#i was always gonna come back to him <3 <3

[luveline]

could you write bau!reader x aaron, reader is pregnant and baby is so restless and kicking a lot as reader is at her desk working and aaron is the only one who can calm baby down

ty for requesting <3 pregnant!reader, 1k

“Woh,” you mumble, almost clipping your head on your desk as you lean forward. “Oh, my gosh.” 

“What’s wrong, mama?” 

You wave your free hand weakly at Derek, the other to your bump. “Nothing’s wrong, handsome.” 

Derek laughs warmly and stands from his chair. “I don’t believe you. Come on, tell me what’s wrong. Or I’ll go get the big man and he can force it out of you himself.” 

Hotch’s never forced anything out of you, but he has kissed a confession from you before. He could do it again easily. 

You right yourself as the baby’s rampant kicking makes you feel as though you’ll pee your pants. “Derek, there’s some crazy stuff happening inside of me right now.” 

He smiles at you fondly. “I bet there is.” 

“She’s kicking the shit out of me.” Sitting up, your back twinges and relaxes, the weight of your baby bump spreading out. You’re very pregnant and the baby is extremely active. She kicks pretty much 24/7 these last few days, and it’s driving you crazy. “Do you wanna feel?” 

Derek presents his hand for feeling. You stand up, and Derek lays a hand across your bump. You don’t have to move it anywhere: the second he touches you, he can no doubt feel the baby’s aggressiveness. She’s aiming her little feet almost like she knows where your most fragile organs are. 

One rough kick has Derek taking back his hand. “She’s beating you up, mama.” 

“She hates me.” 

“She doesn’t hate you,” Spencer says, twirling in his chair to give one of his innocuous tidbits of information, “babies kick for all sorts of reasons. They kick when they’re hungry, or after you’ve just eaten because of the extra glucose shared via the placenta. Sometimes they kick because they can feel sensation through your skin.” 

Spencer stands up. You raise your brows. “You wanna feel?” you ask. 

He grins and offers his hand. You take it and place it against the baby’s restless feet, smiling at Spencer’s smile, a little enchanted by how fascinated he seems. At Spencer’s touch, she starts to kick quickly like she had been with Derek, and eventually you have to move his hand in the hopes she’ll stop. She slows, but the occasional stretch pokes at your stomach. You can see the distension of her limb even through your shirt. 

“She’s really going for it today,” you say. “Maybe I had too much brown sugar in my oatmeal.” 

“You know babies can tell the difference between hands?” Spencer asks. 

“I sort of guessed,” you say distractedly, rubbing at the baby’s kicking with the crest of your palm. “She doesn’t act like this with Hotch.” 

“Good to know he has that effect on everyone,” Derek says with a laugh. 

“I might go and ask him to make her stop. I’m gonna need a change of clothes if she doesn’t.” 

Derek laughs again, full-bellied, his arm wrapping around your shoulders in a pitying hug. “Aw, sweetheart, you’ll be okay. Just two more months and this will all be over.” 

“Well, you never know. The longest overdue pregnancy in human history was almost a hundred days, that’s more than an extra three months.” 

“Spencer!” you say, not truly shouting, but your volume escaping you as the horror of a year long pregnancy sinks in. “Don’t jinx me.” 

Your loud voice, or perhaps Derek’s roaring laughter, draws the attention of JJ and Hotch, who appear from the depths of his office with matching curious expressions. JJ begins down the steps to the bullpen, while Hotch stays at the balcony waiting for an explanation. 

“Baby Hotchner’s giving it large,” Derek says, rubbing your upper arm. 

“She won’t stop,” you complain, relieved to see your stern husband. “Can you come and set her straight?” 

You aren’t always so quick to complain to him, but this is too much. It feels as though she’s about to start doing spin kinks against your spine —it’s honestly the most she’s ever moved. When you were just a few weeks pregnant you’d longed for her to wriggle and show you a sign that she could feel you, but now you’d appreciate a few minutes of calm. 

Hotch follows JJ down obligingly, and he, surrounded by your curious coworkers and colleagues, without any hesitation (but certainly some care), slips his hand under your blouse to feel at his baby’s sharp kicking. He presses against what might be a foot for a few moments, his smile barely hidden, his palm warm. 

“She really is giving it large,” he says, the deep softness of his voice like a signal. 

The baby’s kicks soften, until, barely ten seconds later, they stop. Your spine ceases vibrating, and you can finally stand there without having to press your thighs together. 

“Thank you,” you say, holding Hotch’s elbow. He’s well and truly saved you. 

He rubs your stomach with his thumb. His dark eyes stay set on your bump. “You’re welcome.” 

“I guess baby just missed her dad,” JJ says. 

You look at Spencer. He doesn’t say anything. “No correction?” you ask. 

“No,” he says, pouting that you’d ask. “Either she missed the sound of his voice, or your reaction to seeing him has calmed her down. That’s not a big difference.” 

“It’s both, I think,” you say, paused by a big yawn. 

“Are you tired?” Hotch asks. 

“Urgently.” You let yourself sag forward toward him, gesturing for Spencer, Derek and JJ to look away. “Thanks for your help, boys, but I need something no one else can give me.” You collapse into Hotch’s chest for a hug. 

The bump is very much in the way, but he reacts accordingly, ushering your chest to his, cheek pressed gently to your forehead. “She’s exhausted you,” he teases under his breath. 

“She really has.” 

“I love how she settles with me,” he says, rubbing your back for a long, slow handful of seconds, before he pulls away enough to grin at you. “But I suppose she gets that from her mother.” 

“You’re very calming.” 

“So I’ve been told.” 

[pinkflower2003]

˗ˏˋ IN YOUR WILDEST DREAMS ! ´ˎ˗

Not Who I Thought pt 3 series masterlist

Lando Norris x ex!reader (almost Lewis Hamilton x reader)

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yourusername posted to her story!

story replies:

GeorgeRussell: LOL WTF who tf is sending u that many roses??? Can I have some of the lego?

OscarPiastri: i told him not to you know, but he wouldn’t listen.

Lilymhe: oh, he didn’t

MaxVerstappen: want me to fight?

KellyPiquet: oh roses?…he trying trying

LandoNorris: i’m glad you both liked my gifts🤍

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Lando Norris Posted!

LandoNorris: i’m gonna get you back

view all comments

AlexAlbon: uh 🤨 yeah no that’s not happening

GeorgeRussell: not a chance mate

MaxVerstappen: this is surely not happening right now, i do not have the strength to fight rn but i will if i have to

DanielRicciardo: lol good luck on race day mate, you’re gonna need it

PierreGasly: Lando, don’t do this to yourself mate

OscarPiastri: told you not to do it.

Username2: oh he gotta work work to get her back, think he forgot she’s got all the other drivers as big brothers now lol

Username3: THEY’RE THE SAME ROSES THAT YN POSTED

Username4: We still don’t know what’s happened but if anything, i don’t think yn will forgive too easily

CharlesLeclerc: they don’t need their hearts broken again

LandoNorris: i don’t want to break, i want to be there

CarlosSainz: NOPE

LewisHamilton: not gonna happen mate lol

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yourusername: in your wildest dreams

view all comments

lilymhe: once again, marry me please

yourusername: leave Alex rn and i’ll do it

AlexAlbon: right well that’s rude

yourusername: get over it, i’m hotter than you anyway

GeorgeRussell: UH, I will not have you insult my boy like that✋🏼

yourusername: you officially have the least favourite uncle award now

GeorgeRussell: WHAT NO I TAKE IT BACK ALEX IS AN UGLY MF

AlexAlbon: wow ok

GeorgeRussell: Alex you’ll get over it, i NEED this award

AlexAlbon: you also need a world championship but you ain’t getting that either

yourusername: that must’ve hurt

GeorgeRussell: it did, can i be favourite uncle to make me feel better?

yourusername: no

MaxVerstappen: i can’t keep up with everything that’s happening, i’ve had Kelly keep a timeline for me

KellyPiquet: Max, please do shut up

CharlesLeclerc: since when did you and baby boy go to the beach and not invite me????

yourusername: maybe i didn’t want you here this time

CharlesLeclerc: pfffftt lies. Did you go with someone else?

yourusername: 🫣

CharlesLeclerc: GASP

LandoNorris: definitely in my wildest dreams

yourusername: not gonna happen

LandoNorris: doesn’t mean i won’t try

LewisHamilton: Always in my dreams. had a great time yn especially spending time with my favourite little buddy, but the view of you was always extra nice💙

yourusername: we loved being there with you Lew!💗

Username3: SHE WAS ON HOLIDAY WITH LEWIS??? LEW??

username4: love triangle trope? Lando, YN & Lewis?

username5: i’m on Lewis’ side

Username6: NOPE THIS IS NOT HAPPENING YN AND LANDO NEED TO BE BACK TOGETHERRR

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yourusername: we all deserve happiness💛

view all comments

MaxVerstappen: you’re all so cryptic i can’t stand it. Buddy coming round for dinner soon?

yourusername: always, he misses his auntie Kelly

KellyPiquet: in your face Max Emilian, i knew he preferred me.

yourusername: is my son just a way for you all to see who is liked the most?

GeorgeRussell: yes

AlexAlbon: yes

Carmenmmundt: yes

DanielRicciardo: yes

Lilymhe: yes

KellyPiquet: yes

CharlesLeclerc: yes

yourusername: you all need to get lives fr

GeorgeRussell: we have lives, a life where we want to know who Milo likes best

username5: MILO? GEORGE EXPOSING SECRETS AGAIN BUT THIS WAS NEEDED

Username6: so no one is gonna talk about how Lewis and his parents are on the second slide?? just me??

username7: who wants to bet that Lewis and yn are dating??

username8: there’s no true evidence of that other than lewis being close to yn’s son (which all the other drivers are too) and the fact they’ve been on holiday together, which yn goes on holiday with the boys and their partners.

username7: ah yes, but Lewis does not have a partner, he normally travels with family or friends, but this time he’s been spending a lot more time with yn and commenting flirtatious comments on her posts.

LandoNorris: little man Milo🧡 you look lovely yn

yourusername: thanks Lando, Milo say’s thanks for the gifts you sent x

username8: i think my head just exploded, i’m so confused???

LewisHamilton: 🙄

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Lando Norris stood outside the apartment door, his heart racing. He stared at the number, 12B, for what felt like an eternity before summoning the courage to knock. It had taken him almost 2 years to reach this point. He wasn't ready then, but he was now. He wanted to meet his son, Milo, and make amends for the mistakes he had made.

The door opened, and Y/N stood there, a mixture of surprise and apprehension in her eyes. She was as beautiful as ever, and for a moment, Lando was struck speechless. Her gaze softened, and she stepped aside to let him in without a word, knowing he had kept to his word, making the effort to come when she asked him to.

As he entered, his eyes were immediately drawn to the little boy playing on the living room floor. Milo. His son. The boy was a perfect blend of both him and Y/N, with bright eyes and an infectious giggle that made Lando's heart ache with both joy and regret.

But then Lando noticed someone else in the room—Lewis Hamilton. He was sitting on the couch, watching Milo with a protective intensity that Lando recognised. It was the same look he’d seen in the rearview mirror countless times, a fierce determination that said, "I will not back down."

"Hey," Lando said, his voice faltering. He hadn't expected Lewis to be here. He knew they were friends, but this was supposed to be his moment with Milo. He tried to hide his annoyance as he turned back to Y/N. "I didn’t know you had company."

Y/N bit her lip, glancing at Lewis before responding. "Lewis has been helping me out with Milo for a bit, since we just came off holiday."

Lando felt a surge of jealousy but pushed it down. This wasn't about Lewis. This was about meeting his son. Nodding, not knowing how to reply he knelt down to the little boy, trying to keep his voice steady. "Hi, Milo. I'm…I'm your dad."

Milo looked up, his eyes wide with curiosity. He didn’t say anything but continued to watch Lando intently. Lando felt a lump in his throat. This was his flesh and blood, a part of him that he had missed so much of.

Lewis cleared his throat, drawing Lando's attention. "Milo's a great kid," he said, his tone neutral but his eyes wary. "He's been a joy to be around."

Lando nodded, forcing a smile. "I’m sure he is. I’m here to…to get to know him, if that’s okay."

Y/N hesitated, looking between the two men. "Of course, Lando. I want Milo to know his father, but this isn't a half-arsed thing, it's a lot of work to care for a child, you can't just come and go whenever you please, you have to be all in."

Lando's heart sank at those words, but he couldn’t blame anyone but himself. He had made his choices, and now he had to deal with the consequences. He stood up, facing Lewis directly. "Thank you for being there for them, Lewis. Really."

"I'm not who I was before YN, i've grown up, I promise." YN just nodded slightly, breathing heavily.

There was an awkward silence, and Lando couldn't help but feel like an outsider in his own family. He glanced at Y/N, hoping for some sign of what she was thinking. "Are you two…?" He let the question hang in the air, not sure he wanted to know the answer.

Y/N and Lewis exchanged a look, one that spoke volumes. There was something there, something unspoken but palpable. Y/N looked down, her cheeks flushing slightly. "We're good friends."

Lando swallowed hard, feeling a mixture of relief and disappointment. "I see."

Lewis stood up, crossing the room to where Milo was playing. He picked the boy up, holding him with a familiarity that twisted Lando's heart. "I'll take Milo for a walk. Give you two some time to talk."

Y/N nodded, grateful. "Thanks, Lewis." Lewis bent down, giving YN a kiss on the cheek, almost as though he was marking his territory, telling Lando that YN saying they were 'good friends' was a lie.

As Lewis left the apartment with Milo, Lando and Y/N stood in an uncomfortable silence. Finally, Y/N spoke. "Why now, Lando? Why come back after all this time?"

Lando took a deep breath. "I wasn't ready before. I was scared, and I made a mistake. But I've grown up, Y/N. I want to be a part of Milo's life. And yours, if you'll let me."

Y/N sighed, running a hand through her hair. "It's not that simple, Lando. A lot has happened. Milo has grown up with Lewis around. He’s been more of a father to him than you have."

"I know," Lando said, his voice breaking. "But I want to change that. I want to make up for lost time."

Y/N looked at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of hurt and hope. "It's not just about you, Lando. It's about what's best for Milo. And I don’t want to hurt Lewis either. He's been so good to us, he does everything for us."

Lando nodded, understanding the weight of her words. "I get it. But I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere, i'm going to be his dad, we can co-parent, and maybe...I could earn your trust back."

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears. "I just don’t know if I can trust you not to leave again."

"I won’t," Lando said firmly. "I promise."

They stood there, the air thick with tension and unresolved feelings. Lando reached out, taking Y/N's hand in his. "Please, give me a chance to prove it. I want to be a father to Milo."

Y/N looked down at their hands, her expression conflicted. "I…I need time, Lando. This is a lot to take in."

"I understand," Lando said softly. "Take all the time you need. I’m not giving up on us. On any of us."

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part 4 (lewis ending)

taglist: People who commented on the last part (there will be more parts!) you guys wanted more Lewis so here you go💗

@mswwvaleska @mcmuppet @moonstsrz @goldenharrysworld @ilivbullyingjeongin @iamdedsthingz @judespoision @verstappensrealwife @mxdi0 @pretty-angel333 @arshiyuh @samantha-chicago @acesofspadess @hi00000234567 @mehrmonga @danika1994 @dullypully @poppyflower-22 @bibissparkles @daisyfreecs @bookishnerd1132 @destinyg237 @luvrrish @charlesgirl16 @ynbutbetter r @reguluscrystals @honethatty12 @loloekie @midnights-lily @aubsaubaubing @herebereblogs @op81imh @be-your-coffee-pot @woozarts

[solargeist]

"do you think my wings are pretty..?"

he preened his wings..... theres no dirt or dye or anything.... so they're back to their original colour

[thebearer]

making the bed |carmen berzatto x reader| part one

prompt: carmen's stressed. food critics, a newborn baby, balancing work life and married life and now dad life; he's bound to break, everyone knows it. but no one ever thought he'd lash out on you.

or, part one of the devastation fic. based off this ask from the other day. two more parts to come.

contains: mega angst. mega angst, with no resolution in this part. hurt, no comfort (in this chapter, will be later in part 3). mean!carmen, very mean. mom!reader x dad!carmen with newborn teddy. fighting, language, carmen says mean stuff he doesn't mean. past mentions of trauma, family trauma, mikey mentioned. very angsty and a little heavy, please read at your own discretion. word count- 3.5k+.

"Are you ok?"

Carmen now understood why that phrase used to send Donna into such a blind rage, lips pursing and jaw clenching more and more every time he heard it. First at work, then with you, it felt never ending.

It was beginning to feel like critic season with how many were coming in, snooty and demanding to be impressed. It couldn't have come at a worst time, right in the middle of busy season with the start of the holidays. Days at The Bear were filled with frantic panic, running around, making sure everything was perfect, accounted for, and Carmen always had the sinking feeling it wasn't- that he'd forgotten something, messed something up. 

It wasn't rare for him to work himself up like this, a normal that you always warned him about, but he'd always had a solitude. As long as he'd known you, he'd had a place to go, to unwind, to let himself rest and reset with you. And he still did, it was just shared now with a newborn.

Dorothea Michelle. Teddy, for short. The light of his life, yours too. Nearly two months old with a set of lungs that sounded much louder, much more developed than that. Nights were long, sleepless, spent trying to lull Teddy back to sleep, awake even if he wasn't up with her. Carmen couldn't allow himself the selfishness to relax, to rewind, to "take it easy" like everyone told him to. At work, he was the boss; at home, he was a dad.

"Fuck, fuck," Carmen's sleepy stare was broken by a lick of bubbling heat, the lamb's roux popping with the high heat, splashing all over Carmen's chef whites.

"Jeff, c'mon," Tina clicked, shaking her head, moving the pan to lower heat. "What're you doin'?"

Carmen grit his teeth, snatching a rag off the stainless steel counter tops, scrubbing the burgundy stain, huffing when it only spread the stain.

"What happened?" Sydney turned, looking from the burnt sauce to Carmen's stained chef shirt. "Oh,"

"Do we have a spare coat?" Carmen huffed, throwing the rag down with a firm smack against the counter.

"I don't think so, Carm." Sydney shook her head. "You took the last ones home with you two days ago. The wine-"

"-I know, Chef, I know." Carmen snapped, running a hand through his hair. "Fuck, I-I can't fuckin' serve the critics lookin' like this. With shit all over me- fuck."

"Hey, easy, easy," Richie turned the corner, his hands held up. "What's goin' on?"

"Jeff got sauce over him. He doesn't have any clean clothes." Tina muttered, irritated that she had to fix his mess, more irritated that he wasn't taking care of himself. You have a baby, Jeff, you need to rest and take some time, she'd told him. Carmen only waved her off.

"Okay, okay, hey, that's no problem." Richie's voice raised, lifting over Carmen's. "You go home and change, get your spare, check on my beautiful goddaughter, and then come back with your A game. Yes?"

Carmen didn't even humor him with a snarky remark, yanking his coat off and stomping towards the office to grab his things. Richie and Tina looked at each other, shaking their head gently.

"Kids runnin' thin, T." Richie muttered with a sigh. "He's gonna break. It's gonna be bad."

"Yeah, he is. Gonna wear himself out before then." Tina shook her head. "Jeff needs a vacation." They both jumped at the slamming of the backdoor, Carmen's angry exit shaking the foundation.

"Needs to be fuckin' medicated. Fuckin' lunatic." Richie scoffed, rolling his eyes at Carmen's dramatics.

The drive home was filled with silence, Carmen's iron grip on the wheel, tearing through the traffic towards the house- his house, his home. 

Home, but it didn't provide the same comfort that it usually did. Carmen's shoulders still stayed tense, buzzing with rage, not dissipating when he thought of you, or of Teddy, knowing you'd both be there, excited to see him. 

