the radio?🙏🏻), reading books in comfortable silence, best banter known to man

maybe winnie comes down and sees simon but has to be quiet to not wake her siblings😭 and then the 3 go and wake up mellie & baby together

just cuteness overload

#happinessislifefr

ugh this makes me so happy

happiness au! (again not decided on the sex of the baby yet)

The cigarette on his lips felt heavy as he sat on the front porch of his home. Knowing you were inside, asleep in your large bed, it made Ghost feel comforted. The family he’s protecting is quiet, eyes fluttering as they sleep and are oblivious to his return - yet he hasn’t stepped through the front door.

One last cigarette and he could go inside, peel off the mask and hold you until his little hellions woke up.

He stubbed the filter into the concrete before picking it up, shoving it in his pocket to throw away later and taking out the singular silver house key beside the keys to his truck. He opened his front door, noting the house was quiet - yet he still heard footsteps in the kitchen. He toed off his boots, closing the door and locking it behind him before he pulled off his coat, then shoved it into the closet so you didn’t smell the cigarette smoke on it.

He could hear something being poured, shuffling around in the kitchen - he knew the sound of your footsteps well enough to know it was you.

You knew the sound of his coat and the heaviness of his footsteps, so you weren’t scared out of your skin when your husband kissed your cheek - your cold hands pouring hot tea into his favorite cup. You didn’t mean to wake up this early, Nathan having kept you up a few hours longer than you intended. You placed the pot down, turning your head to look up at your husband - only to be met by the porcelain colored skull plate.

“Bad?” You whispered, the first word you had spoken that morning. It wasn’t often that he came in with the mask, Simon never liked you interacting with his protective shell, Ghost.

He didn’t move his head, his body stayed still yet his eyes flickered down. You frowned, your hand coming to settle on where his cheekbone was - your palm touching the dirt dusted plastic of his mask. You didn’t need to ask him what happened, he wouldn’t utter a word. You may have not been married for more than two years but that doesn’t excuse the way you knew him. Like he was sculpted from the same block of clay, the way soulmates are always intertwined.

Your fingernails tapped against the plastic, his cold brown eyes flickered to meet yours. You turned fully, the thin t-shirt you wore pressed against his taut stomach and rough belt. His large hand settled on your hip, gloved fingertips begging to feel your warm skin as he felt as cold as ice.

“The boy?”

“Givin’ me Hell in Riley fashion.”

He hummed a little chuckle, his free hand coming to rest right on your chest - right above your heart. His index and middle fingers pressed a little into your skin, trying to feel your heart through his glove.

“He’ll be happy to see you.”

“He’s only six weeks old.”

“He knows who his dad is.”

Simon wasn’t prepared for a son before, but now that he had held Nathan, he knew that he was more than ready. How did he know? Because as soon as he looked in the face of a little Simon Riley, he only felt love. He didn’t feel the despair he thought he would.

“The girls have missed you so much.”

“It’s been two weeks.”

“A long time for them to go without you, honey.” You watched his eyes as they memorized your face, a sleepy smirk tugged at your lips. “Mellie’s been trying to draw you pictures, she’s playing more and more.”

“That’s good.”

“She’s not trying to hide Winnie as often. Or me. Or Missy.”

“She’s too little to be having problems.”

You knew the look in his eye was clear self-deprecation - he thought his daughter having anxiety was exclusively his fault. “Honey.” Your fingertips grazed across the bottom of his mask, the hand on your chest moved to yours as a warning. You understood, keeping your hands on his chest with your nails scratching the old balaclava. “I know you think it’s your fault, but it isn’t. I’ve talked with the doctor, her herding and hiding her family makes her feel safe.”

“She doesn’t feel safe because I’m not here.”

“Simon-“

There was a creak from the staircase, Ghost’s head whipped up to gaze at the doorway - you looked too, only to see your seven year old as she creeped into the kitchen. Her eyes lit up as she saw her father, her arms instantly out as tears burst from her eyes. He let go of you instantly, striding over to scoop his daughter into his arms.

He desperately needed to smell that lavender shampoo you always used, needed to feel her curls against his face - his body was too hot, his face felt like it was on fire and he needed his mask off. All he could smell was the ichor of the battlefield, all he could taste was the metal in his blood.

“Mum was gonna help me get my mask off. Can you help me?”

The girl in orange pajamas nodded a little, a yawn came from her lips as her little hands ungraciously grabbed the top of his mask - including some hair underneath - and pulled. Without a wince, Simon let his oldest child tear off his mask, revealing the black paint around his deep brown eyes. His Winter Grace smiled, hands settled on his cheeks as she whispered, “Good morning, Daddy.”

Your hand settled on his lower back, he didn’t flinch like he would have with his skull plate over his face - his breathing slowed as he pressed his lips to Winnie’s curly hair. “Hello, my little love.”

Your hand gently squeezed your daughter’s foot, she slightly squealed as you whispered, “What are you doing up, baby?”

“Didn’t sleep good.”

“Didn’t sleep good?” Simon’s voice became as light as a feather, his hand cradling her head as he whispered, “I’m sorry. Do you want Mummy to tuck you back in?”

She shook her head, her warm hands tapping a little melody into his skin. “No. Wanna go to bed with you and Mummy.”

You gently shook her leg, your head resting on Simon’s shoulder. “Don’t forget that baby Nathan’s in Mommy’s room, you have to be extra quiet.”

She nodded before she wrapped her arms around Simon’s neck, her round face gazing at you with a smile before she whispered, “Daddy’s home.”

“I know, my love.” You whispered back, seeing Simon’s smile grow in your peripheral vision. “Do you think Melsie and Nate are gonna be happy too?” She nodded vigorously, you gently laughed before you kissed her nose. You looked up to your husband, your smile wide. “Let’s go.”

Simon’s mug of tea grew cold as you spent the early hours of the morning cuddling your children beside your husband.

Copyright © 2023 lethalchiralium. All rights reserved.

[imightgetbetter]

i'm not very good at this sort of thing

matty and the missus' wedding. a little smut, a lot of sweetness. i hope you enjoy. i am feeling very soft thinking about this era of their relationship. i would love to write more lovey dovey stuff like this. love these two forever and ever. thanks for supporting me and them and the blog. you're all a bunch of legends. love you forever and then some. warnings: some smut in the beginning so if you're a minor don't read ok thank you also lots of sweet stuff if you're looking for angst it's not here

Matty’s curls hang low in your face as his hips thrust against yours, rocking back and forth as your legs tighten around his waist, your hands cupping his cheeks as your lips sloppily meet in the middle amidst your moans and grunts. His cock is buried deep inside of you, and you can feel yourself nearing the edge of release, the pleasure building in your abdomen and your fingertips gripping the sheets beneath you. His words are murmured against your skin, rushes of “I love you,” “God, you feel so good,” and many moments of “fuck” grunted in your ear. His words alone could bring you there, but the feeling of him pushing into you, his thighs tense between yours, is enough to push you over the edge.

His orgasm washes over him as you tense and squeeze around him, your body growing lax beneath him as he kisses over your thighs and your stomach and up your chest, nuzzling in your neck and pressing tiny kisses into your skin. Circling your arms around his shoulders, holding him tightly to you, you can see your engagement ring shining with the sunlight piercing through the window. Matty had just gotten it cleaned for the first time, and it looks brand new, you’d say, almost too pretty to wear. Almost being the key word there, because you haven’t taken it off since he slid it on your finger. Matty lifts his head when you sigh, his lips pulled into a half smile that you adore so openly.

“Are your legs shaking?”

“Maybe,” you huff, slowly releasing your legs from around his waist and stretching them out against the crisp white sheets. Matty lifts his body from yours, with a laugh, slowly pulling out of you and lying beside you, stretching himself out before sitting upright and reaching for his phone on the bedside table. “Have you picked up our clothes from the dry cleaners?”

“I have to do that in an hour or so. Do you know what time everyone is coming over?”

“Around two,” you say, rolling onto your side and laying your head on his chest, closing your eyes to the sound of his heartbeat thrumming under your ears. “Can we go look at wedding bands, today?”

“Will we have time?”

“It’s only,” you say, pausing to look at the time on his screen, “half eight. I think if we’re out the door by ten we can grab our dry cleaning and look at wedding bands and be back and ready for the party by two.”

“Alright, darling, whatever you like,” Matty hums, kissing your forehead and setting his phone beside him, soaking in the last minutes of quiet before a busy day. “It’s supposed to be beautiful out, today. It would be a lovely day to get married.” Matty’s eyes meet yours for a moment. “I was kidding, love.”

“Are you?”

“I mean, yeah,” he says, patting your backside and nudging you away from him – the longer you’re on him the longer he’ll prolong staying in bed – swinging his legs over the side of the bed and reaching for a clean pair of boxers in the bedside table drawer. “I haven’t got anything ready for you. I haven’t planned the honeymoon or my vows or even what I want to wear. And God, I’ll be a mess when you walk down the aisle, I haven’t prepared myself for that.”

“I suppose you’re right,” you hum, admiring him as he slowly pulls trousers up his legs and settles the waistband just right on his hips. “I wouldn’t mind it, though.”

“Wouldn’t mind what, darling?”

“Just winging it.” There’s a sentiment in the air that you can’t quite put your finger on, an emotion you’ve never touched bubbling at the surface. More than love, more than genuine care, it’s almost a feeling of nostalgia, to be at time in your life where surprising your friends and family with a celebration of your love for one another would be reminiscent of the past, an ode to the times where you snuck around and hid in closets and bedrooms. Something new, untouched in your emotional toolkit. “I don’t think it’d throw our friends off that much. Our families wouldn’t mind as long as they’re there. It’d save us all a hassle, to be honest.”

“I can see the wheels turning in your head, YN.” Matty pulls a shirt over his head and lays his hands flat on the mattress, leaning over to press his lips to yours. “We’re not getting married, today, my dear.”

“But, what if we did?”

Matty puffs out a breath and kisses your temple, his lips lingering on your skin for more than a moment before conceding, “Then I guess we’re going to buy wedding bands, aren’t we?”

“I promise we can do the whole big reception and party and booze and hundreds of guests and friends and family another time, Matty,” you reason, grabbing his cheeks and holding his face flush to yours, your noses pressed against each other at the bridge. “But this, this I want to be just us and our immediate family. You and me. The guys. Our parents. Our siblings. Twenty people max. All in our backyard. We’ll get everyone here and tell them it’s the engagement party but when we go to make a toast, we’ll tell everyone to get in their cars and get on their way to the courthouse. And then we’ll come back here and celebrate. It’ll be just like we pictured it.”