You jumped at the sound of the car door slamming, peeking out the window to see Carmen's parked next to yours, furiously stomping up the front steps. You frowned, grabbing the baby monitor, walking towards the front door.

Carmen nearly hit you with how fiercely he flung the door open. "Woah," You reached for the door, stopping it before he could flick it shut. "Carm, don't slam it. Teddy's asleep. I just got her down." You frowned at him, shutting it slowly.

Carmen looked at you but didn't speak, looking through you with a rage that had your spine tingling before he finally broke his gaze, stomping towards the laundry room. "Carm? What’re you doing home? Don’t you have dinner soon?" You hesitated slightly, lingering in the doorway with an uncertainty you hadn’t felt with Carmen before. 

Carmen didn’t answer, his jaw still ground tight while he rummaged through the clean clothes, carelessly unfolding and shifting the folded clothes.

"Carmen," You said more firmly, caching his gaze. He didn't speak still, just stared at you- through you. "Are you ok?" You lifted a brow, features softening in worry.

Carmen paused, eyes closing, shoulders tensing in agitation. Are you ok? His ears rang, a familiar rage that he hadn't felt in years bubbling up deep in his chest. Frustrated and blinding and rampant, heat rushing through his veins, pulling himself further and further from reality into someplace different- someplace darker in his mind. 

"What's wrong?" You pressed, he could barely hear it, ears ringing at your question. "Did something happen? Did the critic come-"

"-Where's my chef whites?" Carmen barked, cutting you off, his chest tightening more and more with every heavy heave of his chest. You flinched at his tone.

"Uh, I-I haven't seen the whites. I washed your white tee-"

“-You what? Y-You what?” Carmen spat, eye widening with a wild, raged glint in his eye. Your stomach flipped and fell with fear, stepping back instinctively. 

“I-I washed your tee, Carm, that’s all that you left in the laundry basket-” 

"-Are you fucking kidding me?" Carmen boomed, his head spinning, body buzzing with rage. Your breath hitched, frozen in fear at the anger in his tone, the roar of his voice bouncing off the walls, echoing through your ears in a painful drum. 

Carmen moved, snatching the dirty clothes basket, dumping it into the ground with a shake until the dirty chef coat fell on top. He gripped the basket, flinging it across the room with a hard throw. The final push to his bad mood that sent him right over the edge, crashing into a pit of blinding fury, aggravation, breaking him from the inside out.

"Fuck!" Carmen roared, his voice shaking the walls, your breath leaving your lungs in a trembling exhale of fear. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! This is- This is- Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” 

You tensed in shock, gripping the baby monitor in fear, maybe surprise, as it started to buzz to life with Teddy's startled whimpers. Her small cries pulled you out of your frozen state, something deeper than fear replacing the ache in your stomach. 

"Carmen-" You gaped, voice wobbling with uncertainty, taking slow shuffled steps towards the stairs. “Carmen, calm-calm down. Ok? Calm down.” 

“Calm down? You want me to fuckin’ calm down?” Carmen sneered, an angry red flush blossoming in splotchy deep hues up his neck, towards his cheeks. “You don’t do shit, nothin’ that I fuckin’ ask for! Just sit around all fuckin’ day an-and I’m supposed to calm down?” 

“Carmen,” Your voice wobbled, throat tight with tears, hurt and fear strangling your words. “I-You didn’t ask me to wash them. I-I didn’t know. They weren’t in the hamper-” 

“-I shouldn’t have to ask you to wash them!” Carmen roared, eyes so wide you thought they might pop right out of his head, neck vein protruding on exemplifying his rage. “You know what I’m going through! You know how much fuckin’ stress I’m under! I go to that-that shit hole, an-and work my fuckin’ ass off so you don’t have to! Then I come home, and I-I can’t even get a second of peace!” 

“Stop,” You hiss, finally regaining your composure, his words fully sinking into you  now, feeling the full effect of them. “I-I just had a baby. I’m still on maternity leave taking care of a baby- our baby, and I’m tired too. But I’m not yelling at you-” 

“-Oh, right. Right.” Carmen laughs sarcastically, humorless as he runs his hand down his face. It felt mocking, left you feeling small and too vulnerable for your liking. “Because in between your napping an-and feeding, you couldn’t stick a fucking jacket in the wash, right? You’re so busy.”  

“What is wrong with you?” You snap, hoping he can’t hear the tears in your voice, the way your voice shakes with emotion. 

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me?” Carmen scoffs, throwing his hands out. “I get no fuckin' sleep, go work my fuckin' ass off, a-and then I come home so I can go back and work my ass off some more, and-and you can’t do one simple fuckin’ thing? You can’t help me out? And then you wanna know what’s wrong with me? When you sit on your ass all fuckin’ day-” 

Teddy’s piercing wail pulls you out of your shocked trance, nose and throat burning with hurt filled tears you refuse to shed. Instead, you turn, climbing the stairs on shaky legs, the sound of Teddy’s cries growing louder and louder. Anchovy watches you from the top of the stairs, sensing the tension, your upset, sliding against your leg as if to comfort you. 

Carmen scoffs, hands buzzing and trembling with rage, the ringing in his ears growing louder and louder with each of your footsteps on the stairs and down the hall. He can barely hear Teddy’s sobs, hands threading through his hair, pulling at his scalp. He sees you walk towards the bedroom, quickly, hugging Teddy to your chest. 

“Oh, don’t go fuckin’ do it now!” Carmen roared, your ignoring him only infuriating him further. “It won’t be ready in time now. I’ll just look like a fuckin’ idiot for the critic tonight! Not that you care! Why would you, huh? I-I mean just our livelihood, just our fuckin’ income!” 

You swallowed back your tears, head tilting towards the ceiling, hands shaking with every shove of your things into the overnight bag. Just enough to get you through the night, the next day. A few essentials, Teddy’s spare onesies, a charger, your wallet- you stopped mid-shove of your items into the weekender bag, the sun’s rays catching in your wedding ring. Your heart fell, more and more, you weren’t sure how that was even possible. 

Carmen’s furious voice was still booming from downstairs, ringing and shaking in his furious fit. Richie and Sugar both warned you about Carmen’s tantrums, brought them up to embarrass him, tease him about it until he was red faced and hissing hushed threats at them. You never, never in your wildest dreams thought you’d be on the receiving end of one. 

You jumped, another slam of something Carmen had thrown, maybe hit in a fit of rage, causing Teddy to wail louder, Anchovy skittering nervously away. Tears leaked out of your eyes, twisting the ring off your finger, setting it on Carmen’s bedside table. Pulling the carrier out of the closet, Anchovy got in much easier than usual, which you were thankful for. 

Carmen was gripping the marble of the countertop when he heard you again, walking from the bottom of the stairs, quick steps towards the door to the garage, Teddy’s voice nearly hoarse from her crying. You kept your head high, tunnel-visioned towards your car, ignoring his heavy breathing and frantic pacing. 

“Wha-What are you doin’?” Carmen’s voice was softer now, still with a jagged edge that was cutting and harsh. The car door opened, the baby carrier hooked into the car seat. 

“Hey, wha- what are you- where’re you goin’? What’re you doin’?” Carmen’s heart dropped in a damning rush of hour, stumbling on heavy legs towards the garage. You ignored him, shushing Teddy gently, running a calming hand over her wet cheek, trying to coax her paci into her mouth. 

“Baby, no-no, no. Hey, no, I-I- What-” Carmen’s chest felt tight, mind numbing and racing, stuttering nervously. You reached for your bag, his hand reaching to grab the strap. “Whe-Where’re you-”

“-Don’t touch me.” You hissed, teeth bared, eyes shining with tears. Carmen flinched, pulling his hand back like he’d touched a hot stove. “Don’t you dare fucking touch me.” You sneered, pinning him with a watery glare that had his stomach turning in sickening fear. 

“Baby, hey, w-wait-C’mon, d-don’t-You don’t, you don’t need to do this, ok? I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Carmen choked out the words, frantic and unsure, his hands shaking when they ghosted over you back just for a moment. Wanting to touch you, to hold you, to grab you and keep you from leaving, but too scared to. Instead, he grabbed the car door you flung open, holding it when you tried to yank it closed. 

“Let go.” You hissed, sniffling back wet, snotty tears of fury and hurt. 

“Please, don’t-do-don’t do this. Please, baby, I-I’m sorry.” Carmen begged, blue eyes deepening with the burning red hues of tears, bloodshot and lashes wet. “Don’t-Don’t do this-” 

“-I didn’t do this.” You sneered, leaving Carmen flinching at your words. “Don’t you dare try to say this was me. After how you just talked to me? The shit you said to me in there? You think I’m going to stay?” Your voice cracked with emotion, lips pressing together to keep a cry in. 

“No, no, no, no, no, baby, please. Please, ju-just come inside. Come inside, please? Please, don’t-” 

“You don’t get to talk to me like that. To say that kinda stuff to me. That hurt, Carmen. That was mean.” You glared at him, tears leaking out of the corner of his eyes. “I don’t care if you’re stressed. I don’t care what’s going on- nothing, and I mean nothing, warrants you talking to me like that. Just because you fucked up, because you forgot to ask me to do it, because you’re stressed out- I don’t care what it is. You don’t talk to me like that, say those things when I’ve been home all day taking care of my ch- our child.” You nod back towards the sniffling baby, whimpering and crying half heartedly, her little eyelids drooping with sleep that was interrupted. 

Carmen felt sick, his knees tightening in fear, he was sure they might give out, that he might fall to the ground right there. Looking at the tiny baby, lip jutted and shaking in the mirror hooked on the back of the seat, then back at you, eyes red-rimmed and glaring at him with a hurt filled anger. 

“Don’t-” Carmen’s chest shook, a white-knuckled grip on the door. 

Your own hand curled around the door’s inner handle, yanking it away from him. “Move,” You hissed, pulling again. 

Carmen wasn’t sure why he let it go, why he let you shut it, locking the door in case he tried to open it again. Why he let you pull out of the driveway, why he didn’t stop you, why he didn’t run after you, only taking soft shuffles down the drive like a zombie as you drove away. Standing in the drive, Carmen swallowed down the spit that pooled in his mouth, stomach churning, sure he was going to be sick. 

He managed to trudge back to the garage, mind racing and far away, the ringing in his ears dulling but still deafening. It felt like he was in a dream- a nightmare, a hallucinating trance that felt like a sick, sick dream- Carmen was hoping it was. That he’d wake up and find you next to him asleep. That he could hug you, pull you into him, nose buried in your neck, still warm from your slumber. 

As the sun began to sink low into the sky, minutes turning into hours that Carmen sat motionless in the garage, staring in a trancelike state, he realized that this wasn’t a dream or a nightmare. No this was his reality, a horrific reality that he’d made into his own. Carmen sat, eyes trained on the concrete of the garage, voice racing and blending in his mind- his words, yours, Teddy’s cries, Natalie and Richie’s, flashbacks of his mother screaming fits. 

He didn’t move, frozen in chilling, eerie fear. What ifs and terrifying possible scenarios, consequences to his own actions that left him feeling sick, hands trembling. A spiraling of fears that only drug him deeper and deeper with every haunting replay of his outburst. Even the flashing of headlights turning into the driveway, filling the garage with light, didn’t pull him from his trance. 

“The fuck is he- Cousin!” Richie roared, laying on the horn. Carmen didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge that he heard it, only stared. Richie frowned, turning the car off, throwing the door open. 

“Cousin? Carm? What-What are you doin’? Dinner service started an hour ago. Syd is freakin’ the fuck out.” Richie threw his hands up, walking towards the man who still didn’t move. Richie’s heart skipped, flashbacks of Mikey flooding into his vision, parallels of the two brothers blurring before him. 

“Yo, Carm, you-you good?” Richie stepped into the garage, his spine tingling with icy fear. It was quiet, an eerie, unsettling quiet. “Cousin, hey, what-what’s wrong?” 

Carmen's chest rose and fell, tighter and tighter. He was suffocating, head spinning and mind racing so fast he felt light headed. He could barely hear Richie’s voice over the noise in his head, Richie’s hand shaking his shoulder finally breaking his trance enough to meet his eyes, rounded in fear filled question. 

“Carmen, what’s wrong? Is it- Don’t fuckin’ tell me it’s the baby. What the fuck is goin’ on-” 

“-She left.” Carmen’s voice shook, raspy and scared. His tongue still felt too thick, head still spinning. He wasn’t even sure he said it, Richie’s widening eyes the only thing confirming that he had said it. 

“What? Who-Who left? Who?” Richie looked around, like the clues might be there, sure that Carmen wasn’t talking about you. No, he wouldn’t- he couldn’t. Not you. 

Carmen’s breath hitched, a strangling of a sob caught in his throat, running his hand over his face. Richie didn’t miss the way it trembled, shaking even as it rested over his eyes. Your car was gone, the house too quiet, no baby Teddy crying, nothing but silence was left. 

Richie’s heartbeat crawled into a rapid, scared pace. “Why? Wh-Why would she-” Richie looked at Carmen, eyes wide but still, reading his expression. “No. No, Cousin, no. What-What did you do? Carmen,” Richie grabbed both his shoulders, shaking him lightly until he met his gaze. “What did you do?” 

Carmen’s face began to crack, behind his eyes, Richie could see flashbacks of something- something he didn’t know what, but whatever it was, it was painful. That was evident by the fear that glossed over Carmen’s eyes, realization and horror. Carmen’s shoulders shook, frame rocking with a sob he tried to swallow, but couldn’t. Deep cries, guttural sobs breaking out of his frame, heels of his hands pressed to his eyes, fingers curled and clenched around his greasy curls in agony. 

The damning realization flooded over him, that you’d left. 

You’d left, you’d taken Teddy, taken Anchovy- you’d left because he’d driven you away. His angry outburst, petulant, mean, hurtful- he’d been so cruel to you. You. His wife, the love of his life, mother of his child, the one person who loved him endlessly without stipulations or boundaries, the one person who truly understood him. 

And he’d driven you away. 

He wished he could blame his mom, his dad, his family for fucking him up so severely, maybe Mikey, even, for leaving him the shit show that was the restaurant, making his anxieties worse and fuse shorter. But sitting in the empty garage, Richie standing above him in silent shock, his sobs and angry sniffles echoing off the cement floor, Carmen knew he had no one to blame but himself. 

He’d fucked up. Really fucked up. Fucked up in a way that made all the other times look obsolete. 

Carmen had fucked up, and for once, he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t avoid it, ignore it, deflect it like other times. Half hearted apologies and promises of change wouldn’t work, you weren’t here for him to even try to give them to you, and he didn’t know where you went. 

Carmen wasn’t sure where you went, how to fix this, why he’d done what he did, and a million other things that raced through his mind. What he did know, sitting in the too quiet garage, chest stuttering with heaving cries, was that he’d do anything. 

Anything, to get you back home. To make it right. To fix this and make it up to you. 

He wasn’t sure how, but he’d give up everything. Anything. His restaurant, his dreams, his hopes, his life, at this point, to make it up to you. 

[sinner-as-saint]

no masters or kings

Priest!Bucky x Reader 

Run-through: Father Barnes’ life had been rather peaceful for years. He never complained though, he chose this. Between mass on Sundays, bible study sessions during the week, and office hours, the amount of time he has left he dedicated to reading and keeping his body active. There wasn’t much to do in this small, almost forgotten town. Then a new face appeared. A woman, married to some businessman who leaves her all by herself while he grows his fortune in the city. Father Barnes seemed determined at first, to herd and care for the new, young, lonely little lamb. But that is until he found himself tempted to sin like never before. 

Themes: priest!bucky, smut, degrading kink, infidelity, explicit language, (sacrilege, blasphemy, and all the other bad stuff)

a/n: i’m going hell anyway so yeah, PILFS <3 

“It’s very late.” 

His hushed voice echoed in the empty, dark church. Your back stiffened as you froze, standing by the pews. You turned around slowly and found him standing at the entrance, the rain falling noisily behind him. As if creating a curtain to separate you two from the world outside. 

You knew where the switches were but you didn’t turn on the light when you walked in. There was just enough light coming from the outside to allow you to move properly and see. So you couldn’t exactly see the expression on his face. 

But you saw that he was drenched, completely. He must’ve gone on a run, you figured, and instead of going back home for the night, he saw the little light at the church doorstep and decided to come check who was here. 

“I… I couldn’t sleep.” You whispered back, watching him as he stepped inside and shook his head – reminding you a little of a dog shaking – as he tried to get the rain water out of his hair. “You once said you always left the church unlocked so I thought…,” You sighed, “I should probably go.” 

“No.” He was quick to say, in that tone. Your body tensed up. “Stay.” He added quietly. 

You looked at him. Drenched jacket, wet track pants sticking to his body, he was breathing heavily so he must’ve ran all the way here. He did that often, he once said. He liked running at night. 

You watched as he stepped closer to where you stood. That little bit of grey in his beard drove you insane. Suddenly you couldn’t think. 

He had that look about him which you could only describe as ‘priestly’. Wise, slightly older, calm. He was the kind of man you’d want to open up to. You’d want him to see all that was dark and wrong inside your human heart only so he could use that firm, strong voice and tell you that it’s all gonna be okay. That you were forgiven. Loved. And never alone. 

You watched as he unzipped his jacket, revealing that ridiculously tight black shirt inside which clung to his ridiculously muscular torso. 

“Did you need me?” He asked, again in that voice. That comforting voice that made everything okay. 

You knew what he meant. How he meant it. You knew he meant it in an innocuous way. But fuck if your mind didn’t go straight to that sinful pit it stays in. Temptation, like a vicious vine, reached and wrapped around your brain as you struggled to speak. 

It was always like this. Ever since the first time you stepped foot in this space and found Father Barnes sitting in silence all by himself. At first you mistook him for being just a parishioner. Black slacks, black shirt with the sleeves rolled up till his elbows, only when he turned around to face you did you notice the white collar. But by then it was too late and in your head you’d already imagined his naked body taking yours, owning you, using you. 

That day, you could tell he could almost read your mind. You were embarrassed so you excused yourself and left quickly. And anytime you wanted to be back here, and be good and behave, one look at Father Barnes and you felt like you were burning with all that pent up desire. 

It wasn’t entirely your fault. When you married your husband, you knew what you were getting into. You knew you married a man who was already married to his job in the city. But your parents couldn’t let such a wealthy, beneficial, and strong alliance go. You were given a luxurious life. There was nothing you lacked. 

You had a lavish home here in this small town, a wedding gift from your busy husband who visited maybe twice a year. You had it all. Money, vintage cars, horses you loved, a home you liked taking care of, privacy, all of it. 

All except company. Intimacy. Feeling a warm body press up against yours at night. Feeling warm skin against yours in the early hours of a lazy morning. You never got to hold hands with anyone, or get a hug. Or share a meal with. Or go on walks with. You were all alone here. And maybe that loneliness pushed you to visit the church the first time. 

Ever since, Father Barnes had become a habit. Watching him, picturing him doing unholy things to you, noticing him whenever you were at a coffee shop, or the library. You yearned for him. And it was all only heightened by the fact that he was so unreachable. So kind. So unlike how you wanted him to be. To him, you were just another lost soul he wanted to guide. 

Did you need me? 

Yes. Yes you did. In the most dirtiest of ways one can imagine. He was a handsome man. Kind blue eyes, long black hair that nearly reached his shoulders, a face only God could’ve created, and that body that he liked to take care of. He was a dream. 

And a priest. 

“I…” You struggled to find your words. “I thought a walk would help tire me out and put me to sleep. But then it started raining so here I am.” You gave him a faint smile. 

He returned one back. 

He ran his fingers through his wet, long hair and said, “I can keep you company for a while, if you want.” 

He waited. Then you said, “I’d like that.” 

–

Bucky was praying in his head as he asked you to take a seat, then sat down beside you. 

He prayed to God, in fact to anyone and anything that would listen to him. God, gods, universe, the freaking stars in the night sky which weren’t visible right now because it was pouring like it was the end of the world. He prayed you wouldn’t glimpse down and see the thing growing in his pants. 

He was ashamed. 

Ever since he first saw you, there was this pull he’d never felt before. It was like having burning hot claws sink into his flesh each time he laid eyes on you. Out on the streets, in the coffee shops, in the library, in the little diners, at the freaking grocery store, in parking lots – it was a small town so he saw you a lot. 

He had to walk by your extravagant property each time he went to the bakery, and each time he felt like a little boy who was excited to see whether or not the pretty girl would be outside this time to smile and give him a little wave. 

Then each time he saw you in this church it was somehow way worse. Like being here made the temptation more sinful. 

Bucky looked up at the cross and mentally begged. Make it stop. This is wrong. Make it stop. 

“You know you don’t have to do this.” Your gentle voice spoke. “I’m sure you need your sleep.” 

“It would be wrong of me to leave you here all by yourself.” He said, realising that this was the longest conversation you two had had. Usually you were too shy to even look him in the eyes. You kept your sentences short and always looked caught. 

So he liked this. 

Silence. 

Then you said, “I was never religious, you know?” There was a faint smile in that tone, he didn’t have to look to know. 

“Are you now?” 

He could feel your shrug. “I don’t know.” You answered. “I don’t think I have what it takes to be… so desperately good. Like you, for instance.” 

Oh if only you knew… 

Bucky shifted in his seat. Mentally begged God some more as the quiet tone of your voice made it hard for him to even sit still. He wanted to let out some of the primal aggression he was feeling. Squeeze something. Bite something. Sink into something. Preferably your tight hot body. 

Heavens. He sighed. Help me. 

Clearing his throat he said, “You don’t have to be if you don’t want to. It’s enough for me that you feel comfortable enough just to come here and feel like you’re not alone.” 

A moment of silence passed, with just the sound of heavy rain in the background. “But it’s not enough for me.” Then you quickly added, as if embarrassed that you must have overshared, “I shouldn’t be saying these things.” 

“Why not?” He frowned. What things? 

You let out a soft chuckle that only sent more blood down to his rock hard cock. Bucky clenched his fists, struggling. 

“It’s the middle of the night. I should go.” You said. 

No. He didn’t want you to go. “If there are things you need to voice out,” He said, “Would the booth make you feel more comfortable?” 

You chuckled again, turning your head to look at him. Bucky let his eyes roam all over you very, very quickly. Dark trousers, dark jacket, a scarf around your neck… too many layers. He almost groaned as he imagined himself peeling all those layers off of you. 

“Oh Father Barnes,” You sighed. “Maybe another time.” 

Then you left. Leaving him confused, aroused, and feeling way too much. 

— 

The next time Bucky saw you was yet again, on a random rainy night. After his daily run, he noticed the small lamp outside the church door was lit and ran all the way to the church to check out who it was. 

He ignored the boyish hope in his heart which begged that it’d be you. Yet he breathed out in relief when he saw it truly was you. 

“Can’t sleep?” He asked, hoping his tone wasn’t too teasing. 

You gave him a small smile and nodded. “Would you… um, last time you mentioned the booth. Do you think, I mean, I know it’s late and–,” 

He cut you off by walking over and placing his hands on your shoulders. “Whatever makes you feel more comfortable. Follow me.” 

You did. 

–

Sitting down on the wooden bench felt weird. You’d never done it before. Never been inside the wooden box. The space was small, dark wooden panels on all sides. A small opening allowed you to partially see Father Barnes on the other side, that is if it was during the daytime. Right now, it was all too dark. You only knew he was there by the sound of movement. 

The air smelled like candle wax and incense. It felt mysterious, intimate almost to be here with him. It felt weirdly comforting. Maybe this is why people come back, you thought. 

“You’ve never done this, have you?” He asked. 

“No.” You replied, feeling a little out of place. 

“Well, we begin with the sign of the cross…” He trailed off, as if hoping you’d do it along with him. You did. Then silence. “Now, you may tell me about the things you left without saying last time.” 

You took a deep breath. Then said, “I think I’ve been alone for way too long.” 

There was a pause before he spoke. “Alone? You mean in this town?” 

You exhaled calmly and explained, “I mean in my marriage.” 

–

Bucky closed his eyes and sighed. Alone in your marriage? God help him. This was not helping his sick, twisted fantasies. All those times he fantasised as he walked by your expensive home about how he could just walk in and find where you are and demand you let him take you. Your husband wouldn’t be home. He never was, everyone knew that. Most people pitied you, the rest envied your lifestyle. But he… oh it was his most sinful fantasy till date. 

He forced himself to ask, even though he was in no shape to hear the answer, “What is it that makes you feel this way? Is there a lack of some kind?” 

He heard your shaky breath, as if you were debating whether you should tell him. “I…” You started, then stopped. Then sighed and finally said, “I’ve never been with my husband.” You explained further. “We both agreed that our marriage was only a way to solidify the business transactions between our families. We both agreed we wouldn’t be a conventional couple. He craved his busy work like in the city and I liked the tranquillity of a small town.” You paused. 

Bucky listened intently. 

“So I knew what I was getting into when I got married and moved here, while my husband remained in the city. We only see each other maybe for two weekends out of the year and that too only during the holidays when we need to put on a show for our families and smile and look happy in family photos. And I was fine with it.” Another defeated sigh. “But then it got lonely.” 

Bucky sucked in a breath as he shook his head slightly, begging God again. Don’t let my mind go there. Don’t let the fantasies seem attainable. Please. He begged. But he also needed to say something back. Something priestly. And quick. 

“I see.” He cleared his throat, refusing to even acknowledge the growing desire in his pants. Yet again. “So it’s the distance. How long has this been the case?” 

You replied, “Since the very start. I’ve never been with him, you see?” 

No. No. No. 

“Never lived with him? Never felt a sense of companionship? I admit, that must be very hard. To feel alone in a marriage–,” 

“Father Barnes,” It sounded like you were begging in shame as you interrupted him. “I have never had sex with him. Or anyone. Ever since I got married two years ago. Do you understand now?” 

“Oh.” 

You let out a soft chuckle. “Oh? I guess it must come naturally to you. To dodge those, um, desires but, I’m only human. I’m a woman, with needs. I… it worries me sometimes because often it is all I can think about all day.” Another humourless laugh. “I don’t have much to do, you see? I do enjoy the simplicity of the small town. I love my animals, my staff, I get to do things I’ve always wanted to do. I can drive around and read, and paint, and cook, and I truly do enjoy my company but sometimes… It can be very lonely. One time I–,” 

You cut yourself off. And silence followed. Tormenting Bucky even more as you left him wondering. And oh did he wonder. About your lonely nights. About you in your luxurious home, in your large bed, fingers sliding in and out from in between your thighs, crying out loud as you make yourself come. Poor you. Rich, lonely wife of a careless, rich man. Forced to take care of your needs all by yourself. 

If only there was an equally lonely man able to keep you company. If only… 

“What?” He asked, because he needed to know. “One time you what?” 

“I… you know there are people who provide services. For women like me.” Your breathy voice was driving him to the fucking edge. 

“Women like you?” 

“Yes.” Your voice was more firm now, almost like you were smiling in a mischievous way. “You know? Rich, lonely women. I almost, I mean for the longest time I contemplated hiring a male escort. But then I didn’t.” 

“I see.” He said again. “Feeling alone and neglected can result in wanting companionship in whatever form is available.” 

He was barely holding on to fucking sanity now. 

“But it was wrong, wasn’t it? To want to be with another man, any man at this point to be honest.” You sighed. “It’s like an itch that never goes away. And it makes me…” You paused, then said, “It makes me want things, crave things, crave people that I shouldn’t. It’s getting worse and worse,” You confessed. “Sometimes I leave the doors and windows unlocked or opened, even at night,” You sighed, struggling too by the sound of it, “Shamelessly hoping someone might just walk in and–,”

“Stop.” He said, using a voice he never did before. He had never interrupted a penitent so rudely. So suddenly. But he heard his own twisted fantasy come out of your mouth in that breathy tone he would lose it. “Please,” He begged in a lowered voice. 

Then he heard your gasp. Like you were ashamed. Alone in that wooden box, drowning in your desires and temptation. Right there, in this dark night, right fucking there for him to take. To taste. To touch. He was no one but a starved male at that point. He was nothing but the desires in his head. The fantasy. The claws of sin dug into him, reaching places he thought he’d shut off forever but there they were, open and raw and wanting. Wanting you. 

He didn’t know when he got out of his side of the booth and opened the other side to find you with a surprised look on your face. Surprised, but with lust in your eyes. 

“Father Barnes?” 

Bucky was crossing that line he shouldn’t. He knew he was. There was no going back. Not as he knelt down right in front of you. The space was cramped but he didn’t care. He knelt in between your legs and looked up at you. 

“You said you craved people you shouldn’t. Is one of them me?” He asked. 

–

The tension was too much. The air around you shifted. You looked down at him, not regretting the dress you wore because now you could feel him in between your bare legs. Even in the dark his body tormented you. He was still cold and drenched from the rain earlier. But so firm with your thighs pressing around him. 

“Yes.” You answered, truthfully. 

His warm hands were on your bare thighs immediately. Rubbing up and down like he had all the time in the world. “Is that so?” He questioned. His tone was lower, darker. Grave. Fuck. “Is that why you wore a pretty dress to come see me? In the middle of the night?” 

He leaned in, lips brushing against your collarbones and neck as he breathed. His warm breath making you squirm and shiver. You bit back a moan as he slowly slid his hands under your dress. 

He looked down at his hands disappearing beneath your dress for a quick moment before he looked back up into your eyes in disbelief. 

“Did you wear this for me?” He asked upon further inspecting your body, as his fingers brushed against the softest, thinnest of lace underwear. “Surely you didn’t wear this for your husband who never comes home to you, hmm? Answer me.” 

“No.” You answered firmly. “I didn’t wear it for him.” Of course you didn’t. Your husband treated you like you were non-existent. Not that you minded. 

Bucky chuckled, his mouth still exploring your skin. His stubble rough against your soft skin. “And what did you think was gonna happen here? Showing up dressed like a shameless woman. Did you hope you could tempt me into touching you?” He whispered. 

His fingers slowly slid past your underwear, exploring the warmth there. You let out a soft moan, your own fingers sliding into his hair as he groaned upon feeling how wet you were. 

One moment he had a little bit of sanity left where he kept telling himself that he could stop at any moment if he wanted to. But then he slid his finger inside you, and the soft moan you let out was his undoing. 

He couldn’t hold back anymore, he leaned in to kiss you. Hard and fast, before his mouth found its way down your neck again, until he wrapped his mouth around your clothed nipple and sucked. Hard. 

You couldn’t help but gasp and moan as his warm mouth wrapped around your flesh, wetting the fabric of your dress. Then he shifted to the other one, making you whine and squirm against him. Your fingers slid into his hair, tugging gently as he toyed with your breasts. 

And then he was eagerly bunching up your dress so he could taste what he wanted the most, that wetness in between your legs. “Good women don’t do this, you know?” He whispered, “What if someone comes in here right now and decides they need some peaceful alone time? What then?” 

You whined as he lowered your underwear, throwing it aside carelessly. You knew nobody would come in here right now. It was the middle of the night again. This whole small town was asleep. Not even one car drove on the road. But you still played into the fantasy because it was so hot. You were burning, feeling the touch of a man after so long. 

“They’d catch us.” You said, “They’d catch you.” You groaned, doing absolutely nothing to stop him. 

Bucky chuckled, “Or maybe they’d see you spreading your legs like a desperate whore for me and decide they want to watch the show. Maybe they’d even grab a chair and sit, and watch as I make you feel good.” You whined upon hearing his words. He couldn’t help the smirk. “You like that? Hmm? The possibility of someone finding you in here, legs spreading and your arousal dripping out of you? Does that make you feel powerful? Wanted?” 

“Please…” You begged, quietly. 

Then he gave you what you wanted. And you let him. You let him taste you until he had his fill. You let him take one of your legs and put it over his shoulder which opened you up even more to his warm, eager mouth. To his tongue which slid in and out and up and down until you were almost crying in pleasure. 

“Look at you,” He said, kissing down your inner thigh. “Spreading your legs for a man of God like a shameless little slut, hmm? Is that what you are?” 

He ate you out until you were trembling, until your arousal was dripping down his chin. “Fuck, please!” You cried out, fingers tugging on his hair. His tongue, his lips, the gentle suction of his warm mouth –  it was all too much. 

“Is this what you wanted? All those times you left your doors and windows unlocked, did you ever wish I would wander in and just take you however I wanted?” He moved his head side to side, his coarse stubble brushing against your soft inner thighs. “Hmm? Did you ever think about me while touching yourself, you filthy little whore?” 

“Yes…” You whined and trembled, trying to keep your voice down as he made you lose your mind by eating you out like a starved man. 

Which he was. It was like he was tasting the most forbidden of fruits after years of being denied. Like he was suddenly unchained and free. Hungry. 

You whined as he pulled away without letting you come. You wondered if he regretted this, if he would kick you out but he only pulled you off the bench, flipped the two of you around in the dark so that he was the one sitting on the bench now and pulled you onto his lap. 

You were surprised for only a moment, but then got over it as you found your impatient hands at the waistband of his track pants. You paused, for only a moment, fingers toying with the waistband of his underwear, you looked up into his eyes, they shone even in the near complete dark. Like he was… godly. 

“Are you sure you want–,” 

He cut you off, firmly. Using that tone again. “I will die right here if I don’t take you right now, you hear me?” 

You nodded, reaching for his cock as you said in a shaky voice, “I’ve wanted you for so long.” 

“Did you?” His voice was suddenly deeper than earlier. 

You nodded, wondering if he even saw it in the dark. But you didn’t care, not as you wrapped your hand around his hard cock, hearing him hiss in pleasure as you lifted off of his lap, aligned the tip of his cock to your entrance before gently sinking down on him. 

“Oh fuck,” You cried out as you slid down his thick cock, his stare burning on your face as he thrust up into you, all the way in. 

“Fuck,” He swore, then leaned in to give you a wet, messy kiss as he thrust his hips up. He hadn’t done this in a long, long time but nature took over. He wanted more, more, more. “This is all you wanted, huh? Always giving me those eyes, always giving me that look,” He sounded stern. Almost mad. “You were basically always around me like a bitch in heat, hmm? Is this cock all you were craving? While living in your nice big house, your husband away earning money for you to spend, all this time you’ve been thinking about me, hmm?” 

“Yes…” You whined as he grabbed your hips and guided you up and down his cock, stretching you out in the process. You held onto his shoulders as you rode his cock, bouncing on it while you moaned for him, bending a little so as to not hit the roof of the booth. 

“Yes what?” He asked, sounding all cocky and less priestly as he smacked your thigh. 

“Father Barnes,” You corrected yourself, “You’re all I wanted. You’re all I think about.” You felt him fill you up nicely each time, the pressure in between your legs getting hotter and hotter. He was better than you could’ve ever imagined. Bigger, even. 

“You don’t even care how wrong this is, do you?” He threw his head back, grunting at how good you felt. “You don’t even care what you’re doing to a pious man like myself.” He let out a strained moan, as he thrust into you over and over again, while also bringing you down on his cock each time with enough force to make your tits bounce. “I thought about you too, you know? About this tight little cunt, dripping and hungry for me. Some nights I would’ve done anything for just a taste of you.” 

His words were too much. The whole situation was too much. Too good. The space felt hot, stuffy, and sinful. “Please, I need to come. Please.” You said, unable to hold back your moans when he placed his thumb over your clit and rubbed it gently, in sync with his thrusts. It only made you clench harder around him. 

You bit your lip to hold back your moans as he thrust his hips up more into you, your eyes rolled back and you moaned out loud as you came so close to coming undone for him. 

“You’re gonna come for me, little lamb?” He asked, “You’re gonna come all over my cock like a shameless woman, huh? Not caring about where we are, what time it is, or what your husband might think if he ever finds out, you don’t care, do you?” He chuckled. “You’re too cock-drunk to care, too much of a little slut for me to care, huh?” 

You answered after a loud whimper, “Yes… please.” 

He cupped your cheek and traced your mouth with his thumb, “Go on. Come all over my cock. Come for me…” 

Your walls clenched violently around his cock. You came hard, whimpering and crying for him and gasping for breath. 

Bucky came right after you, feeling his whole body tingle like this was the closest to heaven he’ll ever get. His warm load spilling inside you as he wrapped his arms around you and held you like you were the most fragile thing in the world. Like he hadn’t just rammed his cock in and out of you like an animal. Like he hadn’t just sinned in so many ways. 

You caught your breath, wrapped in his strong arms. Your head rested on his shoulder as you tried to calm your racing heart. You could feel his cock twitch inside you, his cum flowing out of you. 

“You’re not gonna hire any stranger to come and keep you company, you hear me?” 

You nodded, face brushing against his damp shirt and his warm neck. It felt good here, in his embrace. It felt safe. 

“I’m here, and you’re mine to take care of now. When you need to be fucked, you come find me. Is that understood?” 

You smirked, then said, “Yes, Father Barnes.” 

[moonstruckme]

hi mae:) would you be willing to write a sirius x reader fic where reader just gets hammered and spills all of her family trauma to sirius? like, she’s no longer in that environment because she moved out but they were just really mean and terrible to her and she’s never told sirius but then she finally does and he’s just like “poor baby, let me tell you all of the love and reassurance you never got as a child:(“

Thanks for requesting lovely <3

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 634 words

You worry you’ve traumatized your boyfriend. 

Sirius has you tucked firmly under his chin, both arms squishing you to his front, and you’re not sure if the rocking is for you or him or possibly both. 

“Sirius,” you murmur, some of the vowels lost due to your malfunctioning tongue. “Baby, m’sorry.” 

“What’re you sorry for?” Your boyfriend’s voice sounds thin. He’s had a bit less to drink than you, but his words still sound like they’re written in cursive, strung together by thick emotion. “You haven’t done anything wrong.” 

You sigh. It feels nice, being cocooned in his warmth like this. He’s squeezing you just tight enough to be comfortable, and he smells more like himself than like rum. Your next inhale, you focus on it. Clove and nighttime. 

“I shouldn’t’ve dumped on you like this,” you admit.

“Yes you should have.” Sirius’ lips press firmly to the top of your head. “Sweetheart, I only wish you’d told me sooner. Why didn’t you?” 

His sympathy is bringing you dangerously close to tears again. Your first wave has only just dried. “Because I know it’s a lot,” you say, attempting to swallow the blockage in your throat. “S’not like you don’t have your own family shit to deal with. And anyway, I moved out.” 

“Baby.” Sirius sounds devastated. “I don’t care what shit I have, it doesn’t mean I don’t wanna hear about yours, too. I always do.” His fingers bunch in the fabric of your top, short nails scratching lightly against the skin underneath. “And I know better than fucking anyone that moving out helps, but it doesn’t fix everything. It can—you can still hurt.” 

Where Sirius’ chin touches your forehead, you feel a hot tear drip onto your skin. A pained sound slips from your throat as you pull away from him, taking his face between your hands. 

And you’d expected him to look upset, mournful even, but Sirius looks livid. Every sharp angle of his beautiful face is wrathful, silent tears gleaming on his cheeks and dark brows lowered over stormcloud eyes. His hands stay bunched in your top as if he means to keep you tethered to him by sheer force of will. 