“Just how you pictured it, darling.” Matty takes note of your softened and defeated expression. “Darling, will this make you happy?”

“I don’t want something big. I just want you and me.”

“I’m pretty sure I have to be there either way, my love.”

“Matty.”

“Look,” Matty says softly, adjusting his body to sit on the edge of the mattress, his face still held between your palms, his nose brushed against yours, “if this is how you picture our wedding day, then I’m in. It’s our day, sure, but you waited long enough for me to get my shit together, the least I can do is make sure it’s the day of your dreams.”

You lean forward, pressing your lips to his sweetly, a smile breaking apart where your mouths meet. “I love you massively, deep in the depths of my bones.”

“I don’t even think that’s possible.”

“It’s possible.”

“Alright, Madam Poetry, we have rings to buy and flowers to find all in the span of,” Matty checks his phone, “four hours.”

Kissing Matty once more for good measure, you push off the mattress, rattling about in your wardrobe to find your clothing. Matty assures you that you don’t have to rush, just put a little pep in your step, and that you don’t want to forget anything. You ask him to grab all the things for a marriage certificate (you’ve been researching in your free time) and you stand in front of the mirror, sure and ready with your decision. You have everything you need, in and including a note on your phone that you’ve been drafting over and over since the day after you got engaged.

“Are you ready, darling?”

“I am,” you say surely, tucking your things in your purse and grabbing his hand, following his lead out the door. He’s chattering about what garnish of metal he’s thinking about for his ring, and you can see the excitement beginning to fill his features, and you wonder if it’s always been there, the anticipation of marrying you, and you just never noticed. All the words you’ve been thinking of for the last twenty minutes sit resting on the tip of your tongue, and you don’t want to ruin the excitement, yet you know you need to ask. Matty’s question of what you’re thinking about draws you from your daydream and you blurt out, “Have you written your vows yet?”

///

Outside couldn’t have been better – a sunny afternoon with clear skies and warm temperament basking over everyone in the garden, two tables filled with family and the closest friends to you, glasses of champagne gathered around the place settings that will be filled with catered food later in the evening. Matty miraculously (although not surprisingly) pulled through on the surprise by only telling Jamie what was happening today (as he would be in attendance, of course) and the extra knowing hands allowed for you two to solely focus on buying the rings and the flowers and getting Matty’s suit dry cleaned and your dress properly steamed for the afternoon – a white, silk number that fit perfectly to your body. Matty nearly burst at the seams when George rang him to ask what he should bring to the party, and you kept a close eye on him to ensure the secret would remain just that – a secret.

Matty pulls you into his side, kissing your temple sweetly. “Is it time?” he whispers, waiting for you to meet his gaze and nod at him subtly, your peripheral vision catching the eyes of George and Ross in the corner. Carly stands close by, handing a glass of champagne to Adam (if Matty got to tell an important person, you got to tell an important person), and you smile, grabbing your own and holding it up for everyone to see.

“Matty and I wanted to thank you all for coming to our engagement party, today. All of us are only in town for a little while and we know you all have things to be doing, but it felt like the perfect time to celebrate the engagement and everything that it means from here on out,” you say, your eyes welling with tears at the thought of what comes next. It’s what you’ve been waiting for all these years, all the waiting and yearning for him behind closed doors, it’s coming to a close, and to a new beginning all at once. “I’m sure all of you were waiting for our engagement as much as I was,” you say, laughing with your friends and family as a surrounding sea of head nods and laughter fills your garden. “I just wanted to say a thank you, from Matty and myself, to all of you, for always loving and supporting us and seeing our relationship through just as much as we did. Your love and support have meant everything to us.” Matty’s hand squeezes yours.

“That’s actually why we told you all to dress up a bit more formally, today,” Matty begins, waving his champagne glass towards the friends and family all dressed in trousers and skirts. “’Cause it’s not just an engagement party, you know, why would we ever do anything so lackluster?” Matty smirks at his mother, who seemingly has already caught on, and is whispering in your mother’s ear as Matty gathers the courage to say what he really means. “What I really mean to say is, well, we’re getting married. Today, I mean. Cars are on their way to take us to the courthouse, and we’ve already done all the paperwork and things. You’ll all be a witness. A true family affair.”

“I know the whole wedding planning is the usual thing to do but, to be fair, it’s really not my speed and I’d much rather celebrate with just you lot. This is what we want to do,” you say, looking to Matty, who has a smile plastered from ear to ear. “All we want from you all is lots of pictures and videos. That’s all we ask. We have plenty of food and drinks and wine and dancing waiting for us for when we get back.”

“That’s it, then? We’re doing this thing?” George chimes in from against the wall, a grin spreading across his lips as he walks towards his best friend. “Are you going to play it?”

“Play what?” you say, turning your head towards George and Matty and pressing your lips together in a tight line, trying to read the facial expressions between the two of them. Matty nods and George claps him on the shoulder, kissing his cheek and hurrying inside to grab what you can assume to be an instrument. Matty kisses your cheek and pulls a chair out for you, grabbing the chair beside you and sitting in it himself. “Matty, what are you playing?”

Matty takes a sip of the champagne and takes the guitar from George, settling the strings in the right places and allowing Carly and George to gather everyone around where you’re sitting, everyone seeming to know exactly what’s happening besides you. “You are the last person to know about this,” Matty says, strumming the strings lightly, “mainly because I have been trying to find the words to write normal vows to you since the night we got engaged. I'm not very good at this sort of thing, as you know. I just couldn’t make anything sound right and I knew nothing would be comparable to what you’ve written, so I figured I’d do what I knew best, and George and I got in the studio, and we wrote. Well, I wrote. I wrote about you and what it means to be loved by you. And I wrote about how I think I can get better whenever I’m with you, because you make things better, darling. You make everything better.” Matty wipes the corner of his eye. “So, while I didn’t write a three-paragraph barrage of my love for you, I did write a three-minute song of it. I would like to play that for you, now, because I do think it would be very weird to pull out a guitar in the middle of a courthouse.” Matty laughs with you, and you can hear the surrounding laughter behind you. “Can I play my vows for you, sweetheart?”

And the only thing you can do is nod quietly, swallowing back tears as his fingers splay out over the strings.

“Our first kiss was Christmas in the Walmart toy department // She said, "I should take you with me when I leave" // When we were searchin' New York for a fancy, new apartment // She said, "Central Park is Sea World for trees.” Matty’s voice is soft, and the only thing you can hear besides his voice is the quiet chirping of birds far off in the distance, and you wish you could take a picture of the moment, of you and Matty and the loved ones around you, but you swear you’ll keep it all in your memory. “You ask about the cows, wearin' my sweater // It's somethin' 'bout the weather that makes them lie down // The only time I feel I might get better is when we are together. I like socks with sandals, she's more into scented candles // Oh, I'll never get that smell out of my bag // And it was poorly handled, the day we both got canceled // Because I'm a racist and you're some kind of slag.” Matty laughs breathily and you can feel yourself laughing under the tears in your eyes. “You ask about the cows, wearin' my sweater // It's somethin' 'bout the weather that makes them lie down // The only time I feel I might get better is when we are together, oh, together.” Matty takes a breath, “"I'm better at writing" was just a way to get you biting, oh // The truth is that our egos are absurd // I thought we were fighting but it seems I was gaslighting you // I didn't know that it had its own word // You still ask about the cows, wearin' my sweater // Said it's something 'bout the weather that makes them lie down // The only time I feel I might get better is when we are together.”

Matty sets the guitar in George’s hands and grabs your hands, pulling you into his lap. He gently wipes the tears from your eyes and says, “I know for a fact that I get better when I’m with you, and I want to spend every day for the rest of my life, and into the next one, getting better with you, darling. You are the better half of me. I can’t wait to make you my wife.”

Matty sighs when you grab his cheeks and kiss him, falling into your touch and blissfully ignoring the coos from your family around you, your friends hollering and whistling for you. Adam calls that the cars are here, and Carly begins ushering everyone outside for you. You take one more moment with Matty alone, soaking in what it feels like now, to be moments away from your wedding, from being his wife. You circle your arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly, and whisper into his ear, “I’ve been getting better since the day I met you.”

///

Matty is holding your hands tightly as you stand in front of the officiant at the courthouse, all your friends and family adoringly taking videos and photographs, your excitement bubbling over in your grin and wide eyes, a mirrored expression on Matty’s face. His hands are shaking in yours, and you squeeze him tightly to reassure him that you’re there, that you’re never going anywhere. On your left, the officiant is saying many things about love and quoting great philosophers and therapists and people you’ve never heard of, all things you wish you could say you wanted to remember, but all you want to remember is this feeling, the feeling of Matty’s hands in yours and the smile on his face and the way his curls are falling in his eyes and the way your heart feels like it’s sitting permanently in your throat with nerves.

“It’s time for your vows, YN. Have you prepared your own, too?”

“I have mine, yes,” you say, looking at Carly nervously and smiling when she hands you your phone, your fingers fiddling with the screen to find the note that you’ve labelled honey for as long as you can remember. “Alain de Botton said, ‘Perhaps it is true that we do not really exist until there is someone there to see us existing, we cannot properly speak until there is someone who can understand what we are saying in essence, we are not wholly alive until we are loved.’ I have been loved my whole life, and I have loved my whole life, but until I was thirteen, I had never been loved by you. It’s a special thing, to meet the person you’re meant to share your life with at such a young age, because I have had the privilege of sharing my life with you for more than half of it. I do believe that I was merely existing before I met you, because meeting you had meant that I met my people. My best friends. My confidants. My family. My village. Because I met you, I found people that understood what I was saying, even when I didn’t exactly know what I was saying myself. Because I met you, I realized what it meant to really feel alive. I know that being alive feels like staying up until four in the morning talking and dancing and singing together after being awake for twenty hours. I know that being alive means crying together when things go wrong. I know that being alive means laughing at our mistakes and loving each other in spite of them. And I know that being alive means I get to love you unconditionally and without limit. Yes, perhaps it is true that we do not really exist until there is someone to see us existing. And if it’s you that sees me exist, I will be happy forever.”

Matty looks at the officiant and looks at you, smiling brightly. “This is why I went first.” George laughs and Ross shakes his head. Carly reaches over and hands you a tissue, always prepared and already ready. Matty looks to the officiant, again, and says, “I need her to be my wife, now. Quickly, if possible.”

Matty smiles when you laugh, and you can see that the sound of it alone makes his eyes light up with joy. Minutes go by and words are shared between you and the officiant and Matty, I do and Yes, I will and a Thank God before Matty’s mouth is on yours, kissing you deeply, his hands holding your cheeks as your body presses against his. He kisses you for what feels like forever, and you’re lost in it, in the feeling of him and his mouth and what it means.

You’re married. You and Matty are married.

“We’re married,” you whisper, pulling away to catch your breath.

“We are. You’re my missus, darling. Now and forever, you’re all mine. And, might I add, you’re absolutely dashing in all white.” Matty tucks his thumb under your chin, “What’s going in that brain of yours? Are you happy?”

“I’m so happy, I don’t know what to do with all of it,” you whisper, the tears overflowing in your eyes and creasing in the corners. “I love you forever.”

“And I’ll love you longer.”

[knowiloveyoubabe]

Beautiful Baker Boy

Word Count: 1.7K Warnings: fluffyyyyy Summary: Beautiful baker boy meets lovely florist (gender neutral Y/N)

The summer sun bore down on Y/N’s back as they bent over the outside display, silently cursing the lack of clouds in the sky. They rub the back of their neck, where the blistering beam had strangely focused, gently moving around a few bouquets with their other hand. 

They step back, hands on their hips, slowly scanning the small display in front of the tiny flower shop.

“That’ll do, I guess.” They mutter to themself, using the back of their hand to wipe some sweat that had started to collect on their hairline. 

“Y/N, darling!” Their elderly boss, the shop owner, calls out for them from inside the store. 

“Coming!” Y/N hurries inside, their mind still on the flower display.

“I’m heading out soon, love. I don’t want to be late meeting the missus, I still have to swing by the bakery!” His wrinkles become more prominent as he smiles, wiping his hands on the apron wrapped around his waist. Y/N’s hand found its way over their heart as their own smile grew.

“Will you be okay on your own for the rest of the day?” He asks, removing his apron and reaching for the special bouquet he had arranged for his wife of over four decades. Y/N nods their head, smile beaming.

“Of course! Don’t worry about me, you trained me, remember?” They brush their sweat-dampened hair out of their face, admiring their mentor and the love he had for his wife.

“I know, darlin’. Thank you,” His smile lines deepened along with his crows feet as he pats them on the shoulder, nursing the bouquet with his other arm. He nods his head at them, “See you tomorrow!”

“Alright, have fun!” Y/N calls out after him as the door shuts behind him with a ding of the bell. 

Soon after their boss left, the day fell into a bit of a lull. They got a few things done around the shop, helped a few customers, all in an attempt to avoid the behemoth task of organizing the flowers in the back room. But the minutes ticked away like hours and Y/N felt as though the boredom would soon drive them crazy. They groaned as they got up off of the stool behind the cash register and dipped into the doorless back room where they began sorting out the orders. Y/N had barely made a dent in the work that needed to be done before they peeked at the time, noticing it was almost time to close up shop.

“Hello?” Y/N heard a familiar voice from the front, confused as to how they didn’t hear the bell signaling that someone was entering the shop. They peek their head out of the room to catch a glimpse, their heart jumping to their throat when they see the back of the customer's curly head. 

Oh God. Panic set in when they realized who the sultry voice belonged to.

It was Harry, the beautiful baker boy who worked just across the street. Y/N had developed an almost delusional crush, Harry having made many an appearance in their maladaptive daydreams during the slower days at the flower shop. Since the first day they met, Y/N hadn’t been able to get him out of their head. So one would think that they’d be prepared for his weekly visit to the flower shop. “Coming!” Their voice cracking, deepening the blush already settling on their cheeks. They pray that they look somewhat presentable when they leave the back room, their eyes instantly meeting with his. 

“Hey, Y/N.” He smiles, his lovely green eyes scanning their face. 

“H-Hey, Harry.” Y\N wipes their sweaty palms on their apron, trying not to stare at the tattoos on his tanned arms. “Already time for your weekly bouquet?”

Harry chuckles, nodding and rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I just closed the bakery, thought I could also drop off some of these.” He reaches into his large tote bag, pulling out a brown paper bag. The smell of freshly baked bread and parmesan cheese filled the air in the tiny shop as Harry placed the bag on the counter next to the register.

“Cheese buns.” Y/N says breathily, unable to hide the smile spreading on their face.

“Your favorite!” Harry’s dimple deepens as his smile widens. Y/N’s heart raced in their chest.

“You remembered?” 

“Of course, it was one of the first things you said to me.” A slight blush appears on the beautiful man's cheeks as he nudges Y/N’s shoulder. They both laugh lightly as they recall Y/N fumbling over their words as they ordered from the bakery for the first time. The cute boy behind the counter had been wearing a sleeveless shirt with a bandana in his hair, flour on his face and arms, and a dimpled smile. 

Y/N shook the image from their head, worried they’d embarrass themself even more.

“You gonna look around?” They changed the subject quickly, clearing their throat. Harry nods, putting his tote down on the counter next to the bag of cheese buns. 

“Yeah, but please, don’t let me get in your way.” He lays a gentle hand on Y/N’s arm, sending a chill through their body. 

“You’re never in the way.” Y/N spoke softly, biting at the skin on the inside of their cheek. Harry’s lips parted slightly, almost as though he was about to say something before clearing his throat abruptly and smiling, a faint blush appearing on his tanned cheeks. 

“I-I should close up the shop.” Y/N looks away from his gaze, trying not to lean into the warmth radiating from his body.

He gently squeezes their arm before releasing his soft grip, allowing them to maneuver around him, to the front of the shop. 

Y/N brought the display inside, cleaned up, and stored everything where it belonged, all while watching Harry from the corner of their eye. 

“Alright, I think I’ve finished.” Harry announces as Y/N finishes up the last of their tasks. They meet him at the register, catching a glimpse at the beautifully curated bouquet.

“Sunflowers, white spray roses, yellow billy balls, and mini hydrangeas.” He lists off each flower in the bouquet. 

“Woah, look at you! You should be the one working here.” Y/N giggles. Harry follows suit, their giggles filling the small shop. Harry hands Y/N the bouquet as they joke about how funny it would be if they switched places, Y/N at the bakery and Harry at the flower shop, discussing the disasters that would ensue. As Y/N sorted through the bouquet, wrapping it up in the nicest brown paper in the shop, a realization hit them.

“Wait, Harry,” Their eyebrows furrow, turning to face him, “These flowers, they’re my-”

“Your favorites.” He bit his lip, picking at his nails nervously. 

“My favorites.” Y/N repeats breathlessly. Harry rolled his bottom lip between his teeth, both of their bodies unmoving.

“Your partner is really lucky.” Y/N says, smiling thinly and inhaling sharply, turning back to the task at hand. Their hands shook as they attempted to tie the twine around the wrapped bouquet, their brain on overdrive. Their mind was so loud, they barely heard the shuffle of Harry’s feet as he got closer, towering behind them.

“I don’t have a partner.” He whispers, barely loud enough for Y/N’s ears. Their body stills, as does the air surrounding the two. The silence between them thickened, the tension swelled.

“You don’t have a partner.” Y/N cuts through the silence, not daring to turn around. Harry’s hand cupped their elbow, tugging lightly, almost begging them to turn around and face him. Y/N hesitated, terrified that he may hear their heart pounding against their chest. 

“Y/N…” His voice soft and deep, beckoned them to face him. Y/N inhaled deeply, slowly spinning around, Harry’s hand still cradling their elbow. Their eyes meet, the tension becoming heavier as Harry licks his lips, parting them. 

“Can I kiss you?” He rasps, his eyes trailing down to their lips. Y/N wasn’t sure if they couldn’t find the words or if they were just unable to speak, nodding their head, entranced. Harry released a sharp breath before his other hand found its way to Y/N’s jaw, pulling them closer, his lips meeting theirs. Y/N snapped out of their trance, wrapping their arms around Harry’s neck and pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. There was a hunger between them, one they were unaware was present in the other. Soft hands pulled and caressed as they released the pent up tension. It seemed as though they were the only two in existence, Harry held Y/N like they could disappear without a trace any second now. 

Tap Tap Tap

Startled, they release their grip on one another, Y/N’s face whipping in the direction of the person tapping on the glass door of the shop. A middle aged man with brows furrowed and an annoyed look stood beyond the glass, a hand on his hip. 

“Excuse me, are you open?” He yelled through the glass. Harry snickered, used to the irritable side of the service industry. Y/N groaned, signaling no to the man.

“No, we’re closed!” They exclaim, tapping their wrist with their finger, as if they were tapping a watch. The man on the other side of the glass huffs in frustration, rolling his eyes and walking away.

“Cockblocked by the service industry, damn you capitalism.” Harry giggles, wrapping his arms around Y/N’s waist. They laugh, their hands finding their way to his arms as Harry dips his face closer, laying a gentle kiss on the top of their head. 

“Let me take you to dinner,” He mumbles in their hair, “I’ve been dying to take you out.” He pulls back, looking at their face. Y/N bites their lip, nodding, in stark disbelief that this is happening. Harry smiles, grabbing the finished bouquet and placing it in Y/N’s hands, leaning in and laying a sweet kiss on their lips.

“Wow, I’ve got a date with the beautiful baker boy.” Y/N mutters against his lips, causing him to smile and bump their nose with his.

“And I’ve got a date with the lovely florist.”

[roosterforme]

The Deployment Diaries Part 16 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley talks to Mav, and it helps him see things a little clearer. And you know exactly how to make Bradley feel special on his birthday.

Warnings: Smut, swearing, fuff

Length: 5300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots! Check my masterlist for the reading order!

The weekend trip to La Jolla had been one of your best ideas ever, if Bradley's opinion counted for anything. He kept thinking about how much fun the arcade had been and how good you looked playing skee-ball in your bathing suit. Plus, you and he had fucked almost nonstop all weekend long, to the point of exhaustion. 

He had woken you up late on Sunday morning and told you it was almost time to check out of the hotel. You'd responded by riding his face until you came and then getting on all fours for him. When you finally checked out of the hotel, looking like two disheveled messes, the woman at the front desk just smirked. 