“You’re good,” he tells you, voice quavering with conviction. “You’re lovely, and kind, and more than enough. Got it?” 

“Siri,” you whisper, brushing some of the wetness from his cheeks. “It’s okay.” 

“It’s not,” he insists. Some of the harshness has waned from his expression, though, under your gentle touch. “Nobody should ev—” His voice splinters, and Sirius looks frustrated with himself. You want to roll the both of you up in the comforter of your bed and never come out. “Should ever treat their kid that way,” he finishes. He looks you in your eyes, fierce in his earnestness. “I’m gonna love you so hard those fuckers will regret not giving it to you sooner.” 

Though you try to stop it, a corner of your mouth tips up. “I love you, too, baby. You can love me as hard as you want.” 

“Oh, fuck you.” He cracks a smile at your salacious tone. You stop trying to hold back the rest of your grin, and he grabs your face in both hands, smashing his lips to yours. 

The kiss is firm but not harsh, so fond it makes your heart feel like a bruise. Sirius moves to your forehead next. 

“My baby,” he says against your skin, both amused and ardent. Drops his forehead to yours. “I’m gonna make up for it. I’m gonna give you everything you never got back then. Do you have any idea how much I love you, sweet thing?” 

“I love you, too,” you promise him, pushing against his forehead lightly with your own. “Don’t worry, you already make up for everything.” 

[aurorawritestoescape]

TABLE FOR THREE

Joel Miller x f!reader x Dave York || 3,2k

Summary: you’re having a great time on your date but a man from your past interrupts it and makes it…better?

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, mfm, not specified age gap, dom/sub dynamic, infidelity (reader’s, in the past), manhandling, daddy kink, praise kink, size kink, degradation, slut shaming, m!oral, cum eating, mutual masturbation, unprotected piv (wrap it up), creampie, light spanking, voyeurism, exhibitionism (they don’t get caught),mention of violence, pet names (baby, kitten, babygirl, sweetheart). Pics are for the mood only, reader has no specific physical descriptions.

A/n: this is filthy, y’all. Big thank you to an insanely talented writer @bonezone44 for inspiring me with this post. Smooching and hugging @milla-frenchy for beta-ing and screaming about this story with me. Love you all, hope you’ll enjoy it!💖 dividers by @saradika-graphics

MASTERLIST

Your boyfriend Dave and you are having dinner in your favorite restaurant. Your regular booth is tucked in a corner, hidden from the prying eye of the other guests. You two love coming here because you can enjoy each other without being seen, thanks to the tall backrests. Now you’re laughing, kissing and Dave’s hand is resting on your upper thigh, barely covered by your short skirt. His thumb is caressing your soft skin and your mind brings you back to the night before when he was railing you while you were sucking on the thick finger and moaning like a whore.

Suddenly a man plops on the seat in front of you with a smug smile.

Joel fucking Miller.

‘Shit, shit, shit,’ you repeat in your head as your heart freezes.

“Hello, sweetheart. Knew it was you. Saw you in the window passing by.”

He motions somewhere to the right of you and you inwardly curse his sharp eye.

“Want to introduce us, baby?” Dave asks with a cold tone in his voice and throws his arm around you in a possessive gesture.

You clear your throat and say as calmly as possible while panic twists your stomach.

“It’s Joel Miller, my— ehm, old friend.”

Joel chuckles, “Well, if old friends fuck like rabbits and live together for 3 years then I guess I’m that.”

He keeps laughing as you’re boring your eyes into him.

“Joel is my ex,” you admit, highlighting the last word with an expression of disgust on your face.

“Ex?” Dave repeats, narrowing his eyes and taking in the man sitting in front of him — older than him, much older than you, a broad torso under a worn out denim shirt, a big fist resting on the table and by the look of it, the man works with his hands. Joel seems to be calm and confident, but judging by the way you tensed, the break up wasn’t pleasant.

“Would never imagine you with a guy like that, sweetheart,” Joel says with a smug smile.

“And what guy am I?” Dave’s voice is coated with steel.

“Not like me, pal. I’m a simple working man, and this one always went for sweaty dirty men like me. You’re all suited up,” his piercing eyes slide to you and he asks, “Shootin’ out of your league, sweetie?”

“Fuck you,” you bite back and Joel smirks. You wanna slap his face so much but Dave takes your chin between his fingers, turns your head to him and looks into your eyes. His gaze under the furrowed brows scares and excites you.

“I’ll handle it.”

“Ok, Dave,” you mewl with a little nod and return your eyes to your troublesome ex.

“It’s her business who she dates. And mine. I guess your relationship ended badly, and I’m sorry, but shit happens, man. Move on.”

It’s so hot how calm he is and you feel your core burn with desire.

Dave pulls you closer to him with his arm still resting on your shoulder and rubs your collar bone with his thumb. Joel’s eyes follow his movements and he rasps,

“Don’t be sorry for me, pal. I’m fine now but ya gonna get burned if you don’t drop this slut.”

“You motherfucking piece—,” you sit up ready to start a fight but Dave’s hand, that a second ago was caressing your skin, flies to your throat and he pushes you back to the seat, not squeezing your neck but holding you seated by his side.

He shushes you and you can’t help but gush.

It’s a usual thing for him to be rough with you in bed, you love the way he manhandles you, breaks you every time you fuck, little by little, making you his. But he has never shown this side of him out of the bedroom. The idea that he’s so dominant with you around people sends electricity of arousal through your body.

With widened eyes you see Joel’s lips twist in a satisfied smile and anger burns your insides with a scolding ire. Only your boyfriend’s steady voice slightly calms you down.

“Joel, you seem like a reasonable man. What would you do if some asshole interrupted your date and started calling your girlfriend a slut. What I would probably do is break his jaw and then his legs.”

Not losing his smug smile, even after hearing your boyfriend’s threat, Joel raises his hands in front of his chest and explains,

“I don’t want any problems with you— it’s Dave, right? I’m doin’ you a favor. Givin’ you advice. Keep away from this minx. She’s good to look at and great to fuck but she’ll use you and then sleep with half of your crew.”

You curse and Dave puts his palm over your mouth. It’s big and warm and you feel your panties soak more.

“Crew?”

“I work in construction. I found out this bitch had slept with half of my team. Married guys, single. She was a hungry slut and I don’t think anything changed.”

He laughs and you try to take Dave’s hand off your mouth but he grabs your wrists with his strong fingers and keeps your hands on your lap.

“Sit still and let me listen, kitten. Or daddy will be angry.”

You swallow loudly, as your nostrils flare and pussy aches. Only your eyes can move now, darting between the two men.

“I like you, Dave, you have her under your thumb. I was too soft and kind with her. And women like her don’t appreciate kindness.”

Joel’s eyes shift between you and Dave as he continues, “Don't tell me you haven’t noticed. ‘s her nature. Her needy cunt always craves a fat cock. And oh boy, she always knows how to find it.”

You growl under Dave’s palm and he tightens his grip in warning.

“Shh,” he whispers in your ear and then turns to Joel with his eyes narrowed.

“I believe you.”

You hum in protest, wriggling in Dave’s steel embrace, and he takes his hand off your mouth.

“Dave, don’t listen to him, he’s just jealous.”

Joel chuckles, shaking his head.

“You can’t deny the truth, sweetheart. I caught you with a guy’s dick in your mouth, my friend’s dick. And then I beat the truths about your affairs out of the others.”

You glance at Dave with scared eyes but he isn’t looking at you. His pensive gaze is set on Joel.

Then he turns his face to you and blood freezes in your veins.

“I did notice how you looked at the waiter just now, kitten. And that bartender. I know you gave him your number.”

You shake your head, opening your mouth to protest, but he interrupts you.

“Joel isn’t lying. I can tell.”

“He is! I didn’t …”

“Enough!”

You immediately shut your mouth, as soon as Dave slightly raises his voice. He trained you well after all.

“Fuck, good job, man. Look at her. So obedient but still a little feisty.”

Dave smirks and you see pride in his eyes when he hears your ex’s words.

“And she knows how to take cock, huh?” Joel looks at you, adjusting a bulge in his jeans.

You’re glaring at him but your mind bursts with images from your past, him pounding into you, his huge cock stretching you so deliciously and then pumping you full of his thick cum. His skilful fingers could make you explode in minutes and you’d never forget the way he ate your pussy. Dave is perfect in bed but Joel was unforgettable.

“Look at ‘er, she’s probably creamin’ right now, the way she’s starin’ at me.”

Dave smirks darkly and looks you over.

“Let’s find out.”

With that he shifts in his seat, slightly turning his big body to you, and his hand on your thigh slides up and under the hem of your skirt.

“Dave”, you breathe in sharply, widened eyes looking at him.

“Shh, baby, I’m just gonna check.”

His hand pulls your skirt up and he sees your black lacy panties. Joel grunts and leans forward placing his big hairy forearms on the table so he could see what Dave is doing.

Your boyfriend’s thick fingers slip under your panties and you blurt out,

“I’m wet because of you, Dave.”

“Is that so, kitten?” Dave asks but doesn’t look at you. His dark gaze is set on your clothed cunt as he pulls your panties to the side, exposing you to his and Joel’s eyes.

“Fuck, Dave, you’re the man,” Joel praises your boyfriend and you see hunger in the older man’s eyes. You’re so turned on right now, you know you’re dripping.

Dave tsks when he spreads your folds apart and your cunt blooms for them - your clit throbbing, skin glistening with your slick. The cold air hits your pussy and you softly moan.

“Dave, people could see,” you whine and try to close your legs but Dave’s hand stops you and you feel his lips at your temple when he says, loud enough for Joel to hear,

“Let’s ask your old friend to sit next to you and cover you from the passers-by. Will you feel more comfortable, baby?”

You glance up at Joel and though you hate his guts, you can’t deny that you want the fucker.

You nod and Joel’s lips stretch into a wide carnal grin.

He gets up and you salivate at the sight of the huge bulge in his jeans. You desperately want to see his cock, touch it, lick it, su—

Dave interrupts your thoughts, shifting to the side and pulling you with him to make room for Joel. The seat is meant for two people and when Joel plops next to you, turning to you a little, your body gets sandwiched between their huge frames. You feel so small, so helpless around the two men and your clit twitches as the arousal floods your core.

With your pussy still out in the open, you glance at Joel when he wraps his arm around your waist and fans your cheek and chest with his hot breath. The familiar scent of cigarettes, whiskey and Joel's musk hits your nose and you quietly whimper.

“Missed me, babygirl?” He’s leaning to you and you move away, pressing your body closer to Dave.

Your boyfriend reads you like a book. He knows that you’re acting skittish but it’s just a facade. You want it, you want them both.

“Baby, you did wrong by Joel. I think we need to apologize. How about we let him play with your pussy? Daddy won’t be mad, I promise.”

You look into Dave’s eyes and see that he’s not lying.

“Ok, daddy,” you purr and Joel barks a laugh.

“Told you she always wants it. Our little slut.”

You bite your lip hearing ‘our’ but Dave shakes his head.

“She’s mine, Joel, don’t forget that. But I see that she hurt you, and you have a right to punish her. Use her however you want.”

Joel throws him a nod. “That’s fair.”

With that his big calloused hand cups your pussy and slightly squeezes it. You look at Dave as he watches your ex’s hand touch you and his blown out eyes send another surge of wetness into Joel’s palm.

“I missed your sweet cunt, babygirl,” Joel whispers in your ear while his middle finger slips between your folds and he prods your soaking entrance.

“Fuck, she’s so wet, Dave. I remember how she used to soak me, her slick was fuckin’ everywhere. Wonder if she tastes the same.”

You see his finger leave your pussy as he brings it to his mouth and licks it clean.

Dave groans and you moan, watching Joel taste you.

Suddenly you feel a slap on your pulsating clit and you jerk, crying out a little too loudly. You cover your mouth with your palm, scared that the people will notice what the men are doing to you but Joel and Dave only chuckle.

“I fucked her last week in a changing room and she moaned like a little slut but now she’s all embarrassed.”

“I loved it about her. She looks so innocent but when you get her going… fuck, she jus’ loses her mind at the sight of a cock.”

You feel your cheeks burn but Dave doesn’t give you a chance to wallow in your delicious shame and inserts two thick fingers into your wet hole.

You moan his name and he kisses your cheek, before he begins sliding them in and out of you in steady rhythm, whispering obscenities in your ear,

“My little slut,” “bet people can see us”, “you don’t care, right?”, “I know you’d make us fuck you right in front of everyone”, “play with our cocks, baby, c’mon.”

When you hear his command, your hand immediately darts to his bulge and you hastily unbuckle his belt with one hand, open his dress pants and pull out his stiffening cock out of his boxers.

“Don’t forget about your friend, kitten,” Dave rasps, spreading his legs wider, and you unzip Joel’s jeans and take out his already hard manhood.

Their cocks are exposed now and standing at attention, both gorgeous, long and thick. Joel’s is a bit girthier, but you salivate looking at both of them. You can’t deny it, you have a great taste in men.

You spit on your hands and grab Dave’s member with your left hand and Joel’s with your right. They both grunt, when you start sliding your hand up and down their throbbing cocks and you revel in the sense of control they’re giving you. Their slits are leaking on your skin and you glide your palm over their fat tips, gathering their precum to make the cocks wetter.

You’re a mess yourself, the seat under you is getting slippery because of the juices seeping out of your pussy, thanks to your boyfriend’s fingers.

Joel is softly growling, watching your hand pump his cock and Dave working your cunt. “Fuck, I missed you so much, babygirl,” he admits and grabs the neckline of your top. He tugs it down exposing your naked breasts, your perked up mipples and Joel takes one between his index finger and a thumb and shakes his hand up and down. You whimper at the pain that swiftly morphs into pleasure while your tit is bouncing. Joel hunches down and takes it into his hot mouth, gently sucking on it. Your hand flies to run through his hair and your eyes flutter shut, as your climax approaches.

“Come for us, kitten. Soak my fingers,” Dave orders and Joel pushes you over the edge when his fingers find your pulsating clit and he swirls it with his pads while his mouth is still latched on your puffy nipple. Both Dave and Joel are playing with your cunt and soon you’re writhing between them, as waves of euphoria are lapping at your body. You try not to scream but it’s almost impossible, so you bite your lips till you taste blood, desperately trying to hide your ecstasy from the people in the restaurant.

When your orgasm subsides and you slump in your seat, breathing heavily, Joel’s mouth leaves your breast and their fingers part from your messy pussy.

You languidly stroke their cocks, feeling them thrum in your hands.

Dave turns your face to him and kisses you, licking into your mouth, claiming you as his in front of the other man. While your lips and tongues are caressing each other, you hear Joel almost moan from the pleasure your hand is giving him and you part from your boyfriend to whisper,

“He’s gonna come soon, daddy.”

“Want his cum, kitten?”

You nod and he smiles.

“Sit on my cock so I can fill you up. And give your mouth to Joel.”

“Yes, daddy.”

You fix your top and Dave helps you to sit on his stiff member. You both moan at the sensation but Joel curses at the absence of your hand on his ready-to-explode cock.

When you lean down, bringing your mouth to his length, the older man coos, “what a good little slut. Want my load, babygirl?” You look up at him and breathe out a sultry ‘yes’.

“C’mon, milk our cocks, kitten,” Dave commands with a light slap on your ass and you clench around him, making him grunt.

You take Joel’s manhood in your mouth and it’s like those years apart didn’t happen. The taste of his skin, the shape of his cock are so familiar you moan, thinking how much you missed it.

Dave slowly rolls his hips into you, holding your hips with his strong hands and his length slides in and out of your clenching wet hole. You feel the second climax build fast, so you move your hips up and down to make him fuck you harder.

“Man, you did wonders with her. She’s such an obedient little slut now,” Joel praises your boyfriend as their cocks are filling your body from both ends.

“It’s a work in progress, but she’ll be a good girl in no time.”

The way they talk about you like you’re not here, like you’re not pierced on their hard cocks is so delicious that after one hard thrust from Dave, you explode, unravelling on your boyfriend’s manhood as your moans are muffled by your ex’s fat length.

Your trembling body sends the men over the precipice, and Joel starts spurting his warm cum in your mouth and you drink it, hungrily slurping till the last drop. As soon as you’re done swallowing your ex’s load, Dave pulls you up by your shoulder and presses you tight to his body, wrapping his arm around your waist, the other hand splayed on your chest. You feel warmth in your core as his manhood is pulsing inside your pussy and filling you up with his big load. Joel tucks his softening cock back in his jeans, watching your boyfriend’s balls draw up and pump you full while your hole is stretched around his girth.

When Dave stops coming, he carefully lifts you up and quickly pulls back your panties. You sit back down between the men as Dave softly kisses your lips in gratitude and then orders you,

“Don’t spill a drop, baby. Want you to soak your little panties through.”

“Can I see?” Joel asks the younger man, not you, and Dave gives him a short nod.

Joel brings his hand to your pussy and pulls on the band of your underwear. He peeks inside, seeing the creamy cum coat the gusset and your puffy folds.

“You're so fuckin’ hot, babygirl. Did so good for us.” Joel mumbles in your ear and you glance up at him with a little smile. You can’t deny it, you loved this fucker.

As if reading your mind, Joel shoots you a wink and looks at Dave again.

“Was nice meeting you, Dave.” Then he takes a card out of his wallet and puts it on the table.

“If you wanna share the progress, training this one,” he nods at you, “give me a call.”

Then he gets up, adjusts his bulge and leaves the restaurant.

Thank you for reading!❤️ Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic, it motivates me to write more filth for you, lovelies!🩷🌸

Masterlist

Main tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag

Also tagging the ceo of the Dave York agenda @janaispunk 😘💕

If you'd like to be tagged in the series or in anything else let me know!💕

[velariscalling]

Morally Grey - An Azriel Imagine

Characters: Azriel x Archeron!Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: Cassian drags the IC to his new obsession: open mic night at Rita's, and much to his delight, Azriel has been paired up to sing with the Reader.

Warnings: Alcohol, suggestive language.

A/N: My first ever imagine is HERE!! Honestly I've been so nervous to put this out as it's all very new to me, but I really hope you guys enjoy it! I'm really looking forward to see how my writing develops as I post more, but for now, I hope you enjoy my first post! It's just a load of silly fun tbh. And finally, thank you so much to @sarawritestories for helping me out with the ending, you're the best! <3

Soundtrack: 'Morally Grey' by April Jai feat. Nation Haven

Disclaimer: GIF isn't mine - credit to whoever it belongs to.

Rita’s was bustling.

As it always was on a Friday night, really. They probably should have known better than to come on a weekend, but the welcoming vibrancy of the bar was a welcome reprieve from a long week’s work. Y/N took a deep breath as the music hit her, exhaling as she let any remaining stress seep from her body and into the night.

Before she could think too much about the busy days she’s had as of recently, a hand grabbed each of hers - one perfectly manicured, one covered in swirls of black ink - and pulled her in the direction of the bar. Mor flagged down a barman who recognised them immediately - it wasn’t a rare occurrence for the Night Court’s Inner Circle to make an appearance here.

After a moment, she handed her a shot glass filled with bright green liquid. “Bottoms up, you’re gonna need it tonight,” she grinned, already having necked her own. Feyre giggled as Y/N raised a questioning eyebrow at the blonde, throwing back her shot anyway and wincing at the tangy liquid.

“And why is that, exactly?” Y/N cocked her head at her friend, who’s brown eyes danced with excitement.

“Oh come on,” she rolled her eyes playfully, already flagging down the barman for yet another shot, just for herself this time. “You really think Cassian’s going to let us miss out on tonight? He’s been preparing his song with Rhys for days.”

It’s true - Cassian’s favourite night of the week was their newest tradition, open mic night at Rita’s. Four songs, four duos, randomly selected. Or so he says, anyway. He probably matched himself with Rhysand so he could convince him to sing Mysterious Girl together.

Feyre gripped Y/N’s hand from her other side, clearly trying her hardest to hold back a squeal of excitement. “How are you feeling?” She knew that there was more to that question than meets the eye. It wasn’t a secret that Cassian’s little game had paired her up with Azriel, much to his delight.

She put on her mask of indifference that she had mastered over the months of knowing the shadowsinger, refusing to give any details away of her incessant feelings for him that prodded at her constantly. “I am feeling absolutely fine, High Lady,” she smiled, eyes shining, but a scoff from her left interrupted her.

“Please,” Mor drawled, looking at her with a face that said, don’t even try. “You literally can’t fool anyone, especially not us, so drop the act.”

Okay, so maybe she hadn’t mastered her mask as well as she had initially thought, her twin’s nod of agreement cementing that conclusion. “Okay fine, but what do I have to be nervous about? You are all the ones who should be nervous when we out-sing you.” She smirked at them, but they shared a knowing look.

“There it is, changing the subject,” Feyre chuckled, nursing her drink in her hand. Y/N scowled at her, but she could never actually be mad at her. Frankly, she was more irritated by the fact that she knew her so well. “What? Y/N, this is what happens every time we bring him up.”

She opened her mouth to argue, when an arm was slung over her shoulder, and Feyre’s. “Ladies,” Rhysand’s melodic voice sounded over the music as he appeared between the sisters. He nodded at Mor with a grin, who was already on her… third, or fourth shot? Who knows. “Cass will have a temper tantrum if I don’t drag you all over to the stage right now.”

Feyre rolled her eyes with a laugh and allowed her mate to spin her into his arms, and they both made their way over to the Inner Circle’s area of the bar. Y/N’s heart warmed at the sight of them, knowing that her twin, her double in every way, had found her happiness. Mor looped her arm through hers as they walked behind them, her eyes following Y/N’s gaze. “You’ll have that soon, you know.”

Y/N looked over at her. She was so breathtaking, her brown eyes contrasting her golden hair, and her signature red dress hugging her flawless body in all the right places. Any male or female in this room would be lucky to get her, and yet, she didn’t care. Next to her, though, Y/N felt like nothing. As if Mor could sense her thoughts, she squeezed her arm affectionately. “Come on. Tonight’s the night you’re going to show that other side of you- oh don’t give me that look, I know it’s there.”

Y/N huffed, a lighthearted sound, and shook her head softly. “I wish I had your confidence,” She murmured, a dry joke.

“Babe, you’re sexy. When are you going to realise that?” The sheer certainty in Mor’s voice had Y/N raising her eyebrows at her friend, who simply nodded, as if agreeing with herself. “Channel it tonight. I’ll be watching.” She winked, and released her arm as they arrived at their own table right in front of the stage.

Rhys and Feyre had already taken their seats at the centre, High Lord and Lady looking elegant as ever. Cassian sat to Rhys’s right, his excitement akin to a golden retriever, as Amren, who was sat next to him, clearly tried her hardest not to throttle him. Next to Feyre sat Azriel, his looming shadows making the already dark bar appear pitch black in his presence. There were two empty chairs to his left, and finally Nesta sat at the end of the table, clearly trying to make the most of as much peace and quiet as she could get before the night’s shenanigans unfolded. Mor was quick to take the seat next to her, leaving Y/N between her and Azriel. He gave her a short smile as she sat down, ever the emotionless. “Are you ready?”

The low, icy voice of the shadowsinger never failed to take her by surprise. If the living embodiment of darkness could talk, it would sound like him. She looked at him, his hazel eyes glowing even in the darkness, and replied, “Are you?”

Before Azriel could respond, a flute of sparkly champagne slid from Y/N’s left into view. She turned to see Nesta, wordlessly handing her the drink, with grey-blue eyes that told her that she, too, thought she needed an extra little liquid confidence tonight. She noticed Mor biting her lip so hard she looked as though she may explode, and she rolled her eyes, a smile playing on her lips as she turned back to Azriel. To her surprise, it appeared as though a similar grin was tugging on those lips as well.

He merely raised his glass to hers, eyes shining with a grin that he wouldn’t let fully show on his face. She picked up her own glass and clinked it against his, matching his honey gold gaze.

Let the night begin.

It’s safe to say that the performances of the night were… well, entertaining. Cassian was a little too excited dragging Rhys up to perform their number first, giving major boyband energy up on that stage. Feyre was in fits of laughter, but Nesta looked like she wanted to claw her eyes out… but perhaps secretly enjoyed it behind that mask of disgust. Y/N’s two sisters were up next with a rendition of Love Story in which Nesta was surprisingly involved, followed by Amren and Mor’s take on Lady Marmalade, which was frankly the worst thing anyone had ever heard. If the monster lurking beneath Amren’s skin was anything like her singing voice, then Mother help us all.

It wasn’t long before her friends were cheering and whooping as Y/N stood from her seat - the final song. “Get him girl,” Mor whispered as she passed her, Azriel on her heels. She felt the shadows licking at her ankles as she ascended the steps to the stage, gripping the microphone that had been handed to her on the way.

As Azriel situated himself to her left, she stole a quick glance at him. He was looking at the floor, uncharacteristically tense under the gazes of all their friends. It was no secret that Azriel had the most beautiful voice you’d ever heard, a gift from the Cauldron itself, but it occurred to her now that maybe no one else had heard it before. Aside from her, at the couple of short practices they  had done. Even then, she didn’t think he was giving his all.

Y/N faced the front and prepared for the music to play - she was more of a seasoned performer than Azriel. She had played her fair share of gigs around Velaris, a good handful of which on this very stage. If she was showing some confidence, she hoped that it would spark some inside of him. She steeled herself, breathing in deeply as she raised the microphone to her lips, and the music began.

“He’s got gold eyes, crooked smile, knows that he drives me wild,”

She felt the heat of the spotlight on her as she let her voice ring through the bar. It was soft, to begin with, giving the song room to breathe, to build. She looked over at the man she was sharing the stage with, noticing tension already lost from his shoulders at the sound of her voice. His eyebrows were raised ever so slightly, and she knew then that he’d realised how she’d changed the lyrics to fit him, those perfect golden eyes.

“Can’t help myself, no I’m not in denial,”

The smile she sent his way was telling, it spoke a hundred words. But it wasn’t just her grin that conveyed the message she sent: you’re okay, you’re with me, move with me. There was something between them, an invisible thread connecting the two of them, body and soul and mind. Certain thoughts, certain feelings - she could feel his, and he could feel hers. A bond like this had meaning, they both knew this, but neither of them were bold enough to explore it, acknowledge it. Across that bond, she beckoned him: Azriel, you’re with me, and I’m with you… play with me.

“I know he’s no good for me,”

There was a flicker of something in the shadowsinger’s eyes, as if his mind had decided to pull him down an alternative route to the one he was prepared to go down, the one where he’d back out and run. A shadow of a smirk lingered on his lips, as his own shadows danced around him excitedly, egging him on. The weaving tendrils were clearly more than satisfied with the idea that flashed through their master’s mind, whatever images Y/N’s words had conjured up. Azriel, play with me.

“But when he gets down on his knees,”

The spark in his eyes only seemed to brighten as he brought the lyrics to life, sinking slowly down onto his knees before her. The shit-eating smirk he wore on his face in response to her evident surprise could have sent her to her own knees as she beheld him, kneeling, for her. Mother spare her. A quick glance to her right at the others confirmed that they had all had the same reaction she had, and she feared that the bar staff may have to assist in picking their jaws up from the floor. Azriel’s face was challenging, knowing, yet almost the picture of innocence as she felt his response in her mind: You told me to play with you. She sent one word back at him: Bastard.

If he was going to play dirty, so was she.

“He’s so eager to please, knows the right frequencies,”

He reached a hand out as if to touch her - where, she wasn’t sure - but she grabbed it before he could make any contact. Scars felt rough against her soft skin as she walked slowly, teasingly around him and she sang the chorus, her heeled boots tugging her posture upright so her body curved in all the right places. She caught Feyre’s eye as she circled Azriel, still knelt on the floor and looking as though he was more than content to stay there forever. Y/N’s sister looked like her eyes were about to bulge out of her head, her smile growing so big that Y/N thought it would be too big for her face. Next to her, Rhysand simply winked, an encouraging smirk boosting her confidence.

“They say he’s morally grey, what can I say? Grey’s my favourite colour,”

As she made her way back to the front of Azriel’s view, still gripping his hand as he held it upright for her to use, she slowly lowered herself down to a squat in front of him as she sang the line. From this angle, she was now much closer to his face than before, and she noticed the subtle sheen of lust glazing over his eyes. It almost made her lose balance - almost. She brought his hand gently to her lips, placing a chaste kiss onto his marred knuckles, and he took in a sharp breath. Most people flinch when they see his hands, or grimace, or turn away. Not Y/N. No, she thinks Azriel’s scars are part of his story. The backstory to a warrior, a survivor. Scars are not the memory of what happened, but a testament to who you have become.

“Morally grey, what can I say? Grey’s my favourite…”

She rose to her feet, prepared to give Azriel some space to begin his verse, remembering the nerves that clung to him barely a minute ago. As she began to turn, taking the first step away from him, something cold slithered around her ankle, and one around her waist. The shadows pulled her straight back to where she was as the music lowered, and held her in place, as if they knew that hearing his voice would send her to the floor. And Mother above, they knew her well.

“What can I say? No I don’t pray, but for your body, I’ll worship,”

She could have sworn her knees buckled, but she couldn’t tell from the shadows holding her still. Azriel’s voice was like silk, so soft and pure, yet it lit her insides on fire in a way that she’d never felt, burning her up like a beautiful, dying star. If his voice was to be the thing to send her to her death, then so be it. She would die very, very happy. He reached out once again, and this time she did not stop him as he ran his hand up her thigh all the way to her waist from his position on the floor. Even kneeling, his Illyrian frame was intimidatingly large, her body standing not too much taller than his. His eyes watched his hand intently as it traced the curve of her side, as if they didn’t have an audience, one that was most definitely gaping at Azriel’s sudden brazenness.

“Girl don’t be afraid, my love’s a grenade, just be a good girl, you can take it,”

Like an angel rising from the ashes of war, Azriel stood slowly, wings flaring as he rose to his full height. His gaze was already intense when she was the one looking down at him, but now that he was the one towering over her, the darkness in his eyes shot electricity straight through her body and into her core, her head reeling with thoughts so sinful that nothing could save her. His hand on her waist squeezed on the words good girl, and she was forced to bite her lip hard to stop herself from reacting in a way that would later be incredibly embarrassing. His eyes tracked the movement, lingering on her bottom lip as she released it from her teeth with a pop.

“Call me insane but for you, I was made, I’d burn the world down if it’d make you feel safe,”

The fire in Azriel’s eyes blazed as he took one step toward her, and another, and another, closer and closer. The upper hand that Y/N had held up until now had slipped, yielding step after step backward, her control completely faltering. She had always known that doing this with Azriel would likely create some… tension between the two of them, and he must have known, but Cauldron, this was unlike anything she had ever expected. Azriel was so close that she felt his body heat, felt her face warming, likely for everyone to see under the harsh glare of the spotlights.

“It’s you that I crave, and nothing compares to your taste,”

Y/N couldn’t help but feel like Azriel meant every single word he was singing. No, he didn’t write the lyrics himself of course, but the way his eyes burned with such feeling, and… what looked to be desperation, told her there was much more to this than meets the eye. And Gods… the way his voice cracked ever so slightly with a primal need as those final words left his mouth had her praying to whatever higher powers she could to forgive her for the damning shivers he was sending straight to the very heart of that taste he craved so badly.

As the chorus rolled around once more, their voices finally blended as one, and nothing had ever sounded so right. Azriel’s shadows danced freely around the two of them, creating a tornado of darkness, of intimacy, where they were right in the eye of the storm. The song continued, and the pull between the two of them was magnetic, almost hypnotic as they completely forgot about the audience they had; their family who were most definitely gaping like fish out of water. Y/N could feel Azriel’s warm breath on her face as he sang, his angelic voice whispering less-than-angelic promises that only she could hear in the way it trembled.

Y/N honestly didn’t think that Azriel could get any closer - what she failed to consider was that the shadowsinger was in so deep that he wasn’t planning on stopping until there was absolutely no space left between them. As the song once again softened, Azriel took his chance and leaned impossibly closer, abandoning his vocals in favour of a different use of that mouth. Y/N inhaled sharply as Azriel’s lips brushed against hers, gently, experimentally. Some instinctive part of her that knew this was right pushed her forward to press her lips a little harsher against his, earning a shiver from the shadowsinger. She heard a soft rustle coming from behind him as his wings twitched from the anticipation.

As he pulled away, Azriel heard a shaky exhale escape her lips, caused only by the feeling of him, the heat of two bodies pressed close together, the rush of meeting the lips of the person who, deep down, you know is made for you. Your partner. Your mate. That shiver he elicited from Y/N was the final straw - the last thing he needed to cement his plans for the night. His face still inches from hers, he whispered with a voice so low he wasn’t sure it had even come from him, “You’re mine tonight.”

One moment, the IC were watching dumbfounded at the scene playing out in front of them, some wondering if they really should be averting their eyes (apart from Cassian, who sat with a shit-eating grin on his face). The next moment, the stage was empty, a whisper of shadows the only thing left standing in their wake. Azriel had disappeared in a flash, winnowed to who knows where, taking Y/N with him.

“Goddamn, Az,” Rhys chuckled into his drink after a beat of shocked silence. “Nicely done.”

“No! But they didn’t even finish their song!” Cassian pouted, gesturing wildly at the empty stage as the music still played from the speakers.

“Somehow I don’t think that’s their priority right now, Cass,” Mor giggled, practically vibrating from excitement and pride, exploding with glee at what had taken place since her little pep talk earlier.

Rhys set his glass down on the table in favour of throwing an arm over the top of Feyre’s chair. “It’s about time those two did something about the obvious, right?”

As Feyre’s eyes sparkled with delight for her twin, she giggled at his words, overjoyed at the knowledge that Y/N may at last feel the happiness of having a mate. A partner for all eternity.  “Yeah… finally.”

[atlasmoonglade]

Joost Klein x singlemom!reader

I changed it to reader instead of OC

Chapter 1 ; Chapter 2 ; Chapter 3

Warnings: fluff in the beginning, smut, oral (f!receiving), PiV protected, +18 only

Chapter 4

You wake up to the sound of an alarm clock. You look at your phone. 8:00. Joost groans and reaches towards the nightstand to turn off the alarm.

He lays back down and turns to you noticing you are already awake. "Good morning" his voice is deep, his hair sticking out in every direction.

"Good morning. Why the early alarm?" you ask, pulling up the blanket to your chin.

"I always have it set up to go for a run." he says as he gets comfortable again and puts his arm behind his head. "I don't feel like it today though."

"No, don't let me ruin your routine. I need to get going anyway."

"You are not ruining anything. I don't need it today." he pauses "This is one of the few times that I woke up feeling at ease since I came here." he looks at you with a smile. He does seem well-rested.

"And why is that?" you start to like this game you two are playing.

"I don't know." he says with a teasing note in his voice and he mimics you laying with your blanket up to your chin.

He looks so pretty. Seeing him perform yesterday shifted things. Being mesmerised by his presence on stage, the energy that fills the room when he walks in, wanting to chant his name the way everybody does. But then sleeping in his bed, wearing his t-shirt, which smells like him, made you feel comforted, you have to admit this is also one of the first mornings that you woke with no need to rush. You remember the feeling of his arms around you, the feeling of safety, despite being in a strange to you environment. You want that feeling to last forever. These thoughts scare you, because you can't be with him, he is only staying here to write a song. What happens when he has to leave eventually? It will hurt too much if this progresses any further. But you are afraid it already has.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks.

"I'm trying to guess what your favorite breakfast is." you joke.

"And what are your guesses?"

You squint as you look at him pretending to analyse him. "You look like the type of guy who only needs a cup of coffee."

"I am that type of guy?" he pretends to be offended.

"You do."

"Actually spot on." you both start laughing.

"C'mon, let me show you my favorite breakfast place. Maybe you will be swayed to become a breakfast sandwich type of guy." you get up and he groans.

"Can we stay in bed a little longer?"

"You are the one who had an 8am alarm set up." you bend down to pick up your clothes from the floor where you left them last night. "How do you usually get up that early?" you turn to ask him, his eyes watching your every move. You suddenly feel a blush creeping up your cheeks remembering you are only wearing his t-shirt, which just about covers your underwear. You cover yourself with clothes you are holding.

"I need a second, baby" he says as he shifts to sit on the side of the bed. You quickly turn to face away from him pretending you haven't noticed his bulge.

"I'm gonna, um, shower quickly." you say and hurry off to the bathroom.

He loves the breakfast place you showed him.

"This is the best breakfast sandwich I've had in so long." he says finishing his plate.

"Told you it's good." you smile at him and look at your watch. "This was fun, Joost."

"It was."

"I have some errands I need to run. But you are welcome to come over later. We can watch a movie." you say, "If you want, obviously"

"I would love that." a smile spreads across his face.

It is getting dark by the time you are finished with the tasks you needed to get done. You get a text.

Does your invitation still stand?

I have something to show you.

Yes.

Oh, intriguing.

He is wearing a simple white shirt and black jeans, sitting on your couch, 20 minutes later. You cleaned your apartment in a rush to atleast make it semi-tidy.

"Do you want anything to drink? I have wine." you ask from the kitchen.

"Want to get me drunk already?" he jokes.

"Just trying to match yesterday's energy."

"Sure, I will never say no to wine."

You bring a bottle, two glasses and a bottle opener. He takes it from your hands, opens the bottle, then pours into the glasses.

"To you Joost, to the new friendship."

"To you Y/N, to the new beginning." he says and you both drink.

"I wanted to show you something." he pulls out his phone. "We finished the rough cut of the song I've been working on." he looks at you. "And I, uh, I haven't showed it to many people. But I want you to hear it. It's in dutch, but I prepared a translation, the best I could in a short time, for you." he looks so excited. You've noticed this some time ago, how proud he is of his music. His enthusiasm reaches your heart.

"I would love to hear it." you give him a bright smile. "Let me get comfortable." you sit further up the couch, your legs tucked under you.

He gives you his phone with the translation open and presses play.

The song starts playing, you are following the translation written on his phone. He is watching you, but you are lost in the melody and the lyrics. You don't say anything, scared to interrupt it or miss a word. The chorus starts, an upbeat melody with sad lyrics, you remember the run you went on together, when he said he finished writing it. A warm feeling spreads across your chest, goosebumps covering your arms. He hasn't stopped looking at you, but you can't look up at him. Not yet. You are not ready to meet his eyes. You can't explain it, but this song feels just like him - fun on the outside with so many deep levels you are yet to uncover, but you want it all. You are sitting so close to him, your knees are touching, the smell of him, cigarettes and cologne, filling your senses while his song continues to play. You think back to his warm comfortable bed, his concert, his name suddenly slipping from your lips.

"Joost" you say just above a whisper. You finally meet his eyes. He tries to read your face. The song stops playing. "It's incredible."

"You like it." he also says quietly.

You keep looking at each other. All you can feel is your knees touching, you want more of him.

"You are so talented. Everyone will love it." you pass him the phone, moving to sit even closer to him. "I can already imagine you performing it."

"Thank you. It's still in the process." he takes the phone from your hands, your fingers touching. "I am not sure when I will release it. But I wanted you to hear it."

There is a silence between you, he reaches to touch your hand, it sliding up your arm, bringing you closer to him.