You had both slept most of the afternoon at home on Sunday, only waking up in time to take Tramp for a nice long walk before dinner. Bradley and Tramp were perhaps a little too similar; the way they both looked forward to family walks was a bit ridiculous. Your laugh in response to he and Tramp both running to get the leash lit Bradley up from the inside.

On Monday afternoon, Bradley got flagged at work to test out the software update that your team had patched for the Super Hornet fleet. He got to take notes and attend a meeting which included you and a bunch of other engineers. 

He was so good about keeping his hands to himself at work. He'd been a model citizen, really. Except for that one time in your office. And that other time in the storage closet in the tower. But that didn't prevent him from needing to adjust himself a bit when you gave a thirty minute presentation to everyone in attendance. 

Bradley was trying his best to pay attention, but there were two problems. First of all, you were way smarter than him when it came to the technical stuff about his aircraft. He was trying his best to follow along, but you lost him a few times when it came to software calculations. 

And second, he knew which bra and underwear set you were wearing under your uniform, because you had gotten dressed right next to him this morning. It was a light pink set that he was particularly fond of. He adjusted himself again. He couldn't wait to get home. 

But that's when the trouble started. When he parked the Bronco in the driveway and walked up the porch steps, you were coming out the door with two huge shopping bags full of stuff. Your hair and makeup were done up and you were wearing a dress and heels. 

"Where are you going, Sweetheart?" he asked, brow scrunched up.

You kissed him hurriedly on his cheek. "I need to go to Oceanside for a few hours. I'll be back in a little bit," you told him, rushing to your car and throwing the bags in the trunk. "You can have leftovers for dinner, or maybe see if Mav is around? Bye, Roo!"

Bradley was still standing on the porch steps as he watched you pull out of the driveway. What the hell was up in Oceanside? And why were you all dressed up?

Bradley found himself bored and lonely after about twenty minutes in the house. He changed and tried to watch a show with Tramp, but he ended up calling Maverick, who was still on base and agreed to swing by with a pizza.

"Where's the missus?" Mav asked when he arrived. "I got the toppings she likes. Assumed she would be here."

Bradley shrugged and made a face. "She ran to Oceanside for some kind of errand or something. I'm not sure." He grabbed two beers from the fridge and opened the pizza box on the island. 

"Everything okay?" Maverick asked, accepting a beer. 

"Yeah, I think so?" Bradley said before taking a bite of pizza, but it was more of a question than an answer. 

Maverick hummed. "I know you said she had an incident with that guy while you were deployed and I was away with Penny. I wish I'd been here, Bradley. I really do."

"Nah, don't say that. You were on vacation! And things have been good since we talked. This past weekend was... it was great, actually," he said, thinking back to pouring champagne all over you and cuddling in bed with you while you giggled. Bradley tossed his half eaten slice of pizza onto his plate. "How do I know if it's too soon to propose?"

Maverick looked at him, completely gobsmacked. "I....well, Bradley, I don't know if you're asking the right person, actually. I've been on and off with Penny for decades."

Bradley ran his fingers through his hair. "But you're serious with Penny now. You have been since Halloween. I just don't know how to do this shit correctly half the time. I never really dated anyone too seriously, I just messed around. And I never intended to fall in love, because it was so distressing to me as a kid, the way my mom was lonely for twelve years. But like how the fuck am I supposed to live like this?" Bradley held his hands up in the air before letting them drop back to his sides. "Part of me is terrified of marrying her and having kids with her, knowing I could burn in one day. Every time I think about that, I convince myself to wait a little longer. But the other part of me, the part that is obsessed with the way she makes me feel.... well, that part thinks we should get married tomorrow."

Maverick studied Bradley, took a sip of beer, and studied him some more. "I wish I could be of more help here, I really do. All I can tell you is that your dad was set on marrying your mom the same day he met her. He said those exact words to me. And they got married after six months together. Six months to the day, actually. And I have no doubt they would still be married now. So no, I don't think it's too soon for you. And if fear is what's holding you back, then you need to decide if you love her enough to trust that she's all in, no matter the outcome."

Bradley felt his eyes stinging. "Fuck. This is so hard, Mav. My mom would have loved her though, I know that much. And I can't run the risk of hesitating and losing her, but that's selfish when she's more likely to lose me. I just wish this was easier."

"Me too," Maverick replied. "It's not fair that Goose isn't here for this conversation. He would have known exactly what to say. But it sounds to me like you're ready, and she is too." Bradley let Maverick pull him in for a quick hug before they returned to the box of pizza. 

-------------------------------------------

"Where the fuck is mommy?" Bradley asked Tramp. He kept checking the time on his phone. It was nearing 11 o'clock, and Bradley was getting a little worried. When he had texted to make sure everything was okay, you simply replied with Yep!

He had also been looking up flights from San Diego to Norfolk and eating cold pizza. God, this house was just sad without you in it. Did you feel this way when he was deployed? Shit. If so, he was never going to leave again, because this was awful. 

He channel surfed and fed pizza crust to Tramp, and about twenty minutes later, he finally heard your car in the driveway. 

"She's home!" Bradley and Tramp both ran to the door to greet you. Your hair was a mess now, and you were wearing different clothes than when you left. "Where did you go, Baby Girl? We missed you."

You hugged him around his waist. "I just needed to take care of something. I'm sorry it took so long. Let's get ready for bed." And that's all you would say about it.

Bradley pushed it from his mind. He focused on work during the day and spending time with you at night. When he brought the mail inside on Friday evening, he opened a thick, cream colored envelope with his name on it. He smiled as he took it over to where you were currently making pancakes for dinner in your tight yoga pants and one of his shirts. 

"Feel like buying a fancy dress, Baby Girl?"

"For what?" you asked, turning the music down on your phone. 

Bradley held up the invitation to the ceremony and reception at which he would be promoted to lieutenant commander. "It's in four weeks, and I'm allowed to bring a date. Please don't make me take Tramp."

You laughed. "Tramp would look adorable in a little tuxedo! But I'm going. I'm definitely going! It's going to be fancy as hell! Better than a wedding! You lieutenant commanders and captains and admirals get all the good stuff."

Bradley wrapped his arms around you from behind and kissed your cheek. "You could just wear your dress whites like me, if you want to."

"No!" you shouted, scandalized. "Absolutely not, Roo! I'm buying something fancy! I can wear my uniform for my own promotion. Maybe I'll go shopping for a dress when I go back to Oceanside tomorrow morning."

Bradley frowned. "Why do you have to go back to Oceanside? I thought we were going to spend the day together."

"I'll be home in the afternoon," you told him, flipping over the pancakes. "We can do whatever you want. And then Sunday is your birthday!"

Bradley let go of you so you could plate the food. "Can I come with you in the morning? I can help you look at dresses."

You frowned. "I'd rather you didn't. I promise I'll be back right after lunchtime."

-----------------------------------

Trying to get out of the house on Saturday morning was made very difficult by Bradley who was actively trying to keep you in bed. "One orgasm isn't enough for my girl. Let me give you another one," he said in his raspy morning voice from where he had his head between your legs. You were still riding out the first one when he looked up at you with hopeful eyes. 

You had told the photographer you would be there at 9:30, but thankfully the photographer was Maria's sister's roommate, and she would probably understand why you were running late if you showed her a photo of your boyfriend without a shirt on.

"Two would be nice," you told him as you tried to catch your breath, and he was immediately grinning and crawling up your body. He was too good at this now. You'd been having sex with him for more than nine months, and he could read you like a book. You wanted him slow and steady right now, and you knew you wouldn't have to tell him that. He would just do it, exactly how you wanted him to. 

And that was how he got orgasm number two to come screaming out of you after twenty minutes of slow fucking and a little dirty talk. 

Bradley looked pretty smug as he strode into the bathroom behind you on your wobbly legs. He kissed your neck while you brushed your teeth, and then you pulled your hair up as neatly as you could. "You definitely made me late," you informed his reflection in the mirror as you put on some lip gloss and mascara.

"Well, since you won't tell me where you're going, I don't feel bad about it. I also gave you a nice hickey right here, so I hope that's not going to be a problem," he said, running one beautiful finger along the side of your neck. 

You turned your face to the side to check out the pink mark he had given you. "Naughty. Don't make me withhold birthday sex."

Bradley's eyes went wide. "You wouldn't."

You just smirked and walked back into the bedroom.

"Sweetheart! I'll be good the rest of the day!"

You ran your fingers along his abs and nodded. "I know you will be."

-----------------------------------------

An hour later you were apologizing to the photographer, Flora, as she handed you Bradley's birthday present. You opened the calendar up to January and almost dropped it as you slammed it shut again. 

"Oh, my God. I can't give this to him! I just... oh, my God!"

Flora just laughed softly and gently took the calendar from your hands as you shook your head. "I get that a lot with this kind of photoshoot. But I can guarantee your boyfriend is going to go bananas over this," she promised, tapping the calendar with one finger. "Here, start with September. You've got a good amount of clothing on in that one, and it's taken from behind."

You took a deep breath and looked at the glossy photo of yourself. In it, you were turning back to look over your shoulder. You were wearing a tiny black skirt and black stockings with seams up the backs of your legs. You had on red heels and one of Bradley's white dress shirts, pushed down to reveal your bare shoulders and upper back. 

"Oh, that looks pretty good," you agreed. Then Flora flipped to April, and it was the photo of you wearing cutoff jean shorts with Bradley's aviators. You were covering your breasts with your hands. 

"This one is great, because your smile is so genuine," she told you.

"I was almost laughing in it, because he had no idea I took his sunglasses with me."

Flora flipped through the entire pin-up calendar with you. You saw the photo of you wearing the red bustier and matching thong that Bradley favored. There was also one of you on your knees with your hands on your thighs, pulling up the hem of your white nightie. One of you in your own flight suit had made it in there, and so had one with garters, stocking and lots of lace.

Then there was one of you laying on the bed with your back arched. It looked a lot like the photo you had sent to him that one time you and he were out to dinner with the other aviators. That evening had resulted in back seat Bronco sex, so perhaps you didn't have anything to be scared about. 

The photo for next June was perhaps the most intimate one. Your hair was purposefully messy, and you were completely nude, tangled up in a sheet with your left breast just peaking out. And your golden necklace charms were visible in almost all of the shots.

"Okay, I think you're right. I think he'll like it." Flora just laughed as you added, "You did a great job, honestly. You can barely see the cellulite!"

"Oh stop, I hardly had to do any touch ups. Some of them just needed a little color saturation. I'll tell you what, if your man doesn't lose his mind, come back and I'll give you a refund."

So with that, you took the calendar to your car and went to find a formal gown.

------------------------------------

As soon as you got home, Bradley was snooping in the garment bag. "What does your dress look like? Are you going to try it on for me?"

"Maybe," you replied with a wink. But you did try it on for him, and he stood in front of you speechless, rubbing his chin.

"Shit," he rasped. 

You looked down at yourself and back up at him. The form fitting, dark blue satin dress was insanely formal for most things, but it seemed perfect for his big day. Plus you figured he would appreciate the slit up your left leg and the low cut front. "Do you like it?"

He nodded his head vigorously. "You look amazing. I can't believe I get to have you there with me." He started reaching for you, but you backed away. 

"This dress is delicate, Bradshaw! Delicate!"

"I can be delicate," he whispered, running his fingers along the enticing fabric as you started to undress. 

You rolled your eyes good naturedly. "I'm saying your birthday weekend starts right now. So what do you want to do for the rest of the day?"

He helped you out of your dress as he told you, "Have sex with my girlfriend, walk our adorable dog to the ice cream place that gives out doggie treats, eat dinner, and have sex with my girlfriend again."

"You're going to give me more orgasms today? Is it your birthday or mine?"

------------------------------------

Bradley couldn't believe he deserved you in his life. That perfect weekend away with you in La Jolla had been enough for him. More than enough, really. But here you were, on his actual birthday, waking him up with a blowjob. He felt your wet, hot mouth on his length, and he opened his eyes to the most glorious sight. 

"Oh, hey," he rasped, smiling at you as he propped himself up on his elbows. 

You popped him out of your mouth, kissed his tip and said, "Happy birthday, Roo," in your sweet voice before sliding him between your pretty lips again. He watched your tits swaying, just getting harder and harder for you. He was aching in your hands and mouth as you sucked and licked him so well. 

When he was almost there, you opened your mouth wide and set him down on your plush tongue. He watched himself paint your mouth with his cum while you gently squeezed his balls in your soft hand. 

"Shit, sweetheart. You look so pretty like that," he told you, caressing your cheek. He really wanted to take a picture of you with his dick in your mouth and his cum everywhere, but he didn't know how to ask you for that. 

Bradley watched you swallow him down and lick your lips. Then you crawled up his body and kissed him. "I'm going to make you breakfast, birthday boy."

Bradley followed you into the kitchen and watched you put on your I Love Meat apron over your naked body. He stood behind you as you cut up vegetables and cracked eggs into a bowl, squeezing your bare ass and kissing your shoulders.

"This is already the best birthday I have ever had," he mumbled against your skin. He so badly wanted to be selfish. Marry you and be with you forever. The deployments sucked, but if that was the worst thing you had to deal with, you'd both manage. He couldn't control anything beyond that. 

"I love you, Roo," you told him, turning your head to kiss him briefly while you made him an omelet. That was it, he would buy a ticket to Norfolk tomorrow.

-------------------------------------

You took Bradley on a lunchtime hike and picnic that ended at the cliffside beach where you and he had played dogfight football so many months before. You ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and laid out on your beach towel, and Bradley tried to convince you to take a week off this year and take a vacation with him. In theory that sounded great, but work was going so well for you right now, it would be hard to take any time off. 

After baking in the sun for a while, Bradley said, "It's fucking hot out now. Feel like jumping in the water to cool off?" 

"In our clothes?" you asked, but he was already taking his tee shirt off and pulling his shorts down.

"In our underwear, Baby Girl."

You glanced around the beach, which wasn't crowded at all. You bit your lip before unbuttoning your jean shorts and sliding them down over your hips. The smile on your boyfriend's face was instantaneous. You glanced around again before pulling your tank top off and leaving it on the towel. You hoped your blue sports bra and green underwear were providing enough coverage for that old guy walking his dog to refrain from yelling at you.

Bradley pulled you to your feet and you ran into the water with him. "It's cold!" you complained, but he had already scooped you up into his arms. You clung on to the front of him, legs around his waist and arms around his neck. "Oh my God, don't go out any further! It's freezing!" But Bradley walked out until the waves were crashing against your back. "Bradley!"

He just chuckled and kissed you. "We'll get used to it." 

You threaded your fingers through his hair and kissed him back. His hands splayed along your back, keeping you warm against the onslaught of the Pacific Ocean. You thought about how many millions of times you must have kissed him since that first time in this beach parking lot. Thought about everything that had happened since that day. Falling in love, and almost losing him, and Tramp, and Josh, and how much you loved Bradley.

"I love you," you whispered against his mouth as he devoured you. "I love you so much."

--------------------------------

It took a bit of coaxing, but you finally agreed to let Bradley carry you up the rocks for old time's sake, even though you were wearing perfectly sensible shoes this time. Bradley listened to your laughter as he climbed with you on his back. Your wet underwear had soaked through your clothing, and so had his. You were both a sandy, sweaty mess by the time you got home. 

Wordlessly, you led him to the master bathroom and turned on the shower. Tramp came to investigate what was going on as you peeled Bradley's damp shirt off and let it fall to the floor. The fabric was replaced by your hands and lips on his chest and abs, and Bradley's head tipped back. Your hands were gritty with sand as they worked down to his shorts, and the sensation had him panting for you. Soon he was naked and you were stroking him.

"Baby Girl," he whispered, and you looked up at him expectantly. He kissed you hard, both of his hands in your messy hair, his front pressed to yours. He lived for these moments. Everything with you was so pure, it was almost painful. "You're mine, Baby Girl," he told you, and you moaned. 

Bradley ripped your clothing off, tossing it across the room and scaring Tramp back into the bedroom. You both stumbled into the steamy shower, hands and mouths everywhere. He had you pinned against the tile wall, one hand wrapped around your neck, the other thrusting two fingers into your pussy until you were soaking wet for him. The steam swirled around your bodies, and the little noises you made were echoing inside the glass shower. 

Then he thrust his cock into you, running his thumb up and down along the side of your neck. He could feel your shallow breaths and gasps as he sped up. When you wrapped your leg up around his hip and whispered his name, he was too close to the edge. He pulled out of your pussy and sprayed your belly and hips with his cum before dropping to his knees in front of you. 

"Mmm," you moaned when his mouth met your clit and you started grinding against his face. He worked his tongue, steadily getting you there as his cum mixed with the water from the shower and trailed down your body. You were his birthday present. He wanted the same present every year for the rest of his life. 

You were still leaning against the wall catching your breath when Bradley got the soap and started to wash your body.  You let him do your hair too, because now you were exhausted from all of the day's activities, and you still had to make his dinner. 

A few hours later, you were perched on Bradley's lap eating Marry Me Rooster and listening to some music. "Thank you," he whispered, and it struck you once again that probably nobody ever did anything special, just for him, from the time his mom died until he met you. It made you want to keep doing it and doing it. 

You checked the time on your phone as Bradley happily twirled his second serving of chicken and pasta into his fork. "I hope you're almost ready for dessert," you told him and he just grinned at you. 

"Oh, I know what that means." But then he jumped a bit when someone started pounding on the front door. 

The smile on your face gave you away. "What did you do?" he asked, but you just laughed and told him to go open the front door. 

"Holy shit," Bradley said, as Phoenix thrust a dozen balloons into his hands and made her way inside. She was followed by Fanboy, Payback, Bob, Hangman, Maverick and Penny. Coyote was missing, as he was currently deployed, but everyone else greeted Bradley while you put a pie and a chocolate chip cookie tower on the dining room table. Penny popped a few bottles of champagne, and everyone started eating dessert. 

When you stuck a glittery pink candle into the top cookie and everyone sang happy birthday to him, Bradley pulled you against his side. And when Fanboy told him to make a wish, Bradley grinned at you before blowing the candle out.

-----------------------------------------

After everyone finally left, it was pretty late. Tramp was already in his bed, exhausted from all of the attention he got. Bradley had watched Nat feed him four treats in a row, and when he said something about it, she told him, "Mind your own business, birthday boy. This is between me and my god-pup."

So by the time Bradley noticed you shifting nervously around the kitchen, cleaning up after everyone, he had already had an epically wonderful day.

"Leave it, Sweetheart. I'll clean in the morning before work," he told you, gently taking your hands in his. "Now tell me why you're being weird."

You sighed. "I got you a birthday present. It's in my dresser drawer." you said, staring at his chest.

"That was nice of you. Can I have it?"

"Yeah...." you trailed off, heading for the bedroom and rooting around in your drawer. "But I'm really nervous to give this to you, so please be kind." You thrust a wrapped box into his hand and backed away a few steps, chewing on your lip. 

Bradley started to unwrap and open the box, brow furrowed about what could be making you apprehensive. But then he dropped the wrapping paper and box to the floor as he read the front of the calendar in his hands. 

Rooster's Calendar starring Baby Girl

"No fucking way," he whispered, meeting your guarded eyes before flipping it open to January. He almost fell over. "Oh my God," he almost yelled, briefly waking up Tramp. 

There was a high quality photo of you wearing a sheer champagne colored lingerie set, and you were laying on your back with your legs up in the air. You had on your bright red high heels with your ankles crossed and you looked like a fucking dream, your tits practically spilling out of the sheer top.

Bradley's jaw was hanging open as he flipped to February. He didn't know how things could have possibly improved, but somehow they did. You were wearing his favorite color, the red bustier and thong. "Shit, Baby Girl," he whined. His dick was plainly hard in his jeans, and he was gasping for air, but you looked nervous as hell now.

"Do you like it?" you asked softly, eyes wide, chewing on your thumbnail. 

He just stared at you with his mouth open, blinking, trying to formulate words. He glanced down briefly at March to see you in a black string bikini he had no idea you owned. You looked sinfully good, and now Bradley was throbbing. 

"Don't look at that one. You can see my love handles," you told him, reaching for the calendar, but he held it up high, out of your reach. Then he tossed it softly onto the dresser and grabbed you.

"Don't talk about my future wife that way," he growled, baking you up to the bed. "She's perfect." He reached down and yanked your shirt off and then your bra. "That calendar is the fucking hottest thing in the world, and I only saw three months," he groaned, grinding against you. "It's safe to say, yes, I like it."

You moaned as he touched you. "You said you wanted it."

"Yeah, I did. Thank you, Sweetheart," he whispered against your neck, placing kiss after kiss there as he worked his hand down to the front of your shorts. "Best gift ever."