Your whole body feels hot, you stand up. This is wrong. "I, um, will bring us some snacks for the movie." you go to the kitchen island.

You let out a breath. It feels wrong to want him. He is your friend, you shouldn't be feeling this way.

You hear footsteps, the heat of his body behind you.

"Y/N." he says quietly. "Tell me I'm imagining things." he touches your arms in soothing motion. "Tell me you don't want this." his hands sliding down to your waist, his warm hands against your skin.

Your breathing quickens. You don't say anything, even the slightest touch feels so good.

He turns you around to face him, but you look down at your hands. He takes your chin in between his fingers and lifts your head up to look him in the eyes.

"What happens when you have to leave?" you say.

"Let's not think about it yet." your noses are almost touching. "Let's just have fun for now." Fuck it, you think and close the distance between the two of you. Joost's warm lips are on yours, he pushes you into the counter, it is somehow both everything and nothing that you had expected. Soft and gentle and syrupy slow. His tongue sweeps across your lower lip, and you part your mouth, tilting your head, sliding your tongue against his, a little deeper and more insistent now. You push your fingertips through the hair at the nape of his neck, and you feel the breath catch in his throat, so you do it again, this time letting your fingers press into the muscle of his neck, and he groans against your mouth. Joost's scent of musky cologne and faint cigarette smoke sends you into a daze, a whimper sneaking past your lips as his tongue slides against yours.

You pull away from him to catch your breath. He smiles down at you. "Let's watch that movie, yeah?"

You laugh, "yeah".

He follows you back to the couch. You put on a movie, you try to sit still, but you can feel the heat radiating from his body beside you. You can't focus, thinking back about that kiss. You decide not to overthink it now, maybe he is right, let's just have fun. After 20 minutes of the movie, you put your hand over his. He looks down at it, then at you, his mouth turning into a smirk. His fingers interlock with yours and he turns back to watch the movie a smirk still visible on his face.

"This is my favorite part" he motions towards the TV, a double meaning hidden between his words.

You see what he is doing, he wants you to take matters into your own hands. You put your hand on the side of his face, making him look at you and reach up to kiss him again.

"Hey, I was watching that." he says breaking the kiss, you laugh and it makes him grin. His hands grab your waist and move you to sit on top of him. Your legs on each side of his hips. This time the kiss is wet and fast, your teeth clashing. His hands are spanning the soft skin of your stomach, pushing the fabric of your top up, letting it bunch under your breasts. You feel warm all over as you roll your hips against him, which makes him bolder and his hands drop to your ass, grinding you down harder. His mouth presses against the curve of your jaw, feeling your pulse jump, then slides down the column of your throat.

"Let's go to the bedroom" you say breathlessly.

"You sure?" he asks.

"Yes. Are you?

"Yes."

You’d led him to your bedroom then, sat him on the edge of the bed where he’d watched you with dark eyes as you straddle him. Your fingers moving to work on each button of his shirt purposefully, enjoying each inch of skin that was revealed to you with every passing second. Once you finished the final button, he helped you by shrugging the shirt off his shoulders. He leaned back slightly, and you drank in the sight of him. The tattoos covering his body, the hair on his chest. Seizing the moment, and driven by your own arousal, you grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head in one swift motion. As soon as your top hit the floor, Joost's mouth was on your chest. A heavy moan was ripped from the back of your throat as his tongue dragged across the top of your breast peeking over the bra.

"Shit," you muttered, raking your hands through his hair and holding him in place against your skin.

He made his way up to your neck. He seemed to be everywhere all at once. He suckled gently, and your hips began to rock against the steadily growing bulge in his pants.

"Please don't leave any marks." you say and he nods continuing to kiss your jaw.

You climb off his lap, dropping the bra and immediately leaning forward to unbuckle his belt. He inches closer to you before sitting back up, and you subconsciously hold your arms against your chest. You start to wonder how many women he had seen naked, how many women he had been with. The age difference between you.

"You are so beautiful." he says his gaze fixed on you, he takes your hand and pulls you onto the bed next to him.

You face him, choosing to look into his eyes. Wanting to feel that way you always felt when you saw him. That calmness and connection that seemed impossibly intimate. He traced the lines of your collarbone and down your arm, ending at your fingertips. With one glance up, he could see the change in your demeanor. You were smiling again.

"Is this okay?" he says sliding your pants and underwear down your legs and allowing them to fall to the floor.

"Yes." you say and a groan leaves his lips as he raised one of your legs to rest over his shoulder, "So fuckin pretty" he says kissing your inner thigh with open-mouthed kisses before making his way back down to your aching pussy.

Pressing his tongue flat against your wetness, Joost took a long and greedy lick up your folds, repeating this a couple more times, before putting his finger inside of you.

“Fuck, Joost,” you breathed out. You feel close to your orgasm, you pull at his hair. "Come here. Need you inside of me." He stands up, finds his wallet in the pocket of his pants and takes out a condom. You watch him as he rips the wrapper with his teeth, he takes off his underwear and puts on the condom.

“You're so fuckin perfect” Joost climbs up onto the bed and kisses you, as he sinks his hips into the cradle of your spread legs. You can feel how hard he is.

"You are still sure about this?" he looks at you.

You pull him down to you, brush your lips to his, “Please.” Your voice is a whisper that sends a shiver down his spine. He thrusts again, and you feel his cock notch against your entrance and then push inside. He settles into you, he feels solid, his skin hot, hips slotted perfectly against you. One of his arms brackets your head, his other hand is at your neck, thumb stroking over the ridge of your jaw, palm pressed against your racing pulse. You feel surrounded and wanted and blindsided by the unexpected tenderness of it all.

He grinds into you again and again, swallowing down your whimpers and moans when you pull his mouth to yours. He drops his hand to push your thigh back, holds you there so that each snug roll of his hips hits that spot that makes you squeeze around him. He thinks you’re close, knows that he is.

"Feels so good" your head is thrown back against the pillows.

He tells you how good you are, how he’s so hard, how you’re going to make him come. And you can’t hold back any longer. He feels it, hot and so wet, the tight squeeze on his cock, which is enough to push him over the edge after you.

"Please stay with me tonight." you say to him.

"I will."

Chapter 5 will be the last one.

[bitin-and-barkin]

Intertwined Fingers

What would the aftermath of your so called death look like?

Warnings: Arthur Morgan x Reader, Gender neutral reader, he's going a bit insane ngl, implied self harm, dog symbolism, smut, fun fact: Pomade was commonly used as lube in the 1800s, Dom reader, sub Arthur, soft sex (I finally did the soft sex thing), No mentions of your genetalia, you just jerk off Arthur because you wanted to take care of him tonight, sorry probably not what the people were looking for but its fine, weirdly described sex to the point where it's not even porn, just an art piece, more yandere shit in the next part but you can smell the start of it here, overuse of the word Intertwined

READ MORE UNDER THE CUT + Pt 2 to another story, Pt 1 here

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That night in the hotel room, Arthur sheepishly asked if he could stay with you for the night.

You, of course, accepted.

After climbing into bed, he couldn't keep his hands off of you.

Well, he usually can't, always clinging to you like a koala bear. But especially not tonight.

Rubbing his hands up and down your chest. Feeling the grooves in your skin. The curves and marks. Wrapping his arms around you, nuzzling his nose into your neck.

Making sure all of his touches were gentle, as not to cause you pain.

Feeling your stomach rise and fall as you slept peacefully. Hearing your heartbeat.

Still softly sobbing, keeping it quiet so you could sleep, not daring to let go.

He felt like sinking into you in that moment.

For the first time in ages, Arthur slept peacefully. He could sleep for ages with your hands intertwined with his.

When you tried to get up in the morning, he pretended to be asleep so you'd stay with him for longer. When you tried to get up anyways?

He pretty much begged you to stay with him.

You ended up laying in bed for another hour before you finally were able to leave.

While taking you back to camp you told him about the doctors. How you already went to the one in Valentine, but they could only do so much.

He said he was gonna get a doctor to come here and properly check you out again, as he knew one that owed him some favors.

Worries of discreetness be damned.

Once you had gotten back to camp, people stared at you like they were looking at a ghost.

In fact, Sean fainted when he first saw you. They thought you were dead.

You even looked the part.

Hours had passed and it was sundown. Arthur had brought in a doctor named "Alphonse Renaud." By now, he had been in there for hours, Arthur right by his side.

His hands were soaked in blood, helping the doctor deal with everything they did to you.

The sick fucks had put nails in your legs.

Nails.

Your back was ripped to shreds, with some marks looking even like they came from whips.

They were irritated too, and Dr. Renaud guessed that they had poured whiskey into your wounds.

He was wondering how you managed to let him hold you the night before without wincing and whining out in pain.

Just imagining how much pain you must've been in, when he thought that he needed to hold you?

How much pain you must've been in when he was asking you on the ride back home if you felt okay?

He felt like the worst shit on earth.

Alphonse estimated you'd live a lifetime of numbness and pain on certain, scarred parts.

At least you weren't in pain right now.

You were currently passed out from Morphine after Arthur yelled at Swanson to help alleviate your pain, when he heard you whimper as the doctor worked.

He silently cried into his hands next to your bedside after he heard your shallow breaths.

He was scared. So fucking scared.

A 3 days passed, with Arthur watching your every movement like a hawk. He was around you 24/7. All other priorities just seemed to fade into the background.

You were fading in and out of consciousness. Going through fevers and hot flashes, scaring everybody at camp.

Whenever you were awake, you seemed to be in a trance. Muttering about things that weren't there, unable to recognize anybody. Not even your husband.

Arthur hadn't slept in that time either. Afraid that if he looked away for one second, the O'Driscolls would swoop up and take you away from him again.

He didn't even think of letting Kieran near you, your horse, or the tent you were in.

He got antsy when you got home, gaining an even shorter fuse to match. Doing everything to make the place more comfortable for you. Cleaning your bedsheets, changing your bandages. Gently talking to you about his day and asking about yours while you were asleep, that way if you woke up you wouldn't wake up alone.

Hosea insisted he needed rest. But every single time he went to bed, he couldn't sleep. Wracked with anxiety. Knowing you were just 15 feet away, safe and sound in your tent, yet still wondering where you were.

Wondering where his darling was.

He snuck into your tent later that night and sat down next to you. Coming down here just to make sure you were still breathing.

Watching your chest rise, your breaths were still as shallow as ever.

He had just gotten you back and he was already losing you again.

And with his coddling and touching, he had only made it worse.

He'd give anything to go back to the way things were.

Before you went on that shitty sniping job, god, what in fucking hell made Dutch think that was a good idea?

He'd give up all his things. He'd kill every O'Driscoll known to man. He'd break his own legs. He'd trade places with you. He'd kill himself.

Just for you to be okay.

He reached down, tracing his finger against scars that weren't there before.

He started talking softly to your sleeping body,

Saying how later he'll take you to the city and get you anything you want. He'll take you out dancing, or to the saloon, or to one of those new picture shows if you feel up to it.

How later he'll shoot Colm for what he did. Make his death slow, make him feel every ounce of pain you did. Doubled. He'll make Colm beg for mercy, then leave him to rot to death in some shithole.

How later, if that stupid Tahiti dream ever becomes realized, he'll settle down with you. Have a kid or two if you feel like it. As long as he can raise them with you.

Only you. Nobody but you.

How later, he'll build a mansion for you and you'd never have to be afraid of anyone hurting you ever again.

How he's so sorry that you had to come find him.

That you'd kill him if you died.

He heard the bed creak as he nervously chatted on and on.

Felt your fingers intertwining with his.

He turned to you, smiling.

You had awoken, and reached out to him.

He tucked your hair behind your ear.

There you were.

For the first time in a long time you were coherent. Aware. Unafraid.

And for the first time in a long time, you saw him clearly.

He took your hand and raised it to his lips, gently kissing your bruised knuckles. Asking how you felt as he did.

He looked... tired.

There were scrapes on his palms and hands, deep cutting scars. Going up and along his wrists and forearms.

Now that you think about it, when you first saw him again, his sleeves were rolled down.

He never rolled them down.

There were new gashes on his face. Along his lips and jaw. He was starting to look like John.

His cheeks were gaunt, and he had deep eyebags. As if they've been festering for months.

His hair was longer, a bit tangled too.

You're used to him being so broad, and while he still is, he looks almost underweight.

You took your other hand and reached up to his cheek, gently stroking it.

He leaned into your touch. He looked exhausted.

God, What had happened while you were gone?

He was resting his face on your hand as he held your other.

You gripped his jaw and pulled him close, softly placing a kiss on his lips.

And placing his free hand on yours, he returned it.

Bodies intertwining like a jigsaw puzzle.

He tried to pull away, wanting to give you air, but you pulled him even closer.

God, you were gonna be the death of him.

He pushed his hands under your shirt,

with you hastily undoing his belt.

Whispering to you,

"Darling, you're so pretty it hurts."

Pushing you to the bed,

placing kisses on your scars.

You pulled your hand away and placed them on his jeans, groping him through his pants.

His head whipped back, letting out a shaky moan.

Whimpering something unintelligible.

You were toying with his tits through his shirt.

Biting down, leaving hickeys along his neck.

Continuing to grope his dick, making him sport a tent in his pants.

And just looking into his eyes, and he had the look of a kicked puppy.

Just begging for you to properly touch him.

Unzipping his fly, his dick sprung out. Slapping against his stomach.

No wonder he had that look in his eyes. He'd follow you like a dog, and worship you like god. At least, it looked like he wanted to tonight.

You took his dick in your hand, pumping him up and down. Pressing your forehead against his, telling him to just relax, that you wanted to take care of him. Helping him take his shirt off as he whispered "Are you sure?" Asking you if you felt well enough to do this.

His breath hitching, he fumbled to untie his bandana before resorting to just rip the thing off entirely.

Peeling off his shirt just to feel you more. To touch you, as you pulled him close. Asking him to tell you just how much he missed you as pre-cum seeped out of his dick, slicking your palm.

You pulled forward and gently kissed his collarbone, licking your free hand and playing with his chest as you stroked him at a steady pace.

Biting down on his neck, his flesh soft between your teeth.

Only yours though. Only yours.

He slotted his head into your shoulder, and began to mumble, kissing your neck up and down.

Cradling your head in his palm.

Running his fingers across your bones, licking stripes against healed wounds.

To whimper and to whine, just like he did the day before.

Like a dog doing all the tricks it knew.

Fucking like two instruments playing in tune.

His eyes were glossed over, his hot breath puffing like smoke, and his words weren't making any sense anymore.

The sensual turning the sexual into the unintelligible, just repeating over and over,

I love you,

I love you,

I love you.

People in camp always talked shit about Arthur, how he was "Van Der Linde's Bitch." His dog, broken in like a wild horse. Obedient, pliable, perfect. But they're giving credit to the wrong man.

It was all you. Only you, Only you.

He arched back on the bed, crying your name as he came. His seed splattering across his stomach, into your hands.

Begging you not to leave him ever again.

Not even once,

Not even once,

Not even once.

Pleasure sparked behind his eyelids like a gunshot.

You hushing him with silent kisses, telling him to quiet down.

Letting him rut and sputter into your hands like putty until he finally came completely undone, and the only noise was his labored breathing, panting.

His hands trailed up your thighs, eager to return the favor. But you gingerly grabbed his palms and brought them up to your lips.

Oh so gently kissing his knuckles, just like he did for you.

His eyes were still red from crying. Months of grief released in a week.

You pulled his face close, kissing him on the cheek.

Pulling him down into bed, slotting your hips in between his.

Sleeping together,

with your hands intertwined.

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Should I keep this story going???

@yyiikes

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Leader of the Pack 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: On a night out at the bar, you're promoted from wing woman to main star.

Characters: James Conrad, short!reader

Note: it’s hump dayyyy.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

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"Go grab us a pool table," Martyna demands as she leans on the bar. 

"Oh, sure," you turn to search the bar. There's only one table and it's taken. You frown. "Someone's already on it." 

"So what? Go put a stack of quarters on it," she says, "I can't. I gotta get my drink." 

"Right, er," you teeter on your feet and look back at the table, one man lining up his shot as the other watches, his thick hands around his cue.  

The shooter snaps the stick and the clack of balls is sharp and strong. You near nervously, pulling out change as you keep just outside their perimeter as the second man considers his turn with a suck of his teeth. Where he's burly, with a shaggy dark beard, and faded ball cap, the other man has blonde hair and is lithe. They are both tall, though the slimmer man has at least an inch on the other. 

You step forward as the man aims from the other corner. You set down four quarters in a stack, just enough to feed the table for another round. The thicker man pauses as he pulls back the cue and narrows his eyes. 

"Eh, you're gonna mess me up," he barks. 

"Oh, sorry," you recoil and fold your hands over your chest, "I was only..." 

You quiet as he grumbles and shakes his head, eyes pinpointing on the felt. You shake your head and back up as the other man tisks. 

"Syverson, don't have to be so rude, the lady is merely claiming her turn," the slender man intones, just a foot from you as he twirls the cue, it's butt set to the floor. "Don't fret over my companion," he girds in his peculiar accent, "he's a sore loser." 

"Heh, what's that about..." the other man hits the cue ball and sends a striped one into the pocket, "losing?" 

You're quiet, nodding as you try to think of the proper response. No one's ever called you a lady. Most people don't notice you. It's why Martyna prefers you as her wing woman, you keep her company until she finds someone fun. 

"Rather, you set me up finely," the first man retorts. 

You cross your arms protectively and back up, making sure you're out of the broader man as he stalks around to place his next shot. His friend watches calmly, unbothered as he knocks another ball in, then lines up for the third. That one's a miss. 

"Shit," the man in the ball cap stands straight and sends you a look. You're not even close to the trim. 

"Oh, don't even try to blame her," the blond reprimands, "that's not very valiant, is it?" 

"Whatever," the other grumbles as he plants his feet and watches the other. 

The slimmer man puts his first shot easily in the corner, the next he sends two balls into opposite pockets, and the next sees him with only the eight ball left to sink. His opponent huffs and shakes his head. You rock back and forth, you hope he wins if only to clear the table. 

"Finally," Martyna nudges you as she comes up beside you, "they didn't have Corona, you believe that?" 

"Oh, that's crummy," you say, watching the mam measure his shot. 

"Mmph, I know you don't give a crap," she scoffs, "why didn't you grab a ginger ale?" 

"I'm fine, just had that iced coffee," you shrug. 

She hums again. She knows you don't drink, that this isn't your scene, that you're not exactly a social butterfly, so why does she act so disappointed. She invited you. It's always her idea, never yours. You just go along, otherwise you'd have nothing to do and no friends.  

"Kinda cute," she leans over to whisper, "look at his shoulders..." 

You lower your brow as your cheeks burn. You hadn't really thought of that. Then, you wonder, which one she's talking about. They both have nice shoulders and muscular arms. 

They're strangers! You shouldn't think of that. You uncross your arms and once more clasp your hands together. 

The man finally shoots, calling left pocket. He calls it true. The ball rolls in and his buddy sighs and swears. 

"Nice," Martyna pops her lips off her bottle of flavoured vodka, "our turn." 

She steps and grabs the quarters. The bearded man tilts his head at her and fixes his camouflage cap. His cheek dimples as the other man rounds the table and pats his shoulder, "better luck next time, chap." 

"Isn't luck," the burly one utters and rolls his eyes, "hustler..." 

"And yet you keep falling for it," the other snickers, "come on, I'll buy you a celebratory pint, eh?" The blond turns and strides toward you. "Miss, you're up." 

He offers the cue and your lashes flick. You couldn't see his eyes before. They're so blue. You gulp and accept the wooden stick. 

"Thank you," you squeak. 

Martyna chuckles and grabs the triangle frame from the slot and sets it out. The blond leads away his second, the man with the beard sending a glance at Martyna as she loads the quarters to release the balls. You wait for her to set up, standing back with the cue in hand. You can still feel the warmth of its previous holder's grip. 

Martyna swigs from her bottle and sets it back on the trim. She fluffs her black curls and makes a pouty face. She's not doing that for you. 

You glance behind her, those men are watching. The blond nods cordially and returns his attention to the bar. The beard one continues to leer in Martyna's direction. You spin back. 

"You wanna break?" You ask. 

"Sure, whatevs," she turns to the table. 

You wait patiently as she scatters the balls. She sinks two solids. She's always been better at this than you. You don't mind losing. It doesn't make much of a difference. 

She sinks two more before your turn comes. You regret not grabbing a soda as you mouth grows dry. Martyna is sure to loudly tell you about this guy she works with and how much he wants her. You just humour her with smiles and mhmms. It isn't you she wants to hear her. You know her tricks. 

You sink a stripe, then a solid. Back to Martyna. You aren't very good at the game. Your arm's are too short. Maybe if you could get on the table you'd have a chance but that's not proper. 

She narrows the solids down to two plus the eight ball. You try your hand again. Scratch. But she misses her shot and you get another go. You sink two before you're done. Still, you're behind. 

She empties her bottle, a dramatic gulp that extends her whole body. She outshines you in all aspects; her hair, her looks, her height, her clothes... 

She wiggles her but as she bends to clean up. One ball, then two, then she lines up for the final blow. The eight. She calls the corner. She bounces it easily into the pocket and squees and hops, her shirt doing little to contain her amped up excitement. 

You lean the cue against your arm and give a clap, "good job, Mart," you say. Genuinely. It was fun enough.  

"Aw, you did good," she preens, "how about a rematch? Got any more change?" 

"Ahem," a voice interrupts as you grab your purse. The jangle of change comes from behind you and a shadow steps forward, "perhaps you might want to make it interesting? Fancy a round of pairs?" 

You glance over at the man with blond hair and lilted accent. Well, you look at his sleeve and follow it up. His profile is well-forged. If you had a type, he might be it. You never considered many men, they never considered you either. 

"Pairs?" Martyna toys with proposal coyly and eyes the bearded man as he comes up beside his friend, "I guess it makes sense. But girls vs boys?" 

"No fun," the blond agrees, "we might mix it up, eh?" He grins, "James," he touches his chest, "this is--" 

"Sy," the other man, who you called Syverson, speaks up, "ladies." 

"Martyna," your friend rolls out. 

You offer your name in a pitchy stammer. You already feel like the odd one out. The tension is thick enough to choke you. 

"Sy, fetch us some cues," James demands, "I'll claim a partner," he looks over at you, "do you mind?" 

"Oh, er, yeah, but um, I'm not very good," you say, certain he must have been able to see as much from across the room. 

"I'm certain we'll work fabulously together," he assures. 

"Here," Sy returns with two sticks, nearly jabbing the James with the spare.  

You cling to your cue and fidget. You have no idea what to do now. Someone has to begin. 

"I'll break," Sy insists. 

"Of course, loser's first," James quips. 

He gets an arch of the thick brow in return before Sy bends to aim between two fingers. You dig your nail into the wood of the cue in your hand. James sidles closer, crowding you as you catch a hint of something citrus. 

Sy bends and pulls back the cue. He hits the ball and sends it zooming fast enough to crack the triangle on the other end. The stripes and solids scatter, bouncing all around. James chuckles and leans towards you. 

“You’ll see he’s about strength, he doesn’t realise the significance of precision,” he intones, “I can show you. It isn’t about how hard you hit but the exact angle,” he tilts his hand to demonstrate as the balls still but non fall into the pockets. “Ladies first.” 

You don’t move right away. At first, you don’t get his meaning. You lift the cue and approach the table. You look around. It’s your choice; stripes or solids. Whatever you can get, as usual. 

That number four is hovering right at the side pocket. It’s an easy score. You’ll take it. 

You position yourself, overly aware of your audience. It feels like the whole bare is watching. You blow out your breath and set your sights. You pull back and snap forward. The cue ball wobbles in its path but hits true, knocking the four into the hole. 

It isn’t exactly precise. You stand straight and let out and oomph as your back meets an unexpected wall. James brings his arms up and puts his hands around yours. His proximity is suffocating. 

“You’ve got an easy in on the five,” he advises, guiding you to bend with him as he directs your stick. “Loose,” he wiggles your front hand and squeezes your back hand. “Keep it like this, not too high.” 

He holds you like that for a moment then draws back. He steps to the side and crosses his arms. You focus on the ball, your skin speckling with heat. His scent lingers, perhaps a touch of orange in his cologne. You keep your hold loose and grip tight the butt of the cue. You shoot and the white ball clacks off the red solid, sending it neatly into the corner. 

Martyna giggles and you look up. She’s not laughing at you. Sy is muttering something to her. You blink and stands straight, glancing over at James. You understand what this is but you’re the placeholder, the wing woman, you just keep the friend busy while she has her fun. You know how this ends. 

“You’ve got another go,” James says. 

You nod dumbly and face the table again. You search for your best hope and shift around to the other side. You nearly cross your eyes in your efforts to bounce the ball from one wall into the opposite pocket. You just miss. You cringe and back away. 

Your gaze meets James’ as you find him watching you still. Martyna moves to line up her shot, giggling over her shoulder as she does. As you edge away from her, that man’s eyes follow you. They’re so blue. So, intense. 

You look at the tip of the cue and tap your thumb to the side. You’re in your head. He’s not really staring. When you peek up again, he hasn’t looked away. Not even as you hear the balls hit. He winks and your chest pounds in disbelief.

This can’t be real. 

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

You're the Only Girl for Me - Chapter 24

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“Fuck, I missed you so much” Josh whispered in her ear and all  Airielle could do was let out a moan and cling onto him, her nail leaving crescent shaped indents on his shoulder blades  as he started snapping his hip against hers, loving the way she was clinging onto him. 

“Aye! I love that y’all getting reacquainted and shit but we got dinner reservations Uce!” Josh snickered into her neck. 

“I’m not stopping until you give me another one Rih.”  Airielle felt like she was about to pass out, he had already made her cum 3 times tonight. She cursed as he placed one of her legs over his shoulder and wrapped her other leg wrapped tightly around his waist.  “C’mon Rih, you can do it.” 

“J-Josh” she choked out.  He smirked and moved his head so that it was resting against hers. 

“Fuck, i’m boutta cum.” He moaned out before pressing his lips to hers in a sloppy kiss. You love me?” He asked her, she nodded her head. “Nah baby, I gotta hear you say it.”  He brought his hand down, thumb finding her clit. 

“I love you J,” She moaned out as she felt the coil in her belly snap. He thrusted a couple more times before pulling out completely and emptying on her lower stomach.  She brought his face down to hers, kissing him as their breathing returned to almost normal. 

He laughed against her lips when she started to doze off. “Nah, baby. You heard Jon, we got reservations.”  She sucked her teeth and groaned as he sat them both up and got up from the bed, carrying her to the bathroom, so they could shower. 

“Fine, but keep that thing away from me.” She said pointing towards his dick causing him to laugh. 

“No promises.” 

AirielleJones

liked by jonathanfatu, trinity_fatu and 194,000 others.

AirielleJones: 🍀💚

view all comments:

UceyJucey: you gon stop not givin me my creds.

↪AirielleJones: omg you need to be stopped

trinity_fatu: what i tell u about looking better than me in green!

↪AirielleJones: i could never look better than you!

yasmine_jones: first of all, damn! second of all, when I drop this baby, we going back to turks! @ AirielleJones , @ trinity_fatu

jonathanfatu: is it disrecpectuful if i say damn?

↪trinity_fatu : hell no! i'm drooling too

↪AirielleJones: BYE!

“Is there something on my face?” Airielle asked Josh, after catching him staring at her for the umpteenth time that night. Josh chuckled, biting his lip as his eyes scanned over her face. 

“Nah, just admiring how beautiful you are.” Airielle rolled her eyes and tried to hide her smile by picking up her glass and taking a drink. “You don’t understand how happy you made me by giving me a second chance.” Airielle awkwardly cleared her throat and averted her gaze. She did not - was not giving Josh a second chance. He had sex with somebody else and there was no coming back from that. 

She understood that she had given him the wrong impression by having sex with him. But she was vulnerable and Josh was there saying how much he loved her and…. She just kinda let herself get lost in the moment. 

“Josh, maybe we should talk - “ She started but was cut off by Jon. 

“Aye, Trin look at them, Ain’t they cute as hell. Man, I'm happy y’all got through y’alls bullshit.” Airielle forced a smile on her face at Jon’s words. She wanted to yell out that she and Josh were not together but everyone looked so happy.  “To love!” Jon called out, raising his glass in the air.

“To love!” Josh and Trin repeated, raising their glasses too, Airielle raised her glass as well but didn’t say anything. She let out a sigh as she brought her glass to her lips and downed it in one gulp. ‘This is gonna be a long weekend.’  She thought. 

“You wanna take a walk on the beach?” Josh asked her as they walked back to the villa. She nodded but then looked down at her heels.  “I’ll hold them for you.” He said as he bent down to help her unbuckle and slide them off the feet.  He gently grabbed her hands and laced their fingers together as they made their way onto the beach. “You alright, you been quiet since dinner.” 

“I’m fine.” She replied softly, looking out onto the ocean as the sun started to set. 

“You sure? I’m here if you wanna talk Airielle.” When she didn’t reply, he unlinked their fingers and cupped her jaw, bringing her attention to him. “Talk to me Airi.” 

“I can’t be with you.” She blurted out. His heart sank as her words registered in his brain. 

“What?” He asked, as he searched her eyes for any sign of hesitation. “But you said you love me.” 

“I do love you Josh. I just can’t be with you.” She let out a sigh and removed his hand from her face. “I didn’t lie about loving you, I would never lie about that.” She paused as if to find the right words. “It’s just everytime I look at you all I see is you and her.” 

“Rih, come on.” He groaned out. “How many times I gotta apologize for that. It was a mistake -” 

She scoffed, cutting him off. “It wasn’t a mistake Joshua. You invited her over your place for a reason. You wanted to get back at me. You wanted to hurt me like I hurt you.” Josh scoffed and started shaking his head. 

“Nah, don’t say that shit Airielle. You know damn well I didn’t do that shit to intentionally hurt you.” 

“Josh, you could have gone out on a date with her and that would have been enough payback. But no you had to take it a step further and fuck her. I can’t get back together with you and pretend that everything is fine. She works with us, what if-” 

“Raymond works with us too!” He shouted, growing frustrated with her. To him, she was being completely unreasonable, yes he fucked up by having sex with Yara but, he’s apologized over and over for it. What more could she want from him? 

“I never fucked Ray. Never even thought about fucking him. You on the other hand, had to have had thoughts about fucking her. It’s been something you must’ve been wanting to do for a while and I guess seeing me and Raymond at that bar.” She paused and shrugged and she felt tears starting to prick her eyes. “I guess you just decided to say fuck it.” 

“So what now huh?” Josh asked, feeling like his chest was about to cave in. “You fuck me here and when we go back to Pensacola you just gon act like nothing happened between us? Just gon toss me aside after everything we’ve been through?!” 

Airielle flinched at the bass in his voice. "I need time, Josh,” she said, her voice trembling, "I need time to figure things out."

"Figure what out?" Josh snapped, his temper flaring. "You think I don't regret what happened? You think I don't wish I could take it all back?" Airielle was happy that the part of the beach they were in was relatively empty because he was just getting louder and louder. 

“But you can’t!” She snapped back. “I can’t just forgive and forget Joshua!” 

“You not innocent in this shit neither Airielle.” Josh barked out, struggling to contain his emotions. “If you never broke up with me, we wouldn’t be sitting here having this dumb ass conversation.” Airielle scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at him. 

“"I never said I was blameless, Josh, but I also didn’t fuck anybody else.”  Josh shook his head, this conversation was going nowhere. 

“You know what.” He said with a humorless chuckle as he passed her he heels and then threw his hands up. "I'm done arguing with you," he growled, upper lip curling as he looked at her. "You want space? Fine. But don't expect me to be waiting around for you to make up your damn mind."

Airielle finally let her tears fall as she watched him walk away. With each step he took away from her the ache in her chest grew heavier. And as he disappeared into the distance, taking a piece of her heart with him, Airielle knew that she was truly alone. 

🙃

I'm sorry y'all but I just can't have her forgive Josh just yet and @paigereeder agrees!

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@trashbin-nie @saintaquarius @adoreesun @meggylynnloves @shayaaaaaaa

@sayyestoheav3nn

[itsmealaiah]

current! tom whose such a sweetheart after sex

based on this request: Heyyyy! Could you please write a smut + after care with 2024 Tom? Thank you!!😘

i'll be away for a little while, i'm going on a trip so i might be inactive, but i'll be back soon 🤍

dni if under 15!!!

"mm, fuck tommy" you moaned, his thick cock slamming in and out of you mercilessly, wet noises from your pussy filling the room. "you love this cock so much, don't you? my little slut"

He growled lowly, grabbing your legs and wrapping them around his waist. He pushed in deeper, his balls slapping harshly against your ass. "love this pussy so fucking much" he leaned down, whispering the words in your ear.

"This pussy's all mine, it was made for me" he groaned out. You could only nod, stuffed full on his cock. Your walls clenched around him, your heels digging into his lower back. He nipped at the skin on your neck, creating purple marks where the once clear skin laid.

His hands were everywhere on your body, your hips, your ass, your boobs, anywhere he could reach it was touched, and it was attentively paid attention to.

You grabbed on his hair, a lot of it slipping from his man-bun, the hair band falling out somewhere onto the bed. "so thick to-tom" you whimpered, a certain knot forming in your stomach.

"such a good girl for me, letting me fuck you whenever i want" he panted. Your legs began to shake, your pussy squeezing him tightly. It almost drove him to his own orgasm, causing him to slow down in his thrusts. You tilted your head back, releasing on his cock.

"very good girl" his cock twitched inside you, cum ready to shoot out of his tip. His balls tightened, and he was ready to snap. "gonna come, where do you want it?" he asked, looking up at you. "not i-inside" you whimpered. He listened and pulled out, rubbing his hand up and down, his orgasm coursing through him.

His eyes shut, some hair stuck to his face as he came down from his high, white come filling his hand. He grabbed a tissue, cleaning his hand before kissing you. "you did amazing, sweetheart. so good, like always" he smiled. He got more tissues for you, cleaning your cum up, wiping sweat off your forehead.

He took you to the bathroom, getting a shower ready for the two of you. "so proud of you baby" he kissed your head lovingly, ruffling your hair. You giggled, stepping into the shower. He got in after you, grabbing body wash for you. He washed every part of you intently, leaving small kisses on your head whenever he had the chance.

He washed all the come off of you, making sure you were clean as could be before turning off the shower. He wrapped your body in a towel, drying you off and then taking you back to the bedroom. "you didn't have to do all that, you know" you stated. "but i wanted to. after care is important love" he responded back, lying down on the bed with you. "it shows how much i care about you after sex" he kissed your nose.

He turned off the lamp light, spooning you from behind. "i love you, my sweet girl" "love you too baby"

Taglist 1: @madzandmore @20doozers @cosmicck @itsangelll @tomssexdoll

Taglist 2: @tokio-motel @estxkios @ccbunnv @tomsonlyslut @kqulitzlvr

Taglist 3; @roseroseluvrr @ballhair @cherry-rawr @tomkaulitzsjuicyballs @billsdolliest

Taglist 4; @rvzcvx @tvkiohvtel @kieraisupset @bkaulitzlover @lady-haitani

Comment on masterlist post to be tagged!

Requests are open! keep sending them in!

[watchingblsnowandforever]

We Are Ep.11

Part 1

*sits with half a tub of ice cream with both AC and fan on because my AC is old and needs a little help and puts my cat on Do Not Disturb mode (aka scratching his belly)*

Hello!!!!

Welcome back to my crack posting! =D

Warning: long post, and since I have like 60 screenshots, there will be a part two 😊😅

I wrote that intro before I'd watched the ep. Me as I was watching the ep was mostly incoherent screaming (so much so that my cat woke up from his nap to give me "what the hell, hooman" look).

This episode was amazing, and I loved it, and I'll probably die of too much fluff, but that won't happen before I finish watching We Are (which- WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE ARE JUST 5 EPS LEFT?!!).

I was giggling and kicking my feet (just like Peem the morning after that Prince Charming kiss) from the very first scene.

Oh, they are so gone for each other (and I am gone for them 😭). The smiles, the trying to hear what the other is doing just across the door ah

So, so true. As a writer that hits.

Also, I'm very glad they decided to showcase creative blocks, even if it was for a few minutes.

Me to PhumPeem: yes, Peem, I would love to know too.

Also- I really wanna know what Ciize was doing back there 😭

Too cute to handle 😭

Jokes (and puns) aside, this scene is quite significant. Previously, whenever Phum was seen in the vicinity of the Fine Arts building, it was only because he wanted something from Peem (yes even that scene in ep. 8, he wanted company from Peem), but now, he's just sitting there waiting for Peem. And when Peem comes down, he's pinching his cheeks right there and acting cute with him and asking what's wrong.

And he keeps on asking, because he can see that Peem is a little moody, and not his usual self. "You're usually livelier than this."

Phum: "Actually, I want to be water too..."

Me: No way, is this what I think it is?

Phum: "I want to be the reason you feel good."

Me: yeah, yep, that's what I thought

No but, you can't tell me Phum doesn't binge watch BLs with his beloved teddy bear. Of course he has a whole arsenal of cheesy flirting lines.

All this time, it was always Phum telling Peem how comfortable he is around him and his friends, how fun it is.

Welp, it's Peem's turn.

I love Phum.

This is both him asking for consent as well as making sure they're on the same page and going at the same pace (which he always does, as I'd said before).

Also, no, he wants you to get closer.

HANDS.

Hear how polite and soft Q is with Toey now? Once Q knew for sure that he's allowed to show affection towards Toey as more than just a mentor/mentee, he decided to be fluffy as heck and never went back (because his love language is giving and showing through actions).

Love that for them both <3

This is such a valid fear.

He was afraid that his love would be too much, and in the process he'd lose the person he loves again, so he thought it better to just suffer alone than confess. Not gonna lie, my heart broke just a little here. (Also, because I'm currently rewatching MSP, I'll be pulling a lot of parallels, and this reminds me of that scene where Sound tells Gun that he's afraid to confess to Win because he's pretty sure he'll get rejected).

Oh, and I keep forgetting to say this, but Satang is such an amazing actor. Watching Sound and Toey, I almost can't believe they're played by the same person.

Phum's lethal weapon and Peem's fatal weakness 😭

Let's be honest though, no one would be able to resist that smile, those eyes and that soft, "Na, krab". Oh yeah, he used polite pronouns here by the way.

I can't always notice the shift from formal to informal or vice versa because I'm not that well-versed in the language (yet) but this was pretty obvious.

Bonus (Peem's reaction):

Tan: flirts with his theerak non-stop 24/7 Fang: *brushes his hair a little and apologizes for making him wait* Tan: *melts into a blushing mess*

That man is so whipped.

And in this house, we stan all whipped men.

This actually reminds me of when I was a wee baby (around 3 or 4 years old, I think) when I rescued a baby sparrow and took it to my dad and told my neigbours my dad would be able to heal it because he's a dcotor (he isn't a vet either) 😭

Also- naming a bird by another bird is so true to Pun's character.

This so relatable oh gods 😭

Also, we got the princess carry for Pride month! Twice if we count Chain lifting Pun in the waterfall, which I totally do.

We finally get being carried to bed but realizing they're laying on top of the blankets instead of just being magically wrapped in them by morning!