"How are you going to thank me for this wonderful idea?" you asked, running your fingertips along his scarred cheek.

Bradley pushed you down on the bed, and you rolled over onto your belly to make room for him. He eased himself onto the bed and straddled your ass, rubbing his hands down the smooth planes of your naked back, making you arch your spine. You moaned and ground your ass up into his dick and balls. He was picturing your nipples straining against lacy fabric, and he was so hard he thought he might explode. And here you were writhing and moaning under him after a few touches.

"I'm going to thank you like this," he told you, grabbing you by both hips and popping your rear end up into the air. He pulled your jean shorts down your legs and tossed them aside, and he ran his finger over your thong before removing that as well. He kissed along your ass cheeks and listened to you moan as he palmed you with his hands. He eased his face down to your pussy and gave you a nice long lick, collecting your sweetness on his tongue. 

"I love it when you do that," you huffed between groaning and whining his name, face buried in a pillow.

He teased your clit and ran his fingers through your soaking wet slit, pumping them into your pussy a few times until you were thrusting back again. Then he let his fingers trail up a bit further until he was gently caressing your other hole. 

"Oh!" you gasped and froze. 

Bradley placed a soft kiss on your thigh and then one on your lower back. "Is this okay?" he asked, and he stopped moving his hand until he heard you gasp out an answer. 

"Yes, I think so."

Bradley groaned as he let his fingers trail along once more, the moisture from your pussy making everything look slick and even prettier. "Can I lick you here?"

"Okay," you whispered, and Bradley ran his tongue back and forth across your asshole a few times, fisting his cock in his hand. He'd never done this before, and it sounded like you hadn't either. 

"Do you like this, Baby Girl?" he asked before pressing a little harder with his tongue, licking up all of your essence that he had brought there with his fingers. You were wiggling your ass a little bit for him as he placed another kiss there.

"I don't hate it. God, your mustache feels good everywhere. I think it made my pussy even wetter for you, Roo," you gasped, and Bradley was immediately in position, thrusting his dick into your warm pussy. He could feel your walls gripping him almost immediately. Everything felt too good. You turned him on beyond belief. 

And when you were both ready for bed, and you had yourself draped across his body, you whispered, "I love you, birthday boy." 

You yawned as he wrapped his arms around you. "Can I have this same day every year for my birthday? Just like this, me and you?"

"Absolutely, Roo," you muttered, snuggling against him and dozing off to sleep. 

-----------------------------

Happy birthday, Roo! SO MANY OF YOU ASKED FOR BUTT STUFF, SO HERE IS A BIT OF THAT FOR YOU! Thanks for reading!

PART 17

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[oftenwantedafton]

Moody and Gray - William Afton x Female Reader

Chapter 9

Rating - Explicit

Warnings - sexual content

Also available on AO3

William Afton is standing by your front door.

It’s an hour past when he’d originally been planning on leaving. Dressing slowly. Moving reluctantly to the exit of your apartment.

“Please get home safe.” Your fingers touch his cheeks, his hair, slip inside his coat.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“On time.”

“No excuses.” A soft smile. “Goodnight, Moody.”

“Goodnight, Will.”

He kisses you and reaches for the handle of the door. You kiss him back until the door opens and he steps through it. Begin to shut it before you meet resistance. He’s pushing his way back inside towards you. Gathers you in his arms. Lips pressing into your hair.

Then he’s gone and you’re in bed and his scent is in the pillow your cheek presses against waiting for sleep that doesn’t come.

***

Monday morning. Back to the grind. You’re dehydrated and you have a headache and your eyes are bloodshot. You stand in the shower until the hot water runs out and step out to see the toothbrush you’ve lent your employer still tucked there in the cup beside yours. Purple, of course, his favorite color. Walk to the washing machine and remember you’ve got the dress shirt you’d cleaned of your lipstick from the other night folded and waiting. Open the refrigerator and see the containers of leftovers from dinner the night before. His last bottle of beer still sitting on the coffee table. So many reminders, everywhere you turn.

You not only make it to work on time, you actually arrive early. The food preppers’ tasks are well underway in the kitchen, the sounds filtering in through the dining room. Afton’s office is dark. You walk into the employee area and poke your head into the service room. No one there. You push the handle of the rear exit door to see if he’s outside smoking. No William.

Walking back through the hall now and you finally see him coming towards you. Wearing his customary purple suit vest and matching tie and black slacks. Undereyes smudged from lack of sleep. He pulls you into the nearest room—the employee bathroom you’d encountered him in that day you’d slipped out of the training exercise—locking the door behind you and crowding you against the sink.

“Good morning, Moody.” He plants a kiss on your lips.

“Good morning, Gray. I have your shirt in my car, remind me to give it to you later.” You smooth your fingers over his tie.

“Thank you, I’d completely spaced it. You got here early today. What was that like for you?”

You smirk. “Too soon to say yet.”

“Need some incentivizing do you?” he murmurs, his lips moving to your throat.

You shiver. “Maybe…”

“I couldn’t sleep last night. You know why?”

“Because you set your alarm for a ridiculous hour of the morning?” You quip. You can feel him smile against your throat.

“Because I missed you too much. Lying on that fucking pull out couch I’ve been relegated to, staring at the ceiling, wishing I was back in bed with you.”

“You’re sleeping on the couch?”

“Not sleeping much, but yes. That’s the location intended for it. At first it was because I was scolded for waking the missus up getting home late from work, and then, I mean, there hasn’t been intimacy in…and now. Well, now you know why.”

“You don’t have a spare bedroom in that mansion of yours?”

“It’s not a mansion.”

“I bet it’s pretty fancy. And expensive.”

“Having three children is expensive.”

“Can’t have always been on that pull out couch, huh?” You try to keep your tone light.

“Moody.” He sighs.

“It’s okay, I’m not upset or jealous. I mean, maybe a little, but…”

“There is no one else for me. I’m happy to say you’ve completely ruined me in that regard.” Another kiss, lingering this time. You hold him tightly. Capturing this moment to savor later.

It’s over too soon for your liking. He ducks his head out to make sure the coast is clear. Holds the door open for you. Fingers clinging to yours before you part ways.

You occupy yourself with filling the napkin dispensers and salt and pepper shakers. Make sure each table has a menu available. Tidy up a few things the cleaning staff has missed. Other employees start to file in. The pizzeria will open soon.

Another day at Freddy’s.

***

There’s always a bit of a slump in business after winter holidays and school vacations are over, but of course, the company isn’t going to stand for that.

So flyers get mailed out, announcing weekday specials, incentivizing more frequent visits. Rewards cards where eight stamps earn a free pizza. Discounted game tokens. Half off Tuesdays.

And it’s one of those Tuesdays now and you swear it’s a conspiracy because nearly all of the kitchen staff is out today. William immediately steps in to help. Sleeves rolled up. Those deft fingers working through flour dusted dough. Spreading toppings. Moving around the kitchen efficiently. You pick up an order that’s ready and you exchange a smile with him. He looks good slinging pizzas. He looks good doing just about anything, if you’re being honest.

The lunch rush passes and the afternoon is quieter. Someone’s come in to help out in the kitchen, relieving your boss of his pizza making duties. “Come outside with me,” he whispers as he passes you in the dining room.

He doesn’t even bother with the coat today. His hair is damp from perspiration, warm from working near the ovens. You unfold his sleeves and refasten his cuffs. His hand touches your cheek and you’re pressed against the wall. His mouth touches yours. “I wish…” he begins but doesn’t get to finish, the sound of the door nearby alerting you in time to move apart.

The hostess again. Surprisingly still employed there. Another beautiful outfit. You refuse to give her more than a passing glance. Afton’s cigarette is unlit. He announces he’s going back inside and you follow. Back into the custodial closet because it’s the nearest place you can be alone. You ignore the chemical smells and focus on your employer. He’s at your neck now.

“You don’t think that was kind of obvious?”

“I don’t care.” His hands cup your buttocks. “I know this isn’t the ideal location for this. Meet me in Parts and Service? There’s something there I want to show you anyway.”

“Okay, Will.”

You’re not sure what you’d been expecting. Certainly not a seven foot tall yellow rabbit with a giant purple bow around its neck. You might have changed your opinions on some aspects about working at Freddy’s, but you still aren’t a fan of the animatronics.

“New character?”

His arms wrap around you from behind. “Old one, actually. May I present Spring Bonnie. Remodeled. I’m hearing sales numbers still aren’t great even with all the extra discounts. The novelty of seeing the mascots onstage is wearing off. So…I’ve come up with an idea. What if the characters didn’t have to be stuck in position all the time? What if they could move around freely?”

“Okay, so how does that work?” Now you’re sort of curious.

“Springlocks. Something inside the suit that allows a performer to be inside controlling the animatronic directly, while keeping them safe from all of the…technology, let’s call it, inside. Now the kids won’t be stuck staring and waiting by the stage for something to happen. We bring the magic right to them.”

You frown. “And who’s going to be the one to venture into this ‘safe’ environment?” It sounded a bit like a lawsuit waiting to happen. You can’t share William’s obvious enthusiasm for his design and you feel a little guilty about that.

“Well myself, of course.”

“Will, no.” You turn in his arms. “That sounds like a really risky idea. Maybe you should wait a bit. Really make sure it’s safe before you put yourself or someone else in harm’s way.”

“I’ve already tested it, though. That’s why I’ve been so busy as of late. Which means I’ll be having more free time for us…” He kisses you. “And I have the perfect event to debut it at. The birthday party Evan’s attending here is tomorrow.”

An uneasy feeling in your stomach. Tomorrow. You’ll have to talk him out of this now before it’s too late. You just can’t shake the feeling that this is a really, really bad idea. “I know you’re excited and I have no doubt you’re a genius. And it’s really sweet to do this for Evan,” you add. Start with the positives. “But Will, I want you to think carefully about this. If the animatronics are as dangerous as you’re hinting at inside, you could get hurt badly. Worse, even. I don’t want to lose you.”

“I’ll be fine. You need to have a little more faith in me, Moody.” He tightens his arms around you. “I promise you nothing bad will happen. It’s amazing, really. I think it’s exactly what this restaurant needs to revitalize it.”

“I think the restaurant is fine the way it is,” you mumble.

“You hate this place, remember?” He reminds you gently.