*sighs fondly* such a simp. <3

Uh huh, you said that last time too.

Don't lie, Peem, you'd let him hug you every night.

👀

Is this the reason behind the NC rating?

Also, this singular line just gave me a brain worm that is making me write my first smut fic. I blame y'all for getting me into this series.

Yes, of course, Phum, everyone believed your "snort mi mi mi".

Don't think I didn't see your little secret smile, Peem.

(Also, I have a headcanon that Phum just loves to be the little spoon)

Now who's hugging who, huh?

"Go away", he says, while putting his arm around his (not) boyfriend.

See, it was all fun till this point, but you can't be giving me this level of domestic fluff while at the same time telling me they're not even dating yet. That just doesn't work.

So, for me, from this point on, they're an old married couple <3

Frankly though, all the four couples in this series are old married couples that just don't know they're married yet.

Toey: HELP ME!!!

Q: WHAT HAPPENED WHO NEEDS BEATING UP-

Toey: I forgot to do my assignment and today's the deadline 🥺

Q: ... 😑

You don't...?

I thought that was the perfect time to start working on it?

jk jk, kids, I'm a chronic procrastinator, please don't learn from me, learn from your P'Q

(Q reminds me so much of @desi-yearning when she scolds me after I pull an all-nighter to submit an assignment or study for an exam 😭)

Oh. Oh.

Oh my.

I love this scene so much.

This pencil box is very very special to Q, and he's asking Toey to draw on it - something that is irriversible, as Toey himself says.

But this is Q's way of putting together both his loves. This pencil box was picked up by Toey the first time, but back then, Q only knew him as Milk Frappe Boy.

Now, he's asking Toey to do something Milk Frappe Boy would never have been able to (remember, Toey started taking an interest in art only after meeting Pencil Senior), because Pencil Senior disappeared on Milk Frappe Boy, but Q would never disappear on Toey.

On this note, I end Part 1.

Part 2 will be out tomorrow, because as much as I try to deny it, I have these pesky things called responsibilities to attend to, and it's very late here now (not past my regular bed time, but way past my ideal bed time 😭)

Thank you for reading! 😊

Here, have some pizza and a cookie🍕🍕🍪

[If you want, my previous posts: Ep. 8 Ep.9 Ep.10]

And here's Part 2

[lolitasangel]

Nsfw Noah thought

@bluestdai I HAVE THOUGHTS AGAIN FTING THE LEATHER JACKET SO PAY CLOSE ATTENTION NOW, IM GOING OFF OF THIS THOUGHT (yes I am high again LET A GIRL RELAX)

Tw-mentions of hair pulling and kind of rough housing a bit

*

•

•

•

Look, it was innocent, it was really was.

You were on the phone with Jolly just catching up on everything that’s happening.

“I’m really worried about him, he’s kind of shutting people off, and he’s kind of snappy lately, I think it’s cause it’s the lack of you being there” Jolly teased, you could hear the smile in his voice but you could also hear the worry.

“Yea, I heard from Folio, I’m worried about him too” looking around your room you started to get an idea

An innocent

Not so dirty

Not so mischievous

Idea

All innocence, you swear to yourself

“Jolly listen, I need you to keep Noah distracted, I’m gonna fly down to LA tonight, and I’ll surprise him when he gets home from the concert tonight, he deserves a break and he’s working to hard, so just try to keep this a secret, okay?”

Jolly knew you for a few years now and could tell you were up to something, yes he knew you were coming down, but there was something else, he didn’t wanna know though.

“Wait, why not come see the show? You can surprise him there and you can go home together” Jolly suggested to you.

“Because of my idea, duh” you teased him “as much as I would love to you know I always get nervous around large crowds and I need to have plenty of time to prepare and not fuck this up.”

After Jolly agrees to make sure Noah doesn’t suspect anything you start to pack your bag.

Heading over to the large walk in closet you started to grab clothes to pack, looking through the options you need a large leather jacket.

You were very confused, ‘I forgot he had this, he wore it on our first date’ holding the jacket in your arms you start to think of how you first met him, how you fell in love with him.

While admiring the jacket you saw out the corner of your eye, a very dark, yet bright, black and red lingerie set, picking it up and holding it with the jacket you sparked yourself and idea

“I’m getting my man TONIGHT”

————————————————————————

After getting off the plane, grabbing your things, going through security, getting your ride, blah blah blah, you finally made it to his place.

Lifting the rock you both painted together on your 2nd date you found the spare key (he didn’t know you knew it existed, thanks Nick)

You started to set his entire bed room up.

Dark lighting, candles lit, rose petals (cause why not) and some of Noah’s favorite snacks on the side table for after the ✨fun✨

Your phone buzzed on next you on the vanity as you were finishing your makeup and hair, seeing a text from Jolly

Jolly Holly✨: He’s heading home now, you have about an hour before he gets home, have fun, and use protection!

Y/N✨: Thank you so much for the help, I owe you one! <3

After putting your phone down and making sure everything was set you felt like you were missing something

Oh! Oh! The damn jacket, where’s the jacket?!

Frantically you start to look everywhere in the room for it

‘I couldn’t have left back at home, I couldn’t have! It’s the most important piece!’ You thought to yourself

Running over to your suitcase you see it layed neatly on the chair next to it (you wore the entire time flying down, gave you some comfort while flying)

You put the jacket on checking yourself out in the mirror. Nodding to yourself seeing as everything is set and ready, you make your way to the bed, sit and wait.

——————

After 30 minutes of waiting, touch ups of everything you hear the door unlock, you knew his routine when he got home

Come through the front door✔️

Take his jacket it off✔️

Take his shoes off✔️

Hang his keys✔️

Make his way upstairs….

Hearing foots steps you rush back to Noah’s bed, sitting in at the edge of the bed.

The absolute shock on Noah’s face was everything you hoped for all week long since you’ve planned this, haven’t seeing each other since 3 weeks ago, everything was worth it to see his face, surprised, shocked, happy

“W-what are you…?” Noah still shock stood still. Making your way over to the door where he stood you gently grab his hand pulling him to the bed.

Before you can do anything else, Noah pulls you close by the hair, skeptical

Noah furrows his brows and asks “you touched yourself….didnt you?” Shock went from Noah straight to you. Thanking to yourself ‘how did he know, there’s no way’ “I could tell by the way I went to your place and you weren’t there, and the ‘toy box’ was open, with your toy on your bed.”

Noah gave you a wide smirk before continuing “I’ll let it go tonight since you gave a wonderful suprise, but next time” pulling your hair making you look up at Noah’s eyes “there will be a long punishment waiting for you”

Looking you up and down admiring the lace fitting your curves just right, running his hands up and down your sides “you look beautiful in my jacket baby, think you can try not to make a mess on it? Or do, as long as I get to taste you”

Yanking you up on the bed, pulling your legs apart , Noah looks up at you, running his hands up your inner thighs just barely touching your core “you look absolutely beautiful tonight, baby, but I’m taking this off. Now.”

As Noah was busying his hands with the lingerie he was mumbling to himself “can’t wait to wear this on stage and think of you” “god you look gorgeous”

By the sound of the tearing of the fabric and how quick he dove straight to your core, and started to eat you out like no tomorrow, this man is memorizing your taste, your moans, sounds, your touch.

Sliding his tongue inside you and groaning from your taste mixed with the vibrations brought you so close to cumming

“N-Noah I-I’m gonna cum” looking up from your thighs, seeing all your boyfriend looked up with a soaked mouth and chin grinning almost sent you right over

“That’s okay baby, cause either way I’m not stopping”

Pulling you closer and throwing your legs over his shoulder you knew it was gonna be a long night of you cumming for longer than you think you can handle, but you were prepared for the night

————————

So, I am stoned right now, but I really just wanted to write as much of this as I could while it’s in my head, but like I’ve said before I don’t really write write, I just ramble because I just do, but I hope you enjoyed 🫶🏼

Miss Blue, what about….best friend Noah sees you wearing his leather jacket and he fucks you in the bathroom at the release party of their album, when everyone’s looking for you he’s cleaning up the mess he had inside you🫶🏼 just a thought

[eff4freddie]

2 Sweet 4 Me | Part Three

Dieter Bravo x AFAB Reader Words: 2.5k Minors DNI

Part One Part Two

Dieter knows he fucked up, knows he lost you, knows it hurt and that he deserved it. But if its the way things had to be, the way they were always going to be, predestined as he is, apparently born under a vengeful and unforgiving star, then why does it still fucking sting so much?

This is a love story.

Warnings: Smut, vaginal sex, lots of swearing, angst

The thing about wrap parties is that if you never let yourself get attached to any of the people you work with, it doesn’t hurt when its time for everyone to go. Dieter hated wrap parties, mind already on his next project, if not his next score. He didn’t care to really know anyone, their hopes and dreams or whatever. The way people clambered over each other to feign sadness that their two and a half months together were over, the way they promised to stay in touch just to immediately lose everyone’s numbers, the way people looked through him, plotting how to get the dregs out of him, how to carve up whatever was left. He used to be able to stand it, when he knew he had you to go home to.

He hadn’t dared call you since his late-night Ambien confessions. Part of him wanted to see if you’d call him, if you’d miss him now that you’d heard his voice again, and a larger, wiser part of him knew you wouldn’t, that you shouldn’t, that maybe you and him could debate whether he was good enough for you, but there was no argument that he wasn’t good for you. He’d seen the way your eyes had hollowed out the longer you stayed with him.

Fuck, it still hurt though. He felt the fist clenched tight in his chest, always feeling breathless and slightly panicked at the idea of being alone. You. Without you.

Rudy convinced him to go to the wrap party anyway, that it was important to be seen, then basically held him hostage, refusing to come and pick him up for at least an hour. Dieter had downed one vodka tonic and watched the minutes tick by before he could slip away again. His next job started in three weeks, was shooting in LA, and the studio had let him keep Rudy. Dieter liked Rudy, his dad-vibes weirdly soothing at the end of a long night. Rudy judged Dieter, but only ever fairly.

‘You got a few weeks off from me, my friend,’ he said, from the front passenger seat, because he felt like either an invalid or 100 years old sitting alone in the back. Rudy had let him sit there so long as he promised not to fuck with the radio. Dieter had sat on his hands.

‘You going to keep yourself occupied, Sir?’ Rudy asked, and Dieter shrugged.

‘Might do.’

‘I mean, you gonna keep that nose outta trouble?’ Rudy asked again, and there was that paternal care Dieter realised he’d been missing for most of his childhood, soaked it up now in case Rudy ran dry.

‘Might do,’ Dieter replied, grinning.

He’d just learnt to carry on without you, he realised. Hobbled, but moving. He checked his phone less, sometimes forgot to even look at it for hours on end. He hardly ever cracked open your left-over shampoo just to pretend you were still in the room. He didn’t catch himself reaching for you over the cold mattress at 3 AM anywhere near as often.

--

He nearly dropped his keys. Rudy had dropped him off at his gate so that he didn’t have to back up the driveway, and Dieter had been staring at the night sky, his head fully thrown back as he walked up his garden path, so that he didn’t see you sitting on his stoop until he was nearly standing on you.

‘Baby?’ he said, and you lifted your face to him as he reached for you, pulled you up onto your feet and into his arms, your little coughing sobs reverberating up his neck and bouncing around his skull. ‘Oh, my sweet thing, what?’ he asked, and you cried harder into his skin, your fists raised to his chest, almost like you were trying to hold him away while he pulled you in.

‘It’sjustbeensuchashitday,’ you said, and he reached down to pull your face from his so that he could examine you, turning your face left and right in the porchlight.

‘Tell me,’ he said, and you sniffled, avoiding his gaze, staring instead at his hairline. You wanted to reach up and run your fingers through it, tug on it as he settled his head between your thighs.

‘I…’ you started, and you stopped, because you didn’t know where to start, how to explain, that you had just wanted him, that nothing even really all that dramatic had happened, just fucking Kevin in your fucking office fucking up the finance reports again so now your project was $60k over budget because he can’t add up tax despite being a fucking accountant, and the CEO’s EA had been a bitch to you about trying to get a report signed off after the deadline, and you’d had to settle a couple of bullshit microaggressions between your colleagues because they were incapable of communicating like fucking adults, and your boss had given you a weird vibe all day like she was waiting for you to fuck up just to point it out to you, and the fluorescent lights had given you a headache again but you weren’t able to get an appointment with the optometrist to get those blue light filtering glasses things you’d read about on Instagram for another two weeks, and God sometimes your body just felt fucking wrong and there wasn’t any reason for it, really, except that putting your body against his made it right again.

You paused for breath, exhaling slowly, looking up into his face. It took you a moment to realise you’d spoken it all, out loud. You felt the heat explode on your cheeks at the revelation.

‘Oh, baby,’ he said, and he held your face in his hands as he planted a warm kiss on your forehead.

‘Can’t turn my brain off,’ you said, miserable.

‘You want me to help you forget?’ he asked, heart racing, caught on your words like a rag on a barbwire fence; made it right again, made it right again, your body against his made it right again.

You stared up at him, your eyes red and bloodshot, skin wet with tears. He held you there, in his gaze and in his hands. You weren’t sure you could speak it into existence, if you should. You nodded your head instead.

And then you were in his arms again, wrapping your legs around his waist as he lifted you, carrying you over the threshold and down into the den, his sunken couch appearing beneath you both as he sat, placing you gently to straddle his lap, laving at the skin behind your ear with his tongue. You gasped, your skin on fire and your body shivering, your clothes too tight, his clothes in your way, as you scrabbled for the hem of his tee and pulled it over his head. There, the expanse of his warm, golden skin. The smattering of hair on his chest, his nipples straining in the cool air. You wanted to lie down on it, feel it under your cheek and your palms, taste every inch with your tongue. He was panting, sitting with you perched on his lap, leaning back and looking up at you, his eyes wide as he waited for you to tell him to stop.

You leant forward, biting into the flesh of his shoulder, the urge to mar the perfect landscape of his skin too great. He sucked a breath in through his teeth, his hands coming up to rest on your hips, pulling you down onto his cock, hard and straining under his light cotton pants.

‘Fuck, baby,’ he muttered, pushing you down harder onto his lap and dragging you across it, the heat of your cunt intoxicating. He could smell you again, your perfume and your shampoo and your arousal, your little gasps in his ear as your clit grazed his thighs. ‘You miss me this bad?’

You could only nod, the electric shocks between your thighs pushing the words from your head. You felt his hands travelling, coming around to your front, pulling your top off, lifting the cups of your bra to hold your tits in his warm palms. No one had touched you like this in so long, not since you’d attempted a one-night-stand to see if you could fuck Dieter out of your life for good, and failed at both that and achieving orgasm.

His lips on your collarbone, his cock pushing up against you pussy, your hands in his hair. You’d thought about it, remembered it, conjured it alone in your bed with your fingers in your cunt, and none of it had been anything compared to the real thing, to the smell of him, to his scraggy beard dragging across your skin as he kissed you, hissing in pleasure as you rutted against him. He moved his hands again, sliding them up your thighs as you sat perched above him, sliding them under your skirt and over the cloth of your underwear, groaning when he felt that you were already soaking the fabric.

‘Dee,’ you whimpered, and you moaned when he pushed it to the side, slipping a fingertip against your clit, rubbing tight little circles that he knew would set you on fire. He chuckled to himself, satisfied and impatient in equal measure, as you gasped, your cunt so hot under his touch. He wasn’t sure if this was a dream or not, if he’d finally cracked and was just straight up hallucinating. He wasn’t sure if he was alive or dead, couldn’t account for the events as they were unfolding but just going with them, the pull of his cock guiding him towards you without any consideration as to the consequences.

He didn’t want to give you a chance to reconsider. He slipped a finger inside, all the way to the knuckle, pulling you to him in case you slipped from his grip as your back arched. It was like when you’d first got together, when you were crushing hard on each other, before things had got complicated and sad and sour. Before he’d been neglectful, before the lies had doubled and tripled, before the house of cards he built for the both of you to live in came crashing down around you. He felt it then, the nostalgia and the belief that maybe if you just kept fucking like this, kept pawing at each other, kept up the desire and the need, that you could get back on track, that he could keep you, the idea of it spurring him to switch places, pushing you sideways and onto the couch beneath him as he fumbled to release his heavy, aching cock from his pants.

You lifted your bum as you swept your underwear off your skin, opening yourself up to him as he devoured you, brown eyes trained on your cunt and the need for him leaking out and dribbling into the fabric of the couch. He swiped it with his thumb, lifting it to his lips for just the smallest of tastes to tide him over. You closed your eyes, the heat of it so much you felt the need to turn away, and he reached out and pulled your chin towards him again, locking you into his gaze.

‘Don’t turn away from me, baby,’ he said, leaning forward and positioning himself at your entrance. You watched him, entranced, as he pushed. ‘Never turn away, want to remember your eyes on me, want to remember all of it.’ You gasped, the sharpness in Dieter’s eyes, the focus, reminding you of how present he could be in a moment he determined worthy of his full attention. A little bloom of hurt emerged, one you had carried for months, knowing that he could seemingly turn off his care for you on a dime. You wondered, briefly, fretted, why it was that you had started failing to win it, why he had looked at you this way less and less as time wore on, why he had given up on you, why you had let him, why you had stayed for as long as you had, and then he pushed fully into you, groaned as you took him fully inside you, pitching your hips to grind your clit onto his hipbone, and you forgot it all for a second, obliterated with just the feel of him surrounding and inside you, just the taste of his sweat and the curl of his hair around his forehead, a little crown of thorns visible only in the dark as he crouched above you.

‘Dee,’ you said, and you heard the heaviness in it, the sob of it, as he pulled out and crowded himself back inside, brought himself home and you with him, seated himself inside your flesh. He leant over you on his elbows, cradling your head in his hands as he examined your eyes, the pleasure coursing through him as he saw the catch of your bottom lip between your teeth, felt the weight of it between you, crushing you both as he eased you open, felt the quake of the foundations as you entwined yourself around him, fresh tears on your cheeks as you grabbed for him, drew him in tighter, gasped and groaned and stretched your spine to try and contain it, all that he was drawing from you.

‘Baby,’ he said, a choke in his throat as he caught something rough behind his teeth, recognised it as the loss of you, the grief, no more heard than felt the crashing wave threatening to wash you both away. ‘I know,’ he whimpered, resting his head in the crook of your neck as he continued to seesaw into you, the joy and the thrill of it mixing with the sadness, with the terror, with the pain. ‘I know, baby, I know, I know,’ he mumbled, feeling that you were right there with him, that you were both standing over the cliff edge, knew that once you pulled him over, that once he took you with him, there would no clambering back to the ledge, that this was a goodbye as much as it was a coming home, that he wouldn't get to keep you because you were never his to possess, that you were with him now but that it would be the last time, that you would be gone the second your body hit the ground.

You felt it coming and you did nothing to stop it. Neither of you did.

--

He didn’t watch you dress, couldn’t bring himself to. He tucked himself back into his pants and stopped there, unable to bear putting his tee back on, covering himself when he had bared it all for you so readily and so recently, wanted to expose the nerve to the biting air for just a couple of seconds more. The world had slotted back again, into misalignment, where he realised now it had always belonged.

You didn’t have words, slipping first from his arms and then from his home in silence. You didn’t want to savour the moment, didn’t want to look back to examine and imprint the details in your mind. It was over now, whatever had been crowning was birthed. Nothing now except for the cleanup, for the clearing away.

At his gate the weather turned, an unseasonably cool breeze pushing your hair into your face and teasing the skin where your tears had tracked just minutes, moments, a lifetime before. You felt the chill of it there on your cheek, something new blooming underneath, something worth protecting. You reached up to warm it with your own hands.

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