“Not as much anymore. It’s yours. How can I hate something that’s yours?” It’s true, you’ve come to realize. The place you’ve despised for so long isn’t quite as loathsome as it once was. You can look past the unpleasant aspects now. For Will’s sake. Because of him. He is the best part of everything. What should have been a crisis earlier when you’d been so short staffed had actually been kind of great. It had felt like it was just the two of you working together in perfect harmony.

“I can do anything with you by my side, my love.” The last of your misgivings dissipate. Maybe he’s right. Maybe it will be a rousing success. You shouldn’t worry. You’re hardly the expert on the matter. He clearly is. You sigh and relax in his arms. He feels you surrendering. “You know we never did get that break and we’ve certainly earned it…”

“You’re right. But not here, okay?” You nod towards the mascot.

“I assure you he’s a perfect gentleman.”

“You assured me you were too before you copped a feel that day in your office when you made me get changed in front of you.”

“That was rather forward of me, I’ll admit.”

“Forward is putting it mildly,” you mutter wryly.

“Should I be punished for that, do you think? Get on my knees for you? Be your obedient willing slave?”

Instantly turned on. You like it when he takes charge, but you have to admit sometimes it’s nice to exert your natural dominance and let him be submissive to you. “Fuck, Will.” Your eyes flick to the concrete floor. “You are going to feel that. Bruises marking you up for sure.”

“I’m not that vain about my appearance. Consider it part of my contrition. I’ll wear them like a badge of honor. Pick a workbench.”

You’re still not going to fool around in front of the rabbit, you don’t care how Afton feels about it. You walk towards one of the tables at the rear of the room. At least you don’t have those awkward eyes staring you down now. You couldn’t care less about its backside.

A wheeled chair at this desk. You decide to save some time and divest yourself of your panties and pants. The door’s locked. You offer your jacket as a cushion but he declines. He doesn’t want to damage or dirty it.

William kneels before you. A pleasant lurch in your core. You’re slouched in the chair, hips barely on the edge of the seat. Your fingers seed his hair. “My beautiful man.”

“I am yours. Moody, fuck, I want you.” His pupils are blown. Your legs part for him. The owner’s face dives between your legs. Because you’re on a time crunch. Because he just can’t wait any longer to have you in his mouth. Sharp nose digging into your mound, tongue slathering your lips. Oh, he’s starving. Ravenous. Your keep your fingers knotted in his hair, clutching the armrest with the other, your nails digging into vinyl. Laving you clit. Collecting the fluids pooling at your entrance. Swiping back to the top, concentrating on that sensitive, swollen button. Speeding you right along towards orgasm. How long before you’re both missed, needed for something? You hate having to rush. But it’s all you can do for now. You concentrate on the feeling. The relentless suction and sharp flicks of tongue. Both hands in his hair now, your pelvis shoving towards him, dangerously close to the edge of the swivel chair but your lover braces your body, supporting you through your release.

You whimper, panting. Not nearly as loud as you want to be. Still erring on the side of caution. Christ, Afton looks wrecked. His hair is just about as wild as you’ve ever seen it. Eyes midnight dark. Face soaked. “Fuck me.” You want him inside of you. You need it. He doesn’t hesitate. Rises, opens his fly while you move to sit on the desk. Cursing when he first enters you.

“Fuck, Moody. I love that pussy so much. You’ve no idea…”

You’ve got his tie—purple, of course—wound around one hand. Your knees dig into his ribs. That pretty mouth with sharp teeth frantic on yours.

“You said earlier…outside…before the bitch interrupted us…you wish…” you gasp between thrusts.

“I wish it could always just be the two of us. I wish you knew how much you mean to me. I was intoxicated that night, but my mind was clear. You are my love, Moody.” Your head is jerked back so he can see your features. You’d both been a little shy around using certain vocabulary over the last couple of weeks. Ever since that night at your place. Never quite reaching that same level of intensity and passion. You think you’re both still holding back. Still dancing around the obvious. Afraid. Not wanting to harm or get hurt. Maybe you won’t mind the hurt so much.

William’s breath saws roughly by your cheek. He’s got you pulled tightly against him. Driving into you, stretching you, filling the hollow inside of you with his body.

“It’s okay to say it, Will. I feel the same way.” One hand seated on the nape of his neck. You release his tie, rest your hand on his chest. Think you can feel the rapid pulse buried there.

A shuddering breath. His pace increases. “I do, Moody. I…” The words becoming unintelligible, lost in the haze of ultimate pleasure.

***

You know as soon as you see the adolescent that it’s William’s eldest son.

He’s an absolute carbon copy, the spitting image, lacking some of the height, but the features the same. Aquiline nose, high cheekbones, pale skin, untidy thatch of dark truffle hair. Even his mannerisms. The haughty stare. The prideful stretch of broad shoulders. The constant gesticulating, the way he folds his arms across his chest.

You freeze, realizing he’s noticed you staring. “You must be William’s son Michael. Mr. Afton’s,” you correct. If he suspects anything is amiss with the informality he doesn’t let on.

“Yes.” Still a British accent, perhaps a little milder than his father’s.

“Your dad’s out back getting a surprise ready for the party. Evan must be here, right?”

He nods, looking very bored. He’s rapidly losing interest in your attempt at conversation. “And Lizzie.”

“What about…what about Mrs. Afton?” You almost hold your breath waiting for the answer. It was becoming increasingly nerve wracking wondering what your…well you suppose she is a rival of sorts, isn’t she?…looked like. What you had to compete with. Curious about who William had chosen before you. For some reason you can’t shake the image of an older version of the hostess. Fair and elegant and attractive like that. The complete opposite of yourself.

“No, Mum just dropped us off. Later.” He unfolds his arms and wanders towards the arcade. You heave a sigh of relief. No confrontation today, then. Execution stayed a little longer.

You ask a passing waiter what time it is. William’s debut is actually late. Maybe it takes longer than he’d initially realized to don the costume. Maybe he was just being extra careful. Probably wants to make a dramatic entrance, you think. That’s all. He’s fine. Nothing’s wrong.

You see Michael again. This time a little boy in tow. Evan, maybe. He doesn’t share the overwhelming resemblance. Muddy chestnut hair that’s much tidier. Blue eyes that look a little teary. You’ve never been overly fond of kids, but they’re William’s offspring after all, and yeah. You feel at least a little obligated to try to be nice to them. The eldest Afton boy disappears again and you make your way to the youngest who definitely is in full blown tears now. Why weren’t there any adults watching them? Parents. Somebody.

You squat down beside the boy. “Evan?”

He drags a small fist across his damp eyes. His lashes cluster together into points. “Yeah?”

“I’m friends with your father. He’s getting a surprise ready just for you.”

“It’s not my birthday,” the boy says, sniffling.

“No, but he still wanted to make it a special day for you.”

“He’s always at work. He doesn’t care about me.”

“That’s not true, sweetheart. He does care. He just has to work extra hard to support you and your siblings and your mom. I know it must be difficult, but trust me, he’s told me many times he does it for you.”

You realize he’s about to wipe his runny nose and you hastily grab a napkin from the dispenser on a nearby table, handing it to him. “Who are you, anyway?”

“Just a friend.” You look around at the crowded room, trying to find what group the child belongs to. There, at the center table. It must be. The most popular reservation that’s always booked well in advance. You guide him there, tapping the sleeve of one of the adults. An older woman, maybe the grandmother of the birthday boy. You ask her to keep a watch over him, promising Evan you’re going to go help his father get the surprise ready.

You tell yourself to be calm, but the gnawing anxiety has gotten worse by the time you push through the Employees Only doors. Moving a little faster. Running towards Parts and Service. The door is unlocked. You hurry inside.

You don’t have to go very far to find Afton. He’s partially inside the suit, the headpiece still seated on the workbench. His long frame crumpled on the floor. Some red stains in the yellow fur. Ragged breathing. Alive, thank God. But hurt badly.

“Will!” You grab the phone off the table and dial 911. The spiraled cord stretches taut as you sink down beside him, trying to assess the damage. He is as white as a ghost. His hair clings to his face in wet strands. His eyes are closed, teeth clenched.

A barrage of questions on the other end of the line. You realize you have no idea what the actual address of the restaurant is. “The fucking place with the giant bear on the sign, you can’t fucking miss it.” You hear William trying to murmur something. A number. “No, Will, don’t try to talk. They’ll fucking figure it out. Christ, maybe I should just drive you to the hospital myself.” You drag a hand through your hair in frustration and helplessness. How would you move him safely? Would he even fit in a car? “No, I don’t know exactly what the issue is. Label it as an industrial accident. Whatever the fuck gets you here faster. He’s bleeding. He looks like shit. Sweaty. Having a hard time breathing. He’s trapped in an animatronic suit. Yes, like Chuck E. Cheese,” you snap. You don’t feel the least bit bad about being so short with the operator. They’re used to dealing with people a lot less coherent than you currently are, you’re certain. “We’re in the back of the building. You’ll see garage doors, just come straight there.” You don’t dare leave the fallen man’s side to inform anyone else of what’s going on. You can’t picture EMTs and a stretcher trying to thread through the crowd. It would waste too much time.

“Fuck. Okay. They’re on their way. Stay with me, okay?” You’re trying to smooth his hair back into place. You don’t dare move him for fear of doing more damage.

His eyes suddenly open, finding yours. “Guess…a told you so…is in…order.”

“Will. Don’t speak. Don’t you dare waste breath on making a stupid joke right now.” The tears are spilling rapidly down your cheeks, giving Afton’s youngest a run for his money. “I met your boys. Michael looks just like you…”

“Moody…I should have…told you…earlier…what I…wanted to say…”

“No. Don’t do that. You’re not saying goodbye or any of that bullshit. You can tell me later. Fuck, where is that ambulance? God, I don’t even know if I know how to get the garage door open.”

“The switch…is next to it…on the wall.”

“Got it. I’ll be right back.” You palm slaps on the button and the door retracts up into the recess in the ceiling with a loud rattling sound. You’re back by his side before it even finishes opening.

“Moody…”

“Shh, Will, please. Now is not the time to be stubborn. Save your strength.”

“I…love…” His eyes roll back.

“Will? No, no, no. Come on, stay with me. You’d better not…I’ll fucking quit, I swear to God. There is no reason to be here without you. There is none…” You bend your face close to his. “I love you, too.”

The wail of a siren disturbs the sudden silence.

[turvi]

Mrs. Lupin Knows The Best

A/N: He is so fine. Sorry, not sorry. He is my weakness.

Y/n woke up with a smile feeling his gaze on her. After all these years being together their dynamic has not changed. Remus and Y/n were best described as twin flames. They balanced each other well

While Remus was now an expert in controlling her temper and insecurities. She was an expert in handling his Moony side and anxiety. For her Remus was always in the background. Something untouchable, for she thought he is too good for her.

It only took a chance to meet between them to realize that they were made for each other. They literally bumped into each other. Remus (bless his heart) Lupin thought he hurt the poor girl but she was busy looking deep into his dark green eyes not wanting to look away.

Little did she know that he noticed this and was equally flattered and fell for her. She didn't notice the heart eyes Remus gave her whenever she passed by him in the corridor.

Remus took out a few lessons from Sirius on how to charm a girl. But it soon got chaotic when he fell face-first in front of her. While he thought he had embarrassed himself in front of her and Sirius was acting as if he never met the man, Y/n tried her best not to laugh and picked up Remus while irrevocably falling in love with him.

..............................................................................................................................

Neither of them expected this. To be married to one another, vowing to never leave each other until death itself comes for them.

Remus currently bid see you soon to his wife who had to go to help her very pregnant sister urgently. While Remus was being a bit petulant as she had to leave only for a week, she chuckled and kissed him promising she will be back before he knows it.

But she doesn't know he started missing her the moment she went out the door he felt like his heart was shattering a million times.

..............................................................................................................................

Sirius and James planned a night out for Remus of how grumpy he suddenly became. He would snap at them and grumble and growl at them.

They couldn't realize what made him so grumpy all of a sudden. He was fine just a few days ago. That's when it clicked Sirius. His best friend was grumpy because his wife was not by his side.

Right now James and Sirius felt like they were walking on eggshells whenever they talked to Remus. They both excused themselves and left Remus by himself in the booth.

"Ok, what is wrong with him? Why is he so moody? The full moon passed right?"

Sirius sighed "Yeah I feel he is just missing his missus"

James frowned in confusion "But she has only been gone for three days"

Sirius shrugged "I don't know...I am calling her right now. I love him but I can't handle his moody-moony side right now."

Sirius took a breath of relief when Y/n picked up her phone in only two rings. Her sweet voice graced his ears with "Hello Sirius. How are you?"

"Terrible love, your husband misses you dearly, and his moony side is showing up."

"But the full moon has already passed"

James chimed in "Hey Y/n prongs here, please take your husband with you before he snaps and eats any of us. Please I have yet to have a child with Lily."

"Ok let me talk to him" she chuckled

James handed the phone to Remus who begrudgingly took the phone and immediately softened when he heard her voice "Hey bun" he practically purred.

Sirius rolled his eyes as he watched his best friend talking so sweetly to her as if he was not glaring and grumbling at him mere moments ago. He snatched the phone back and put the phone on speaker "Love kindly take him with you he is being insufferable git" m

Remus would have glared at him again if Y/n would not have giggled, causing his insides to melt.

"Rem, hon what is wrong I said I will be back before you know it"

Remus pouted as if she said she would be returning after years "but I miss you"

James tried his best not to laugh out watching the calm and collected Remus become a puddle for his girl...just like James was for Lily.

Y/n finally promised to come and get Remus. Remus was giddy and smiley and Sirius shook his head in disappointment..but internally he was happy for him. Happy that after so many hardships he finally found a person he can call his home.

He hid his happy grin with his hand watching Remus talk to his wife with a smile that reached his eyes. He and James shared a glance happiness dancing in their eyes. This felt nice. He now knew Remus couldn't have found a more perfect person who would stick with him through his better or worse.

A/N: REBLOGS AND COMMENTS APPRECIATED

[lovifie]

Smut | 838 words | Masterlist

Cw: mentions of alcohol, blowjob, Simon likes red lipstick.

Simon, and his civilian girlfriend that he was so afraid to introduce to his teammates.

He knows the men are great men, and would (and he has) give his life to protect them. But he also knows that Johnny and Gaz with one too many drinks turn into a constant dick joke, enough to drive anyone away. 

Still, tired of hearing the constant yapping from both sides to meet; surprisingly, it was Price the one who asked the most about “When are you going to introduce us to your missus, son?”, he finally agreed. 

He tells you again and again that it's just a couple of drinks at a pub near the base, nothing fancy, nothing special. 

You still knock the breath out of his lungs when you stand in the living room of your flat, twirling around for him. “What you think?” You say, his eyes instantly drawn to your red lips. 

He looks you up and down, walking closer with a look you know very well, and he rests his hands on your hips, leaning closer. “Do we need to go? We can have fun here, dove.”

You look at him, surprised and offended. “Simon! Of course, we do! It's literally your boss!” You remind him. 

He groans, bending to hide his face on your neck, breathing your perfume in before standing back straight, holding your hand in his. “A’ight…”

Simon is overflown with pride when he walks with you hanging from his arm to the table where his team is. The pub is filled with military men, you can feel every single pair of eyes on you, but the massive man who calls you “lovie” and asks for back scratches is next to you, so not even discomfort can get to you. 

The three men sitting down do a really good try to look at you up and down without getting caught, keyword, try. 

Simon introduces you to Johnny, Price and Gaz, guiding you to sit next to the last and him on the other side, shielding you from everyone else. 

Simon leans back, heart beaming with pride when he sees how easy it is for you to steal everyone's attention, the three men looking at you with adoration. 

It is easy to fall into a comfortable conversation, drinks passing by just as easily. His arm behind your back and his hand resting on your hip, his thumb caressing your skin over the thin material of the dress. 

His eyes still locked into your pretty red lips, constantly moving as you talk to them, your pretty smile appearing again and again on your pretty face. 

It's not too late that Price says to call it a night, talking about having to work the next day. He would never admit that he couldn't take it anymore with the way you would constantly look at Simon with hunger in your eyes. 

And Price is nothing if not observant, because the moment Simon and you step inside your flat, you are pushing Simon into his armchair. Kneeling before him as you undo his belt. 

“What are you doing, darling?” He asks, looking at you amused but still surprised with you taking the initiative. 

“Cartwheels, Simon.” You say, finally undoing his pants to free his shaft. “What does it look like I'm doing?”

He chuckles, the laugh turning into a groan when you give a careful kitty lick to his tip, blood rushing south. 

He can't peel his eyes away from your lips, even when he struggles to keep his eyes open. “I bet I can reach up to here.” You say, placing your fingertip at the base of his growing boner. 

He pets your head, smiling to himself. “Whatever you say, dove.” He says, aware of the jaw ache his girthy dick is. But the look of determination on your face is enough to keep him from saying anything. 

And it is not much longer, that you are bobbing your head up and down, easily taking him down your throat. He has his head thrown back, unable to hold it up anymore as he mumbles nonsense, his hand still resting on your head. He has his eyes closed hard, trying to keep himself from coming so fast at the feel of your throat constricting his length. A futile attempt when you run your nails over his wide hips, making him buck them against your mouth, finally spilling deep into your mouth. 

You finally pull back, licking your lips, satisfied with your attack. And with a smile on your face, you point to his softening dick, the imprint of your lipstick down at the base. “I told you I could.”

And when he looks down, his shaft reddish with the stain of your lipstick, but the clear mark down at the base has his groaning, the sight alone almost enough to get him going again. 

Simon was afraid to introduce you to his teammates, but if the dates end up like today… he can't wait to meet them again.

Alternative Ending

[rebelizficlibrary]

AUGUST - DRABBLE #2

Drabble 2 - August, popcorn 

…

It’s eight fifteen in the night when Wanda notices that Natasha is not home yet. She left early in the morning to attend a meeting with General Ross at Capital Hill, and the longer it takes her to come back home the more worried Wanda grows.

General Ross is an unofficial bringer of bad news for the team, and the meeting lasting this long is only a testament to it.  

But she can do nothing but wait at the moment, the team will get together later and Natasha will let everyone know what was said. 

She decides to get out of their bedroom, maybe she’ll cook something or watch a movie, she needs to distract  herself. 

The closer she gets to the common area the clearer the sound of the television becomes and with it a movie that she knows by heart now. 

Her stomach twitches though and her steps falter when she realizes who exactly is watching that movie. Moonraker is yours and Natasha’s favorite thing to watch, and you both often murmur the words under your breath as the movie progresses. 

She’s always found it adorable, to watch you and Natasha murmur the dialogues to this old James Bond movie, and still laugh at the jokes that you’ve heard a hundred times before. 

She resumes her walking, and seeing you sitting alone in the large couch makes her heart clench inside of her chest. She wants and she wants, and she already had. 

She walks away, and she enters the kitchen still lost in her memories and the ghost-like feeling of your lips on her face. 

When she returns to the common area with a bowl of freshly made popcorn your eyes turn to her immediately. 

You smile and although she smiles back, she can almost hear the sound of glass cracking, her heart breaking. 

“Is that for me, Missus Romanoff?” You ask, and although she changed her name and has always adored hearing people referring to her that way--the words coming out of your mouth don’t feel right at all. 

“Yeah.” She clears her throat and sits on the opposite edge of the couch, setting the bowl between the two of you, and the memory of the two of you right here and exactly like this attacks her mercilessly. 

"Oh my god!" You exclaim when you taste the popcorn she made and she swallows, finding it incredibly hard to keep it together . 

"You like?" She asks, but before you can answer Daisy comes out of nowhere and sits right on your lap. 

The change in you is immediate and Wanda can’t tear her eyes away, no matter how hard it is to watch. 

You wrap your arms around Daisy, smiling up as she presses her lips against yours in a soft greeting kiss. 

“Babe, you have to taste this.” You tell your girlfriend and Wanda finally looks away. 

“Oh my God!” Daisy exclaims as well, the two of you sharing a laugh while Wanda tries to convince her body that she’s fine. 

“This popcorn is my new religion. Wanda, this is delicious!" You exclaim and she manages to smile softly at you. 

"It’s just butter." She shrugs, barely keeping her voice steady and you huff. 

“Sokovian butter?” You ask teasingly, and the smile on her face is a little more real when she catches your eyes. 

“Sokovian butter.” She nods, and while Daisy kisses you again she makes a quick escape. 

With a hand pressing on her belly to keep some of the pain at bay, she walks as fast as she can towards the elevator and it’s only when she’s inside that she finally breaks down. 

August, the word feels cursed now. The word that reminds her that you weren’t ever hers to lose, not really. 

…